Koshka

♡30 something year old Joel Miller fan♡ this is a side blog for reblogs and following my favourite writers

[koshkamartell]

Koshka's Works

Series:

• No One But Me - dark Jackson era Joel Miller (ongoing, DDDNE)

• You Are Mine - fluffy AU Joel Miller (haitus)

• Yours For The Night - fluffy AU Joel Miller (haitus)

• Honey - Jackson era soft Joel Miller/dark Tommy Miller (ongoing)

One Shots:

• Training Day - AU dark Joel Miller and dark Tommy Miller (DDDNE)

• Bad Neighbours - AU dark Joel Miller (DDDNE)

• Hunt Down - dark raider Joel Miller (DDDNE)

• Thirsty Work - AU perv Joel Miller

• Stay Safe - AU dark Joel Miller (DDDNE)

• Spoils of War - dark Marcus Acacius (DDDNE) NEW

• Kept Woman - AU toxic Joel Miller NEW

• Earn It - AU dark Joel Miller (DDDNE)

[noxturnalnymph]

Devotion 🖤 Masterlist

Series Summary: When is it enough? When is it too much? When does Devotion become Obsession?

I. Stronger Together CH 1 CH 2 CH 3

II. Predator or Prey? CH 4 CH 5 CH 6 CH 7 CH 8

III. Path to the Future CH 9 CH 10 CH 11 CH 12

Epilogue Some Summer Sunday

Series Warnings: 18+ MDNI, canon-typical violence/death, death of clickers, guns, blood/injury, references to previous SAs (not described), Reader has low self worth & trauma, this group/cult is not feminist - women aren’t treated as equals, Joel has sexual relationships with other characters (not described in detail), possessiveness, manipulation, stalking/spying on, Joel gets mean, DubCon Oral, Joel gets abusive (verbally, mentally, physically (he hits, throws, and bites), thoughts of self-harm and suicide, talk of periods & pregnancy, unprotected PiV, oral sex (m & f receiving), come eating, DIRTY TALK, brief reference to breeding kink and creampie kink (but reader does NOT get pregnant in this story).

A/N: OBVIOUSLY this is canon-divergent, but it is post-outbreak. The events of outbreak day have not changed (sorry Sarah). Reader does have a developed background that plays heavily in her character arc, so in that sense she is very much an OC. Reader has a nickname and some minor physical descriptions.

LAYOUT OF JOEL'S HOUSE

AO3 LINK

MOODBOARD BY @strang3lov3 MOODBOARD BY @beefrobeefcal

*🖤*NOTES ABOUT THE CULT & JOEL BELOW*🖤*

ABOUT THE CULT

The Cult's Core Ideology

Build up a community (and supplies) to return to a thriving society that can keep people safe & find a cure.

The Cult Operates by its 3 Tenants:

How Joel does it (what he "preaches")

I. Build Trust (We are Stronger Together)

Makes people feel beautiful, important, HEARD

Shares the wealth (food, shelter, women)

Seeks Power & Control to get others to help him

II. Us vs Them (The Predator Vs The Prey)

FEDRA is the enemy, do not trust them

Assimilate or Destroy all other people/groups

Attack them before they attack you

III. Gather & Prepare (Create a Path to the Future)

You can never have enough, always take take take take

The community you create now will determine future society (fair, honest, hardworking)

Once you are well-prepared and rebuild, you can work on finding a cure

🖤

Notes about Joel and the Cult:

He and Tess began this community together in 2010 after they met Bill and Frank and they felt that the QZ was becoming too dangerous and unstable. They settled in a small, remote town in the mountains of Vermont. Tess helps him "run" the community but she has a submissive role. (Their dynamic here is different from canon.) Tess has his respect probably more than anyone else does but she is not looked upon like an equal by anyone in the community.

Timeline/Ages:

This takes place in the fall of 2012, so It’s been 9 years since outbreak day. Joel is 45, my HC for Reader is Early 30's (Tess is 39/40). Reader's exact age isn't given, but she was in her early 20's on outbreak day and I wanted her to have experienced a fair taste of an adult life before the world ended. I didn't want to write the reader as inexperienced or with too large of an age-gap, although I think 11-14 years is still pretty significant. She has a history that plays a significant role in her personality (wary, untrusting). She has been hurt/abused by men - both those that took advantage of her when she was young, as well as by those that she trusted/loved. There are very few physical descriptions but she is very much an OC. Note that her age is not something that's explicitly mentioned because I did want to keep it inclusive. I hope everyone who wants to read this can use their imagination to fit themselves into the story in a meaningful way.🖤

[lazybakerart]

romanticizing the unhealthiest and most fucked up fictional relationships and characters because i have free will and it’s fun

[koshkaj-blog]

@kewwrites @ess-evo 😈

[littledes1re]

Strawberry creampie

Pairing: Joel miller x f!reader

Summary: You’re cramping, cranky, and just needed to grab a few things. Joel’s mouth had other plans. What starts as a simple ride to the store turns into a slow spiral of sleazy muttering, tuna-fueled rage, and unsolicited period advice. You’re in pain. He’s insufferable. And somehow, you still end up in his van—a heat pad, a stolen shirt, and Joel’s version of comfort waiting in the back.

Warnings: 18+, smut, fluff, non specified age gap unprotected sex, fuck buddies, sleazy!joel (he’s back hehe), pinv, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, creampie, period sex, size kink, slight descriptions of blood, praise kink, chubby/fat!joel, slight degradation, daddy kink (just once), joel says the most unhinged things, aftercare, no outbreak,

A/N: HAPPY NEW YEAR MY POOKIES!!🎉🥰 Can y’all tell I’m on my period rn lmao😭 I’ve ALWAYS wanted to write a period fic and I finally did it!! Also yes, I used a picture of Hopper for the header—SUE ME. We needed to see Joel Miller’s belly more 😔😔😔😔

Joel pulls up in that same beat-up truck—the one that sounds like it’s coughing up its last breath every time it moves, held together by duct tape and Joels stubborn will.

The passenger door creaks loudly as he opens it for you to slip in.

“Looking good, sweetheart,” he drawls, eyes flicking over you with that lazy smirk that always makes you want to roll your eyes and punch him into the ribs. “You do somethin’ different with your hair, or is that just bedhead?”

You don’t answer.

“Goddamn door’s stickin’ again,” he mutters, slamming it shut behind you with a grunt once you’re in. “Gotta hit it twice now. Like I’m tryin’ to put down a damn zombie. I swear, one of these days this whole piece’a shit’s just gonna fall apart while I’m drivin’. Hood’ll fly off, wheels’ll roll in opposite directions, and I’ll just sit there like an asshole in the middle of the road.”

Joel was a man of many words. Too many, as you always liked to say. There wasn’t a sentence he didn’t lace with a curse or a complaint, but that’s just what made him Joel.

He slaps the dashboard affectionately, like it’s a stubborn old dog. “But she’s got character, y’know? Can’t just toss her out. She’s earned her miles.”

You glance at the cracked windshield, tape curling at the edges, smelling the familiar faint scent of gasoline and old leather.

He’s already shifting into gear, one hand on the wheel, the other resting on the back of your seat. The truck lurches forward with a wheeze, and Joel mutters something under his breath that sounds like a curse (once again).

You weren’t sure when exactly your life veered off of course—which wrong turn, which bad decision, which moment of weakness landed you here, tangled up with this sleazy, grumbling old man who smelled like motor oil and cheap soap and somehow still managed to get under your skin in all the worst ways.

Joel wasn’t your boyfriend. Hell, he wasn’t even really a friend. He was just…there. A warm body, a familiar mouth, an orgasm when you need it the most.

And yet, here you were asking your fuck buddy to help you run errands, as if that was something normal.

“Tommy called this mornin’,” he starts, like he has been waiting all day to talk about it. “Said he needs help fixin’ the fence again. I told him, ‘You break it every damn week, maybe stop leanin’ ya fat ass on it.’”

He snorts, clearly pleased with himself. “Didn’t like that much. Got all huffy. Said it’s not his fault the wind knocked it down. I said, ‘Bullshit. The wind didn’t eat three burgers and leaned on that damn thing.’”

You glance at him, unimpressed. He doesn’t notice.

“Then he starts goin’ on about how I never answer my phone. I said, ‘Maybe if you stopped callin’ me every time a nail pops loose, I’d be more inclined.’ Told him I’m not his damn handyman. He said, ‘You’re not doin’ anything else.’ I said, ‘Exactly. Let me keep not doin’ it in peace.’”

He shakes his head, muttering, “Idiot’s gonna be the death of that damn fence. Or me.”

He glances at you again, expecting a smirk, a laugh, something. But you’re just staring out the window, arms crossed tight over your chest.

Joel frowns, drums his knuckles against the steering wheel, a soft, rhythmic tap that fills the quiet. His eyes flick back to the road, then to you again.

“What about you, sweetheart?” he asks, voice casual but slightly unsure. “How was your day?”

You shrug, barely. “Forgot my eggs on the pan.”

He snorts. “Shit. Bet the whole house smells like rubber now.”

You nod, still not looking at him.

He chuckles, shaking his head. “One time I damn near burned my kitchen down doin’ that. Left the stove on, went outside to yell at the neighbor’s dog—little bastard kept barking like a maniac—came back in and the whole pan was blacker than my coffee.”

You shift slightly, arms still crossed, but your mouth twitches. Just a little.

Joel catches it. Keeps going.

“Whole place smelled like shit. Like scorched tires and disgusting rubber. Took a week to air it out. Had to throw the pan out too—thing looked like it’s been through a war.”

A quiet laugh escapes as a huff, involuntary and short.

Joel glances over, smug. “There she is.” He taps the wheel again, slower this time. “You alright?”

You don’t answer. Just shift again, pressing your hand to your stomach, feeling that sharp pain tearing through your insides.

Joel notices. But he doesn’t say anything. Not yet.

“Where d’you want me to take you, sugar? Grocery store? Liquor store? Straight to hell?”

You mutter, “Just grocery store.”

“Good. I was runnin’ low on stuff too.” He answers, looking at you, expecting a smile—a something. But you just look out of the window.

He asks again, slower this time. “You really good?”

You nod, but it’s tight. Joel doesn’t push—not yet. Just mutters, “Alright then,” and pulls out onto the road, one hand on the wheel, the other drumming on his thigh.

The ride to the store is mostly filled with Joel’s annoying voice: a steady stream of complaints about traffic, gas prices, and some guy who apparently parked too close to his truck last week. You let it just wash over you, eyes fixed on the trees and strip malls outside the window, while your stomach cramps in slow, mean pulses.

Inside the store, the fluorescent lights are too bright, buzzing faintly overhead like a swarm of insects.

You move through the aisles on autopilot, grabbing the essentials: a bottle of ibuprofen, a bag of chips you probably won’t eat, a chocolate bar you definitely will. You pause at the feminine hygiene aisle, grab a box of pads and one box of tampons—just to be prepared for everything.

And Joel…well Joel, of course, is nowhere near the checkout. You find him two aisles over, standing toe tp toe with a man in a hoodie, voice raised just enough to draw attention.

“I’m tellin’ you, it’s real damn fish,” Joel is saying, gesturing wildly with a can of tuna in one hand. “You think they’re just grindin’ up mystery meat and callin’ it tuna for fun?”

The other man scoffs. “I’m just sayin’, it don’t taste like fish. It’s like…fish adjacent.”

Joel’s eyes narrow. “You ever seen a cow in a can? No? Then shut the hell up.”

You sigh, stepping in before it escalates. “Joel.”

He barely glances at you. “Tell this guy tuna’s real damn fish.”

“I’m not doing this,” you mutter, grabbing his arm and steering him toward the checkout. “Come on.”

He lets you pull him away but not without a parting shot. “You’re the reason the country’s goin’ to hell, y’know that? Can’t even trust a man with a can opener anymore.”

You don’t respond. Just shove your items onto the band and pretend you don’t know him while he mutters under his breath about “fish truthers” and something about “goddamn grocery store philosophers.”

Back in the truck, you toss the bag into the backseat and climb in, settling into the passenger side with a sigh. Joel’s already midrant, one hand on the wheel, the other gesturing like he’s still in the store, still arguing with the guy in the hoodie.

“I’m tellin’ you, it’s fish. Tuna is fish. I don’t give a shit if it’s in a can or swimmin’ in the damn ocean.”

You don’t even care anymore.

Because this is Joel—a man who’d argue with a stranger over canned tuna like it was a matter of world security. A man who was always loud, always wrong, and always ready to throw hands over the dumbest shit.

But he could fuck. God, could he fuck. And when this whole thing started, that was the only part you let yourself care about.

The rest? The attitude, the mouth, the sleaze—you told yourself you could ignore. Just noise. Just background. Even while it’s annoying.

Joel keeps going, voice low and gravelly. “I swear, people get one opinion and suddenly they’re a damn marine biologist. ‘Oh, tuna’s not real fish.’ What’s next? Chicken’s not real poultry? My dick’s not real meat?”

You snort, but don’t look at him.

Joel catches it instantly. “You agree with me now, right?” he says, smug as hell. “Knew it. Knew you were on my side.”

You shake your head, staring out the window. “I’m not on anyone’s side. I just think it’s funny you almost fought a man over a can of fish.”

He scoffs, still grumbling about the tuna guy when his voice drops into something lower, lazier—familiar. His voice softens, just a notch. “You got everything you wanted, hon?”

You nod, slow. “Yeah.”

He watches you for a second longer, then shifts his gaze back to the road. “Need to go anywhere else?”

“No, but…thank you.”

“Oh, my polite girl,” he says, grinning all cheeky. He reaches over and pinches your cheek, rough fingers warm and calloused.

You huff, batting his hand away. “Don’t.”

He chuckles, leaning back against his seat. “Got adrenaline runnin’ through my veins. You should’ve just let me fight that dude.”

You glance at him. “You still there?”

Joel scoffs. “Ain’t lettin’ myself get disrespected like that. People piss me off,” he mutters. “Whole damn store full of idiots. Got me all wound up.”

He glances at you, then back at the road. “Could use a distraction. Somethin’ to take the edge off.”

You shake your head.

He smirks to himself, voice dipping into that slow, familiar drawl. “Could bury my face in somethin’ soft. Shut my mouth for a while. You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

You don’t even look at him. “Shut up.”

That actually makes him pause.

“Woah,” he mutters, glancing over. “Usually you like my tone.”

You don’t respond, keeping yourself from insulting him.

He watches you for a second longer, then scoffs. “What, now you wanna get on my nerves too?”

You still don’t say anything.

Joel shakes his head, muttering, “What’s the matter with you today anyway?” Then, under his breath, half a joke, half a threat: “All stuck up. Need me to fuck it outta you?”

You roll your eyes while shifting, pressing your palm tighter against your stomach, jaw clenched.

Joel watches you for a second longer, then leans back in his seat with a low exhale. “Ah,” he mutters. “So that’s what this is.”

You glare at him. “Don’t.”

He grins wider. “You on your period, sugar?”

You roll your eyes. “Jesus, Joel.”

“What?” he says, all mock innocence. “I’m just observant. You get all quiet and mean, start holdin’ your tummy like that. I’ve seen it before.”

You mutter something under your breath and look out the window.

He leans in a little, voice dropping. “Y’know, I used to see this girl who loved gettin’ fucked on her period. Said it helped with the cramps. Said I was better than Midol.”

You groan. “You’re disgusting.”

He chuckles. “Yeah, but I’m not wrong.”

A beat of silence. The truck hums beneath you, tires rolling over cracked pavement.

Then Joel shifts, glancing at you again — slower this time. “You want me to take you home?”

You shake your head. “Don’t feel like being alone.”

He nods once, like that settles it. “Alright.”

Without saying anything, he reaches over—rough palm warm through the fabric and lays his hand over your tummy. Rubs once, slow and firm, like he’s done it before.

“C’mon,” he mutters. “Let’s go back to my van.”

You furrow your eyebrows.

He shrugs, voice low. “I’ll crank the heat. You can lay down, steal my last clean shirt, bitch about my mattress. I won’t even try anything.”

You raise a brow.

He smirks. “Unless you ask real nice.”

You roll your eyes, but he’s not done.

“Could even rub your tummy,” he adds, voice syrupy. “Or your thighs. Or whatever else’s achin’. I’m versatile like that.”

You snort. “You’re a menace.”

“Damn right I am,” he says, grinning. “But I’m a menace with a heated van and a soft spot for cranky girls who forget their eggs on the stove.”

You try not to smile. Fail.

He sees it. “There she is,” he says, satisfied. “Knew I’d get you.”

You sigh, long and slow. “Fine. But I’m not in the mood for your shit tonight.”

Joel taps the wheel, already pulling into a turn. “Good. I’ll keep it to a low simmer.”

You shake your head, but you don’t stop him. And he doesn’t ask again.

Joel doesn’t shut up the whole ride back.

He’s still going on about the tuna guy, about “idiots with opinions and no taste buds” and how “this country’s gone soft, that you can’t even trust a man with a can opener anymore.”

Every few minutes, he reaches over to poke your side, just enough to make you flinch and swat at him, which only encourages him more.

You’re too tired to argue, and the cramps are starting to dig in deeper, like something inside you is twisting just to be cruel.

By the time he pulls up to the van, the sky’s gone a dull gray, the kind that makes everything look washed out and tired. The van’s parked in its usual spot—half on gravel, half on dead grass, tucked behind a sagging fence that leans like it’s given up.

There’s a busted lawn chair tipped over in the dirt, a rusted grill that hasn’t seen fire in years, and a pile of wood that might’ve once been a table.

It’s a mess. But it’s Joel’s mess. And somehow, that makes it feel…familiar. Even safe in a twisted way.

He hops out and circles around to your side, opening the door for you with a dramatic bow.

“Ma lady,” he says, voice syrupy.

Inside, the van is exactly how you remember it.

Dim, cluttered, smelling like cigarettes, old leather, and something vaguely wooden. The red curtains are drawn, casting everything in a soft, crimson gloom. Then there’s a pile of laundry in the corner, a half empty mug on the counter, and a pair of boots kicked off near the door.

The bed’s unmade—sheets rumpled, blanket half on the floor—but it’s still comfortable. You know it.

It’s the same bed where Joel first pulled you down with that crooked grin and promised to show you some “lovin’ and care,” and then fucked your brains out.

You sit down on the edge of it now, letting out a low groan as you clutch your stomach.

Joel watches you for a beat, then makes a soft, exaggerated cooing sound. “Poor baby,” he says, like he’s talking to a wounded animal. “Need some water?”

You nod, and he moves to his tiny kitche, grabbing a bottle from the mini fridge. It’s not cold, but it’s water so you take it with a quiet “thanks.”

He eyes you for a second, then gestures vaguely towards your jeans. “You need to change or somethin’? I got a shirt you can wear. Big n’soft. Smells just like me.”

You raise an eyebrow. “That’s not a selling point.”

He smirks. “Sure it is. You love how I smell.”

You don’t answer that with a response, but when he tosses the shirt your way—a faded green thing that’s probably seen more oil stains than laundry detergent—you take it anyway.

It does smell like him. Cigarettes, sweat, and something warm and earthy underneath. You change in the cramped little bathroom, peeling off your jeans with a wince and tugging the oversized shirt down over your thighs.

When you come back out, Joel’s already stripped down to his boxers, scratching at his stomach with one hand and tossing his fannel into the laundry pile with the other.

“Gotta take a shower,” he mutters. “Sweat my damn ass off today arguing with that guy.”

You don’t look at him, but you can hear the way he grunts as he moves, the way the floor creaks under his weight. He’s big—broad and solid, with a belly that presses against the counter when he leans over it, soft and round and unapologetic. He doesn’t suck it in. Doesn’t hide. Just scratches his ribs and yawns like you’re not even there.

“You stay here, yeah?” he says, nodding toward the bed. “Look—heating pad.”

He pulls it from under a pile of flannels and plugs it in, testing it with his palm before handing it over. “Old man like me needs somethin’ warm for his back, but you need it more than me right now, hon.”

You take it without a word, pressing it to your stomach as you sink back onto the bed. The warmth is immediate, soothing. You close your eyes for a second, breathing through the ache.

Joel steps closer, leans down, and presses a kiss to your forehead—rough lips, scratch of stubble, the faintest scent of wood and sweat.

“Stay here, baby.”

You don’t argue, don’t roll your eyes. Just curl onto your side, the heating pad tucked against your belly, and listen to the sound of the water starting up in the tiny shower stall.

The van creaks as Joel moves, his body brushing the narrow walls, muttering something about how “these damn doors keep shrinkin’” as his stomach bumps the frame.

You don’t look, even while the door is open.

You’ve seen it before. The way he moves like he owns every inch of himself, the soft weight of him, the stretch of his skin, the way he doesn’t flinch when he catches his reflection. It’s not confidence, exactly. It’s just Joel. Unbothered. Unapologetic.

And somehow, that’s the part that makes you stay.

The water shuts off with a metallic groan, and a moment later you hear the soft thud of Joel’s feet against the floor, the creak of the bathroom door swinging open. Steam rolls out in a wave, curling into the cool air of the van.

He steps out, towel slung low around his hips, belly damp and flushed pink from the heat. His hair’s slicked back, droplets clinging to his chest hair, trailing down the curve of his stomach.

Then, his eyes land on you, curled up on the bed like a cocoon, Joel’s oversized shirt swallowing your frame. The heating pad hums faintly beneath the blanket, but your face is pinched, one hand still pressed to your stomach, the other curled into the sheets.

Joel’s expression softens. “Oh, honey girl,” he murmurs, stepping closer. “You look like hell, don’t you?”

You don’t bother answering. You’re too tired, too sore, too wrapped in the dull throb of your own body to do anything but breathe through it.

He crouches besides the bed, towel shifting slightly on his hips, and reaches out to brush your hair back from your forehead. His fingers are warm, still damp, and surprisingly gentle.

“There she is,” he says, voice low and fond. “My little grump.”

You close your eyes, letting him touch you. comforting. Familiar. His hand moves to your head, stroking slow, then down to your shoulder, thumb tracing lazy circles into the fabric of his own shirt.

“Hurts bad?” he asks.

You nod, barely.

He sighs. “Alright. Scoot over.”

You do, and he climbs onto the bed besides you, the mattress dipping under his weight.

The towel stays on (barely) as he settles in behind you, one arm draping over your waist. His hand finds your stomach, warm and broad, and he starts to rub in slow, steady circles.

“Like this?” he murmurs.

You hum, the pressure easing something deep inside you. He keeps going, patient and quiet, his breath warm against the back of your neck.

After a while, his hand drifts lower, to your hip, then your thigh. Kneading and soothing. His touch is firm but careful, like he’s trying to press the pain out of you with his palms.

You melt into it, tension bleeding out of your muscles one knot at a time.

Joel leans in, lips brushing your temple. “Told you I’m better than Midol.”

You don’t answer, but your body does—softening under his touch, breath slowing, eyes fluttering shut.

“You’re warmin’ up,” he murmurs, voice low and rough. “Feelin’ better?”

You hum, eyes half-lidded. “A little.”

He leans in, lips brushing your temple. “Good. Hate seein’ you all curled up like that. Makes me wanna fix it.”

His hand drifts up, slow and warm, brushing the hem of the shirt. He pauses just beneath your ribs, thumb tracing lazy circles into your side.

“These girls also sore?” he murmurs, voice low and rough.

You don’t answer right away. Just let out a soft, miserable whine and nod, eyes still closed.

Joel hums, like he’s been given permission. “Yeah, figured.”

His hand slides up, careful and slow, until he’s cupping you through the fabric. No pressure, just warmth. His thumb strokes gently along the curve, feather-light.

“Mm,” he murmurs. “All swollen. Poor things.”

You let out a shaky breath, but you don’t stop him. You don’t want to. So he keeps going, slow and steady, massaging with the kind of care that makes your chest ache in a different way. Something that makes you feel safe and seen.

His hand quietly drifts lower, just a little—not quite crossing any lines, but close enough that your breath catches. He notices. Of course he does.

“Y’know,” he says, tone going sly, “I wasn’t kiddin’ earlier. Had a girl once swore up and down that a good fuck was better than any painkiller.”

You groan, but it’s half-hearted. “Joel…”

He grins against your skin. “What? I’m just sayin’. Could be medicinal. Therapeutic, even. I’m a giver like that.”

His hand slides a little farther, palm warm against the top of your thigh now, thumb pressing slow, soothing circles into the muscle.

“Bet I could make you forget all about that ache,” he murmurs, voice like honey and gravel. “Real gentle. Real slow. Just enough to take the edge off.”

You don’t answer, but your body does. Your hips shifting slightly, breath hitching and already a small pulse inside your underwear.

Joel chuckles, low and pleased. “That’s what I thought,” he says, brushing his nose along your jaw. “Feelin’ better already.”

There’s a pause—not awkward, just quiet and then you murmur, barely above a whisper, “I’d bleed all over your sheets.”

Joel’s hand stills for a second. Then he lets out a soft snort, amused but not mocking.

“Y’think I care?” he says, voice low and rough. “Sugar, I can throw ‘em in the machine. Hell, I’ll toss ‘em out if I have to. Ain’t like they’re made of gold.”

You don’t say anything. Just stare at his sheets, jaw tight.

He leans in, brushing his nose against your temple. “Ain’t nothin’ about you that’s disgusting. You hear me?”

You shift again, uncomfortable in a way that has nothing to do with your body. “It’s not exactly…sexy.”

Joel huffs. “Who said anything about sexy? I’m talkin’ about you. Hurtin’. Needing somethin’. I don’t give a damn what time of the month it is. You think I’m scared of a little blood?”

You glance at him, uncertain. He meets your eyes, steady and sure.

“I’ve seen worse,” he says, smirking. “Hell, I’ve bled more than that just tryin’ to fix the damn carburetor.”

You let out a reluctant laugh, small and shaky.

“You know i’m right” he murmurs, brushing a thumb across your cheek. “Ain’t nothin’ you could do that’d scare me off. You wanna lay here and groan, I’ll rub your back. You wanna cry, I’ll hold you. You wanna ride me bloody, I’ll lay down a towel and thank you after.”

Your face burns. “Joel.”

He grins, unbothered. “What? I’m just sayin’. You don’t gotta be embarrassed. Not with me.”

You look at him, really look, and there’s no judgment in his eyes. Just that same crooked affection, that strange mix of sleaze and sincerity that somehow makes you feel…safe.

You exhale, long and slow, and let your head fall back against the pillow.

“Okay,” you whisper.

Joel leans down, presses a kiss to your forehead again—softer this time, lingering.

“Good girl,” he murmurs. “Now stand up. Let me take care of you.”

Joel shifts behind you also standing up, the bed creaking under his weight as he leans over to the far end. You hear the soft rustle of fabric, the tug of a pillow being yanked free from under a pile of laundry, the click of the heating pad being unplugged and moved.

You blink up at him, glassy eyed. “What’re you doing?”

He doesn’t answer right away. Just lays a pillow down near the end of the bed, smooths the heating pad over it, then tosses a towel on top.

“Gonna make you a little nest,” he says, glancing over his shoulder with a crooked grin. “Get you all warm and comfy. Then I’m gonna fuck the pain right outta you.”

You huff, but your body’s already responding—a slow, low ache curling in your belly, different from the cramps. Deeper. Thicker.

Joel pats the towel. “Lay down on your tummy, sugar. Right here. Let that heat hit you where it counts.”

You hesitate, but only for a second. Then you shift forward, letting him guide you down. The towel’s soft against your skin, the heating pad radiating warmth through the fabric, straight into your lower belly. You exhale, already feeling the relief.

Joel stands behind you, hands smoothing over your hips, adjusting you just so. “There we go,” he murmurs. “Nice and easy. Just like that.”

You bury your face into the sheets, the scent of him everywhere—smoke, sweat, soap.

Then he leans down, presses a kiss on your thigh, and whispers, “Just let go, baby. I got you.”

You feel the slow, deliberate tug of your panties being eased down.

“Is it… is it dripping blood?” You tense.

Joel pauses for half a second. Then he lets out a low, appreciative sound, voice thick with that familiar drawl.

“Nah,” he murmurs, leaning in close. “It’s drippin’ heaven, baby.”

You groan, burying your face into the sheets. “You’re disgusting.”

He chuckles, unbothered. “Yeah, but you’re still lettin’ me touch you.”

You don’t argue. You can’t. Not when his hands are back on your hips, warm and steady, not when his voice is in your ear, all gravel and heat.

He shifts behind you, the rustle of his towel hitting the floor barely audible over the sound of your own breathing.

One hand slides down, fingers brushing between your thighs, exploring your folds. “Already wet,” he murmurs, almost to himself. Then, lower: “Need me to prep you?”

You shake your head, barely. You just needed relief.

He exhales, rough and quiet. “Alright.”

He pushes in slow, careful, just the tip and then stills, breath catching in his throat.

“Jesus,” he mutters, voice rough. “You’re so damn tight like this.”

You whimper, hips twitching under his hands.

He leans over you, lips brushing your hip. “But feels like heaven, baby. All warm and snug and squeezin’ me like you missed me.”

You bury your face in the pillow, flushed and aching, but you don’t pull away.

He pushes in slow, inch by inch, his breath ragged, hands gripping your hips like he’s holding himself back by sheer force of will. You’re warm and tight around him, body pulsing with heat and ache, and he groans low in his throat.

Joel groans, rolling his hips just a little. “Could stay right here all night. Just like this. Deep and slow. Let you milk the pain outta both of us.”

You whimper, burying your face into the sheets once again, the stretch deep and aching but good. So good.

Joel stills once he’s fully seated inside you, chest heaving. Then, with a low grunt, he shifts—knees bracing on either side of your thighs, his body rising over yours.

And then he lowers himself, slow and heavy, until his belly settles against the small of your back, warm and solid.

You moan, the weight of him pressing you deeper into the heat of the pillow, the pressure on your belly somehow soothing and overwhelming all at once.

“Too much?” he murmurs, voice rough but careful.

You shake your head, breath shallow. “Just…heavy.”

He chuckles, low and fond. “Yeah, I know. Big ol’ bastard, ain’t I?”

You huff a laugh, even as your lungs work a little harder under him.

Joel shifts, just enough to take some of the weight off your ribs, his forearms bracing him up. “Tell me if it’s too much. I’ll hold myself up. Don’t want you passin’ out on me—not unless I earned it.”

You roll your eyes, but your body relaxes under him. The weight of him is grounding, comforting in a way you didn’t expect. Like being blanketed in heat and muscle and the steady rhythm of his breath.

The bed creaks again as he starts to move—slow, deep thrusts that rock the whole frame. The headboard taps the wall in time, a soft, rhythmic thud that fills the space between your moans and his low, filthy praise.

“Fuckin’,” he breathes. “You’re so goddamn soft under me. Like a warm fuckin’ peach, ripe and drippin’.”

You whine, half from the ache, half from the way his words go straight to your spine.

He chuckles, low and filthy. “That’s it, you just lay there, sugar. Let me do the work. Let me press all that ache outta that sweet little belly. Ain’t no Midol in the world that hits like this.”

You cry out, feeling him hit that one spot in you.

Deep, dragging thrusts that make your breath catch and your fingers curl into the sheets. Every inch of him presses into you, every roll of his hips sending a fresh wave of heat through your belly.

“Shit, girl… I’m stickin’ to you. Sweat, blood, all of it. My belly’s glued to your back like we’re welded together.” He murmurs.

You’re already so sensitive—from the cramps, from the heat, from everything he’s done to you tonight. Every stroke against your walls feels like too much and not enough all at once.

And then he shifts just right—hits that spot deep inside once again, and you gasp, a high, broken sound, and your thighs tremble.

Joel stills, just for a second. “Oh, baby,” he groans, voice thick with heat. “You gonna cum already?”

You can’t even answer. It’s already happening—your body clenching around him, breath stuttering, pleasure crashing over you like a wave you didn’t see coming.

Joel groans, low and guttural. “Fuck, that’s it. That’s my girl. So goddamn tight, milkin’ me already.”

You whimper, overwhelmed, and he leans in, pressing a kiss to your cheek, your jaw, your neck—his weight just pressing you down more.

“Didn’t even have to work for it,” he murmurs, voice all grit and honey. “Just slid in and you broke for me. That sweet little body was beggin’ for it, huh?”

You’re still trembling beneath him, body limp and flushed, breath catching in your throat as the last waves of your orgasm ripple through you. Joel stays buried deep, his weight a warm press on your back, his breath hot against your neck.

He leans in. “That helped? Made your cramps all better?”

You nod, still dazed, cheek pressed to the mattress.

He grins, slow and smug. “Told ya I’d fuck those cramps right outta that pretty little belly.”

Then he looks down again, and you feel the way his breath hitches—the way your hips twitch, the way the blood is dripping down his cock.

“Look at this fuckin’ mess,” he mutters, voice thick with heat. “All that blood and slick… drippin’ down my cock like you needed it.”

You cry out under him, body limp and flushed, when Joel grinds in again—slow, deep, relentless. The overstimulation sharp and sweet all at once.

“Sensitive?” he rasps, voice thick with heat. “Good. Daddy likes it like that.”

He shifts his knees wider, bracing himself, and then he thrusts deeper. So deep. You gasp, the pressure sharp and overwhelming, like he’s pressing into something you didn’t even know was there.

“Shit,” he groans, voice thick and ragged. “You feel that, baby? That’s me hittin’ the end of you.”

You whine out loud, hips twitching, the pillow under your belly pushing everything tighter, more intense.

Joel leans in, his belly heavy on your back. “Can feel your little womb flinchin’ around me,” he mutters, filthy and reverent all at once. “Like it’s beggin’ me to stay.”

You moan, overwhelmed, and he grinds in again—slow, relentless, like he’s trying to brand the shape of himself into you.

“You’re shakin’ like a leaf, baby.” He coos. Overstimmed, overstuffed, and still takin’ it. That’s my girl. That’s what I like.”

“Joel—“ you whimper, your head already floaty.

“I know, honey.”

The bed creaks beneath you both, the heat from the pad, the weight of him, the stretch—it’s all just too much and not enough. You’re drowning in it, in him, in the way he fills every inch of you.

Joel kisses your shoulder, then growls, “You’re gonna come again, baby. I can feel it. Gonna milk me dry, ain’t you?”

And with the next thrust—deep, slow, all in—you do.

Body shaking, cunt releasing all kinds of fluids and your breath knocked away.

“Second one’s always the messiest.“ he whispers, pulling out an inch and looking at all the mess you did. “You’re somethin’ else, you know that? Sweetest little thing I ever ruined.”

You’re wrecked. Muscles slack, thighs sticky, brain fogged. And before you can calm down, he moves again. Gentle, deliberate rolls inside your cunt and your body jolts like it wasn’t expecting more.

You gasps, voice all breath and disbelief: “You’re still? Joel… I can’t take no more…”

And he just leans in, mouth hot at your ear, hand now sliding up your ribs to hold you still.

“Shhh… hush now.” A low, lazy murmur. “You said that last time. And look at you—still here. Still takin’ it.”

He starts pressing in deeper, making you see stars.

“Mmm… this one’ll fix those cramps up real good. Better than any damn pill ever could.”

You try to speak, to protest, but all that comes out is a broken moan. Your legs twitch. Your breath stutters. And he feels it—the way your body starts to tighten again, even before your mind catches up.

He slows down, just enough to make you feel every inch, every drag of him inside you. His hand stays between your legs, fingers slick and steady, working your clit with maddening precision. You’re trembling, overstimulated, breath hitching with every pass of his thumb.

“C’mon, baby,” he murmurs, voice low and wrecked. “I know it’s a lot. I know you’re sensitive.”

You whimper, hips twitching, trying to pull away—but he just follows, keeps you pinned with his weight and his mouth at your ear.

“But you’re takin’ it so good,” he breathes. “So fuckin’ good for me. Just one more. You can do that, can’t you?”

You shake your head, but it’s useless—your body’s already betraying you, clenching around him, grinding into his hand like it’s got a mind of its own.

“That’s it,” he whispers. “Let me feel you. Let me help. Gonna fuck those cramps right outta you.”

And then he adds: “That little belly will thank me later.”

You’re too raw, too full, too far gone—and he knows it. He wants it.

“Cum for me,” he growls, thrusts deep and slow. “Give me that third one. Let me feel you fall apart.”

And you do—again—with a cry that’s more sound than breath, your body seizing around him as he fucks you through it, coaxing every last wave of pleasure from your overstimmed, aching core.

Your thighs clamp under his hips, your cunt pulsing so hard it borders on pain. You sob through it, too sensitive, too full, and still he doesn’t stop, dragging it out until you’re writhing, begging, soaked and ruined.

He groans deep, guttural, and his hips stutter, grinding in deep, and staying there. His voice is a rasp: “Fuck… that’s it. That’s it, baby. Take it. Take all of it.”

You feel him spill inside you, hot and slow, his whole body pressed tight to yours, breath ragged against your neck. You’re shaking. Floating. Gone.

“God damn it—my fuckin’ back—” he grits out, voice cracking as he drives in deep one last time.

He groans, loud and low, like it’s being torn out of him, and you feel it—the heat, the weight, the way he spills inside you like he’s been holding it back for hours.

“Shit… that’s it… that’s it…” he mutters, forehead pressed to your shoulder, body trembling. “Gonna need a fuckin’ ice pack after this. Jesus.”

You can’t help it—you laugh between all that overstimulation, breathless and wrecked, still clenching around him.

He huffs a laugh too, catching his breath. “Don’t you dare laugh at me, woman. I just threw my back out makin’ you see stars.”

He doesn’t pull out. Doesn’t move. Just stays there, heavy and warm, muttering into your skin.

“You good, darlin’?” he murmurs, voice low and warm. “Still breathin’? ‘Cause I ain’t sure I am.”

You hum something soft, too gone to answer, and he chuckles—a slow, wrecked sound.

Finally, with a grunt and a muttered “Alright, here we go…”, he shifts his weight, pulls out slow, and pushes himself up. His knees pop again. His feet hit the floor of the van with a heavy thud, and you groan because you can’t feel your body.

“Sticky little thing. You know what you look like down there? Goddamn…like strawberry cream pie, baby. Red white and split open and spillin’ sweet all over me.”

You sigh, dragging a hand over your face. “Ugh, Joel… you’re so disgusting.”

He just grins, slow and lazy, like he knows exactly what he’s doing to you.

“Yeah?” he drawls, dragging two fingers through the mess and smearing it along your thigh. “Then why you blushin’, huh?”

You try to glare at him, but your face is hot, your body still trembling, and you can’t stop the way your hips twitch when he touches you again.

“Shut up,” you mumble, voice thin and wrecked.

He grabs a towel, wets it from the bottle, then kneels between your thighs.

But before he even touches the towel to your skin, he leans in and drags his tongue through the mess he left behind. Blood, come, sweat all of it.

You gasp, hips twitching, eyes flying open.

“Joel—”

He just chuckles, low and wrecked, licking his lips like he’s savoring it.

“Tastin’ like honey,” he mutters, voice thick with heat. “Sweetest thing I ever put my mouth on.”

You groan, half mortified, half melting, and he grins like he knows exactly what he’s doing to you.

Then he takes the towel and starts to clean you sweet and slow, gentle strokes, careful not to press too hard.

“Easy now,” he murmurs. “Let me take care of you, darlin’. You earned it.”

He leans over, brushing your hair back from your face.

“Y’wanna stay like that, or y’want me to change you?”

You groan into the pillow. “Can’t move.”

He chuckles, low and fond. “Alright, alright. Let’s get you up, sweetheart.”

He slides an arm under your belly, the other under your chest, and lifts you slow—careful not to jostle you too much. You wince, legs trembling as you shift upright, and then you see it.

The sheets.

Blood and come smeared across the fabric in thick, dark streaks. A mess. Your mess.

You gasp, eyes going wide. “Joel—your sheets—”

But he’s already shaking his head, brushing a kiss to your temple.

“Don’t you worry ‘bout that. Sheets can be washed. You? You’re what matters.”

You blink at him, still dazed, still flushed, and he smiles, soft and crooked.

“C’mon. Let’s get you cleaned up proper.”

He helps you to your feet, one hand steady at your waist, the other grabbing a clean towel. The van rocks gently as you both move, and he groans again.

“Goddamn suspension’s worse than my knees.”

You laugh, leaning into him as he guides you to the little bathroom, and he mutters something about “gonna need a chiropractor and a cigarette” under his breath.

Sleazy!joel Masterlist

Btw guys, i finally have an Ao3 acc. I’m trying to post all my fics also there but i can’t promise anything because i’m struggling to understand that damn website lmao😭 but if you like to check it out here is the link!

I hope yall enjoyed sleazy!joel hehe and again, happy new year everyone! I hope you all started safely and happy and i hope this year will be just a little bit better! 🫶🏻

Taglist: @vickie5446 @thatgirlmendo @ihearttdilfs @pickyeater13 @sweetiegirl16 @afyreinjuly @shivispunk @kyloispunk @marisemonteiroo @meetmeatyourworst @joelmillerswife9 @iveseenstrangerthings50 @idrkman @blueberryfruittart @vanishintoyoubby @dlwrish @brittmb115 @xcallmetaniax @umadirectioner @millersweetheart @wildthyng @armandispunk @chick66i @bratty-spicee @am1a-niigo @hopelessromantic727 @styleslfreak @psclcain @susieqorion24 @rxsemarinusx @jandtmillersgirl @fertilise-me @mitskilover88 @lostboys1987girl l @begginforthread @pinkangelglitterdusttt @facethepascal @ddiana111 @twilightblogss @cheeseizts @pedrosgirl03 @swimmingnightcolor @gabfromgreedycity @bartzabel4 @blueflowerstranger @easybbgrl @Madnessofadaydreamer @Sadie6sinks6slut @hopelessromantic727 @miramindlesslywriting

Divider by @bhavihelps

[koshkaj-blog]

One of my favourite period fics of all time. Sleazy fat trailer park Joel who is rough around the edges but so soft for reader *swoon*

[sweetpascal]

𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 — 𝐝𝐚𝐲 𝐟𝐨𝐮𝐫

gif by: @richardgrimes

pairing: perv!stepdad!joel x fem!reader

summary: when you do the unthinkable, joel takes it upon himself to let out all of his anger and frustration onto you. the punishments that follow are ones that officially tear you apart and turn you into an unrecognizable girl.

warnings: MINORS DNI. DUB-CON. BIG AGE GAP [18/52], joel is VERY VERY VERY mean in this chapter, face slapping, hair pulling, hella manipulation, finger sucking, spanking as punishment [with his hand and belt], TW: isolation as punishment, TW: emotional abuse, joel spits on your face, oral [m receiving], TW: forced asphyxiation, joel has a very big dick ok, masochism, sadism, dacryphilia, kinda angsty ??

wc: 7.3k

notes: i felt kinda blah about this series cause i feel like i'm not making joel mean enough compared to how some writers write dark!joel (´•︵•`) so i got really sad and put all my emotions into this chapter as a coping mechanism and made joel REALLY fucking mean and just... a horrible and nasty man. trauma ?? i think so. ENJOY. ( ˶ˆᗜˆ˵ )

edit: i posted this later than expected UGH. expect two updates in one day.

series masterlist | prev chapter | next chapter

By the time you awoke, the space beside you in bed was vacant. You have no recollection of drifting off in Joel's embrace. As you rise, the fluffy blanket cascades down, gathering around your hips. Joel must have draped it over you once you had succumbed to sleep. The absence of his clothes on the floor and the chill of his side of the bed leave you questioning whether he stayed the night at all, stirring a sense of unease within you. He had done something new, something that made you feel good, and he wasn't here when you woke up. Why? Why wasn't he here? Why do you feel so cold all of a sudden? Was this something normal that men do? Embarrassed by the series of events from last night, you pull on your discarded panties and shorts.

The sunrise had not yet begun. Looking out the window, the sky displayed an almost purplish tint with the sun barely cresting the horizon. It was a cloudless sky, yet the faint chirping of morning birds could be heard from their respective trees. Unsure of the time, as Joel had confiscated your phone and you lacked an alarm clock, the day's start remained ambiguous.

As you tiptoe out of your room, you notice the house is completely quiet. Joel usually wakes up before dawn, but today, a faint snore drifts from his and your mom's bedroom. Moving down the hall, you gently push the slightly open door further. In the dim blue light filtering in from outside, you can just make out Joel's form. He's sprawled on his stomach in the center of the bed, clutching his pillow while your mom's lies abandoned on the floor. Shirtless, the sheets are drawn just below the dimples of his back. The bedside clock shows 5:22 AM.

"Daddy?" you whisper faintly into the darkness, pausing for an answer. Only his soft snores, muffled by the pillow, meet your ears. Drawing nearer, you notice Joel is lying on his good ear, the other affected by partial hearing loss. The urge to rouse him is strong, yet you hesitate, knowing these moments of peaceful rest are few for him.

The rumbling of your stomach makes you whimper. Joel usually prepares meals for you when asked. Your mother, however, rarely agrees, often reminding you that you're old enough to cook for yourself. But Joel always protests, saying, "I don't want your pretty little hands to get all cut up and burned." Perhaps he wouldn't mind if you made breakfast just this once. It would be a sweet gesture to surprise him with breakfast in bed. You wonder if your mom ever did something like that for him.

"I'm going to make breakfast for us, okay, Daddy?" you whisper, a bit louder this time, your hand hovering just above his broad back. You can feel the warmth radiating onto your palm. When he doesn't respond, only emitting another snore, you quietly tiptoe out of the room and gently close the door, cringing when it makes a loud noise at the last moment.

Descending the stairs, a sense of unease weighs heavily in your stomach. Alone, with dark blue hues filling patches of the vacant house and shadows stretching across the walls, you almost feel an invisible presence. You find yourself wishing Joel were awake to fend off the lurking shadows. Rushing to the kitchen, you flip on the light, blinking against the sudden brightness until your eyes adjust.

Opening the fridge revealed a lackluster array of dinner leftovers, several half-empty condiment bottles, an empty milk carton, and a bag of grapes beginning to rot. It was disappointing to find nothing inspiring to cook with. A glance at the stovetop clock showed it was 5:30. The local market would open at 6, and it was only a half-hour walk away. However, the prospect of walking that distance didn't appeal to you, dramatic as it might seem. Your eyes then fell upon Joel's truck keys and wallet in the bowl on the kitchen countertop. Surely, he wouldn't mind if you borrowed them for a quick shopping trip.

Right?

By the time you returned home, it was nearly 8 o'clock. The neighborhood had fully come to life. The groceries in the truck's backseat jostled with every gentle turn. A sinking feeling emerged at the thought of Joel's anger over you borrowing his truck without asking and taking some of his twenty-dollar bills. Yet, it stemmed from a desire to do something kind for him in gratitude for his good care during your mother's absence. An excitement bubbled within you, eager to burst.

You hadn't planned to be out this long, but losing track of time and procrastinating on your tasks is a frequent issue. Joel often chides you for this, playfully urging you to get your head out of the clouds and to come back down to earth. Your only hope is that Joel remains asleep, unaware of your absence. However, the missing money from his wallet, the extra miles on his truck, and the depleted gas are sure to give you away.

As you park the truck in the driveway, you notice the porch screen is wide open, though you remember closing it before sneaking out. Your heart sinks at the sight of Joel's daunting figure in the doorway, his gaze piercing through the windshield. It's a wonder the glass doesn't crack under the weight of his stare. Your pulse quickens, a flurry of nervous butterflies takes flight in your stomach, and your palms dampen with sweat as you clutch the steering wheel tightly.

Joel points at you and then to the ground at his feet, silently mouthing, "Now." He then vanishes back into the house, clearly pissed off. Fear grips you, making it daunting to leave the truck's safety. After six agonizing minutes, you gather enough bravery to step out, your breath hitching in your throat and almost making it difficult to breathe.

After hoisting the grocery bags into your arms and nudging the back passenger door closed with your foot, likely leaving a mark on the polished metal, you make your way to the porch with unsteady steps. The door stands slightly open, and you gently push it wider. As you spin around to close it, a hand reaches over your shoulder and slams it with such force that the house seems to shake. Startled, you yelp loudly as Joel grabs your arm firmly and pulls you into the kitchen, his long strides causing you to stumble over your feet.

"Sit your fuckin' ass down," he practically barks, pulling out a kitchen chair and slams it down. He pushes you toward the chair so forcefully that the grocery bags tumble down around you. As you land on the wooden chair, the impact from Joel's shove nearly expels all the air from your lungs.

He stands over you from your seated position, towering and nearly trembling with fury. Joel's hands are clenched into tight fists, his knuckles whitening under the strain. He scratches his jaw and paces, a low growl emanating from deep within his chest as the intensity in his eyes burns fiercer. You close your eyes, sitting motionless, bracing yourself.

"Are you out of your GODDAMN MIND?!" He bends down to scream in your face, his face contorted in a way that makes him look scary and so different from the usual angry Joel you normally see. This Joel was drowning in rage. His eyes were nearly black and the lines on his face deepened as he snarled in your face. "You fucking ANSWER ME!" One hand grabs the back of your hair and yanks your head back so fast that your nerve spasms, a shrieking cry escaping your lips. His other hand grabs your face and squeezes your jaw so tightly that pain blossoms throughout your gums.

"Stop, stop, stop, please, stop!" You're babbling in his face, thick tears sliding down your cheeks from the intense pain in your scalp, neck, and jaw. You could barely catch a breath from how hard you're crying. "Da-Daddy, p-please!" You're grabbing on both of his forearms, nails digging deep through his long shirt, no doubt leaving indentations.

Joel only grunts lowly, his breath heavy and fast. His hands squeeze tighter, and he roughly shakes your head, loving the way your face scrunches up at the pain he's causing. Then, he forcibly pushes your head away, releasing his hands from your knotted hair and your already bruising jaw. Tears streaming down your face, you draw your knees up to your chest for comfort and hesitantly reach for the back of your head, while your other hand softly caresses your jaw. Your eyes are wide, reflecting a state of shock and fear. Joel's gaze is fixed on you, his frown growing more pronounced as you quiver uncontrollably.

He pulls his wallet from his back pocket and flings it towards you. It strikes your knees and tumbles to the floor, unfolding just enough to reveal its barren interior.

"You take my fuckin' truck," Joel says in a low voice, trembling with anger. He steps back, his boots thudding on the floorboards. "You take my fuckin' money." At this point, you're nearly hyperventilating, silently cursing yourself for such a foolish act and expecting him to accept it. He goes on, his tone grave, "And you sneak out without telling me, huh? What, you want more freedom than what I'm giving you here?"

The anger that Joel feels is indescribable. It's coursing through his veins like heroin, poisoning his blood and gradually taking over his body. He doesn't know what to do, or even think. All that he can do is react. How stupid of you to think this was okay. How mind-numbingly idiotic it was of him to expect you to follow his rules and obey him like a good girl. As he looks down at you like smeared shit at the bottom of his shoe, there seems to be only one option left.

Before you can react, Joel has seized your arm and pulled you up from the chair, nearly dislocating your shoulder. His footsteps are long, resounding, and forceful. Tears continue to flow as he hauls you up the stairs. You stumble on each step, crying and sobbing, while you try to keep pace with him. Your knees are banging against every edge as Joel practically drags you up the steps.

"Da-Dad-dy!" Choking on your tears, you can barely see anything. Your vision is blurry, and your hearing is muffled. Every nerve in your body is on fire. "Pl-Please, Jo-el!"

"Get up, girl! C'mon. Get your fuckin' ass up!" He grunts through labored breaths, jaw clenching tightly as he drags your body by the arm up the last step. "I've had 'nough of you."

Suddenly, he kicks your bedroom door open, your heartbreaking cries falling on deaf ears. Your body is shoved into your room with enough force to make you collapse onto the ground. You're gasping for air, your fingers slick with sweat as they frantically claw at the rug, desperate to find something to hold onto.

Joel stands motionless in the doorway, his gaze fixed on you without a trace of emotion. Thoughts flood his mind, overwhelming him like a tsunami. Make her hurt. Make her cry. Make her beg for mercy. He retrieves a key from his front pocket and observes as you pathetically curl into a ball on the floor, your shoulders shaking violently while you cry into the carpet. His hand rests on the doorknob. Before leaving, he speaks in an unexpectedly gentle tone, "Until I believe you've learned your lesson, you're going to stay here, and you're going to think about what you did."

Then, he departs and forcefully closes your door. Amidst your heavy sobs, the sound of the bedroom door lock engaging is audible. Glancing over your shoulder weakly, you notice the doorknob has been altered from before. Gone is the twist lock, replaced now by a keyed lock mechanism.

The epiphany strikes with overwhelming force. Enclosed by a door that's locked and windows sealed shut, you find yourself imprisoned with no means of escape.

Unaware of how much time has passed, you stay on the ground, curled up, emotionless. The tears have stopped, leaving behind an empty stare. The night has already set in, shrouding your room in darkness from top to bottom. Joel's footsteps are audible everywhere, hardly silent. Whenever he approaches your door, there's a halt, a moment of stillness, and then the sound of his steps resumes. Undoubtedly, he was listening with his ear against the door. Each approach brought a heaviness to your heart and a sinking sensation in your stomach.

The aroma of garlic sizzling in oil drifted from the kitchen, prompting your mouth to water and your stomach to knot with hunger. You hadn't eaten since the night before. The clatter of pots and pans, either being used or stored away, brought tears to your eyes. "Stupid, stupid girl," you chide yourself. It was foolish to attempt a kind gesture for Joel, only to have it go horribly wrong. It was a rash and impetuous move. Now, he'll never forgive you for this. This realization has you weeping once more into the spit-soaked, tear-stained rug.

Engrossed in your thoughts, you fail to notice the door has come unlocked and now stands ajar, the hallway light spilling in and illuminating your huddled form. Joel pauses in the doorway, a plate of food in hand, and tuts softly at the pathetic sight before him.

"Sit up," he commands, making his way deeper into the dimly lit room. The sound of his rough voice had your entire body tensing and your quiet cries immediately halting. When you remain still, Joel becomes irritated and prods your hip forward with his muddy boot, leaving a mark on the pristine white dress you wore especially to surprise him. "I said, get your fuckin' ass up, little girl. Don't make me tell you again."

With trembling limbs, you gradually unfold yourself, grimacing as your muscles burn. Your scalp, jaw, neck, knees, and arms feel as though they are on fire. After hours of immobility and neglecting your aching body, the pain strikes you with overwhelming force.

Joel squats before you, emitting a soft grunt as his knees pop and his lower back tightens. In silence, he extends the plate of food between you both: parmesan garlic chicken, green beans, and red roasted baby potatoes. The aroma and appearance make your eyes widen, your mouth water, and your stomach rumble.

The moment your fingertips graze the plate's underside, Joel pulls it away and sets it on the ground. Your faint smile vanishes, replaced by a frown as you meet his stern gaze. He remains silent, his stare unwavering. Looking down at the plate, it dawns on you that there's not a fork, knife, or even a spoon in sight.

"Eat," he commands, his voice a quiet murmur. Joel's gaze is fixed on you, his eyes unblinking, his facial expression shifting subtly. The softness and tenderness that were once reserved for you have vanished. He never used to look at your mom the way he looked at you. But now, his gaze is identical. It leaves you feeling sorrowful and heartbroken.

Confused and very much embarrassed at not knowing what to do, you hesitantly reach out to grab the chicken with your bare hand. Joel's hand roughly clamping around your wrist and shoving it away prevents you from doing so. There was a surge of panic that shot through you like a shotgun blast.

"No," he snaps, his eyes narrowing and his scowl deepening. It's clear he's losing patience. Joel has no time for games. "Bend down… and eat," he commands.

There's a tense, heavy moment of silence as you thoroughly think about what he's telling you to do. Warmth spreads throughout your neck and rises to your cheeks before settling on the tips of your ears. Your heart plummets to your stomach. So, like an obedient little dog, you lower your head down to the plate on the ground and begin eating.

Joel smiles at your obedience, one hand gently petting your head and tenderly massaging the tendrils of hair connected to your scalp that he viscously yanked. He softly quiets you when you flinch and unintentionally whimper. He maintains the gentle, affectionate strokes of his hand through your hair, even gathering it into a ponytail to help you eat more comfortably.

"That's a good girl," he softly praises, settling onto his knees in front of you and using his other hand to gently stroke your jaw. "See how easy it is to obey Daddy? You just needed some of Daddy's tough lovin', huh?"

Is this what it was? Some tough love? You've never encountered that before, much less experienced it. Since you were never a problem child, discipline was seldom necessary. Maybe this is exactly what you needed to be a good girl for Joel. Maybe this tough love is what will help you do better and learn from your stupid mistakes.

As you continue eating, Joel finds himself slowly loving the sight of you eating like a fucking mutt in front of him. Knowing that he can push you so far as to do something like this excites him. His hand tightens in the makeshift ponytail he has your hair in, and his eyes darken. Letting out a whimper that was muffled from your food, you make sure to not complain about it to Joel. He was already upset with you from earlier and you really don't want to push it further.

"That's enough," he declares, his hand in your hair stopping your movements while his other hand takes your plate away, leaving half of the food untouched and uneaten. His hand pops you on the cheek when he hears you protesting, a pained yelp escaping your slobbered lips. He forces your head up to be eye level with his. "Listen to me, little girl. From this moment forward, Daddy will decide what you eat, when you eat it, and how much you can eat. Have I made myself clear?" His voice's tone is so authoritative that it holds no room for argument, not that you could muster one even if you wished to.

Nevertheless, you find yourself nodding within his grasp. Choosing not to protest was wise. Should this behavior be part of your punishment or his version of tough love, you certainly wouldn't want to witness him at full strength. Merely the thought was enough to make you shudder with fear once more. Joel was an incredibly strong man, often unaware of his own strength. He could break your jaw with one squeeze--he almost fucking did it this morning.

Joel mocks your nod. "Good," he hums, offering you a pleased smile as he lovingly strokes the apple of your cheeks. "Now, come to the bathroom so Daddy can brush your teeth."

Leaving your half-finished plate behind, you follow Joel into the hallway. You trail behind him aimlessly, your steps shaky and limping. He notices but chooses not to comment. It's for the best, a silent reminder that such consequences will recur if you act carelessly again.

Joel opens the door to the main bathroom and guides you inside with care. He lifts you with ease under your arms and sets you down on the countertop. A small squeak escapes from your chest, a sound that Joel finds adorable. He flashes a subtle grin and begins to wet your toothbrush, dabbing on the toothpaste. He shuffles between your thighs and thumbs your mouth open to start brushing your teeth. His actions brought you comfort, making you feel cherished and cared for. Even though you could have done it yourself, witnessing Joel display his nurturing side was touching. You longed to see more of this aspect of him, silently promising to be well-behaved with every passing minute.

"Alright, babydoll," he says as pats your thighs lovingly and rinses off your toothbrush after instructing you to lean over the sink and spit out the minty froth. "Now, get your butt back to your room and lean over the bed, panties off."

Joel notices the confusion spark in your eyes before it manifests in the furrowing of your brows. Your lips part to question him, but the words become stuck in your throat as his eyes darken and he gives a subtle shake of his head, tutting softly to himself.

"And here I thought you were goin' to start listening to me," he lets out a dark chuckle before invading your space with his strong chest pressing against yours. The force of the action causes your back to crash against the mirror, your head striking the glass while the sink spout presses into your lower back, causing discomfort and pain.

He bares his teeth just barely as he gets in your face, nostrils flaring and eyebrows furrowing, the storm brewing wildly in his eyes. Joel laughs gruffly as your eyes widen and you put your hands up in front of your body against his chest to protect yourself from his unpredictability. Oh, how cute. You were shaking under his hold like a frightened little bunny. Joel presses you harder against the mirror, no doubt forcing the sink spout deeper into your back. He grumbles pleasantly under his breath. He was causing this terrible fear clear as day on your face. The blooming bruises on your body are caused by his hands. The finger shaped bruises looked like a work of art on your delicate skin.

"Oh, babydoll," his breath fans across your face. He gives you a mocking pout, hushing you softly when the tears spill. "You're makin' it real hard not to paint that ass black and blue, you know that?"

Your bottom lip trembles and your body quivers, eyes shutting tightly as you mentally prepare yourself for Joel's next action. Tears spill and disappear underneath your aching jaw. He wipes them away at first, but when they keep sliding down, he wipes a tear-stained thumb across your lips before pushing the appendage deeper into your mouth and pressing down on your tongue.

"D'you taste that?" He asks you so quietly that you almost missed it. He's looking at his thumb between your lips and bites down on his own. Joel gazes into your wide eyes, which stare back at him as if he were the boogeyman. In a way, he is. "That's the taste of fear, sweetheart. Don't it taste fuckin' delicious?" The laugh he lets out is depraved, deranged, and delirious. With his thumb still in your mouth, he uses the other fingers to wrap under your chin before using that grip to force your head to move up and down roughly. "That's what I thought. Now, I ain't going to ask you again, babydoll. Take your ass back to your room and take off your fuckin' panties. When I get back, you better be leaning over the edge or so fuckin' help me God."

The mere threat was sufficient to send you scuttling down the hallway, pushing past Joel in a rush to get to your room. He watches you do so with a sadistic smile on his face. To see you react in such a way has him so fucking hard in his jeans. He cups a hand over the thickness and squeezes. There was a brief warmth pooling in his groin, and he let out a husky moan before his hand falls away. In due time, he silently tells himself.

Shaking, stuttering breaths were muffled in the bedding. You did exactly as you were told. The tips of your toes just barely skimming the rug, you were leant over the edge of the bed with your panties pooled at your ankles. One of your hands had blindly reached across the bed to grab onto your stuffed animal to curl an arm around it and press it against your side. The only comforting thing you can have at this moment that can hopefully ease the unsettling anxiety that won't go away.

Uncertain of how much time has passed, it might have been five minutes, ten, or perhaps even an hour. You caught a fleeting sound of Joel entering the room to retrieve your plate, then he left, securing the door with a lock behind him.

Long stretches of silence enveloped you, allowing the sound of your own heartbeat to echo mercilessly in your ears. It was a fleeting moment of tranquility before Joel determined his next move. In this stillness, sleep nearly overtook you, the exhaustion from hours of weeping creeping up silently. Then, the door unlocks, knob slowly turning. The ominous creaking of your door opening has you tensing as you hold your breath.

The steady stomp of Joel's footsteps enters your room before the door is shut behind him. The sight of you in a position that he demanded from you was driving him fucking wild. Panties at your ankles and your cute ass on display, the hem of your dress stopping just at the middle of your cheeks. He can see your pussy nearly calling out for him to play with her. But he can't, not at this moment. He needs you to understand that your actions, done behind his back, were unacceptable. They were reckless and dangerous—just the thought of it is enough to make Joel feel like punching a wall over and over.

"Now, what am I goin' to do with you, babydoll?" The question is rhetorical. He knows what he's going to do to you, but you don't. Leaving you in the dark of where his mind runs wild, keeping you pure from his deranged, perverted thoughts was for your own good. He intends to maintain a safe distance to prevent any critical harm, beyond what has already been inflicted.

The sound of Joel's voice has your hips shifting, your pussy lips just barely parted to give him a show of your exposed clit poking out from the hood that protects the exposed nerve. As he gets closer, he can see your stuffed animal in a headlock under your arm. How cute and pathetic.

"I gotta say, honey," he starts talking, his voice humorless and no longer holding that warm tone he previously had when he walked in. "It was adorable you thought I was done with you tonight. I mean, you really thought Daddy locking you up here was all that he was goin' to do?"

Unsure if the question was rhetorical or not, you still answered in a breathy voice, "Y-Yes, Daddy."

A smile makes its way onto Joel's face. "Yes, Daddy," he mocks your high pitched, breathy voice. The act of him doing so caused an embarrassed flush to warm your cheeks and ears. To be mocked made you feel so small. But that's what you are to Joel; this tiny, little thing that is so easy to crush in his big hand.

His groin rests against your ass cheeks, both of his hands lifting your dress higher until it pools around your upper back, further exposing your naked body to his eager eyes. The rough denim of his jeans and the cold metal of his zipper pressing into your backside made you hiss under your breath. Joel's hands hold onto your hips, forcing your body further onto the bed until your toes are no longer skimming above the rug, your feet now only dangling a few inches up.

"That's more like it," he grunts quietly, biting down on the plump flesh of his body limp when he sees goosebumps erupt on your soft skin. So, so fucking soft and untainted. As one hand pins you down at your lower back, his other hand gently rubs across your left ass cheek. Barely glancing at you to make sure you're prepared for what's to come, Joel mutters, "Brace yourself, sweetheart."

Then, he thwacks his palm across your skin. The force and strength of the smack made you cry out in surprise and pain. He smacks your other cheek with the same force. He does it again and again, back and forth, back and forth. Your legs kick behind you as fiery warmth blossoms along your backside. Your arm squeezes tighter around your stuffed bunny as you blindly reach a hand behind you to cover your bottom. Joel was quick to grab your wrist to pin it at your lower back.

He doesn't fucking stop spanking you. Not even when his own handprint is starting to show on your skin. He grunts with every thwack of his hand across your sensitive flesh. The cries that are forced out of you were music to his ears. Your backside feels like it's on fire underneath his wide palm; he doesn't know when to stop or ease up. The frustration and irritation from earlier were slowly making their way into Joel's mind.

"Bad." Smack. "Bad." Smack. "Fuckin'." Smack. "Girl."

Joel grunts like an animal as the smacks happen in quick succession. You're wailing into the covers, feet kicking weakly as you try so desperately to wiggle away from him. He won't stop. The pain is indescribable. It burns so badly, throbbing non-stop and feeling like a million needles are being stabbed into your skin. Your throat hurts from your pain-filled wails that are muffled into your bedding.

He's panting heavily and sweating. Wiping a forearm across his forehead, Joel removes his hands from your body, tilting one hand to the side to observe your marked ass. His handprints are on your skin, clear as day. He can feel the blazing heat radiating from your backside. But again, he's not done with you yet. And he tells you just that.

"Quit your fuckin' whinin'," he orders, both hands lowering to his thick leather belt to undo it from the hoops of his jeans. "We're not done until I say we're done." He folds the leather and snaps it together, the resounding sound causing you to cry harder in the sheets.

You learned your lesson. You know that you've been a bad girl. You know this. But the words fail to emerge, your voice and mouth unable to coordinate effectively enough to communicate with Joel. A tumult of emotions rages through your violently trembling body: fear, confusion, intense pain, and fatigue.

Folded, thick leather smacking against tender, angry skin is what forces a scream to erupt from your throat. With your bunny discarded, both hands desperately grab at your bedsheets to pull you away from Joel and his offending belt. You can faintly hear him sucking his teeth before one of his hands roughly yanks you back down by the back collar of your dress.

"Cry as much as you want to, babydoll!" he shouts through your pained wails. Then, the belt strikes across your ass repeatedly. Joel was barely giving you time to breathe through your tears and dribbling snot and drool that slides down your chin. "Kick all you want! Daddy ain't stopping!"

He lowers the position of the belt so that he can strike the back of your thighs as well. You're sure that after tonight, you won't be able to sit or speak for a very long time, for your vocal cords are nearly shattered from how hard and loud you were screaming, and Joel's hands and belt are bruising your backside. You're wishing that this torture will end. You're wishing that Joel will stop and hold you while you cry in his arms like a blubbering baby. Stop. Stop. Stop.

"Stop!" You screamed and screamed, both hands desperately reaching back to cover your backside. Everything burns. Everything feels like it's on fire. The pain only intensified when Joel tossed his belt aside and resorted to the palm of his hand again. "Please, please, stop, p-please!" Your speech now slurred and unrecognizable from thick tears, your hands claw at Joel's wrist, his hand wrapped around both of your own wrists to pin at your lower back again.

Only then does Joel snap out of it.

He's breathing so heavy that an innocent bystander would think that he was having a panic attack. Joel looks down at his creation and finally pulls his hand off of your wrists. Your arms go limp at your sides; you don't even bother trying to cover yourself. He looks at your backside, his thumb gently wiping away some blood that dotted around broken skin that was caused by his belt. He hums thoughtfully, bringing his thumb to his lips and licking your blood from the tip. In a day or two, your ass was going to be badly bruised and marked, all thanks to him.

"Such a sweet girl," he whispers, leaning down to press his nose behind your ear and inhaling deeply. Your body violently shakes underneath his chest. His groin is crushed against your horribly bruised ass, the pressure of it making you cry weakly, all the energy suddenly drained from you once he stopped abusing your ass.

Glancing down at his hard cock, now thick and pressing uncomfortably into his thigh, Joel decided now would be a good time for you to make him feel good. Though he knows you're not up for it, he doesn't fucking care. A darkness lurks within his mind, akin to an alter ego that commandeers his body, a monster in its purest form. This other facet of him is sadistic, vicious, and relentless. With you, it's so easy to fall into this second body. It's addicting. He can't stop, even if he knows this is wrong.

With a hoarse grunt, Joel grabs the back of your arms and yanks you off the bed to drop you down onto your knees. With a hand under your chin to keep your face pointed up to him, his other hand unbuttons his jeans and pulls them down, along with his underwear. He pushes both offending fabrics mid-thigh, sighing with satiated relief when his cock slaps up, nearly poking you in the eye.

You could hardly pay attention. Your eyes were unfocused and hazy, swollen lips parted to inhale and exhale shakily. You were so deep in another world that Joel had to roughly shake your head to bring you back down the earth. Unsure of why you feel so dizzy, you tried focusing on the pain in your backside that was still throbbing relentlessly, the burning fire now sizzling into a numb sensation.

"Tongue out," Joel demands roughly as he holds your hair into a makeshift ponytail with one hand as the other holds the base of his cock to tap his leaking tip against your lips.

Hearing his order, you look up at him with tear-filled eyes and do as you're told. You don't even know what exactly you're doing, but all you can hear in your mind is be a good girl and listen to him. Your eyes almost cross as you get a better look of his cock, and they widen comically. God, Joel was really long and thick. You wondered if all men were this size. It was intimidating to look at. You don't know if even less than half could fit in your mouth, let alone inside of you. Joel observes the revelation in your eyes and drops his left into a wink.

"Careful with your teeth, baby," his voice was gruff and strained, his mushroomed tip throbbing against your lips as his heavy balls tighten from the warmth pooling intensely in his groin. "Yeah, just like that."

His praise was something that you desperately needed tonight. Forgetting about the unrelenting abuse you endured on your backside, you can make it up to him by showing you that yes, you really are a good girl, and you will listen to him and do what you're told.

When you take too long to give Joel what he wants, he decides to take charge in one way that he knows how. Both hands grab either side of your head, forcing it to stay still as he shoves half of his cock into your mouth. Your eyes widened and you sputtered sloppily around his dick, your hands frantically fisting his jeans at his thighs. He grunts and groans, sweat pooling behind his neck and sliding down the line of his back.

"Goddamn," he hissed under his breath, moving his hips forward and back to start fucking your mouth with a brutal pace that has his balls slapping against your wet chin. "Born natural, ain't ya?"

Coughing and choking around his cock, you gagged and dry heaved as his thickness fills your mouth repeatedly. Spit dribbles down your chin and slides down your chest as you bite back the bile pooling in the back of your throat. Joel's breathing stutters for a split second at the sight below him. Your lips were obscenely stretched around his girth, eyes wide and glassy with thick tears just waiting to spill over. The sloppy, wet noises coming from your mouth nearly made him bust right in your mouth.

"Let me try somethin'," Joel mumbles to himself before roughly grabbing the back of your head and forcing your head all the way down until your nose and lips were crushed against his dark public hair. The contractions of your throat squeezing around his cock has him moaning gruffly at the ceiling, his head thrown back, Adam's apple bobbing in time with each moan that comes out.

Taking advantage of Joel's lax state, your nails dig into the thick meat of his thighs to push yourself off of him. His cock slips from your lips, strings of spit connecting from the enlarged tip to your puffy lips. You're coughing and dry heaving, your throat burning terribly. Joel looks down and grins wolfishly.

His hand languidly strokes his soaking cock. The sight of you struggling from his size was an image he wanted to engrave in his mind so he can watch it over and over again. He liked seeing you struggle. Hell, he fucking craves to see it again. Without giving you any time to prepare, he grabs the back of your head to force you down onto his cock once more.

The sopping wet choking sounds that are emitting from your throat are driving him insane. He wonders what would happen if he just...

Both hands roughly grab your head to yank you down until his cock goes down your throat again. This time, he keeps you there for a few, long, grueling seconds. You're sputtering wildly, eyes wide with terror as tears spill over your waterline. Your fists are weakly punching at his thighs, and you try to pull your head back, but Joel only crushes your head harder into his pelvis until your nose is pressed so deep into his pubic hair.

Joel grunts like a wild beast. "Just like that. Fuckin' choke on it." He sees your lashes flutter weakly, your eyes half-lidded and rolling into the back of your head. The lack of oxygen to your brain has your heart slowing dramatically. This is your death. Yeah, this is definitely how you're going to die: choking on Joel Miller's dick, also your mom's husband.

Suddenly, your head is pulled off and you're gasping for air like it's the last thing on earth. Your head is spinning and you're doubling over until your forehead is almost touching Joel's boots. Your throat burns and you can barely feel your tongue. This wasn't supposed to be happening. This is all your fault. You deserve this punishment. Bad girl. Bad, bad, bad girl. Slowly rocking yourself back and forth, you sniffle softly and take a weak glance up at him. A shadow almost casts over your face from where you kneeled, his long cock perfectly aligned below the ceiling light.

Joel bends down to lift you higher on your knees. His big hands gently hold your cheeks, and your eyes shut as this is the first tender touch you've felt in hours. You savor this moment, sniffling again and licking your bottom lip. Joel smiles sweetly, lowering his head to kiss your forehead, nose, and then your lips. A sweet little whimper reverberates against his lips. When he pulls away, he quietly instructs you to open your eyes, babydoll.

When you do, you're met with sweet, nice, tender Joel again. Have you really made it to the end of your punishment? Are you his good girl again? Is this really it? The moment doesn't last long. The smile on Joel's face vanishes gradually slowly. There's a sick feeling that returns back inside your stomach. This is going to be never-ending. This is your well-deserved punishment. Pain, pain, pain.

When Joel purses his lips, you flinch when a wad of spit lands on across the bridge of your nose and slides down your cheeks prettily. Your eyes open and your mouth drops. This was the most demeaning thing for him to do. Spitting on your face is a clear indication that you're nothing more than a personal toy for Joel to use. This whole entire night was of him showing you what you mean to him. The thought added a crack to your heart. All you ever wanted was to be good.

Joel's fingers filthily rub his spit all over your face, a crude smile on his face as he does so. His middle and index fingers are shoved into your mouth, the pads of his fingertips covered in his slick and are now laying against your wiggly tongue. "There we go," he breathes out, gently prodding his fingers further down your throat until they brush against your uvula, causing you to gag and sputter.

You barely have enough time to react before he's yanking his fingers from your mouth and landing a smack to your cheek. It almost sends you flying to the side if it weren't for his hand holding onto the other side of your face. Joel hushes you quietly when your eyes shut tightly, fire spreading across your face.

"This is for your own good, babydoll," he whispers against your forehead, pulling away to pop your cheek again, and then landing another smack to your other cheek. He shushes your pained cries again, giving you a messy, tongue-filled kiss. You can't stop crying against his mouth, snot, spit, and tears all over your face. The anguish won't diminish. It gets stronger and stronger the more Joel breaks you apart little by little.

His hands curl into your hair, tightening into fists and yanking your head back a few inches from his face. His eyes darken as he sees the fear in your beautifully broken eyes. He spits on your face once more, trailing his eyes over the artistic splatter across your nose and cheeks. His cock, still rock hard and soaking wet, hangs out of his jeans.

Joel is a patient man. In due time, you and he will finally become one. Whether you liked it or not, you were his--his to use, his to play with, his to destroy. You don't have a voice anymore. Joel Miller broke you apart with his bare hands and left you scrabbling to pick up the pieces.

taglist:

@yesjazzywazzylove-blog @heyhihello-4771 @blueberrypancakesworld @codenamekitten @natalieispunk @koshkaj-blog @giowritess @beardropascal @pascaltesfaye @callmeafra @nexy00 @josephquinnswhore @baronessvonglitter @peelieblue @paanchusblog @b3bybunny @sugadolly @ktluvsmen @elliesr1fle @taeslarityy @yourgirljasmin444 @laloestoyvivo @aquanatalie @vickie5446 @cowboybootjoel @olicity-boo @ashleyfilm @withakindheartx @puduvallee @psychoenergy @chuutzuyu

[kewwrites]

Sunshine Masterlist

@iamasaddie is to thank for the stunning cover!

Updated: 5/22/25

~

Pairings: Joel Miller/f!Reader, Tommy Miller/f!Reader

Series Summary: A look at the innocent relationship between Sunshine and Joel till one night something changes the course of their relationship forever.

'Loss and heartbreak often turn the best of us into our worst selves.'

Chapter Warnings/Tags: MDNI 18+!! Non-con and dub-con, abusive relationships, gaslighting, somnophillia, non-graphic child deaths, unprotected P in V, oral (f & m) kidnapping, biting, vaginal fingering, choking, captivity, physical abuse, emotional abuse, anal, whipping, hair pulling, knife/blood play, allusions and discussions of suicide.

More in depth tags on each chapter

A/N: This fic starts off cute and fluffy but once it changes, oh boy it fucking changes. I strongly encourage you to read the tags on each chapter and know that this is a fucked up fic. If you like that type of stuff, please enjoy! If not, maybe find some different reading material as this wouldn't be the fic for you.

~

Let me know if you'd like to be added to the taglist

~

Playlist AO3

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

[koshkaj-blog]

One of my all time favourite fics! Kew is an incredible writer and Sunshine is one of my favourites; a dark story with lots of complex emotions involved. Definitely worth checking out.

[koshkamartell]

No One But Me

masterlist

previous

chapter warnings: possessive!Joel, manipulative!Joel, gaslighting, degrading language, piv sex, oral sex.

The group had radioed that they estimated they would be arriving back within two days. The day before their estimated return, you and Ellie had gathered in your kitchen to bake a welcome home cake for Joel. You were patient and encouraging as you taught Ellie the method of baking a simple honey cake, standing next to her and instructing her on creaming the butter and sugar, beating the eggs, and how to properly fold the flour.

Ellie proved to be a good student; she listened to you carefully and took her time measuring each ingredient and completing each step slowly. She was eager to learn and filled with fascination for the art of baking. When she insisted on staying in the kitchen to watch the cake rise in the oven, you laughed.

The smell of sugar and caramelised honey filled your cottage. At the end of the afternoon, together you had created a round golden brown honey cake topped with a thin layer of icing. With painstaking dedication Ellie had selected some pretty little flowers from your garden and arranged them in a circle ontop of the icing.  You both stood side by side in your small kitchen and admired the finished product.

"Thanks," Ellie said. "For teaching me this stuff."

"You're welcome. I'm sure he will love it. And now you know how to bake, you can do it yourself."

Ellie scoffed. "Nuh-huh, that's your department."

"I thought you liked baking," you elbowed her playfully.

"I do," Ellie confessed. "But I like the eating part more."

You shook your head and laughed. She grinned and tilted her head to rest on your shoulder in a rare gesture of affection.

"But really, thanks alot," she sighed. "I need to learn this stuff for when I move out."

You frowned and pulled away from her to search her face for any sign of jest. There was none but a contented little grin on her young face.

"What do you mean, move out?"

"I gotta be an adult and grow up sometime, right?" Ellie said with a little shrug. "Me and some of my friends wanna get our own place, and I'm not at home that much anymore anyway."

"Oh, Ellie," you breathed out quietly, your eyebrows pinched in worry. "Are you sure? Joel's going to be so sad without you."

You carefully reached out and swiped a finger over the dusting of flour that had gotten on her cheek during your baking session. She smirked and tilted her head to the side.

"He'll be fine. He has you now."

Your mouth dropped open in shock but you quickly composed yourself. "W-what? What do you mean, 'has has me'?"

Ellie rolled her eyes. "As if I didn't know you two were making out on the couch whenever I snuck out of the house."

You clamped your mouth shut in a tight line, cheeks heating up in embarrassment. Ellie cackled and threw her arm around your neck affectionately.

"Relax! I'm happy for you guys. Maybe Joel won't be such a grumpy asshole if you guys have a little privacy."

"Uhm," you stammered, "I, uh, we are just friends right now. I don't know what....I'm not sure what Joel wants. Please don't say anything to anyone about that....idea...right now. Okay?"

You loved Joel and wanted to be with him, but Ellie was always a point of concern. You and Joel had never wanted to involve her in your relationship, didn't want to burden her in any way lest she get hurt. You had been so careful to keep those clandestine night meetings secret but it wasn't realistic to assume Ellie could be too naive to know what was going on, atleast not for so long.

But what would Joel think? Would he be more receptive to being in a real relationship with you now? Even though he had fucked you and told you he was coming back for you, everything was still so undefined. You also had no idea what Joel was comfortable with Ellie knowing. It was safer and easier to let Joel deal with it.

"Yes, sir," Ellie saluted you teasingly. When you didn't laugh and instead shot her a warning glare, she held up her hands in surrender. "Alright, okay, jeez. I won't say a word."

"Thank you."

"On one condition," Ellie grinned mischievously.  "You don't do that gross shit when I'm around, like, atleast wait til I'm out of the house, 'kay?"

You groaned and threw a hand towel at her. "I got it, Ellie. Now be quiet and help me clean up this mess."

The next day you were working with Oscar in the library when word spread that the men were close to Jackson. A small herd of children had burst into the library cheering and dancing around as they announced the news.

You and Oscar had laughed at their fanfare and watched the boisterous children with amusement. When they ran out of the library and back out into the street your laughter died down, leaving a long silence between you. It was neither uncommon nor uncomfortable. However, today Oscar broke the silence with a question that shocked you.

"Is there someone special to you on the patrol team?" He asked softly.

Your head snapped up from the books you had on the counter infront of you. Oscar was leaning with an elbow propped against the counter beside you, his head cocked to the side slightly, his hooded brown eyes searching over your face. His brows were creased ever so slightly into a frown and the tip of his tongue swiped over his bottom lip. You knew that this was the expression Oscar assumed whenever he was concentrating on something, usually when someone else was speaking. He wasn't scrutinising or teasing you; there was no sign of taunting, just an inquisitive softness in his features and voice. And even though the question could be considered ambiguous, even though it could only be a reference to friendship, you were unsure how to perceive it.

Embarrassed, you realised he had seen your reaction to the news, that the relief and joy you felt must have been evident on your face. You cleared your throat and shook your head.

"Oh," you mumble awkwardly, looking back down at the books. "Not really. I'm just, you know...happy that they are coming back safe. It's good for the community."

Oscar observed you quietly for a moment, then nodded. "Yes, it is good." He conceded.

"So, how's the stables going?" You asked him, hoping it wasn't obvious that you were wanting to change the subject.

"It's okay," he sighed. "Pretty busy restocking the feed, grooming the horses, cleaning the stables. Try not get kicked by Roscoe."

You smiled at his joke. You knew Roscoe was one of the more temperamental horses in the stables and could be unpredictable in mood. Over the past few weeks Oscar had regaled you with anecdotes about Roscoe that made you cackle with laughter - such as the time Roscoe had unknowingly escaped from the paddock and Oscar had found him eating carrots in the vegetable garden. You still giggle to yourself  whenever you eat carrots, remembering the tale.

You relished the way Oscar told stories, how he was able to recreate the entertaining scenarios he had witnessed through his use of words and comical gestures. You found his voice soothing and calming, and sometimes you felt as though you could fall asleep listening to him speak.

"How's your ankle doing?"

"All better, back to normal." Oscar pushed his spectacles up the bridge of his nose. "When the guys return from this mission I'll be going back on duty."

"Oh," you whispered. "I almost forgot you were a patrolman."

Oscar chuckled. "Yeah, it's a been a while since I was on shift. But these guys who went out there - they are heroes. They'll need a break after what they went through."

When silence fell upon you both once again, you found your gaze wandering back to Oscar. His attention was focused on a scrap of paper - a list of supplies he was writing. You secretly studied his profile - the prominence of his nose, the thickness of his unruly hair, the structure of his face that was somehow a perfect balance of masculinity and elegance. You knew Oscar was beautiful but in that very moment you were able to really look at him and appreciate just how alluring he was. You wondered what Oscar looked like without his facial hair - you liked it on him but you guessed he was probably even more attractive without it.

He was older than you and had no partner, no family.

Why is he still single?

"Oscar." You murmured. You found the delicate, almost sensual lilt of your own voice surprising,

"Hmm?" Oscar looked up to meet your gaze. His eyebrows were raised slightly, curious.

"Why don't you have a girlfriend?"

Oscar's eyes momentarily widened in surprise at the question. He then gave you a small smile, one that did not reach his eyes. It was one born of fortitude, a pretense that was hiding something sad buried deep within the vessel of his ribcage where his heart sat. You knew that kind of smile all too well.

"I guess it is difficult to find someone you connect with on an intimate kind of level," he admits quietly. "I'm not sure if I would be so lucky to have that in my lifetime, after the outbreak."

You opened your mouth to speak but found no words to formulate a response. You could never imagine the heartbreak of losing a spouse, but you were sure that it was a similar kind of pain to the one of losing your mother and father. Your parents - the mere thought of them squeezed your heart so tightly that it felt like it would burst. You swallowed the lump that had formed in your throat.

"Oh," was all you could manage lamely.

Another short silence before Oscar spoke.

"And you?" He questioned gently.

You couldn't meet his eyes. The moment was too intense, too intimate. You couldn't speak the truth even if you wanted to. How could you articulate just how lonely your heart had been for so many years, how you fell for a man so much older than you, someone who wanted to dominate your life without giving you what you needed and yearned for the most? You couldn't even admit it to your closest girlfriends. Admitting the reality of your private life to Oscar seemed absurd, impossible.

"Me too, I guess," was all you could mumble in reply.

"I figured you'd have plenty of people around here to choose from," Oscar murmured.

"Why would you figure that?" You laughed half heartedly, both bemused and feeling awkward.

"Come on," Oscar chides you lightheartedly.  "You're beautiful - gorgeous, even. And you're well read, you're kind, you actually care about everyone else around you. You're a dream."

You know you're blushing wildly at his words. No one has ever complimented you or praised you so openly or directly before, not even Joel. You could feel a glowing kind of warmth flow and course throughout your tummy all the way up to your chest.

You were quiet as your brain processed his accolades, but Oscar must have mistake your silence for discomfort, and it was then his turn to be bashful.

"Shit. I'm sorry," Oscar babbled. "I hope that wasn't too much, like I hope I didn't make make you feel uncomfortable. I was just, you know, just--"

"It's okay," you whisper, a hint of a smile playing on your lips. You found his self consciousness endearing. In an uncharacteristic and bold move, you touched his forearm and gave it a small reassuring squeeze. "It's fine Oscar, really. Thank you."

The rest of the afternoon passed by uneventfully with you and Oscar focusing on the tasks you needed to complete. The words of his praise echoed in your head throughout your shift. That swirl of elation continued to swim inside your belly and distract you from finishing your work quicker. Why did his compliments have such an effect on you? You couldn't really understand why, but all you knew was that it felt good.

••••••

After locking up the library and venturing home, Oscar couldn't stop thinking about you and what he said about you being a dream. He sounded like a loser. He felt like a loser. Like a kid with a school yard crush.

And that was the problem. Over the past few weeks of working with you and getting to know you better, he had developed something of a crush on you. Well, to be honest, he had felt something for you since the first day he met you, when he first saw your smile and heard your voice. It was something tiny and fragile flickering like a candle flame. And over time it had developed and strengthened into something more solid.

Oscar had tried to extinguish it quickly though. He told himself there wasn't even a remote chance that you could ever feel the same and so there was no use daydreaming about it. No use in imagining you wrapped in his arms on a cold rainy day, or snuggled up in bed next to him as you both read books.

Even if you would never be his, Oscar wanted you to be happy. He knew you hid something underneath that cute smile of yours, something dark and sorrowful that you couldn't let escape. He recognised it but never pushed to know more. Managing his own trauma throughout the years had taught him to always treat others with respect and compassion, and to grant others patience and privacy. If you were ever ready to talk about your feelings, he would be there for you.

You had ignited a desire inside him to nurture and protect you. And so it was with great satisfaction that Oscar had noticed subtle changes in you since you first started working together. He noticed the light shone on your face more often, how the laughter he provoked from you actually reached your eyes. Your appetite slowly increased and you were actually eating more and with more gusto. It was as if you had been denying yourself comfort and gratification for so long, and now you were finally allowing yourself some kind of joy. And it was being reflected in the way you giggled unabashedly, how you threw sarcastic quips at him, how you initiated conversation so easily now, as if you two had known each other for years.

When you touched his arm, had established that first point of physical contact, Oscar felt like he was floating. He had wanted to brush the strands of hair from your face and kiss your soft lips. He wanted to gather you in his arms and-

No. No. He shouldn't be thinking about it. He couldn't think about it.

Oscar knew it was best that he resign himself to just being a good friend and a good work colleague. Because you deserved to be cared for and respected and loved. And fuck, whoever you ended up falling in love with would be the luckiest bastard in this world, even if you would never believe so.

It was just after nightfall when the patrol team came trotting through the huge gates of Jackson on their horses. They had been gone for almost four and a half weeks. A month of tracking, stalking and hunting the band of raiders that had been spotted near Jackson. The mission had culminated in several skirmishes between the groups until eventually the raiders were all wounded and killed. All of the patrolmen returned to Jackson safely with only a few injuries between them. The worst of the injuries was endured by Tommy, who had been struck with a bullet in his upper left arm. The group had tended to the wound as best as they could, creating makeshift bandages and changing the dressing every few days.

You had just finished eating dinner with Kate, Rhi and Jess when you heard faint cheers and whistles float through the mess hall doors. A crowd of townsfolk had congregated around the guarded gates of Jackson to welcome the band of fatigued heroes back home.

Not one to miss out of any kind of excitement, Rhi proposed you all go and see the event unfold. Jess and Kate were quick to agree to the idea, but truthfully you didn't share their enthusiasm. An inexplicable feeling of overwhelm and nervousness had suddenly overtaken you.

Yes, you missed Joel and wanted him back. But now that time had come, the thought of seeing Joel after this long made you jittery and on edge. What the fuck is wrong with you?

You let your friends pull you away from the dining table, through the mess hall doors and out into the cool night. Their exuberant voices trilled around you as you all sashayed through the streets towards the Jackson gates. You wrapped your arms around your waist as you walked, regretting the decision not to wear a jacket this evening. The chilly bite of the breeze signified the impending arrival of snowfall, and along with it the association of Christmas, warm fires and hot chocolate.

The atmosphere surrounding the large throng of townspeople was buzzing with energy. Rhi, Jess and Kate were soaking it all in and chatting with eager animation while you surveyed everyone around you. You all agreed to stay a short distance from the edge of the crowd as you were able to see what was happening without being too entrenched in the chaos of the event.

"There, they are there!" Jess squealed. She pointed to the middle of the crowd where a semi circle had been formed around the group of patrolmen.

Standing on your tiptoes you were able to see glimpses of emotional scenes of the return; Tommy and Maria in a tight embrace, Troy's wife and children clutching onto his shirt as he hugged them all, the town doctor examining an injury to one of the men's temple.

But were was Joel?

Your eyes darted around the area in search of him.

Where are you, Joel?

You were started to panic, different possibilities running through your mind in a distressed blur.

What if he had an accident? Was he wounded? Did he get left behind? What if an infected got him?

And then your eyes finally landed on him, his head of dishevelled salt and pepper hair identifying him from the rest of the men. You couldn't see his face clearly but it was him.

He was standing by his horse. Ellie was hugging him with her face pressed into his middle. His arms were around her. Thank God, it was him.

You exhaled a silent breath of relief.

He was home and safe.

••••••

The next day was torturous. You were thankful that you had a teaching shift at the school, otherwise you would've probably spent your whole day pacing your home or cleaning obsessively, doing anything to occupy your mind as you waited.

You had finished up teaching your class and returned straight home to clean. Once your cottage had been sufficiently tidied, swept and scrubbed, you showered and washed your hair with a sweet green apple scented shampoo, a luxury item sold at one of the boutiques in town that you allowed yourself to indulge in.

You hadn't even realised that you had not eaten lunch. You ended up forgoing dinner at the mess hall aswell, staying home instead to absentmindedly chew an apple and drink a cup of tea.

You sat on the couch with a book that night, unable to properly focus on the words infront of you and rereading the same lines, when the knock came. You jolted up from the couch and sprang to the front door. When you opened it the light of your living room lamp projected a strip of illumination onto the dark of your porch.

It was him.

Joel was standing at your door, leaning forward with a forearm up against your doorframe. The thumb of his other hand was hooked through the belt loop of his jeans. His stance exuded a thrilling mix of self assurance and bold masculinity that made you feel slightly dazed. His proximity, coupled with his height and posture, felt so imposing; however it was mostly because of his eyes that you felt so caught off guard.

Those large dark brown eyes, like puppy dog eyes, staring down at you intently, something akin to worry reflected in his orbs. Although you had expected his visit eventually, you were unprepared for just how delicious Joel looked.

Appearing as handsome as ever, infront of you once again after so many weeks apart, a fantasy materialised into reality. He looked well rested after having finally slept in a comfortable bed. He was freshly showered and wearing a clean pair of jeans and a green flannel shirt. His hair was combed and slicked back in that way you found so fucking sexy.

"Hi, baby," he murmured, the timber of his Texan drawl causing your inner thighs to clench together.

You realised you had been holding your breath.

"Hi, Joel," you whispered back with a breathy exhale. Your heart was galloping in your chest. You were so intimidated by his towering figure that you were frozen in place, your eyes mesmerised by him.

"Gonna let me in, sugar?" Joel smirked.

You nodded wordlessly and stepped to the side so he could enter into your cottage. You quickly closed the door and fumbled to lock it, the anxiety coursing throughout your body making you feel clumsy and foolish. You followed him into your living room and clasped your hands behind your back to hide their slight shaking.

Joel stood in the middle of your living room and watched you stop just a few feet away from him. He scanned over your body brazenly, drinking in the sight of you in your oversized sweater and short pyjama bottoms, his fists curling and uncurling as they hung a the sides of his body.

"W-welcome home," you managed to say, your voice breathless.

Joel acknowledged your greeting with a curt nod. His eyes flickered from your bare legs up to your face. It was as if you were on display for him, like a dish being served to a starving man, and if you had to be honest to yourself, it made you feel both uneasy and aroused.

"Did-did you see what Ellie and I made for you?" You asked hopefully, desperate to fill the silence that stifled the room. "The cake?"

"I did."

You waited for him to say something more but he didn't. He was still gazing at you with his eyebrows knitted together and his jaw ticking, as if he were deep in contemplation. His eyes betrayed none of what he was thinking.

The air in the room was thick and you felt more and more self conscious as the silence dragged on. After what seemed like forever, you were about to open your mouth and speak when Joel cut you off.

"Told you I'd come back for ya," he stated matter of factly.

"Yes, you did," you agreed in a small whisper.

"Ellie knows about us," Joel stated abruptly. "Said she wants us to be together."

"Oh," you said quietly. And then, a little more louder, "and what did you say back?'

"I told her when the timin's right, we can be a family." Joel answered you, his expression and tone serious and calm.

Your brain took a second to register his words, the significance of what he said not quite sinking in. Your mouth fell open, speechless.

Did Joel really just say you'd all be a family? Was he actually admitting that he wanted you? When you had confessed wanting a relationship with Joel on the night of the town dance, he had rejected you, hadn't he? Your mind had replayed Joel's cruel words so many times since then. Surely you weren't mistaken ?

All you could do was shake your head in confusion. Joel's eyes narrowed at you, a glint of darkness briefly flashing in his brown eyes.

"What you shakin' your head for?" Joel murmured, his voice calm but punctuated with a hint of irritated displeasure.

"Going to be a family, Joel? But, it's just, you said..."

The pain in your voice was evident as tears of shame welled along the rim of your eyes. You took a deep breath and exhaled, gathering the courage to repeat the hurtful words he had spoken to you.

"You said we weren't anything more than...just sex." You mumbled pathetically. "I thought you didn't want me."

"Now darlin', that ain't what I said," Joel corrected you firmly but not unkindly, as if you were a child he was trying to teach something to. "You're mine. Told you so many times. What makes you think I'd ever let you go, let someone else have ya?"

You stared at him in puzzlement. "But Joel, you said you didn't want me--"

He held up his hand to signal you to stop talking. "You misunderstood me. Didn't say nothin' about not wantin' you. You didn't let me finish."

"Oh," you mumble meekly. You brushed away your spilled tears with a flick of your fingertips. You felt ridiculous.

"I want you," Joel continued resolutely. "Want all of you."

The admission that you had been yearning for for so long made your stomach flip. It felt so good to hear him say those words, to know he wanted you, to feel wanted. You bit back a smile of relieved elation and willed yourself not to interrupt him again, forcing yourself to stay silent to wait for him to finish explaining.

"But I don't like everybody in town knowin' my business. Just cause I live here don't mean I trust anyone. I didn't survive this far in this godforsaken world because I trust people."

Okay, you could understand his point. Joel had alot more life experience than you, and certainly more experience with surviving the horrors of the apocalypse in the wild. It made sense that he didn't readily trust other people, that he wouldn't want to share his personal life with anyone.

"You understand what I'm sayin'?" Joel asked sternly, narrowing his eyes at you.

You nodded quickly in confirmation. "Yes, Joel."

"Good. I've come to learn that some folk don't like seein' others happy."

You had never seen Joel speak this earnestly before, his voice quiet and soft. His beautiful brown eyes were focused on yours almost hypnotically. It was completely beguiling.

"They see somethin' they don't have and so they wanna spoil it. Seen people do bad things to destroy another's happiness."

"That's horrible," you utter.

"Mmhm," Joel nods in agreement. "And I don't want that to happen to you and me. Don't want noone tryin' to interfere with what we got, and the less people know our business, the better."

You agree. Ofcourse you wanted to be happy with Joel. Ofcourse you didn't want someone else to ruin the special relationship you two had.

Joel approached you with deliberate steps, his boots heavy on the creaky wooden floor of your living room, his eyes still glued to yours. Your skin was prickling with goosebumps in anticipation of being close to him after so long, to finally feel his touch that you had been craving for the last month. You bit your bottom lip and watched him cross the space towards you, the dim lamp light casting dancing shadows along his face that somehow just accentuated his handsome features.

"You wanna be with me then you gotta listen to what I say," he continued. "I wanna protect you, and not just from infected and raiders. Gotta keep you safe from people with bad intentions, too. But you gotta be a good girl."

His words, spoken in that smooth Texan drawl, made your pussy tingle. Joel stood close to you now, so close you could smell his usual sandalwood scent mixed with soap on his skin. You stared at him with doe eyes, completely entranced by him. He took your chin inbetween his thumb and forefinger and leaned down to press a tender kiss onto your lips. Your knees felt weak and your body instantly melted against his chest.

He pulled back just enough so that his lips hovered over yours. "There's gotta be rules, baby. My rules. You wanna be my good girl?"

You nodded eagerly. "Yes, daddy, I do."

Joel snaked his arm around your waist and splayed his hand over your back to press you firmly against his torso. He leaned back in to kiss you once more. Your arms stretched up to wrap around his neck as you let his tongue lick over your bottom lip and slip into your mouth to meet your own tongue.

Joel's large palm cupped your cheek and his breath intermingled with yours. Your tongues rolled together with increasingly passionate strokes. You were quickly becoming consumed by his familiar smell and taste, as if his presence had awakened a primal need in you that had been starved for far too long. Joel must have felt the same because you could feel his hard cock straining under his jeans and press into your belly. 

Joel eventually broke away from the kiss to growl breathlessly, "fuck, I missed your sweet lips."

You exhaled a small noise of satisfaction, something between a giggle and a hum. Joel's hand shifted down you back and groped your ass. His thumb stroked your jaw and he nuzzled his nose against the corner of your mouth. 

"Me too, Joel," you said softly.

Joel's lips shifted down to press gentle kisses along your jawline, slowly trailing down to your neck. His moustache tickled lightly against your skin and made you giggle. You ran your fingers through the crown of his curls and hummed with contented pleasure.

"I missed this," you sighed. "I missed you, Joel."

Joel licked at your pulse point before softly biting the skin there, eliciting a moan from you.

"Me too, sugar," he whispered into the crook of your neck. "All I thought about when I was away."

"Really?" You whispered back breathlessly.

"Bet your sweet little ass," Joel rasped.

His hand on your ass squeezed and massaged your flesh hungrily. He wedged his thigh inbetween your legs as he sucked on the sensitive skin of your neck, and the friction of material against your clit was making you wet with arousal. You moaned and tilted your head to the side, your body becoming pliant and relaxed as the pleasurable sensations overtook you.

Joel's mouth detached from your neck to growl into the shell of your ear. "Couldn't stop thinkin' about that sweet little cunt and how wet she gets for me, how good she looks wrapped around my cock."

His words inflame a feral desire for him to be inside you, making your pussy clench around nothing and your hips rock against his instinctively. His hand moves down from your face and gropes your breast through your sweatshirt.

"Joel," you moan and tug lightly at his hair. "Want it so bad."

"Yeah?" Joel murmurs in your ear, the timbre of his deep voice causing shivers to run up and down your back. "You want my cock, babydoll? Want me to fuck you?"

"Mm-hmm," you hum.

Joel straightens up to look at your face. He smacks your ass hard suddenly, the sting of his palm landing with a loud crack. The impact forces a squeal from your lips and makes you squirm.

"Ow, fuck, Joel!" you whine.

"You know to use your words when you're speakin' with me," he warns sternly. "You gotta tell me what you want, and I'll give it to ya."

You whimper and nod. "Yes sir."

"Now," he says, more gently, his breath fanning against your face. "What do you want?"

"Want you to fuck me." You purr, smoothing your hands over his flannel shirt, desperate to feel the bare skin of his broad chest. "Please, daddy."

Joel hums in approval and licks at the corner of your mouth. "Take off your shorts and get on the couch. Now."

He releases his hold on your breast and your ass and you pout at the loss of contact. He tips his head toward the couch to signal for you to move. You obey, feeling stupefied by Joel's touch already as you totter the few paces to the couch. You hook your fingers on the band of your sleep shorts and look at him coyly as you slowly push them down your thighs. Joel stands in the centre of the living room and watches you with a wolfish stare. The cast of his shadow on the wall behind him is huge and tall.

"Show me that pretty pussy, show me how fuckin' wet she is for me already," he drawls. One of his hands move to loosely hold his hard cock through the crotch of his jeans.

Your eyes lock on Joel's as you let your sleep shorts fall to the ground, revealing your nakedness underneath, leaving you just in your sweater. You sit down on the couch so that you ass is on the edge of the seat and then spread your legs wide. You tug up the bottom of your sweater so that your pussy is exposed. Joel's eyes travel down to the middle of your parted thighs and lets out a low groan.

"Fuck," he growls. "Open her up, baby, I wanna see everything."

You bring your hands to your pussy and spread your lips, the tips of your fingers catching some of your slick. Your lower half is completely exposed and on display for Joel. He watches you intently, his eyes hooded and dark with lust, his large hand flexing to grip the thick outline of his dick.

"That's it, darlin'," Joel murmurs, "can see how desperate you are for this fuckin' cock. She's soakin' wet already."

Joel steps towards you and crouches down to kneel before you on the hardwood floor, his knees cracking under his weight. He positions himself inbetween your legs and brings his hands to rest on your inner thighs, holding them open so that his face is in line with your bare pussy. Joel's tongue swipes over his plush bottom lip.

"Gotta taste this sweet little pussy first, babydoll."

Joel leans in and places a wet open kiss onto your clit, his tongue warm against your sensitive flesh. A shiver of pleasure trembles through your body and you moan. He repeats the action several times before licking a thick stripe over your clit with the flat of his tongue. Your hands come up to clutch at the curls on his head and your hips rock forward ever so slightly in pursuit of more. Joel laps at the small bundle of nerves languidly as his thick fingers dig into the meat of your inner thighs.

It feels like fucking heaven.

Your upper body slumps back into the couch and you tilt your head back to let out long, soft moans of ecstasy. Joel continues licking and sucking your clit leisurely; each movement performed with unhurried yet purposeful strokes that slowly build and twist a coil of intense pleasure inside your loins. He continues this for several minutes, gravelly moans rumbling in his throat that you know are an expression of his own pleasure, his own enjoyment. You love Joel fucking you, love how his thick cock pounds into you, but you really fucking love how he eats your pussy. And it's clear that Joel loves it, too.

You can feel Joel prodding at your entrance before sliding two of his thick fingers inside you. The mixture of his saliva and your slick make his digits glide smoothly into your pussy. He expertly curls then against your g spot while he eats you, instantly heightening your pleasure. He looks up to watch your reaction; your hands tighten their grasp on his head and you moan wantonly, your toes curling. It doesn't take long for the pressure to reach close to its peak in your lower belly.

"Gonna cum," you pant out between moans. "Daddy, I'm going to cum."

Joel doesn't stop. His mouth maintains the same tempo and pressure as he licks and sucks your clit, all the while stimulating your g spot with his fingers. He has come to know your body so well, knows what makes you squeal or scream or have you begging for more, knows just how long it will take for a certain action to bring you to orgasm, exactly how tender or hard you need him fucking you from the depths of your moans and keening.

Your body soon tenses and your orgasm reaches a crescendo. When you cum, you throw your head back and let out a long, shuddering moan, your thighs quivering by Joel's ears. He helps you ride out the high by gradually slowing his movements, allowing the sensation to draw out without overstimulation.

It is only once your body relaxes and your orgasm dissipates that Joel stops. Your eyes flutter open and you look down at him. Joel sits back on his haunches and pants. You see that his lips and moustache are glistening with your juice. 

"Oh my god, that was amazing," you say with a blissful smile.

Joel stands up from his kneeling position, his knees cracking once again. His gaze is fixated on you as he unbuckles his best and unzips his jeans. You stay half slumped on the couch, reveling in post orgasm exhilaration, the energy sapped from your body.

"What do you say?" Joel asks. His commanding tone is rough and deep with passion.

"Thank you, daddy," you reply breathlessly.

"That's right, babygirl. Now it's time for me to tear that little pussy up." Joel pushes his jeans and underwear down to his meaty thighs. His erection springs out, the head of his cock already wet with precum. "Get up and turn around."

You weakly sit up and turn over to kneel on the couch, somehow managing to obey him despite the sound of blood pounding in your ears and fatigue setting into your body. You shuffle to spread your legs and Joel's hands grab onto your hips to roughly jerk them back so that you are bent forward and your ass sticks out. Once he is satisfied with the position he's manipulated you into, his hands grip your ass cheeks firmly.

"Look at that," he whispers to himself. He pulls them apart, digging his thumbs into the crease of your upper thighs, both your pussy and asshole now lewdly exposed. "Such a dirty little whore, just dyin' to get ruined."

Joel releases one of your ass cheeks to guide the tip of his cock to your wet entrance. He doesn't waste anymore time, quickly sinking it into your hole and thrusting into you smoothly. The stretch has you gasping and moaning loudly, the knock of his hips propelling you forward into the couch. Joel groans as his dick slides deep inside your tight cunt.

"Fuck, that's it," he pants.

He pulls his hips back almost all the way before slamming back into you. You cry out shrilly, the sensation of fullness overwhelming you entirely. Joel does it again and again, holding tightly to your hips while he pounds his cock in and out of you. You're pinned immobile against the couch, trapped by the weight of his strong frame snapping into your body.

"Take it just like that, little bitch." Joel snarls. His fingers dig painfully into your hips.

"F-f-fuuuuck, Joel," you cry loudly.

He increases his pace and begins to fuck you with savage fervour. Your cries and moans intermingle with the filthy sounds of your skin colliding and his heavy balls slapping against your pussy. Joel pants from the exertion, the veins in his neck straining. He stares down at his cock disappearing in and out of your tight heat.

"Who do you belong to, babygirl?" Joel barks out. "Who fuckin' owns this pussy?"

"You, daddy!" You squeal, your fingers curling tightly over the sofa cushion. "Only you."

"That's right," Joel groans, "no one but me."

You feel his cock throbbing just before he cums. He swiftly pulls out and jerks himself as thick ropes of cum shoot over your ass. He grunts and moans as he fists his dick and empties his balls, marking your skin like a territorial animal. You heave deep breathes inbetween small whines, your thighs quaking.

When Joel's finished he yanks your head back by your hair and engulfs your mouth with his, kissing you passionately. He is greedy as he swirls his tongue around yours, as if he's still hungry, still needs to ravage you and swallow you.

In this moment, this sweetly intoxicating instance of physical and emotional intimacy, you feel utterly euphoric. The tangle of disquiet inside your brain had become static once Joel's hands were on your skin, instantly pacifying you and moulding you into something completely docile, like a doll. It was an all consuming state of rapture.

He breaks the kiss and you stare into one another's eyes. He smirks, then you feel his calloused hand rubbing over your ass, smearing his cum over your skin possessively.

"Welcome home," you whisper.

taglist - @sofiparallel @harriedandharassed @kewwrites @romanarose @fan-fiction-floozy @anoverwhelmingdin @unknownsuser101

[koshkaj-blog]

One of my favourite smut scenes. :-)

[aurorawritestoescape]

FADE INTO YOU

Jackson Joel Miller x fem!reader

Summary: ‘Mysterious girl’ — that’s what people in Jackson call you because of your amnesia. All your memories lost, alone in the world, you’d probably be miserable and lonely if it wasn’t for your saviour, Joel Miller— a man who filled a hole in your heart with love and became your friend, your lover, your family. He makes you happy and you accept him with all his flaws. During a heated argument Joel reveals a shocking truth about your past and you come face to face with a dilemma — can you trust the person who became your whole world?

Tw: 18+ mdni smut, angst, fluff, big legal age gap (Joel’s in his late 50s, reader is said to be much younger), reader has amnesia due to a head trauma, daddy kink, ddlg dynamic, the best of both worlds — mean! Joel and soft! Joel, toxic relationship, jealous/protective! Joel, canon typical violence, allusions to reader being kidnapped, SA-ed (not by Joel/not described), symptoms of SA PTSD, size kink, praise kink, degradation, f/m!oral, rough sex, somno, fingering, spanking as a punishment, mention of fisting, unprotected piv, creampies, cumeating, swearing, alcohol consumption, no Ellie sorry. Joel can lift reader. Reader wears dresses. Heed the warnings!

Word count: 10,3k (don’t look at me)

A/n: this story is written for @tateypots ‘s Naughty or Nice writing challenge. Thank you for the cool event, Kate, and I apologize for being so late💞 My trope was amnesia + naughty/dark. Writing this fic was truly challenging but I loved working on it! It would definitely be harder if not for my Milla @milla-frenchy ILYSM!!♥️ Thank you for beta-ing this big boy, for giving me helpful advice and for coming up with the title inspired by the song - Fade Into You by Mazzy Star. I’m very excited to finally share the story with you all! I hope you’ll enjoy it💕 Dividers by @pixopix Ty!💕

MASTERLIST

“Ggrrglll”

Tears are running down your cheeks, your lashes wet, your eyes reddened, your chin and chest covered in your spit. You look like hell. It’s not surprising — Joel’s been fucking your mouth for what felt like eternity. He’s older than you so it takes a while for him to come and usually you’re happy that he can use you for his pleasure for hours, manhandling you like a rug doll, fucking your holes in whatever position he desires, but giving him head… that’s a challenge. Especially when he’s pissed at you.

Joel’s big hands are holding your head in place and you dig your nails into his meaty thighs, fighting for a breath, close to suffocating while gurgling around his cock that’s throbbing in your mouth. Your heart is pounding in your ears and your vision starts going black when Joel finally starts coming down your throat, draining his heavy balls and filling your tummy with his jizz.

As soon as he lets go of your head, you push yourself off him and plop on your butt onto the wooden floor. You’re gobbling up air, wheezing and panting like you’ve been running from a pack of wolves.

“Da—daddy… what the hell..?” You croak between coughs, staring up at him with teary eyes.

Joel tucks his softening but still huge cock into his grey sweatpants and throws you a glare. You see a trace of guilt in his expression or maybe it’s only your wishful thinking.

“Hmm?” he grunts and gets into bed.

“I nearly choked.” You’re on the verge of fresh tears now, your lower lip shaking. Joel gets under the duvet and sighs, finally reacting to your pain.

“Jesus.. C’mere.”

You slowly get up and walk on shaky legs to his bed, then sit on the edge and stare at your hands on your lap. Joel lifts his torso on one forearm and glides his big hand over your back. The warmth of his skin immediately seeps through your thin dress and your soul feels lighter. Yet your throat still hurts like hell, your whole body is sore, you’re trembling.

“Needed relief,” he mumbles and you turn your face to him, your lips in a pout.

“You coulda been more gentle.”

Your whine makes his eyes go dark and your insides freeze. You want to avert your gaze from his, but don’t dare.

“Sorry,” you whisper, apologizing for misbehaving, for upsetting him, for being a bad girl, for …for everything.

“You know why I’ve been rough,” Joel says in a calm tone that makes you wish he was shouting at you. You swallow hard and drop your head.

“I didn’t want to upset you,” you say the truth, shaking like a leaf.

“But you did.”

You nod, still not looking at him, and Joel pinches your chin and turns your head so you’d face him. His eyes show no mercy when he says,

“Next time somethin’ like this happens I’ll shoot the fucker on sight.”

Your breathing stops, your blood runs cold and you nod, feeling with all your being — he’s not joking.

“Yes, daddy.”

Joel lies down and turns onto his side, away from you.

“Go to bed,” he grunts so you stand up and quietly walk to the door. Your pussy is so wet, your panties are soaked through. You’re shivering from the cold, while your core is on fire from sucking Joel’s cock. You want it inside you so much, want to scream and come on it, want Joel to fuck you hard. The lust clouds your mind, makes you bold or rather ruthless, so you turn around at the door and mewl pathetically, your chest full of hope.

“Daddy, can I sleep with you?”

Joel’s voice is muffled by the duvet as he replies,

“No. Go to your room.”

You sigh, your hopes shattered into pieces, and obediently follow his command.

You get into your cold bed and cover your head with a blanket. It’s ok, he still loves you, you think, swallowing your salty tears. He still wants you. He’s just mad. Tomorrow will be better. Tomorrow he’ll kiss you.

It would be easier for you to endure Joel giving you the cold shoulder if he wasn’t your everything. But he is and he’s always been. After all, he saved your life — found you in the woods dying, your head bleeding, brought your unconscious body to Jackson, gave you another chance.

You woke up in the town hospital, injured and weak, without a trace of memory of who you were, or what had happened to you. The doctor said you had amnesia and while he was explaining your condition and future treatment, you were staring at your saviour, Joel Miller, who was standing in the corner of the room.

He was the most handsome man you’d ever seen — tall and broad, with a head full of salt and pepper curls, pouty lips under his moustache, a patchy beard and piercing brown eyes. You didn’t hear what the doctor was saying, it was like a hum in the background. At that moment in the hospital room your body and your soul found something grounding, someone to hold on to. As if you were a balloon floating through a vast sky until his hand gripped your string. Destiny brought Joel to you, or rather he became your destiny.

With all your heart you hoped that the attraction you’d been feeling was mutual, and soon you started seeing that it was the case. Joel visited you at the hospital almost every day, brought you treats, told you everything about the town and its people. You didn’t talk much, mostly listened to him. The headache following the head trauma was killing you but somehow his deep raspy voice alleviated the pain, gave you comfort and peace. You almost purred listening to him, it was amazingly pleasant. A couple of times he even lulled you to sleep as he was reading you a book that he’d brought for you.

That big gruff man quickly became your friend, but calling him that felt wrong— he was so much more. What do you call a person who helped you choose your name?

Your mind had no trace of your identity so Joel called you ‘sweetheart’ during his visits. The pet name warmed your heart and set your core on fire, but once you laughed bitterly that it should be your name - Sweetheart. Joel frowned.

The next day he brought you a baby names book. God knows where he’d found it but you two spent an hour reading the names. When Joel pronounced your current name and commented that it would suit you perfectly, your heart skipped a beat and you knew immediately — it was the one.

Right from the moment you saw that man, your soul longed for him, your body needed him. Your face lit up at the sight of him, walking into your room, your whole being craved him carnally, and after your discharge from the hospital, the day Joel brought you to your new house, you kissed him. It was the scariest, the boldest thing you’d ever done in your recently-started life. You froze, clinging to him, your lips pressed to his, scared to death that he’d push you away. But he didn’t. Instead his arms wrapped around your torso, the kiss deepened and the groan that you licked off his lips told you everything — he needed you just as much as you needed him. After tasting him you knew for sure — you two were meant to be together.

Of course, the townsfolk weren't too happy about Joel and you becoming a couple. You were much younger than him, alone in the world, no past experience to keep you from being used. That was what they whispered behind your back — ‘Joel’s using that lonely girl.’ They were probably right. You lost your memory but you weren’t stupid. Joel absolutely had you wrapped around his finger. But what all those busybodies didn’t understand was that you were happy he was using you however he pleased. Your body was the only thing you could give him, so it became his. Joel could ask you to do anything and you’d do it in a heartbeat. And he rarely asked. He took it with a gentle or rough hand, depending on his mood, claimed every part of you, and you never objected. Even when it hurt, even when it felt like too much or too fast. Joel replaced all the empty space in your head with himself and only while being by his side you felt whole.

The head wasn’t the only part of you Joel was filling. He fucked you so well, you would scream his name in ecstasy until your throat was sore, until the neighbors knocked on your door, scared that you were being killed. You’d slip out of his arms and run downstairs to apologize for the disturbance, your lips swollen with kisses, your eyes hazy as if you were drunk.

You didn’t know if they really cared about your safety or the curiosity made them interrupt Joel and you fucking but one day he grunted “Fuck ‘em,” and moved your things to his place. No one would dare come to Joel Miller for any explanation so you could moan as loudly as you wanted there.

That’s how you two started living together. You couldn’t be happier — your reality seemed like the most amazing dream. Joel took great care of you — cooked, read you books in front of the fireplace, cuddled you to sleep. Waking up in the middle of the night with him fucking your unconscious body was the hottest thing ever. But your nights weren’t only filled with sex and love.

From time to time you had terrifying nightmares — rough hands groping you, dirty nails scratching your skin with the ferocity of an animal, phantom pain piercing your body. You’d wake up crying and screaming and Joel would always be there by your side, whispering to you, his voice warm, ‘It’s jus’ a dream. I’m here. You’re safe.’ He’d hold you until your breathing got steady, until your tears dried up and you fell back asleep.

The first time you called Joel ‘daddy’ would forever stay in your memory. His cock was deep inside you as you were riding him, relishing the way he was filling your core. The word fell from your lips and the next second Joel growled, pulled you off him and pinned you to the bed. His weight was pushing you into the mattress as his big hand wrapped around your neck.

“What d’you call me?” He hissed through his teeth, glaring down at you.

You were trying to push his fingers off your throat, scared that he’d hurt you, but he wasn’t choking you, only holding you in place.

“M’sorry,” you squeaked, staring up at him with widened eyes. The adrenaline in your blood was adding to your arousal and your pussy was desperately clenching around nothing, despite fear gripping your heart.

Joel’s dark eyes were darting between yours, as if he didn’t know what to do next. You wanted to make it right, you hated the idea of upsetting him, so you murmured,

“I won’t ever say it… I promise.” After a few long seconds, Joel’s hand left your neck.

“Sorry,” he muttered and pressed his forehead to yours. Then he gently settled between your thighs and you moaned when he entered your wet pussy again. He continued fucking you slowly and steadily, your eyes locked, his body flush against yours. Soon you forgot about your slip up, swept by the sensations and your love for Joel, but he didn’t.

Looking deep into your eyes, with his hips rolling against you, he said,

“You can call me that if you wanna.”

“No, no, I—,” you hurried to reassure him, trembling with the way his cock was working you open. “I don’t wanna do anything you don’t like.”

Joel leaned in and softly kissed your lips. His breath tickled you when he mumbled,

“Maybe I liked it a lil’ too much.”

You pulled away so you could look into his eyes and found no trace of a joke there.

“Ok.. daddy.” Overwhelming arousal washed over your whole body when you said it.

Joel swallowed hard and licked his lips.

“My little girl… my love.”

“Oh, daddy,” you doubled down, clenching hard around Joel’s fat cock. “You’re making me feel so good.”

“Uh-huh? Daddy’s taking good care of your tight sweet pussy?”

“Oh yes. I’m so— so close,” you whimpered, arching your back, feeling the burn of a climax growing stronger.

Joel picked up the pace, pumping you full of his cock, growling and panting over you.

“Give it to me, c’mon, baby. Come on my cock.”

You screamed as you unraveled under him, your toes curling, your pussy flooding Joel’s length with so much wetness you felt it dripping down to your asscheeks. Joel followed you soon, his grunt sounded like a roar as he began spilling his big load inside you.

Sex with Joel was always great but that night you both came so hard it made you speechless. By accident you found what you both were missing: you - a person who could be anyone for you when you had no one, Joel - someone who needed him more than life.

Despite the absence of your memories, your health improved a lot, and wishing to be useful, you asked Tommy for a job. Patrolling was out of the question, Joel told you adamantly, and you didn’t object. That’s how you ended up working in Jackson’s clothing store. Inevitably you met new people, got a couple of good friends and Joel was ok with it only if they weren’t men.

As your connection was deepening, Joel’s jealous nature started coming to light. Even a conversation with a guy could land you in hot water. If Joel saw you with a man, he’d ask you what he talked to you about, why you needed to speak to him in the first place, and even if you offered him a logical explanation, he’d still be mad. He’d give you a silent treatment for days on end, wouldn’t kiss or fuck you, wouldn’t even sleep next to you.

One night, punishing you for smiling at a customer, Joel asked you to stay in the guest bedroom. Soon it became your bedroom, a place he’d send you to if he was angry. It was unreasonable, hurtful, upsetting but a sick little part of you loved his possessiveness. It meant that he cared, that he wanted you only for himself, that you were his.

Yesterday you fucked up royally. It was Sunday and you went to the Tipsy Bison with your friends — girls only, of course. A group of young men approached your table, and not wanting to be weird and standoffish, you chatted with them. Joel was busy that evening, overseeing the construction of a few houses in town, and you thought what he didn’t know wouldn’t hurt him.

You were standing alone at the bar, waiting for your beer, when one of the men, Jonah, approached you.

“So you’re that mysterious girl everyone’s talking about?” He was a few years older than you, quite handsome and tall.

“I’m not mysterious,” you replied with a friendly smile before taking a bottle from the bartender. Jonah’s eyes slid over your body, hugged beautifully by a new dress you’d found at the shop, and his attention flattered you but at the same time your stomach churned— Joel would hate it if someone was looking at you like that.

“You really don’t remember anything?” The man stepped up a little closer as if waiting for you to tell him a secret. His gaze was curious but warm, besides it was a usual question — everyone in town wanted to know that.

“No, I don’t,” you shook your head and Jonah sighed,

“Must be lonely.” You saw pity in his eyes and pain shot through your heart. Being pitied was the last thing you wanted.

“I’m not lonely,” you said with defiance, holding your head high. “I have Joel.”

“Yeah, right.” Jonah’s eyes darted to the crowd of people at the bar and you could bet you noticed fear in his expression. You smirked. It was wrong to say that people were afraid of Joel but they definitely kept their distance from him and you loved it. Only you could see his soft side.

“He’s working,” you said, having taken pity on the man who was still trying to spot Joel among the crowd as if he was a big bad wolf. Jonah turned to you and his lips spread into a big smile.

“Can I ask?” He leaned forward and lowered his voice so only you could hear him. “He’s so much older than you, aren’t you like … bored with him?”

Suddenly a desire to slap his face burned in your chest. You took a deep breath and then scoffed,

“No, he keeps me very entertained. I barely have time to sleep.” With that you brought the bottle to your lips and took a sip, staring right into Jonah’s widened eyes.

After a few seconds of gawking at you, Jonah chuckled and mumbled,

“Joel’s a lucky guy.”

“I’m the lucky one,” you said dreamily, wishing Joel were there with you.

As Jonah and you were speaking, you couldn’t help but start gushing over Joel, how brave, how useful for the community he was and your heart eyes were sparkling. Jonah surely got a clear message that you were ears deep in love with your man.

You were having a great time that night, laughing and drinking with your friends, and when Jonah offered to teach you how to play pool, you agreed. You had always lost to Joel and desperately wanted to win the next time you two played.

To your horror, the moment you bent down over the green cloth and Jonah leaned over your body, directing your hands, you saw Joel entering the bar. Your heart dropped into your stomach — you knew you were fucked.

You pushed the guy off you and rushed to Joel but he was already out of the door. You ran after him and as he was striding along the street you were hurriedly explaining to him that it was nothing, just a game of pool. You were begging for forgiveness, but he wouldn’t spare you a glance and your heart was breaking with every second he was ignoring you.

Joel came home and without saying a word went upstairs to his bedroom. You followed him like a beat up dog, sad and pathetic. He sat on the bed and unbuckled his belt.

“On your knees.” That was all he said. He didn’t need to tell you anything else. You kneeled and crawled to the spot between his legs.

In the morning as soon as you open your eyes you run downstairs, planning to make Joel an apology breakfast, but on the table you find a note - ‘Left for work.’

You sigh deeply. Your body wants to hug him, your soul needs his warmth. Your throat tightens, tears well up in your eyes, but you wipe them off, slightly reassured by the fact that he left you the note. Maybe he forgave you. Full of hope you start getting ready for your shift at the shop.

All day you’re thinking about Joel. Guilt is eating you alive and at lunch you grab a few sandwiches at the mess hall and run to Joel’s office but find it empty. Feeling lonely and sad you drag your feet back to the shop.

When the evening comes you rush home, hoping to finally see Joel. It’s fine if he’s still mad at you, you’ll be happy just to see him.

“Joel!” you call as soon as you step inside the house.

You hear heavy footsteps down the stairs and see Joel walking down. He is wearing his favorite green plaid shirt and your heart skips a beat at how handsome he looks. He’s not smiling as he approaches you but his expression is warm.

“I missed you,” you admit, throwing your arms around his neck, and Joel hums approvingly.

“Me too, sweetheart. I have a surprise for you.”

“Really?” You part from him, searching for his eyes.

He nods with a little smile and butterflies dance in your belly. You can’t believe your luck. Not only is Joel being so sweet with you, he also prepared something for you.

“What is it?” Your eyes glint with tears of happiness as you ask,

“Nah-uh. It’s a surprise, silly girl, I ain’t tellin’ you.”

He pecks your nose and you giggle.

“Go put on that dress of yours I like. I’ll wait for ya.”

You squeal and run upstairs.

Soon you’re walking down the street with Joel by your side, his hand splayed on your lower back. When you walk up to the Bison your eyes widen and you stare at the man.

“Joel?”

“Let’s go in,” he smiles and leads you inside.

When you enter, a weird feeling overtakes you. It’s almost dark, only a few overhead lights are switched on. The place is usually packed with people and buzzes with chatter even on a weekday but now an eerie silence fills the bar. With worry in your eyes you turn to Joel, who’s locking the door.

“Why’s no one here?” you ask.

“Tonight it’s just for the two of us.”

You blink at him as your face lights up, your chest expands with joy, meanwhile Joel takes your hand and leads you to the bar.

“Whiskey?” He asks, walking behind the counter.

You shake your head and giggle,

“You know I don’t like it, daddy. Beer’s fine.”

Joel opens you a bottle and pours himself a glass of whiskey. You marvel at him, proud of your man for being such a respected member of the community that he can get this popular place just for the two of you.

After taking a sip, Joel motions for you to follow him and walks to the pool tables. Your smile drops when he stops at the table you played on last night, the horror you felt when Joel saw you right there, too close to another man, strikes you again.

“Daddy…,” you mumble, your voice already trembling, but it’s like Joel doesn’t notice your distress. He turns to you with a smile that doesn’t reach his eyes and says,

“Let’s play.”

You shake your head no but it wasn’t an offer. He grabs a cue stick off the wall and breaks the rack while you’re standing there clutching the beer bottle in your clammy hands.

Joel sinks a ball into a pocket and you cheer for him, at the same time feeling like you might be sick from the nerves.

After one miss, Joel hands you the cue stick but you shake your head.

“Ehm… I don’t really wanna play. Can I just watch you?”

Joel frowns.

“No. C’mon. I’ll teach you. You wanted to learn, right?”

That’s what you claimed yesterday so you have no choice but to take the stick, put away your beer and step up to the table. Your heart is beating loudly in your chest while you’re choosing a ball to hit. Finally you take a stance and hold your breath, aiming carefully. Suddenly Joel steps behind you, so close you can feel his big bulge against your ass.

“Daddy,” you purr and wiggle your butt, flirting with him. “You’re distracting me.”

“Yeah?” Joel gruffs and you shiver when he puts his warm heavy hand on your lower back. “Was that fucker distracting you too last night?”

Your smile drops and you try to straighten up, ready to object, but Joel grabs the back of your neck and holds you bent down.

“Stay,” he orders. “I asked you a question.”

“No, he wasn’t.. I mean… he wasn’t this close, daddy,” with your cheek pressed to the cloth you mutter, your voice shaky.

“Liar!” Joel hisses and thrusts his hips against your ass, making you gasp as you slide forward. “He was on top of you! In front of everybody. Mounting my woman.”

“Daddyyyy..” you whine, your eyes filling up with tears, your nails scratching the table under your palms. “It wasn’t like that. He was just teaching me …”

“Teachin’?!” he gruffs. “I’ll show you teachin’.”

With that he grabs the hem of your dress and pulls it up exposing your ass covered by your panties. He rips them off you and you whimper in fear, as his other hand grips the back of your neck tighter, not letting you move an inch. You’re breathing heavily on the verge of crying, knowing well you have no chance to fight Joel off — he’s so much bigger and stronger than you, all you can do is surrender and take whatever punishment he sees fit.

Despite your soul being ready, your body is not.

Slap!

You cry out and jerk when Joel’s heavy hand lands on your naked ass, the sting taking you by surprise.

“Silly girl,” he growls through his teeth. “Needs to be reminded who she belongs to.”

“Daddy, no..,” you start begging for mercy but Joel replies with another slap, making your ass juggle and burn.

“Stay still and take your punishment.” His voice is strained when he says it.

Despite Joel’s command you’re fruitlessly thrashing in his grip as he’s spanking you again and again. You’re whining and sobbing but he taught you to take everything like a good girl. Your ass is burning but you love the way your pussy clenches every time a slap stings your flesh.

The pain grows bigger and soon tears are running down your face onto the table, your nose itching from the wet streaks.

“Stop… please,” you plead, your body shivering, your shaky legs too weak to hold you up.

Joel slaps your asscheek one more time and then his chest presses to your back, his breath tickles your ear as he hisses,

“Have ya learnt your lesson, babygirl?”

“Yes, daddy,” you mutter, sniffing. “It won’t happen again. I promise.”

“Good girl,” he gruffs and straightens up.

You expect Joel to let you go but his hand doesn’t leave your neck. You mewl when his palm caresses your burning asscheek and his fingers graze your pussy lips from behind.

“Hngggg… loved your punishment this much?” Joel rasps, breathing heavily, sensing the wetness on your heated folds. He pushes the tips of his digits between them and you bite your lower lip, feeling shame for your body’s reaction — your cunt was crying for cock while Joel was spanking you.

“Or maybe your pussy drips for any man when you bend down, huh?” Joel’s digits glide up and down your slit, his finger catching on your wet hole that’s clenching for him, luring him inside, begging to be ruined.

“No, no, daddy...only for you,” your voice is trembling with desire and desperation, as you assure him. Yet Joel continues taunting you,

“Last night… when he was here…,” Joel’s fingers leave your pussy and he grips your hips, his bulge pushing against your naked cunt. “You liked it?”

“No, Joel, no— I want only you. You’re the only one I need! I love you so so so much…,” you blubber desperately, trying to make him believe you. And you seem to succeed. Joel sighs behind you and a few seconds later, keeping his clothed cock pressed to your heat, he grabs your shoulder and lifts your front up and off the table. Holding you close, your back flush to his chest, he murmurs in your ear,

“Hope you ain’t lyin’, little girl. For your own sake.”

“M’not,” you mumble, your head turned to the side. You wish he’d see honesty in your eyes, the love that’s pouring out of them even after his harsh treatment.

Joel pushes his nose against your temple and breathes you in. You melt when his lips brush against your neck and he starts leaving kisses there, soft and gentle at first but soon they turn rough as he sucks your delicate skin into his hot mouth and parts from it with a pop.

“Gonna make ‘em know you’re mine,” he growls against your neck like a feral animal. “Mark you all over.”

He does it again and again and you whimper as he puts a hickey after a hickey on your neck, his arms wrapped around your torso with the strength of a python. You probably should object to him possessively painting your skin but your core is burning, your hole’s leaking, leaving a sticky mess between your thighs, while Joel’s mouth is latched onto your neck.

“Ohh daddy,” you moan, tilting your head to the side to give him better access, your hand gripping the back of his neck to keep him close. Joel breathes out, “I’m here, baby. I got you,” and takes your dress off your body, almost ripping it. Then he spins you around and makes you lie down onto the table, your limbs weak, ass sore and burning.

“Damn…,” he groans at the sight of your blooming pussy and takes a stand between your legs, his fingers digging into your thighs.

You moan when his clothed bulge meets your naked cunt and rub yourself against him searching for any pressure. Joel smirks.

“Needy lil thing.”

He’s towering over you in the dark bar, his eyes full of fire and lust, his hand’s sliding over your front — from your neck down to your belly. Your back arches off the table and you whimper when he presses his big hot palm to your wet pussy and holds it there possessively.

“Please… please,” you mumble, barely breathing, hoping he’d put down the fire that's been burning you up since last night. You need him so much it hurts.

“Tell me what you need, little girl” Joel gruffs, licking his lips.

“Your cock, daddy. Fuck me, I’m begging you.”

Joel watches you for a few moments, probably relishing how desperate he’s making you, his eyes hungrily running over your heaving chest, your pebbled nipples, your puffy cunt.

Slowly he glides his hands over your thighs and then grabs and spreads them wider. You crave to be ruined by him so you place your feet on the pool table, offering yourself like a cheap whore.

“Fuck..,” Joel mumbles, watching your pussy leak for him, his jaw slackened, his eyes obsidian. He almost moans when his middle and ring fingers delve into your hole, your slick flooding his digits as he begins finger-fucking you, his other hand splayed on your lower belly. Lewd sounds of your sopping cunt fill the bar and you moan loudly when Joel presses his calloused thumb to your clit and rubs it up and down with every thrust of his hand.

“Hungry pussy… grippin’ me like this. Gonna suck in my whole fist one day,” Joel grunts, with a twinkle in his eyes but his blown out pupils tell you he’s not kidding.

“Ahhhh yes, daddy…,” you whine at the image your mind is drawing for you—-Joel’s hand deep inside you, your hole stretched impossibly wide around his thick wrist. Losing your mind from the pleasure you twitch your hardened nipples, pull them roughly, moan and squirm on the table, letting Joel see how good he’s making you feel.

It doesn’t take long for you to come, and you explode, screaming ‘Daddy!’ in the empty bar, your walls fluttering around Joel’s fingers.

“That’s my girl,” he praises you, not stopping, pumping his thick fingers in and out of your hole relentlessly, your cum drops spraying everywhere.

When the ecstasy turns into pain you push his hand away and Joel starts unbuckling his belt. Not waiting for you to catch your breath he frees his hard cock and pushes it inside you in one go.

“Yeahhhh,” you moan at the insertion, his length spreading your walls, the fat tip kissing your cervix. Taking his cock hurts you a little as always, especially after you’ve just come, but you welcome the pain like a gift.

“Thank you, daddy,” you purr with your voice coated with lust and adoration. Thrusting in and out of you Joel pants,

“What for, babygirl?” He knows for sure but he needs to hear it. Moving back and forth over the table with each stroke of Joel’s hips you reply,

“For giving me your cock.. for filling me so well..ahhhhh… for being in my life.”

Joel gives you a soft smile but then an animalistic growl falls from his lips and he picks up the pace, fucking you hard and fast, the snaps of his hips making his heavy balls slap against your sore ass.

“Daddy—-daddy—daddy—!!” You chant, losing your mind on the brink of ecstasy, and when Joel starts spilling his warm cum inside you, you come again with him.

“Yeahhh…,” he groans, dropping his head back in pleasure as your tight pussy is milking his cock greedily, drinking every drop he’s giving you. Only when you’re full to the brim, Joel stills and pulls out. You hastily place your hand between your thighs, keeping him in, not letting his pearly jizz slide out onto the table and make a mess.

As you’re putting your dress on, your inner thighs wet with cum, your eyes flick to Joel again and again. He’s already tucked his cock back into his jeans, now he’s sipping whiskey on a bar stool, breathing heavily, not looking at you.

You swallow hard — what if he’s still mad at you? He made you come twice but he didn’t kiss you even once. Maybe his praise during sex was just a part of the dirty talk.

After fixing your hair and clothes, you come up to Joel and place your hand on his thigh. He looks at you, his expression impossible to read.

“I’m sorry, Joel. And I meant it— thank you for being in my life.”

Joel’s face softens and he pulls you close for a hug. His palm runs down your back and when it reaches your ass cheek you hiss in pain.

“Hurts?” Joel asks, quickly pulling his hand away. You nod but, appreciating the guilt in his voice, you add, “It’s gonna be ok soon. And.. it was hot.” You flash him a playful smile and Joel chuckles. The sound of his laughter fills your heart with joy and full of happiness, you say,

“But you can’t deny that you overreacted?”

When Joel’s smile falls and his brows furrow, you immediately realize that you’ve screwed up again. Ire rumbles in his voice as he gruffs,

“Overreacted? That’s what you think?”

He gets up and you take a step back from him in fear.

“No, I mean… you didn’t have to… I was wrong I get it but.. but you can’t stop me from interacting with all men.”

Slowly walking towards you Joel tilts his head and spits,

“Can’t I?”

You chuckle nervously, backing away, and try to save the situation.

“I don’t have any male friends and I don’t want to. But I work and… well.. I have to talk to men sometimes.”

Joel’s obsidian eyes are piercing you, his jaw shifts until he hisses,

“Maybe you shouldn’t work at all then.”

Now you can’t help but scoff.

“What? That’s ridiculous. I can’t sit at home all day. I wanna help the community.”

Joel’s nostrils flare as he gruffs,

“How were you helpin’ the community last night? Pushin’ your ass out for another man’s cock?!”

Anger burns your belly and your throat tightens when you hear Joel’s harsh words. You’ve submitted to him a thousand times but your patience has its limits.

With your lips trembling, tears risking to spill, you cry out,

“It’s unfair, Joel! I didn’t do anything bad and you keep talking to me like I’m a town slut! Like you own me!”

Joel chuckles darkly and then bites back, “I do own you. I fuckin’ bought you!”

Silence follows his words. For a few seconds you two are staring at each other, Joel’s eyes full of fire, yours— glossy and widened.

“What?”

“Ya heard me!” Joel’s chest is rising and falling rapidly as he grumbles, “Think I found you in the woods? Just stumbled upon you by a goddamn chance?!”

He takes a step closer to you, his nostrils flaring.

“I bought you off a group of raiders, saved you and brought you here! I hope you’ll appreciate it in future cause right now you’re behavin’ like an ungrateful brat!”

His words are swirling in your mind so fast you can’t catch them. ‘Raiders.’ ‘Bought you.’

Hyperventilating, you lean against the table behind you and shake your head in disbelief and shock. You set your gaze on your feet, scared to look up and find sincerity in Joel’s eyes. The idea that he’s telling the truth terrifies you.

“No… I was lost and alone … I got hurt. That’s what you told me.”

“I lied.” Joel’s words sting like a slap to your cheek, and as you face him you find only traces of anger in his expression. What you see mostly is pain and guilt.

“Fuck…” He rubs his face with his hands and turns away from you. For some time he says nothing and you’re staring at his back, needing him to speak yet at the same time dreading it.

Joel drags his feet to a nearby stool and sits on it. His voice is low when he talks as if he’s afraid that someone might hear.

“Been doin’ business with them for a short time. Tradin’ food for whatever they had — medicine, guns… then bringin’ it all to Jackson. They were the scum of the earth. Maria would never let them behind the town walls and they knew it.”

He groans as if it pains him to continue but he still does.

“One day I saw you in their camp. You looked…” Joel pauses, his jaw clenches, his fists are twitching.

“Hell knows what they’ve been doin’ to you there but…. I can imagine… fuckin’ bastards.”

You’re listening to him so intently you don’t realize that tears are streaming down your face.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” you croak. “Why don’t I remember… that?”

Joel doesn’t reply and you sense he’s hiding the answer from you.

“Joel… tell me…please.”

Pain twists his face when he sees your tears, your trembling lips. He averts his eyes and mutters,

“I offered them amo and food in exchange for you. They agreed.. probably were gettin’ desperate with the winter comin’. I was about to take you with me but when they freed you… you ran.”

You hug your middle, trying to calm your shaking body, your heart pounding loudly in your ears.

“I couldn’t let you run away. You were too weak. Wouldn’t survive the first encounter with the infected.”

Looking you straight in the eye, he confesses,

“I caught you but you started fightin’ me. Couldn’t blame you… considerin’ the life you’d been livin’.”

You swallow your tears, your chest tightens more and more the closer you step under the shadow of your past.

“You scratched me. I pushed you off…on instinct.. you fell … hit your head on a rock.”

Joel chokes on his words, his eyes full of tears.

“I didn’t mean to, I swear…”

The truth hangs in the air like heavy smoke, it stings your tearful eyes, fills your chest. Joel wipes his eyes with the back of his hand and croaks,

“You know what happened next. You were bleedin’ so I carried you to Jackson. When Doc said that you lost your memory I thought maybe— maybe it was for the best. You didn’t have to carry all that horror with you. You could start a new life here.”

Not being able to stand on your feet anymore you slump on the floor, press your knees to your chest and bury your face in your hands. You don’t want to see Joel at the moment, your heart feels ripped apart — the most important person in the world has been lying to you.

A miserable sob falls from your lips but you hate to show your pain to Joel right now so you clumsily stand up and walk past him to the exit.

“Where’ya goin’?” Joel asks, getting up. Heavy footsteps follow you when you walk out into the street, big tears rolling down your cheeks, your hands shaking.

You walk to the only place you can — home, Joel’s house. Your legs are trembling, carrying you there, and you’re walking with your head downcast, hiding your pained and tear-stricken face, the night helping you to conceal your misery. You know that Joel’s following you but don’t look back.

At home you immediately run upstairs to your room. You close the door and fall into your bed, finally able to cry in earnest. Everything you’ve known in the world was a lie, written by a deceiving hand of a man you would give your life to. What else has he lied about? His love for you? Was it even real? Or was it his possessiveness, his ownership of you, that pulled him to you like a magnet?

‘I bought you!’ Joel’s words are ringing in your head over and over as you’re soaking your pillow with bitter tears. You hear Joel downstairs and even hating him you’re grateful that he didn’t follow you to your bedroom.

An hour later your throat hurts from weeping, your face is puffy, your eyes barely see anything behind your tears and you close them, still sobbing while your mind is torturing you with the images from your dreams. Every vision stabs your heart with a sharp knife. You can’t be sure if all of that happened, dreams can be dreams, only that, but your intuition and the ache in your body tell you they were your reality, the world you lived in.

You cry and cry but the exhaustion of the day takes its toll and you drift off.

Daddy…

His lips are soft, his hands are rough and calloused. They keep your legs open, pressing onto your inner thighs, as his warm wet tongue is licking your pussy.

Your hands fly to his head and you clasp his locks, pulling him closer to your heat.

Baby…

Up fly your hips, making his tongue dive deeper, and it pushes into your sopping hole and starts fucking you, your juices flowing into his mouth, his nose rubbing your clit.

Ahhh…

A hot wave rises fast in your core and you explode, whimpering and arching your back off the sweat covered sheets. Ecstasy is lighting up every cell of yours as your eyes flutter open and you stare at rays of the early morning sun that’s painting the ceiling amber.

Joel groans against your pulsating cunt and you look down to watch him prolong your orgasm, his lips gliding over your puffy folds and clit, his eyes closed in pleasure, his moustache and beard wet with your slick.

He’s gorgeous.

He’s perfect.

He’s a liar.

“No…” Your sleepy voice objects, your weak hands push Joel’s head off you, when a flood of memories from last night bursts into your mind. You feel tears welling up in your eyes, your belly burns with anger, pain squeezes your chest. Joel looks up, frowning, but as soon as you start squirming away from him, he quickly climbs over your body and pins you to the mattress with his weight.

“Shhhh,” he shushes you before your scream rings in your quiet bedroom,

“Get off me!”

You start hitting his broad back and sides but he grabs your hands and pushes your wrists into the pillow over your head.

“Stop it, girl!” He groans, hovering over your face, his glare stating clearly that you need to listen to him.

You’re thrashing under him for some time, your tears flying in all directions, curses leaving your twisted lips when you remember what he did to you, what he lied about.

When strength leaves your body you lie still, crying quietly, your eyes shut.

Joel’s voice is the warmest it’s ever been.

“Look at me, my love.”

You shake your head in defiance, still keeping your eyelids closed.

“Please, baby, look at me. Please…”

There’s so much surrender in his tone it doesn’t sound like him at all and surprised you stare up at him. His pupils are still blown out, but his gaze is warm and remorseful, eyes reddened with a lack of sleep.

“I’m sorry”, he mumbles, “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”

After each ‘sorry’ he kisses your wet cheeks, chin, forehead and you keep squirming under him, crying.

“No… I — I hate you… stop,” you sob, disgusted that your body yearns for his caress, hating how your heart is fluttering in your chest every time he presses his lips to your skin, his breath warming up your cold cheeks. When he looks at you his eyes are full of tears.

“I’m sorry for throwin’ the truth at you like that. I didn’t want to hurt you with it. I wanted you to understand..”

“Understand what?” You’d shout if your voice weren’t so fucked up from crying all night so all you can do is rasp, glaring up at the man. “Understand that I’m your possession? Understand that I’m nothing without you? That I owe you my life?”

He shakes his head and a single tear rolls down his cheek and falls on your lower lip. You mindlessly lick it off.

“I know I owe you everything”. Your tone is full of surrender as you say, “You did save me. But you lied to me. I lost all my memories because of you.”

“It was an accident!” Joel exclaims desperately, his palms squeezing your wrists. “I’d never… I hate myself for it.”

You choke on another sob, a myriad of emotions swirling in your chest, squeezing your heart. You can’t help but feel sorry for the man you love deeply and when Joel lets go of your hands and drops his head on your chest, you don’t push him away. You feel him sob silently, his guilt wetting your skin, and his despair suddenly dries your own tears.

Yes, he lied, you think, but he wanted to protect you from the pain. Everyone’s past is haunted these days and you’ve been living carefree until yesterday, not knowing how dark yours was. Wouldn’t you wish you were clueless again? Wouldn’t it be wonderful to think that the visions of cruel hands, spreading your legs and taking you by force, were just a fantasy, a nightmare that fades in the air with the first rays of the morning sun. Yet now you know it’s not just that and chills run down your spine, making you shiver. You wrap your arms around Joel’s back, seeking comfort in the only place you know— his embrace. He gives it to you immediately— his arms slide under your back and he holds you tightly. Then he lifts his head and his puffy eyes find yours.

“I’m sorry, sweetheart.”

You can’t forgive him yet but your expression softens and when he leans down, searching for your lips, you kiss him. Your mouth parts welcoming his tongue, you tilt your head to deepen the kiss and moan, melting under his big body.

Suddenly Joel parts from your lips and presses his forehead to yours.

“I killed ‘em. Killed ‘em all, my love,” he gruffs, his breath hot on your lips.

“Who?” You ask but in your gut you already know the answer.

“Those raiders… who had you.”

He plants his forearms on the bed by your shoulders to lift himself up and says, his eyes fiery,

“About a week after I brought you to Jackson, Tommy and I sneaked out at night... tracked them down.”

You’re staring up at him, your eyes widened, taking in every word hungrily.

“Tommy knows? About me?”

Joel swallows hard, probably scared of your reaction, and gives you a curt nod.

“I had to tell him. Needed back up in case it went sideways.”

You feel anger rise again in your belly at the realization that Tommy has been lying to you, too, hiding the truth, but you suppress it, your whole being needs Joel to keep talking.

“How d’you do it?”

Joel cups your cheek gently before speaking,

“Got into the leader’s tent.. cut his throat while he was sleepin’. The others were outside.”

“No one woke up?” Your voice is shaky as you ask Joel.

“Some did. I dealt with them. And those who tried to run… Tommy took ‘em out with a sniper rifle.”

Your body is trembling as you listen to him, butterflies swirling in your belly. To your surprise or horror you realize that you love hearing all that. It not only brings you joy, his confession turns you on.

“You could’ve just shot them all. During the day.”

“Yeah, I guess.” Joel presses a kiss to your forehead before saying, “but I wanted to watch them bleed to death.”

Your breath hitches and you buck your hips, pressing your naked pussy to Joel's clothed bulge. When you feel him big and hard your lips part and you moan,

“Wish I could’ve seen it.”

Joel’s dark eyes dart between yours as understanding flashes across his face. A corner of his lips curves up and his hand slithers down between your bodies.

“Wish to see what daddy did for you?”

A shiver runs through your body when you hear his words and you nod eagerly, parting your legs wider to accommodate his hips.

Joel chuckles darkly, his face hovering inches from yours, his body big and strong pushing you into the bed, and you moan when his hot cockhead delves between your folds and rubs your clit up and down.

“Oh daddy,” you whimper softly, your pussy clenching around nothing, your slick sliding out of your needy hole.

Joel leans down and grunts into your ear, as his tip nudges at your wet entrance,

“You’d wanna see me cut the fuckers’ throats?”

Saying the last word he pushes his cock inside you, parting your walls with his stiffness and your lips form an O when you take all his inches in one go.

“Yes—yes—yes,” you breathe out, going cross eyed with the way he fills you up. Joel begins fucking you hard, growling and panting, his lips brushing your temple,

“I killed ‘em all. Every jerk who’d hurt you. Would’ve done it a thousand times over... again.. and again.. and again.”

With every word he pushes his cock deeper inside you, his fat head rubbing against your soft spot as he almost pulls out, only to pierce you with it again.

You drool with how amazing you feel, your eyes roll back to the back of your head as you’re rising higher to your peak.

“Thank you, daddy,” you moan. “Thank you for sending them to hell. For me.”

Joel’s hips slow down and he glides his thumb over your lower lip.

“Of course, sweetheart.” His voice wavers, he’s visibly touched by your words of gratitude.

He kisses you gently and then murmurs against your lips.

“I love you more than life.”

“I love you, daddy.”

A soft moan falls from his wet lips and he keeps fucking into your pussy but now his movements are slow and steady, his thrusts gentle.

“Come on my cock, sweetheart. It’ll make daddy so happy.” You whimper as he’s kissing a path down your neck and then latches onto your breast. He’s swirling his tongue around your pebbled nipple, nibbling on it while he languidly rolls his hips, feeding you his cock again and again.

You unravel with his name on your lips, your pussy fluttering around his fat girth and soon he grunts and starts painting your walls with his warm cum. The symphony of your moans fills the room and your heart sings when you hear how amazing you make Joel feel. This big gruff man whose hands ended lives is whimpering because of you, pressing his body to yours like you’re the most precious thing in this world. You hug him tightly and you two are slowly coming down from your highs together, his cock still spilling cum into your core, your walls gripping him from time to time.

Then Joel rolls over and immediately scoops you into his embrace. You nuzzle his neck, breathing in his musky scent, your eyes closed, your body heavy with a pleasant tiredness.

“You hate me?” he rasps after a few minutes of silence. You don’t need to look up at him to know that his eyes are filled with tears.

“I love you.” Your voice is quiet but unwavering as you reply.

The truth about your past doesn’t easily settle in your heart. Your nightmares still come, always the same ones, always about them. In your mind you understand that those are ghosts and nothing else. They’re dead and gone, rotting in the cold ground, while you’re here, alive and well, thanks to Joel. When those ghosts come to haunt you at night, you wake up and cuddle up to the man who saved you, the man who takes care of you, the man who loves you.

Joel still guards you from every man in Jackson but now you know why — his protective nature demands him to act this way. He probably sees your abusers in all the guys who approach you, talk to you, lay their eyes on you.

Soon you see them, too. Fear twists your heart when a man steps into your shop, when his eyes linger on your chest or your lips a little too long. The attention that used to flatter you now feels like a punch in the gut. Your pulse quickens, your heart pounds in your chest, and panic subsides only when the person leaves.

Not being able to do your job properly you quit. You lie to Maria that your headaches are back and you need more rest. Joel confirms your deceitful words, satisfied that you’re going to be home more often. So you spend your time cooking, reading and waiting for him to return from work.

Tonight you’re both reading on the sofa in the living room, your feet on Joel’s lap, his hand resting over them, keeping you warm. It’s quiet except for the wood crackling in the fireplace. When you read the same sentence for the fifth time, you realize that there’s another thought swirling at the back of your mind. You close the book and sit up.

“Joel,” you call softly. “Can I ask you something?”

The man glances up at you from behind his reading glasses and when he sees your worried face he takes them off and puts the book aside.

“Of course, sweetheart.”

You drop your head and fumble with the hem of your nightie, all of a sudden too nervous to speak on the topic of your past. You rarely discuss it with Joel, your previous life and what he did still feel like an open wound.

Noticing your hesitance Joel scoops you up and puts you onto his lap. With your hands on his broad chest, his warmth comforting you, you finally speak,

“When you met me.. there.. what did they call me?”

Joel takes a deep breath and his brows furrow. He glides his palms up and down your arms and nods,

“Yes, I asked them about your name.”

Your breathing quickens as you lean forward.

“What was it?”

Joel cups your cheek, gives you a warm smile, and pronounces your name, the name you both chose at the hospital.

“What?” You frown in confusion. “But… we picked it together. You brought the name book to my room, remember?”

“Yeah,” Joel nods. “And I said it would suit you perfectly.”

You’re gawking at the man as he says,

“Your name was the only thing I learnt about you. I wanted you to have it.”

His gaze is so loving you feel close to bursting into tears so you push your face against Joel’s neck and take full lungs of his scent, trying to calm a tsunami of emotions in your chest. Joel hugs you tightly and sighs,

“I shoulda learned more about you.. interrogated them, asked about your past. But I was so damn angry… wanted them dead and gone. For what they’d done to you.”

“No, no,” you mumble, clinging to his big torso. “I don’t need it.” You sit up on his lap and say, “I can’t miss something I don’t remember, right?”

Joel looks at you pensively and then nods,

“Yeah, I reckon.”

You rest your head on his shoulder and sit quietly for a few minutes. He’s rocking you gently on his lap and you feel so peaceful and warm you can purr.

On the brink of reality and sleep you feel Joel’s hand slide under your nightie and between your legs.

“Daddy…,” you whimper softly, spreading your thighs wider for him.

“Yes, baby. Let me make you feel good.”

You nod weakly and close your eyes, trusting Joel to give you the most amazing pleasure, to take care of you only he knows how.

A moan falls from your parted lips when Joel pushes his thumb between your folds and slides it down to your clenching hole. He gathers some wetness and then covers your clit with it. You bite your lips as he starts slowly rubbing it, torturing you with the languid pace. Turned on and needy you grind your hips back and forth, seeking more stimulation, and Joel cooes,

“Uh-huh? D’ya wanna come, babygirl?”

With your eyes still shut you beg, your lips brushing Joel’s neck,

“Yes, daddy, please.”

Joel hums and his hand leaves your pussy. You whine pathetically and your eyes snap open only to see Joel sucking on his thumb, his eyelids fluttering close in pleasure. He hums around his finger, tasting your desire, and then carefully pulls it out of his mouth and returns the drenched digit to your pussy.

“Gonna soak your lil’ clit. Make it nice ‘n wet”

He grunts and presses his saliva-covered finger to your hardened bud, making you moan loudly and arch your back. You feel lightheaded as he starts rhythmically pleasuring you, bringing you closer to your peak. You dart your tongue out and lick Joel’s neck, his skin hot and salty, until he turns his head and catches your eager lips with his. He’s swallowing your moans and whimpers while his thumb is drawing infinities over your clit. Soon it starts twitching under his thumb and Joel growls into your mouth as you come undone in his arms, your pussy crying onto his lap.

“My good girl,” he whispers into your ear, his thumb gently gliding between your folds, prolonging your shuttering orgasm yet being careful not to overstimulate you.

When your bliss dissipates, your body goes limp on his lap and you’re panting against Joel’s neck, exhausted and satisfied. You hear smacking sounds and flutter your eyes open to see Joel lick your slick off his fingers.

“Can never get enough of you, baby. Daddy’s gonna lick it all off later.”

“Yes, please,” you murmur before your eyelids close and you fall asleep.

As Joel’s carrying you upstairs you’re dreaming of him walking through the woods with your unconscious body in his strong arms. It looks like you’re sleeping peacefully but soon your pulse skyrockets as you see a black smoke following you two. The darkness is licking at Joel’s feet, wishing to drown you in its poisonous cloud and you try to scream and warn him about it but your voice won’t work. Joel’s walking confidently, his steps sure and determined, and you hope or rather know that he’s going to get you to safety. You can trust him to do it. Jackson’s walls soon appear in front of Joel and the huge wooden gates open, welcoming him and you. Your man carries you past them and as they close behind you two, the black smoke crashes against the thick walls and clears up. Your heartbeat slows down and a little smile curves your lips. You’re safe.

You never share the truth of your past with anyone else. You don’t want to be pitied but most of all you’d hate if people blamed Joel for your amnesia. He broke you, took your past from you, but he was also the one to build you back up, he gave you his love, support, he gifted you a home, a chance for a fresh start. Joel became your best friend, your lover, your family. He’s not perfect, he’s not a saint, but who is?

Thank you for reading! Please comment and reblog if you enjoyed the fic! I’d love to know what you think, loves💞

MASTERLIST

Tag list: @/milla-frenchy @harriedandharassed @nervousmumbling @bbyanarchist @stevie75 @puduvallee @mountainsandmayhem @senoratess @flamingochick55 @theoraekenslover @schnarfer @mermaidgirl30 @staywildflowahchild @yesjazzywazzylove-blog @keylimebeag @pascaltesaye @meetmeatyourworst @callmebyyournick-name @/tateypots @pedrofan @chloeee20 @ess-evo @upintheclouds95 @ashleyfilm @shadowqueen2024 @time-for-my-weekly-spanking @libre-sol @iamladyp

Story tag list: Milla @m-the-mermaid @pedroncigarettes @jegvetikkeee @pleurspetal @ptolemaea444 @chick66i @shivispunk @koshkaj-blog @xkyxkyxxlylcylulucuflfluclu @letsbepeoplemaren @littlepadika @mystickittytaco @/ess-evo @inept-the-magnificent @rosharanfiction @hystericalanduseless9 @joelmillersblog @happilymagicallady @ratatouilleremyrini @ace-turned-confused @/tateypots @danaehldy

[koshkaj-blog]

A delicious fic that other lovers of dark Joel will thoroughly enjoy. 👌🏽

[koshkamartell]

summary: DDDNE sequel to Bad Neighbours. Set in modern AU. Joel finds an opportunity to blackmail you and bring you to your knees.

warnings: unspecified age gap, misogyny, talk of drugs, slut shaming, mention of past noncon penetration, degradation, dubcon facefuck, forced throat pie, blackmail, dacryphilia, flirtacious!Tommy, mean!Joel, grumpy!Joel, possessive!Joel.

word count: 5,250

___________________________________________

Joel hadn't seen much of you around the neighbourhood lately. You had become something of a ghost in these last few months.

Since the night he had barrelled his way into your house and fucked the shit out of you, Joel had hardly seen you make an appearance. He hadn't seen you strutting around your driveway in skimpy shorts while you washed your cute little car. He hadn't seen you out for a jog around the block like you sometimes did. You never sit on your porch steps to paint your toenails anymore, either.

He had spied you coming and going from your house a few times, when he coincidentally peeked out of his living room window, but he could never get a good look at you. You quickly scurried to and from your car, always dressed in jeans and a baggy shirt, face tilted down in an effort to avoid anyone's eye. You were quick to get inside the house, never lingering outside to talk to any of the neighbours like you used to do. You hadn't had a single party at your house since that night, either.

That was to be expected, Joel supposed. Yeah, he could admit that he had been pretty tough on you, had maybe been a bit overzealous in reprimanding you for your carefree ways. But he hadn't really had any other option but to break your spirit, to put you in your place. There was only so much a man could take before losing his patience.

It pleased Joel that he had been the one to teach you some humility, that your unruly behaviour came with consequences. It satisfied him that there were no longer any nights of loud music disturbing his sleep. He was smug to no longer see any of your friend's cars blocking the street and revving their engines as they sped around the block.

Things around the area were back to being peaceful once again. Quiet, which Joel liked. But they were also a little....boring. Sometimes he found that he actually kind of missed the exerburance you brought to the neighbourhood, like a breath of fresh air.

He would never admit it, though.

And although things were quiet, there were still nights where Joel just couldn't get to sleep. Nights when his mind wouldn't stop ticking no matter how many shots of whiskey he downed. He'd lay in bed, body weary and muscles tight after a long day at work, and the sweetness of sleep would still evade him.

In those lonely hours of the night Joel's mind would often drift to you. He hadn't been with a woman since that fateful night with you, and his body fucking craved the feeling of a woman's soft curves pressed tightly against him. He didn't just crave just any woman though - he craved you.

His cock would be throbbing with the memory of your pussy clenching around him, the way your body trembled as he punished it for your vivacity that Joel deemed so offensive. He'd fist his cock while imagining you beneath him writhing and moaning, his own groans filling the empty darkness of his bedroom. It never took long for him to climax, cum spurting over his knuckles and stomach as he moaned and grunted like a pathetic old man.

He would lazily wipe at the mess with his shirt, doing a half assed job before tossing it on the floor and finally collapsing into sleep.

___________________________________________

One Sunday afternoon Tommy came over to discuss plans for a site the Miller company was currently building on. Joel sat at the dining table with a cup of black coffee in hand as he listened patiently to Tommy report the latest issues that needed dealing with.

From the very first day it had proved to be a stressful project to work on - in the first few weeks there had been a delay in the timbre and brick shipments, followed by stormy weather that set the schedule back by atleast a month. Bad luck seemed to follow, with half the labour crew then struck down with a stomach bug that lasted several days. Tommy grimly joked that the whole operation seemed to be cursed.

Joel was close to tearing his fucking hair out. He was working longer hours in an attempt to catch up, and when he wasn't on site supervising and directing the crew he was on the phone to different building supplies companies renegotiating contracts. The mental load was exhausting. Sarah was always telling him to go on a vacation, to get away from it all and take a break. Maybe she was right.

Joel was secretly relieved when Tommy downed the last dregs of his coffee and stood up to leave. It was Joel's first day off in weeks and he was looking forward to kicking back and watching the football game with a beer or two, just by himself.

"By the way, I need to borrow the DeWalt," Tommy casually mentioned as they walked out the front door. "Gotta reinforce some screws on the deck at my place."

"Yeah, yeah," Joel dismissed with a gruff wave of his hand. "Just don't forget to return it this time."

Tommy's head swivelled around, surveying the neighbouring houses while Joel dug his car keys out of his pocket and fiddled around with the garage key.

"Where's the princess?" Tommy asked, jerking his head toward the direction of your house. "Ain't seen her in a while."

Even with his back to Tommy, Joel knew exactly who he was talking about, and his jaw ticked in irritation. He didn't know why his little brother's teasing pissed him off so much. He certainly wasn't jealous. Why would he be jealous of his brother eyeing a little slut like you?

"What do I look like - head of the fuckin' neighbourhood committee?" Joel grumbled, unlocking the garage roller and bending down to haul it upward.

At that very moment, as if tempting fate, your car came rolling down the street with its windows down, obnoxiously loud pop music blasting through the speakers. Both the brothers turned to watch the car skirt past and zoom into your driveway.

"Well, speak of the devil," Tommy huffed a chuckle.

Joel didn't expect his stomach to flip a somersault the way it did, like he was actually excited or something. Get it together, Jesus Christ. He cleared his throat and crossed his arms to maintain an detached facade, but he still couldn't drag his eyes away from your house.

The car door swung open and its driver stepped out, revealing not you but another young woman around the same age as you. She climbed out and almost instantly spotted the older men staring at her across the way. A smile spread over her face and she waved at them.

"Oh, hey!" She called out. "Excuse me!"

Joel glowered, squinting across the road. Tommy returned her wave with a lazy two finger salute.

"Well what d'ya know," he murmered to Joel. "Looks like somebody wants to say hello."

The two men watched as she practically pranced across the street and up Joel's driveway. She was wearing a tank top that showed off her cleavage and jeans that Joel thought were much too tight.

"Hi," she smiled brightly as she approached them. "Sorry to bother you but I was wondering if you could help me out?"

Joel narrowed his eyes down at her. She was no where near as pretty as you, but she had that same peppy spirit you had - before he broke it, that is. She was also instantly annoying, he deduced.

"What is it?" He grunted.

"I borrowed my friend's car. She lives across the street," she hooked a thumb back toward your house. "And well, the engine keeps cutting or something." She gave a sheepish grin and looked between the two brothers. "Either of you guys know much about cars?"

Joel had to suppress the urge to roll his eyes. He didn't have the patience or the energy to deal with your airhead friend batting her eyelashes and expecting him to fix your damn car. He wasn't running a charity here. All he wanted to do was retreat back inside and flop down in his recliner like the weary old man he was.

Tommy seemed to sense his older brother's exasperation, for he took a step forward and gave the girl a kind, genial smile.

"You've come to the right place, sweetheart," he said, oozing charisma in the effortless way he always did with women. "Name's Tommy. How about I come over there and take a look at what you're workin' with?"

Your friend giggled, an airy and flirtatious sound that grated on Joel's nerves. "I'm Maddy. And yeah, that would be awesome."

"Let's go," Tommy winked at her.

Joel gave a disapproving shake of his head as he watched the two of them cross the street back over to your driveway. Typical Tommy, he thought. Always the knight in shining armour, always the one playing the good guy hero just to get some pussy.

But while Joel was partially disgusted at Tommy's predilection for playful banter with women, he couldn't help feeling a little impressed, perhaps even the slightest bit jealous of how easily women fell under his spell. Joel certainly was the more reserved of the two, always the stoic and pragmatic counterpart to Tommy's convivial personality. He had never been the kind of man to possess the finesse for seducing women, and the older he got the more woefully out of practice he was becoming. So out of practice, in fact, that his last sexual encounter had consumed his subconscious and became the centre point of all his fantasies.

Joel sighed before sauntering into the garage.

___________________________________________

A short time later Tommy swaggered back over to Joel's, thumbs hooked in the belt loops of his jeans and his boots clicking over the driveway cement.

"Alternator's shot," Tommy announced to Joel, as if Joel actually gave a shit. "She's gotta take it to a mechanic."

"Too bad," he replied flatly, grabbing the drill from his work bench.

"Yeah, too bad," Tommy echoed, grinning wolfishly. "She needs a ride to town, so I offered to take her."

The implication of his words clicked when Joel caught the cocky expression written all over Tommy's face.

"Fuck sake," he muttered, shoving the tool into Tommy's middle. "You ever think about anythin' else besides gettin' your dick wet?"

"Hey now, I'm just bein' a gentleman." Tommy grinned, opening his truck to toss the drill into the back seat. "Helpin' a young lady in distress and all."

Joel just scoffed. He was more than ready to retire to his armchair and zone out for the rest of the afternoon, to forget about all the stress and headaches that he had been dealt with these last few weeks. He was about to say goodbye when Tommy leaned over and dropped his voice to a conspiratorial murmer.

"Wild little thing, too. She left some blow in the glovebox."

Joel pulled away and frowned at Tommy, not bothering to hide his disgust. He hated drugs - hated what they did to people, hated how they ruined lives. But what did it matter to him if your friend dabbled in them?

"So what?" He grunted with as much indifference as he could muster. "So she's a slut and a junkie. Congratulations."

Tommy laughed heartily. "You're such a fuckin' square, man. Just thought you might wanna tell the princess her friend left her a little gift."

Joel's eyebrows raised at the mention of you. "The hell's that got to do with me?"

"Well, you're gonna be the one holdin' onto her key. For safe keeping." Tommy spun a set of car keys around his forefinger, that same shit eating grin spread across his boyishly handsome face.

"Goddamnit, Tommy, don't drag me into this mess!" Joel hissed angrily. He could feel his blood pressure rising by the second.

"Maddy ain't got a key to get into the house," Tommy replied with a shrug. "Needs somewhere safe to keep the car keys. You don't gotta do anythin', just wait for her to show up."

He tossed the set of keys to Joel, who managed to catch it with a clumsy fumble of his hands. Maddy came trotting over at the same time, her tits bouncing as her hips sashayed. She snapped a wad of bubblegum between her glossed lips and grinned over at them. Tommy gave Joel a sly wink before turning to open the passenger door of his truck for her.

"You ready to go, little miss?"

___________________________________________

The anticipation of seeing you gnaws at Joel's nerves all afternoon. He can hardly focus on the football game on the tv, his eyes flickering to his longueroom window with every flash of outside movement that catches in his periphery. He has no idea when to expect you, when you might end up on his doorstep to retrieve your keys, so he remains alert to the sounds and sights that could signal your arrival.

It's not like he could call you and ask when you'd be home. There had been no reason to exchange phone numbers when you had first moved in - even though he was sure you had with several of the other residents on the street. Would you even answer the phone if he did call? Maybe you'd prefer text instead - he heard somewhere that young people only text these days. He hated texting and how his large thumbs couldnt quite hit the letters properly, how it took so long just for him to type the most basic message. Sarah had laughed at him once, calling him an old man when he complained about not understanding text talk or emojis.

The sun eventually sinks into the west and dusk spreads, twilight stars twinkling against the backdrop of the purple sky. Joel wonders aimlessly around the house, searching for small chores to complete to keep himself distracted, but the restless energy buzzes throughout him like a live wire, making him agitated and excited all at once.

Maybe he should've refused to take your keys and told Tommy to fuck off and sort it out himself. He was the one who jumped in to help your friend, so he should be the one to deal with you.

But Joel knew Tommy better than anyone else, and he knew just how magnetic his little brother could be with the opposite sex. He had also noticed the lingering, lustful glances Tommy threw your way whenever the two of you happened to be in the neighbourhood at the same time. Tommy would surely love any excuse to catch you alone and try get into your pants. If he succeeded, he would rub it in Joel's face and never let him forget it for the rest of his life.

And the more Joel thought about it, the more that tiny seed of ugly jealousy inside him grew stronger. You weren't Joel's and you never would be, but the irrational possessiveness he felt seemed uncontrollable. He hated you, but you had gotten under his fucking skin, clawing your way into his flesh like a tick so he couldn't get rid of you. And even so, he couldn't stomach the thought of another man sinking his dirty fucking dick into your perfect pussy.

Joel forgoes dinner and plants himself on the couch with a couple more beers. Yhe alcohol flows through him, calming his nerves as the blue glow of the TV casts shadows over his face. He even  unintentionally falls asleep for a brief nap, only snapping back awake when a loud used car sales advert blares through the sound system.

It's late at night when a muted knock at his front door alerts him to your arrival. Joel springs to his feet and swipes the keys from his coffee table before stalking to the door. His heart pounds as he opens the door.

You stand there on his welcome mat with your head bowed like a scolded puppy and your fingers twisting nervously infront of you. His eyes scan you up and down, taking in your casual outfit of jeans and a baggy hooded sweatshirt. He wonders where you have come from - work, perhaps, or possibly school. Maybe a boyfriend's.

Joel keeps his expression impassive as he stares down at you wordlessly. You say nothing, and the heavy silence hangs in the air between the two of you. It seems to go on forever before you find the courage to utter something that has Joel straining forward to hear you properly.

"My friend gave you the keys for my car," you speak in a whisper, still not looking at him.

The sound of your gentle, feminine voice makes his cock twitch in his jeans. Just the sound of you, the mere sight of you on his door step has the blood rushing to his cock. His massive hand flexes on the door knob as he fights the primal urge to drag you inside his house and throw you onto the floor again.

Fuck. He needs to stay in control before he blows this whole thing.

"Can I please have them back?" You ask meekly.

Oh, you are so fucking sweet when you're timid like this. Joel inhales a measured breath in order to calm himself.  He crosses his arms and leans against the door frame. "Yeah. But first we got somethin' to talk about."

He sees the slight flinch that jolts through your body, the way you automatically tense up at his choice of words. He keeps his eyes trained on you like a hawk, waiting patiently for a response. You ball your hands into fists and when you speak again your words come out shaky and stuttered.

"I-I can't...t-talk...right now..."

"I suggest you come inside and listen to what I have to say," Joel replies calmly, uncharacteristically soft, almost paternal.

You finally lift your chin up to meet his gaze and he's surprised to see you scowling at him. You look disgusted and annoyed, like he's some kind of creep propositioning you.

"I don't want to hear what you have to s-say, Mr. Miller," you snipe. "Now give m-me back my keys."

So you are still a bratty little bitch, Joel thinks. Still got that entitled attitude. His jaw ticks once. Even though you're scared, you still have the balls to try stand up to him. It's almost admirable - if he didn't have so much contempt for you.

"And what about that little baggie sittin' in the glovebox in your car?"

He cocks an eyebrow at you expectantly. You stare silently back at him, your face pinched into a confused frown as your mind tries to decipher what the hell he's alluding to.

It takes a few moments for the cogs to turn, for the realisation to hit you, but there's no mistaking when it does. Your face drops almost instantly. Your eyes widen and your mouth gapes open, but no sound comes out.

A tendril of wicked amusement coils inside Joel's belly. Oh, you look cute when you're scared. "What you got to say about that?"

"It isn't mine," you blurt out. "It doesn't belong to me - it's my friend's."

Joel gives a derisive snort. "Really think the cops'll buy that bullshit?"

"The...the cops?" You question nervously, the colour draining from your face.

"Yeah, the cops," Joel bites back. "You think I ain't gonna tell them about this? What kinda person would I be to let illicit drugs come into a good neighbourhood like this?"

"M-mister Miller, please," you plead pitifully, a shrill edge to your voice now. "I swear to you, it's not mine--"

"That cocaine is stashed inside your vehicle," Joel cuts you off sharply. "Cops won't give a shit if it belongs to your friend - they'll find it in your car and haul you on down to the station so fast your head will spin."

Your eyes begin to well with tears as you shake your head, disbelieving and petrified all at once. He has to suppress the cruel grin threatening to break out over his face.

"Oh, you better believe it," he warns you. "My daddy was a cop. I know how the law works, sweetheart. Don't think they'll let you off the hook just cos of your pretty face."

"Please," you whisper, "please don't."

"They'll charge you with possession, at the very least. It'll go on your record. Might not look too good to any potential employers. Ain't too many folks who'll be happy givin' a druggie a job."

You start to cry, your nose and cheeks tinging with pink as fat tears drip from your waterline. "P-please," you sob hopelessly.

Joel watches you cry, his features fixed in a mask of calm indifference despite his cock being half hard. He's breaking you down so quickly; you're caught in his web now, tangled and terrified, and he's about to reap his prize.

"S'pose we could come to some kind of arrangement," Joel muses, more casual and cordial than he has ever sounded before. "Why don't you come inside so we can talk about it some more?"

You sniffle and drop your head back down in defeat. You give a little nod of your head, a sad gesture of acquiescement that makes Joel's stomach flip with perverted excitement. He presses back against the door to give you space to pass through the threshold, covertly inhaling your scent as you slip past.

He shuts the door and locks it.

You shuffle into the middle of Joel's living room and he follows behind you, his hands are already working on unbuckling his belt.

"Now I think I might be able to keep quiet about that little stash," Joel says as he unbuttons and unzips his jeans. "But I'm gonna need some convincin'."

You stand awkwardly by the couch, your eyes downcast and fixed on the carpet at Joel's feet. He shoves his jeans and underwear down his thighs, freeing his aching half erect cock and heavy balls.

"So go ahead and convince me," he murmers, cupping his sack in his hand and giving it a light squeeze. Your face crumples and a fresh set of tears spill down your cheeks.

Joel might enjoy watching you cry, but what he really wants to see is you crying while his cock defiles you, and so he doesn't care to make this scene stretch out longer than it has to. He's waited too long and now the pent up anticipation of it all is making him even more irritated.

"Get on your knees," Joel commands coldly. "Hurry up."

You slowly sink to your knees in the carpet, hands shaking as they come to a rest on your thighs. Joel takes a couple strides until he's standing directly above you. He wraps his fingers around his cock and jerks it twice, slow and leisurely.

"Don't even think about bitin', or else you leave this house with no teeth at all, you understand me?" He warns you sternly.

"Yes," you whisper back.

"Yes sir," he corrects you.

"Yes sir."

"Good. Lick my balls, bitch."

A look of revulsion passes over your features and your lips curl with revulsion. He angles his cock slightly upward to give you better access and shuffles closer so that your face is only inches away from where he wants your mouth. He swipes his thumb over the head of his cock, gathering the precum and smearing it all over the tip.

"Go on'," Joel rasps above you. "Show me how you use that tongue, sweetheart."

He watches in predatory fascination as you reluctantly poke out your tongue and give one of his balls an experimental lick. You grimace a little and pull away, clearly disgusted at the sensation of his pubic hair against your tongue.

What a prissy little bitch you are, he thinks.

When you lean in again and give another half hearted lick, he feels his patience start to wear thin.

"Come on, I ain't got all night." Joel grabs a hank of your hair at the back of your head and shoves your face closer to his ball sack. You let out a pathetic little sob. "Make this good for me, 'else I'll march your little ass down to the police station myself."

His threats seem to scare you into action. You start to lick a series of slow stripes over the seam of his sack, your nose nudging the underside of his cock. Joel groans, fist tightening over the head of his dick as he watches you.

"That's it. Give 'em both some attention."

You shift your tongue to lathe the other ball and he let's out a gravelly moan. Maybe Joel's just touch starved and horny, but you're actually pretty good at this shit. Do you do this for all your boyfriends? Maybe in a more normal, less fucked up scenario, this is an act you actually enjoy performing, with a man you trust and have feelings for. A man who isn't old enough to be your father.

"Now kiss 'em. Make it sloppy."

He senses your hesitation and flexes his hand in your hair in a subtle warning. He'll slap you around again if he has to - surely you would've remembered just how painful that was. But luckily for you, Joel doesn't have to; you begin to place wet open mouthed kisses all over his ballsack, your lips and tongue simultaneously smacking and sucking the wrinkled skin. Aroused tingles flood Joel's body and he hums with satisfaction.

"Dirty fuckin' mouth you got," he growls lowly.

You continue to caress his balls with slack, spit soaked kisses. You're a fucking natural, he marvels. But if you keep going, he will end up shooting his load very soon.

"Alright, alright - enough," Joel pants, jerking your head away from his balls. "Now open your mouth."

You obey and let your jaw fall open. There is nothing seductive about the detached way you move, but the authority Joel weilds over you right now excites him enough to make up for it. He rubs the head of his cock over your bottom lip while you stare up at him with vacant eyes.

"That's it. Keep that fuckin' mouth wide open. And remember - no teeth, bitch."

Joel snaps his hips forward and unceremoniously pushes inside your mouth. He moans as the warmth of your tongue envelopes the underside of his girth, expanding over his skin like silk until the head of him knocks the back of your throat. You gag instantly and his other hand quickly grabs hold of your hair in anticipation that you'll try push away. But to Joel's surprise you don't.

Seems you have well and truly been beaten into submission.

"Yeah, you know your place now, huh?" He taunts. "Learnt not to talk back and just take it, isn't that right?"

With his hands glued to each side of your head, Joel begins to draw his hips back and forth, steadily fucking his cock in and out of your gaping mouth. He relishes in the choking sounds that gurgle from you each time his fat tip jabs deep into your throat hole. Tears trickle from your eyes and down your cheeks, leaving streaks of mascara in their wake. Your saliva coats his shaft and leaks down your chin, messy and wet. You look a goddamn wreck.

Fuck, you're even more pretty like this.

Joel moans, low and gravelly, his adams apple bobbing thickly in his throat when he swallows. Even though you are doing the bare minimum right now - not sucking or jerking him off, just simply keeping your jaw unlocked - you still feel fucking incredible. There is something so indescribably sexy to Joel about ruining a spoiled pretty slut without hearing her run her mouth or act like a brat. To his dismay, he realises he is not going to last much longer.

But he is content with keeping a measured pace; he sees no point in forcing you to try swallow his dick and vomit all over him. No, he's perfectly happy with weighted thrusts that stretch your lips painfully and that cramp your tongue. He takes pride in hearing the wet thwacking noise every time his balls smack against your chin.

Though Joel's gaze is fixated on you, you don't make eye contact with him, instead staring blankly at his exposed pubic area. He breathes heavily through his nostrils as his orgasm gradually builds, the pleasure of defiling your face too great to temper. He's waited too long to have you again, spent too many lonely nights fantasising about you to be able to hold back for very long.

"Gonna cum down that slutty little throat. And you're gonna swallow every last fuckin' drop," Joel pants.

He fucks your face for another minute, able to prolong his pleasure for just that little bit of extra time. Just before he's about to cum, Joel plunges his cock as far deep your throat as possible so that your nose presses into his pubic hair, and he holds your head in his tight grip. His orgasm crashes into him in one huge powerful wave. He groans loudly and his cum explodes inside your mouth and shoots down your oesophagus. And this time you do fight back - you try in vain to pull away while you gag violently on his seed.

"No runnin'," Joel growls breathlessly. "Swallow it. All of it. Go on, you little cunt. Fuckin' do it."

You do as your told. He finally releases your head with an uncaring push and you fall back onto your ass, coughing and sobbing. Joel's chest expands and falls with his heaving breathes as he comes down from his high. Christ, that was the best orgasm he's had in fuck knows how long. He props his hands on his hips and takes a few moments to let the light headed feeling wash over him.

You don't take as long to recover as Joel does. You scramble to your feet, unsteady but quick, and swipe your mouth with the sleeve of your sweater.

"Keys," you croak out brokenly. "Now."

Joel doesn't bother to acknowledge you as he hitches up his underwear and jeans. You did good. It's only fair he returns your precious keys, seeing as that was part of the deal. He digs into his pocket and takes out the object in question.

"Keep that shit outta my neighbourhood."  Joel finally deigns to glance at you. "And I'm sure this goes without sayin', but no tellin' anyone about this little exchange of ours, neither." He gives you a pointed look. "Think you got a pretty good idea what could happen if you don't listen."

You nod your understanding. You look like a cheap whore with your lips swollen and your eyes puffy from the tears you're still crying. And although Joel feels smug pride with the knowledge that he's the cause of it, he's tired now and just wants to sleep.

"Get the fuck outta here."

He tosses you the keys. You catch them, hands shaking, then you scurry to the front door. You escape and slam the door shut behind you.

Joel sighs, weary and content. He staggers to bed and falls into a deep sleep, the scent of your shampoo tainting his fingernails.

[koshkaj-blog]

Does anyone know why iamasaddie and swiftispunk disappeared from ao3? :-(

[koshkamartell]

summary: oneshot set in AU. You can't resist your boyfriend's uncle.

warnings: cheating, unprotected piv, unspecified age gap, degradation, creampie, dirty talk, sub/dom dynamics, slut shaming, possessive!Joel, bathroom sex, choking, no after-care, shame.

word count: 2,760

His hand rests just under your jaw, his fingers tensed around your pulse point. He could easily choke you right now, steal the air from your lungs and have you writhing and fighting for your life. The threat of his power burns into your skin, an oppressive reminder of just how much bigger and older he is than you.

You would probably let him, too. As long as he kept fucking you the way he is right now.

Joel stands slotted between your thighs, your knees spread wide against the sides of his hips, granting him access to where you've come to crave him the most. Since the very first time you had kissed him in secret, you had craved the taste of him on your tongue. And after the first time Joel had fucked you, had left his imprint on your body and soul, the craving had become impossible to shake, twisting into an ever persistent hunger that gnawed at your loins.

Having an affair with your boyfriend's uncle was deplorable. You knew how immoral it was. The shame clung to your skin, making you feel dirty and cheap. But still, you couldn't stop. No matter how many times you promised yourself to ignore him, to not accept his calls, to not even think of him. You just couldn't.

So here you are now, cornered in the cramped bathroom of the restaurant your boyfriend had chosen for dinner, letting Joel claim what little dignity you had left. You perch on the edge of the sink with your panties pulled to the side of your cunt, your skirt rucked up.

He rolls his hips back and forth slowly, splitting you open on his fat cock, stretching you open in a way that you've never been stretched before. Your hands cling to his strong biceps, fingernails sinking into the flannel of his shirt. Your eyes are rolled back, half lidded like you're drunk.

"You like gettin' your little cunt stuffed by an old man's cock?" Joel asks, voice rough like gravel. His brown orbs roam over your face, dark and blown wide with his own feral desire. "Yeah, you do. You fuckin' love it."

His other hand comes up to grab a fistful of your hair, tightly pulling at your scalp, commanding you to meet his gaze. The sting snaps you out of your haze. Your vision focuses on his featurs all at once; the crease of his brows, the plumpness of his bottom lip, the crinkles by the corners of his eyes. He looks so handsome, you think, especially with the silver threaded through his crown of curls and his patchy beard.

Before meeting Joel you would never have believed a man his age could have much of a sex drive, or any kind of worthwhile stamina. You assumed most men his age couldn't even get their dick hard.

Then Joel came along and promptly shattered that belief. Your mind was blown by his insatiable appetite and vigor. And now he continues to prove again and again that he's the best fuck of your life.

And unfortunately for you, it'll have to remain a dirty secret.

Joel tilts his hips slightly, angling the head of his dick to tap up against your g spot, sparking a delicious pulse of pleasure to ripple within your lower belly. Your lips part, a breathless moan escaping from deep inside your throat. He repeats the action again and again, causing you to squeeze around his length, greedily sucking him in.

"Just needed to get fucked by a real man, didn't you, baby?" Joel grunts, his upper lip curling into a snarl. His own words seem to spur him on. The hand around your throat tightens a little, making your breath hitch. His nostrils flare and his jaw clenches, like he's trying to restrain himself from hurting you.

The movement of his hips is unrelenting; steady, weighted strokes that reach up deep inside you, carving a place inside you that will surely leave your cervix bruised and your walls aching. You bite down on your bottom lip to stop the whimpers that threaten to spill out into high pitched moans. You have to be quiet. You can't risk making any kind of noise lest someone comes knocking on the door. You can't be caught, not now.

Meeting Joel in the restaurant bathroom not even halfway through dinner was just about the riskiest thing you two had done. You left first to go to the bathroom, then Joel soon followed with an excuse to go order another drink. The two of you had left Tommy and your boyfriend sitting at the table, oblivious and engrossed in a conversation about work and what mechanical work needed to be done on the truck.

Tonight was supposed to be different. On the drive to the restaurant you had internally resolved not to so much as give Joel a second glance. And you really had tried, too; you gave him a polite greeting, a small smile that didn't reach your eyes, despite the butterflies fluttering in your belly at the mere sight of his face. You tried to distract yourself from the scent of his cologne, but it was impossible with him sitting so close by. You had tried to act as nonchalant as possible at his presence, covertly digging your nails into the flesh of your thigh under the table to quell your anxiety.

Joel had matched your aloofness with effortless ease, always the master of control and constraint. It fascinated you how well he could hide his thoughts and feelings, how utterly uncaring he appeared to be. You sometimes wondered if he was even capable of loving a woman, of falling in love.

The facade was going well until you felt the warmth of Joel's large hand slip over your knee under the table. You stifled your gasp and quickly took a sip of wine. You tried to push your knees together but his wrist was so thick and unyielding that you surrendeded to his whim.

All while he was discussing the new contracting job with Tommy and his nephew, Joel's hand inched higher and higher up your thigh. You stayed silent, pretending to listen to the details of the new lumber shipment and cement deliveries, trying your best to keep a straight face while Joel's fingers crept closer to your pussy.

You hadn't fucked Joel for over a week, and although you still had sex with your boyfriend, you had not had a decent orgasm since. Your body was so tightly wound that his mere proximity was bordering on torturous. You needed him more than you ever thought possible.

The other men could never have guessed what was happening under the table. Joel maintained a composed facade, never once slipping up in conversation. Even when his thick fingertips started stroking the lips of your pussy through your underwear, his poker face didn't falter in the slightest. You, on the other hand, could hardly speak a handful of words without sounding breathless.

After a few minutes your thong was drenched, the scant material sticking to your throbbing clit. He was driving you fucking crazy. Frustrated with arousal, you wrenched his hand away and excused yourself to go to the bathroom, hoping desperately that he would follow.

And he did.

Ofcourse he would.

Joel needed your body as much as you needed his.

"I know you wore this slutty skirt for me," Joel rasps, Southern accent dripping with possessive desire. "Made me hard the moment I saw you walkin' in. I know that's what you wanted. Tryin' to drive me crazy, showin' off your ass like that."

Without warning he drives his cock hard into you, fully sheathing himself inside so that his pubic bone presses into yours. You hiss as the sensation of fullness crashes over you in an instant. It teeters on the edge of being too painful to tolerate. Your hips squirm as you try to get some relief from being impaled.

"Joel, it hurts. Please move," you plead with a trembling whisper.

He ignores you and remains still, his thick length nestled so deep that you swear you feel him in your guts. "What makes you think you can tease me like that?"

The hand tangled in your hair relinquishes its hold and shifts down to your mouth. Before you can answer Joel suddenly shoves two of his thick fingers past your lips and over your tongue. You try to speak his name but it comes out as a garbled gag when his fingers prod the back of your throat.

"Who do you think you are?" He sneers.

You try to jerk your head away but his hold on your neck keeps you pinned against the mirror with no where to go. You reach up to wrap your hand around his wrist, futilely trying to pull him back. His fingers press down on your tongue, pushing further past your uvula. You gag once more, tears springing to your eyes.

"I asked you a question," Joel snarls. "Who do you think you are?"

You aren't sure what Joel expects of you. You can't answer and your heart is racing in your chest. You can feel your pelvic muscles involuntarily squeeze. He studies your face intently, his features pulled into an expression of cold contempt. After a few more agonisingly long seconds he withdraws his soaked fingers, drawing a string of saliva from your mouth along with them.

"Seein' as you're too stuffed full of my cock to think straight, I'll tell what you are."

Without breaking eye contact Joel brings that same hand down to trail over your mound. You feel the tacky wet of your spit drag over your skin. His calloused thumb brushes over your swollen clit and you twitch. The contact is featherlight, teasing, no where near enough to satiate your need. You let out a soft moan.

"You're a whore," Joel croons matter of factly. "But you're my whore. You hear me?"

He presses the pad of his thumb gently onto your clit and begins to rub lazy circles over it. You're suddenly overwhelmed by sparks of exquisite pleasure, your jaw falling open in a silent moan, your eyelids fluttering.

"Yes," you whisper, gazing at him with lust drunk eyes. "I'm your whore, Joel."

He starts to roll his hips back, dragging his cock out of the tight clutch of your cunt before slowly sliding back inside. You gasp, fingers scrambling for his biceps once more. The buckle of his belt clinks against the sink as he fucks into you while expertly rubbing your clit. 

"That's right baby," he nods, giving your neck a brief squeeze before looking down to where your bodies are connected. He lets out a rumbling groan. "Look at that fuckin' pussy. Suckin' me right in." 

The unhurried rhythm of his cock spearing in and out of you is heavenly. The bliss is all consuming, making your head floaty and your limbs shaky. And although the sink digs uncomfortably into your ass and the joints in your hips protest the the angle Joel's manipulated you into, you don't care. All you can focus on is Joel.

"She belongs to me," he growls lowly.  "It don't matter who you're with. Don't matter what you do. She's all mine."

He surges forward and crashes his mouth into yours. You moan, savouring the sweet taste of the wine on his tongue as he captures you in a hungry kiss. You reach up and card your fingers through his hair, tugging his curls, your own voracity suddenly intensifying with each second his tongue laps at yours. His hand remains anchored around your throat, a reminder of who you truly belong to.

All the tension from the past week, all the repressed hunger and torment courses throughout every inch your body. You can feel the coil of pleasure rapidly tightening in your belly, hot and electric. Joel can sense it, too - he can feel it, the way your walls constrict and the little stuttering gulps of air you inhale through your nose. It is so close, that ever coveted euphoric high that you can only seem to attain under the hands of Joel Miller.

His thumb continues to stroke slow circles over your clit, using just the right amount of pressure to coax you to orgasm. When it hits you, your toes curl and your fingers grip tightly to his hair. Your pussy spasms and contracts around Joel's cock as you cum. A gush of juice spills from you and drips down his balls. Joel breaks away from the kiss to stare down at the lewd sight, panting heavily.

"Fuck yes, that's it, baby," Joel praises you. "Squirt all over me, you dirty little fuckin' whore."

Your eyes roll back into your skull while the waves of bliss wash over you, the blood rushing to your ears. It seems to last for ages. Joel keeps up his ministrations until the high eventually dissipates, when your body starts twitching from overstimulation and you have to beg for him to stop. He obeys, satisfied that you've had your fill.

He grabs the flesh of your hip and uses it for better leverage to pound his cock into you. Your hands drop from his head to weakly claw at his arms, the energy drained from your body. His hand around your neck is the only thing keeping you upright.

"I'm gonna fill you up now," Joel grits through laboured pants. "I want you to go back out there with my cum drippin' out of you, ya hear? Want you rememberin' who the fuck this pretty little cunt belongs to."

You nod as best as you can. You want him to use you, to wreck you, to mark you. He buries his head into the crook of your neck, moaning. It's not long before you feel his dick swell and pulse, momentarily expanding inside you like some kind of beast. He curses under his breath and slams one last time all the way inside you, balls deep. He sinks his fingers into the fat of your hip and groans raggedly as the first load of warm spend explodes deep inside you. You mewl, exhausted and boneless, completely submitting to his will, and let him fill you with several more spurts of cum. His ass flexes with each pulse.

"Fuck me," Joel mumbles against your neck, his hot breath tingling along your skin. His body sags into your front as he recovers, his slowly softening dick keeping his sperm plugged inside you. His hand finally loosens from your throat and comes to rest on one of your tits.

Joel never gives you much of an opportunity to indulge in the afterglow of your trysts. He's usually pulling out of you and hitching up his jeans to leave within a minute of unloading his balls. You don't let it get to you, although some times you can't ignore the tiny ache within your chest when you watch him turn away.

Joel sighs, weary yet content, and slips out from your cunt with a wet squelch. You groan at the raw emptiness he leaves you with. He steps back from the sink and tucks his dick back inside his underwear before zipping and buttoning up his jeans. You slide off the sink as carefully as your wobbly legs will allow you and readjust your underwear. You can already feel the sticky gush of semen begin to trickle out of you. You hope your boyfriend won't be able to smell it when you return back to the table.

You expect Joel to quickly duck out of the bathroom before you can even speak a word. To your surprise he doesn't. You glance up at him to find him already staring at you silently with an expression you can't quite place. His eyes shift between yours for a few tense moments, then he tenderly reaches out to cup your cheek.

You've never known him to be gentle like this. What is shared between you two has always been rough and deviant, never soft or sweet. It's such a striking contrast to his usually gruff demeanour that you aren't sure what to say or do.

But then the moment is over just as suddenly as it appeared. Joel buckles up his belt and turns away from you, escaping from the cramped bathroom without so much as a parting word, leaving you alone with the wretched feeling of grime and shame staining your skin.

[madame-monstre]

House Trained

✾

Clint makes sure you’ve learned your lesson.

warnings: dom/sub dynamics, pet play, reader is called a girl, shock collar, unprotected piv, rough sex, hair pulling, squirting, overstimulation, breeding kink, creampie, minors DNI

wc: 686

tags: @strang3lov3

━。゜✿ฺ✿ฺ゜。━

God, you’re whining and whimpering so pathetically it almost breaks Clint’s heart. On your knees, chest pressed against the mattress, ass up and crying as he splits you open on his thick cock.

“I’m-I’m sorry, daddy!” You wail, hiccuping and moaning. Your words are almost drowned out by the slap of his thighs against yours, the wet squelch of your cunt taking his abuse. “I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry-”

Poor baby. Clint delivers a harsh smack to your already red ass, making you squeal and squirm helplessly beneath him.

“Sorry ain’t gonna cut it now, baby.” He says, the hand in your hair tugging up to pull your face out of the mattress. “You know the rules, but you still just had to touch yourself anyways. Couldn’t be a good puppy and wait for me to get home.”

You hiccup and sniffle, your face flushed and wet with tears, snot, and drool. Clint’s thrusts are bruising and rough, the head of his cock bullying against your cervix with every movement. He keeps one hand anchored in your hair, the other pressing the button on the little black remote in his hand.

You jolt when the little black collar around your neck shocks you, your cunt squeezing around him as you yelp. You’re breathing so fast Clint’s worried you might hyperventilate; so he releases the button, slowing his thrusts just enough to give you a second.

“Breathe slow, babydoll.” He rumbles, his grip on your hair loosening so he can pet your head. “Good puppy. You can take it, baby. You have to, yeah? Gotta take your punishment fair and square.”

He knows it’s a lot. He’s had you here for over an hour - made you cum so many times you’re oversensitive, your poor pussy gushing all over him. Damn near every time he’s shocked you with the collar you’ve cum.

As soon as your breathing evens out into a rhythm that doesn’t concern Clint, he grips your hair and shoves you facedown into the sheets. Your cries and moans are muffled in the sheets as he starts to pound into you brutally.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck-“ Clint hits the button again just to make you squirm. You jump when the collar turns on, sobbing into the sheets, and Clint feels a feral sort of satisfaction when he feels you squirt on his cock. “Yeah, that’s it. Good puppy. Take it, take it.”

Jesus Christ, you’re such a good girl. Taking your punishment so well, letting him use you. Clint knows he’s gonna have to spend the next few days treating you like a princess to make up for it, but he doesn’t care. Right now, all he cares about is how fucking good you feel around him.

“You gonna let me breed you, puppy?” Clint growls, his heavy balls slapping against your wet cunt. “Gonna let me stuff this pretty cunt full o’me?”

You’re babbling into the mattress, a crying mess of ‘yes daddy, I want it, breed me, please’ over and over like the most beautiful broken record he’s ever heard. He drops the remote, collar forgotten as he plants his hands on either side of your head. He uses the leverage to slam his cock into you even harder, panting and growling in your ear like an animal.

“So fucking tight, puppy-“ He presses his face into your neck. Your pussy is fluttering around him. “Shit, I’m gonna fuck a baby into you, sweetheart. That’ll teach my puppy to behave herself. You’ll be too fuckin’ busy to act up.”

With two more rough, sloppy thrusts, Clint cums inside of you with a deep groan. His hips keep humping into you in short little rolls as he fills you up, cumming so much that it starts to leak out around his cock. He blankets you with his body, keeping you plugged up as he rubs his hands over you to soothe you.

You're trembling and whimpering underneath him, poor baby. He’ll run you a bath in a little bit, Clint thinks.

Right now, he wants to keep you right here until he’s sure it takes.

━。゜✿ฺ✿ฺ゜。━

[koshkamartell]

summary: DDDNE one shot set in AU. Just when you're starting to settle into your newly single life, your ex pays you a surprise visit.

warnings: toxic ex!Joel, Joel is obsessed with you, stalking, slapping, mentions of past domestic violence, controlling behaviour, toxic relationship, Joel is possessive and abusive, gaslighting, noncon fingering, pain, pussy inspection, degradation, slut shaming, edging, talk of cum, mention of birth control/pregnancy.

word count: 5,160

You spend your nights alone, usually curled up on the olive green couch that came with your tiny apartment. Sometimes you read a book. Sometimes you eat icecream from the carton while you watch TV. Other times, like the night before last, you just sit and listen to the symphony of the night life drifting up from the street below your window.

The array of sounds you can hear from the world outside your run down apartment serve as a reminder that you aren't alone. That even with your sparse belongings and uninspired surroundings, you are still enduring.

You had moved in three months ago and there were still some small kinks to iron out, but you were happy to there. It was a humble one bedroom apartment, cheap, with patchy paint work and an air-conditioner that rattled everytime you switched it on, but it was yours. You could overlook the leaking shower head and the rickety kitchen drawers because you finally had your own space, a home you could craft to your own liking, somewhere where you make the rules.

It has taken you some time to adjust to the solitude of living alone, but you're not actually lonely. Infact you are beginning to enjoy the quiet of having only yourself for company. You are gradually learning to be comfortable with your independence.

So much has happened in such a short space of time - a new job, a new apartment, a fresh start in life - that some days you wake up disorientated. Some times it all feels like a dream.

But then you remember.

•••

You are stretched out on the couch tonight, only half paying attention to the movie playing on your TV, letting your mind disconnect from reality for a little while.

You're about half way through watching a movie when you are startled by a rapping at your front door. You pause the TV and wait, thinking it could be your imagination. There is a momentarily silence followed by another couple of knocks.

Someone is definitely at your door.

Pertrubed by who it could be, you glance at the clock on your phone screen. 10.30pm. Who could be at your apartment at this time?

Maybe it's one of your neighbours needing a favour - the girl in number 5 is always running out of milk and the man down the hallway is always getting your mail by mistake. It must be one of them.

You look toward the door now and chew your lip nervously. You have to curse your landlord for not having installed a peep-hole. Fuck. You had expressed your concern about it when you first moved in; you didn't want to come off as paranoid but the thought of not knowing who was at the door made your stomach flip with anxiety. Your landlord had compromised and promised to put in a door chain lock instead, but nothing had been done about it yet.

You make a mental note to raise the issue again on Monday as you pull yourself off the couch and traipse over to the door, your socked feet sliding over the worn floorboards. You hesitate for a moment, leaning your forehead against the solid wood of the door.

"Who is it?"

"Tracy, from number 5," a cheery voice sings back from the other side. You exhale a tiny breath of relief before twisting the lock and opening the door.

Sure enough Tracy is waiting in the hallway, dressed in a halter top and a short skirt, gaudy pink high heels accentuating her slender legs. Despite being alot older than you, Tracy's social life is far more exciting than yours, for she always seems to be dressed up and going out.

"Gotcha the coffee I owe ya," she smiles at you with ruby red lips and holds out the glass jar of instant coffee for you to take. "Thanks doll. You saved my ass the other morning. I'm such a bitch when I don't have caffeine as soon as I wake up."

You take the proffered jar and laugh. She does a little twirl and sashays down the hallway and you close the door. You settle back on the couch and resume watching the movie. But not even five minutes later there comes another knock at your door.

That must be Tracy again.

You spring onto your feet and go to the door once more. You wonder what she might need this time. It doesn't bother you too much -  you like Tracy, she seems fun, a free spirit. Maybe you should ask her to hang out sometime. You need to start making some new friends, after all.

But when you open it this time, you find that Tracy isn't the one waiting outside.

The person on the other side of the door is your ex boyfriend, Joel.

•••

It's like a jump scare in a horror movie. Your heart leaps into your throat and a startled gasp is squeezed from your lungs. Your brain panics and you try to slam the door shut.

But Joel anticipates your reaction. His movements are agile and swift, quicker than yours, and he is able to wedge his boot inbetween the threshold and barrel his way through the door. You squeal and scamper backwards, unable to do anything as he closes it behind him. Your heart thunders in your chest and when you hear the click of the lock slotting into place, your stomach drops.

You've got no where to run.

Joel then turns around to face you. It's the first time you have seen him in three months. Three months since you decided to end your relationship once and for all. Three months since you packed up your shit and left. Three months since you disappeared from his life.

He looks the same as always. Effortlessly handsome, even dressed so casually in his usual jeans and a green flannel. Despite his violent trespass he looks at you now with doleful brown eyes full of yearning, like a lovesick puppy dog.

How did he find you? Your brain scrambles for possible answers as to how he could've discovered where you live. You had been so cautious when surrending everything from your old life, essentially disappearing from the face of the earth (which hadn't been too difficult, considering how Joel isolated you from almost every opportunity to branch out and make friends, or even work).

But you know better. You know that when Joel decides to do something he doesn't rest until he attains his goal; for what Joel would describe as persistence realistically descends into nothing short of obsession. He'd fight tooth and nail to get what he wants.

You should've known he would come after you. You've gravely underestimated him.

Fucking psychopath.

"How did you find me?" You demand loudly, your heart still galloping in your ribcage. You blindly grope for the wall behind you, searching for anything tactile to stablise you.

"Baby," Joel begins, soft and supplicating.  "Calm down. Please, just give me a minute."

"What the hell are you doing here?" You hiss, your face contorting into an outraged snarl. He holds his hands up cautiously, eyes fixed on yours like you're a cornered feral animal ready to sink your claws into him.

"I need you to calm down," he says in that same gentle tone.

"Calm down?" You seethe incredulously, your hands now trembling from the adrenaline. "How can I calm down? You've...you've stalked me! Tracked down where I fucking l-live!"

"Now darlin', I just need you to listen, alright?" He takes a couple tentative steps toward you. You press yourself flat against the wall, wishing you could somehow disappear through it and escape. "Baby, you gotta come back home."

"I don't want to come back," your voice cracks, tears pricking your eyes. "That's why I left, Joel. That's why I packed all my stuff and left."

"I need you, darlin'," he murmers tenderly, using the same alluring and coaxing tone that he does when he is trying to placate you.

"And I need you to leave," you try to sound assertive and commanding but you can't stop the wobble in your voice. Joel just shakes his head gently.

"Baby, you don't understand. I came to get you. You're comin' home with me, where you belong."

"I'm not going anywhere with you," you declare. "We are over! I told you that!"

"I didn't think you meant it," Joel argues back, agitation crackling through his tone as it rises in volume. "Thought you just needed some time to cool off. Then I go to your place to patch things up and find you'd fuckin'...left, totally disappeared. Why did you do that to me?"

"Because I don't want to be with you, Joel," you spit out harshly. "Not after everything you've put me through. How can you expect me to want you, after all your bullshit?"

"My bullshit? What the hell are you talkin' about?" Joel glowers.

"You know what I mean." You feel so small under his intimidating gaze, but you take a deep exhale and soldier on. "Your bad moods and your temper, and all the times you got jealous and acted like an asshole. Your need to control everything."

A flicker of something passes over his face then - a momentary slacking of his features, a split second of a drop in his facade that reveals something like guilt and shame, like he's been hit by memories of his past failures. Like the internal scars in your heart and self esteem have somehow visibly manifested on your skin, reflected on your face in purple mottled bruises.

Like the one he gave you just a few weeks before you left, after he had slapped you during one of your routine arguments about what you wanted to wear to Tommy's for Sunday dinner.

From the very beginning of your relationship, Joel had struggled with communicating his feelings. He was never a man of words and preferred to express himself through actions. It didn't really bother you - you found it kind of endearing in a way. But as your relationship progressed, it became apparent that Joel was more than just emotionally repressed.

You realised that he couldn't handle conflict well and was prone to rage when he felt insecure, especially in situations where you were involved. And it only got worse as his feelings for you intensified.

On the outside, Joel Miller was a handsome man who owned a successful contracting business. He projected an image of power and professionalism. But over time you discovered just what Joel managed to keep hidden under the veneer of a reserved Southern gentleman. You found that he was domineering to the point of obsession, and plagued with a fierce need to control everything that he held dear. Including you.

Especially you.

Joel's jaw ticks and he shakes his head, as if banishing ugly memories from his mind. "Don't act like you're innocent in all this. We both know you love to purposely piss me off."

You dig your nails into your palms to try center yourself. It is like you're in a daze, your mind totally discombobulated. The logical part of you would be screaming for help by now, but you're too blinded by your outrage. How dare Joel Miller hunt you down like this, barrelling his way inside your sanctuary and back into your life. How dare he stand before you and blame you for his flaws.

You ball your hands into fists and let out an exasperated groan through gritted teeth. "You really think I like arguing with you?"

"Sure seems like it," Joel scoffs, folding his arms. "Always runnin' your mouth about somethin'."

"Running my mouth?" You give him a pointed look. "Joel, you didn't want me to see my best friend on her birthday. You pouted and sulked for a whole week. You barely said two words to me the whole time. And then you showed up at the bar drunk and got into a fight with one of her brothers!"

"He was hittin' on you!" Joel argues back, jaw ticking with irritation. "And she's a sloppy fuckin' drunk, just like the rest of those girls she's always with. You know how dangerous it is for you to go out with her runnin' wild like that?"

"Dangerous?" You scoff mirthlessly. "You sound ridiculous! Just admit that you're a fucking control freak."

"You think I wanna control you just because I wanna keep you safe?" Joel hisses, fiery indignation flashing in his eyes.

"Is that what you call not wanting me to have a job?" You challenge back. "And deciding what clothes I wear, who I'm allowed to talk to? You're keeping me safe by constantly checking my phone log and messages?"

"I've been tryin' to guide you," Joel carefully corrects you. "Helpin' you make all the right decisions in your life. That's all." He closes the space between you and reaches his hand out to gently cup your cheek in his palm. "Because I love you," he murmers. "Because you're mine."

"Not anymore," you snap, jerking your head away from his touch. You shove your palms flat against his chest in a bid to push him away but it has no effect on his broad frame. "We are over!"

Joel's brows furrow as he glares down at you. His jaw ticks. "This isn't over. Do you understand me?" He mutters, voice rough and full of warning. "We ain't over. Not till I say so."

You can't stand how close he is. His very presence is suffocating you, pulling all the air from what was supposed to be your safe place. You try to sidestep out from his towering shadow, but he mirrors you, his brows furrowed with determination.

"No, you ain't runnin' from me anymore," Joel asserts, smacking his palm against the wall by your head and blocking your path. "You're mine and I ain't lettin' you go."

You feel your teeth involuntary clench from the frustrated ire coursing through your body. You don't know what pisses you off more; the fact that Joel feels so entitled to ownership over you, or that he doesn't seem to get why you left him in the first place.

"Ain't no one in this world whos gonna care for you the way I do, honey." He leans down to come closer to your face and you can smell his woody aftershave. His eyes shift over the features of your face, drinking you in. "You think I'm too hard on you or whatever the fuck - fine. But just remember that no other man will love you as much as I love you."

The panic rises once more inside your chest. He's too close, overwhelming all your senses. You can't stand to hear his voice any longer. It is no longer the honeyed Southern drawl that could once conjure butterflies inside your tummy and make your cheeks blush. Joel's words now are like a python coiling itself around your body, intent on strangling and pulverising all the fight from your very marrow.

"How you behave..the things you do...that isn't love, Joel." You duck underneath his arm and skirt to the other side of the living room. Joel whirls around to follow you. "And it certainly isn't what I want in a relationship."

"So I ain't good enough now?" He questions bitterly. "Found someone else, is that it?"

"No."

"Don't lie to me. Is it Frankie?"

Frankie. The one that got away. You broke up five years ago when he was struggling to ditch his cocaine habit and get his life together. You both moved on but never forgot one another. By the time he got sober and reconnected with you, you had just met Joel. You and Frankie had stayed friends for a little while - until Joel discovered your history and demand you stop seeing him completely.

You didn't know it at the time, but he had threatened to break Frankie's jaw if he ever spoke to you again.

Needless to say, you hadn't seen Frankie for a long time. Sure, you could've reached out to him in these last three months, but you didn't want to drag him into all this bullshit. It was better to leave it all in the past, including Frankie.

"Oh, fuck off," you mutter. "You know we are only friends. Were."

"He try?"

Your face twists in confusion. "Try what?"

Joel doesn't miss a beat, pinning you with an intense stare that makes your spine crawl. "To fuck you."

You're so tired of his suspicions and accusations, his unfounded paranoia and insecurity. You groan loudly and roll your eyes, which only seems to provoke him further.

"Yeah, he did," Joel surmises confidently, raising his voice. "And I bet you didn't stop him, neither."

"I haven't seen Frankie. And I haven't been with anyone," you say truthfully. "Not that it's any of your business."

"Oh, you haven't, huh?" Joel raises his eyebrows in feigned surprise. "Prove it."

You scoff and shake your head. "I don't have to prove anything to you, Joel."

"Come on," he urges with a tilt of his head. "Neither of us could go a day without sex. Hell, we used to fuck like rabbits. You really expect me to believe you ain't been with someone since me?"

"I haven't." You wrap your arms around your waist, suddenly feeling vulnerable. You don't care if he believes you or not, but you still wonder how a person could possibly prove their celibacy.

You catch Joel's eyes flicker down your body then back up to your face. The tip of his tongue pokes out to lick over his plush bottom lip before he speaks, smooth and nonchalant. "Show me your pussy."

Your breath catches in your throat and you splutter a little. Did you hear him properly? Did he really just tell you to show him your pussy? You blink, stunned for a moment.

"What?" You huff out nervously, eyeing him with caution. Joel stares back at you with a dispassionate expression, one that you can't quite read.

"You heard me. Show me you ain't had a man since you left."

You snort a disbelieving laugh. "No way. You're fucking crazy, Joel."

As soon as the words leave your mouth you perceive a distinct shift in his demeanour. All of the warmth drains from his intense brown eyes, replaced by forboding coldness. The corners of his lips downturn in displeasure. You catch his fingers fidgeting restlessly by his side.

"I'll leave as soon as I see that you ain't got another man's load sittin' inside you right now."

You make a face of disgust at Joel. There's no way you're going to undress and show him your private parts.

He really is fucking insane.

"No," you argue.

Joel's dark eyes remain locked on yours. You try not to let the power of his stare intimidate you but it's impossible when he's so much bigger, so much stronger. Your heart beat kicks up a notch when he takes a couple steps toward you, his boots scuffing along the floor. He looms infront of you now.

"Take your panties off and get on the damn couch." Joel commands, his tone measured and deliberate. "Now."

"You're fucked up, Joel," you sneer. "How dare you come here and demand that. Get the fuck out of my home."

Joel's palm lands a solid smack across your cheek. You yelp and stumble backward. Tears immediately spring to yours eyes and the side of your face flares with pain. You hiss and cradle your throbbing cheek with one hand.

Joel runs his hand over the lower half of his face sighs like he's weary. "See what you make me do?" He laments flatly. "If you just listen to me, I wouldn't have to do shit like that."

You glare up at him, hate etched clearly on your features. He can slap you all he wants - you're not willfully bowing down to him ever again. You're going to stand your ground this time.

"Get on the fuckin' couch," Joel barks out, irritated.

You don't move.

He growls with frustration before grabbing hold of your bicep and dragging you to the couch. He shoves you down onto your back and your head knocks sharply against the arm rest. He ignores your cries of protest and swiftly rips your shorts and underwear from your body, discarding them in a tangle on the floor.

"Now let me see that dirty little cunt," Joel grips your thighs with his large, calloused hands and forces them open. He kneels onto the couch and wedges himself inbetween your legs. You screech and smack your fists wherever you can - his shoulders, his head, his face.

"Quit it," he growls, dodging your blows.

"No!" You yell defiantly. "Get the fuck away from me, you psycho!"

Joel slaps you again. Your head lolls to the side from the impact. Your vision briefly turns static and there's a ringing in your ear. Your body goes rigid from the shock. He spreads your pussy lips open with his thumbs, exposing your hole. He stares down at the apex of your sex and let's out a low whistle.

"There she is," he purrs. "Lookin' just as pretty as I remember." His thumbs stroke gently up and down your labia, almost reverently. He groans quietly, a deep rumble in his chest. "Missed her."

You try to focus your blurred sight on your ex boyfriend hovering above you. Tears pool in your eyes and your lips feel tingly and swollen. "Stop," you manage to whisper hoarsely.

"Just gettin' started, honey," Joel murmers, sliding one of his thumbs up to circle lightly over your clit, making you twitch. "All you gotta do is lay there and take it."

He bows his head and purses his mouth before spitting a large wad of saliva onto your opening. Your muscles instinctively clench as it drips down from your pussy to your asshole. Overcome with humiliation and shock you screw your eyes shut, and your tears finally break free and roll down your cheeks in rivulets.

This can't be happening.

"Last chance to come clean, baby," Joel warns. "Cos I'm gonna know if you let some asshole fuck this pussy. Better you admit to it now."

You have nothing to say. He won't believe anything you tell him, anyway. All you can do is whimper and sob, snot now running from your nose. It intermingles with your tears and the salt stings your lips. His other hand splays over your ribcage, anchoring your torso firmly into the couch.

"Be brave for me, honey," Joel cooes soothingly, like he isn't about to perform such a depraved violation of your body. "Just wanna see if your cunt is still mine."

Then without warning, he shoves two fingers inside your pussy. You're so horrified from the violation and the pain of him stretching you open that your eyes fly open and you shriek loudly. You weakly try to clamp your legs shut but his knees keep you pried open.

"Hold still," Joel demands gruffly. "Be good for me and don't move."

You grip the edge of the couch cushion and grit your teeth as he stuffs his thick digits as deep as he can. There is nothing sexy or sensual about what Joel's doing; the act is far too rough, almost clinical in the lack of finesse, and it is close to agonising when he bumps against your cervix. Your body jolts.

"Stop, Joel," you croak. "You're really hurting me. Please."

You feel so full, your walls squeezing around him, as if rejecting him and trying to push him out. He retracts his fingers half way before pushing them all the way back in. He then repeats the motion slowly, almost experimentally.

"Still tight," Joel murmers. "You tellin' the truth, or are the dicks you takin' just ain't as big as mine?"

He does it again, this time stilling halfway to curl his fingers. He taps up against the sweet spot inside you that he's so incredibly familiar with, and the spark of pleasure it gives you makes you feel sick.

"Yeah, no one could stretch ya like I do."

Your hands cover your eyes in shame, desperately wishing for this whole exercise in degradation to end. "That's enough," you whisper.

"Gotta do it properly, baby," Joel drawls, slightly breathless. You can hear the hint of arousal in his voice, and with horrified revulsion you realise he is getting off on this. More tears trickle from your eyes. "It'll be over soon."

Joel starts to pump his thick fingers in and out of your hole, using that same rhythm he would to prepare you for his cock. You are mortified when you hear the faint squelch of your pussy as it starts to become wet.

"Yeah, she remembers who she belongs to," Joel smirks. He alternates between fucking you with his your fingers and stroking up against your gspot. He knows your body so well, knows the precise angle and the perfect tempo to turn you into a whimpering mess, and now he's using that knowledge to humiliate you. 

And despite everything, despite how debauched and defiled you feel, your body cannot help but respond to Joel. His expert movements evoke pulses of ecstasy deep within your core that only intensify the longer he continues. In less than two minutes he has your toes curling into the couch and your hips squirming, and he doesn't falter for even a second.

You hate yourself for the moans of pleasure you cannot restrain inbetween your hiccuping sobs. He continues his exquisite torture and you can feel an orgasm simmering in the depths of your lower belly. Your thighs begin to tremble. The wet squishing noise grows embarrassingly loud as you gush around Joel's fingers.

"Fuck yeah," he groans. "You hear that, honey? Hear how she's fuckin' cryin" for me?"

Your clit is throbbing at this point, and you believe if he were to so much as graze it you'd probably cum on the spot. Your pelvic muscles contract in anticipation as your orgasm builds.

Please don't, you beg internally. You can't grant him the sick satisfaction; it would be like handing him your dignity on a silver platter. You bite down on your lip, your mind screaming at you to hold on.

"When was the last time you came, honey?" Joel coos. There's no way he doesn't know how close you are to coming. He's purposely taunting you, twisting the knife deeper, and you're grateful that you can't see his face at this moment. "You touchin' this pretty pussy every night?"

Your whole body is quivering from the momentum of his fingers scissoring in and out of you. Your breath hitches in short, shallow gasps and moans.

"You been thinkin' about me, baby?" He croons knowingly, voice silken yet rough with lust. "Rememberin' how good I make you feel? Yeah, bet you been fuckin' achin' to get fucked stupid on my dick again."

You're so close.

So close to falling apart at the hands of the man responsible for so much angst and chaos in your life. The man who, unbeknownst to you, has been tampering with your birth control pills in the hopes of getting you pregnant.

But you don't get to reach your climax before Joel abruptly withdraws from your slit. You groan like the air has been knocked out of your lungs, and your pussy squeezes around the sudden emptiness left behind. Your shaky hands fall from your face and you stare at him, stupefied, your cheeks flushed and your chest heaving.

"That should do it," Joel grunts. He holds his fingers up infront of him to inspect. They shine with your slick. He rubs his thumb over the pads of his fingers, like he's trying to decipher what the substance is. He then brings them to his nose and sniffs.

Joel loved the smell of you just as much as he loved eating your pussy. He would push his aquiline nose into your folds and greedily inhale your scent, like it was his own personal drug. He even confessed how he avoided washing for as long as he could afterwards, just so he could smell your juice lingering in his moustache.

He locks eyes with you now and pops his fingers into his mouth to suck clean. He hums with satisfaction, like he's savouring the taste. "Guess you were tellin' the truth after all. Ain't nothin' in there but that sweet pussy juice."

Your ruined orgasm triggers a renewed wave of rage and shame to wash over you. You wrench his hand off your stomach and wriggle your legs to try scoot away from him.

"Fucking told you," you mutter hatefully. "You got your stupid proof, now get the fuck away from me."

"Take it easy," Joel slips his hands around the outside of your thighs and holds you still. "Don't be like that, baby. You can't blame me for needin' to make sure, can ya?"

"You're sick," you mumble, wiping your dripping nose with the back of your arm.

"Just a man in love," he strokes his thumbs over your flesh, gazing at you with affection. "Are you finished bein' mad at me yet? Got it all outta your system?"

"This isn't some kind of game," you whisper tiredly. "This isn't something you can fix. I don't love you, Joel. You hurt me. And you scare me."

"I'll change," he says nonchalantly. You can hear the hollowness in his words.

"You've said that a million times, Joel, and you never did."

"I mean it this time."

You wipe the tears from your cheeks and shake your head. "I'll go to the police and get a restraining order."

Joel cocks his eyebrow and fixes you with a cynical look. "Honey, think seriously for a minute. Do you really think a little piece of paper is gonna keep me away from you?"

"Then I'll just keep running." You want to sound defiant and strong, but your voice comes out cracked and lacking conviction. You're so tired.

"Don't matter how many times you run. I'll find you everytime, baby," Joel dismisses you simply. He stands up off the couch, his knees cracking as he does. He grabs your hand and hauls you up as if you're weightless. You sway on weak legs, defeated and dizzy.

"Come on, let's get out of this shithole," Joel slings his arm around your shoulder and pulls you into his armpit. "I'm takin' you back home so I can stuff that cunt full of my cum."

He presses a kiss to the top of your head, then whispers in your ear, "and I swear to God, if you ever try to leave me again...I'll break every bone in your body." 

The next time you escape it'll be to a remote cabin across the fucking country.

[koshkaj-blog]

So disappointed by writers in the PP fandom using AI to write their fics.

[koshkamartell]

summary: DDDNE sequel. General Acacius visits you a second time.

warnings: dark!Acacius, captivity, slavery, noncon PIV, noncon oral sex, degradation, unspecified age gap, ass play, threat of anal.

word count: 2,500

"And again."

His words are resonant and commanding, the rich timbre of his voice cutting through the dimly lit palace bedroom in a way that makes your spine shiver. The only other sound audible to your ears is the panting of your breath, coarse and wet, as you try to regain your composure.

You're kneeling on the ground naked as Acacius stands before you, one meaty hand fisted in your hair. His erect cock, thick and slick with spit, is mere inches from your face. It has only been a minute since he stalked into your room and practically threw you to the marble floor, but you already look a wreck - saliva and tears dripping down your chin and onto your chest, your eyes glassy and your lips swollen. You can smell the faint scent of the perfumed oil he bathes in underneath the stench of his sweat.

You're terrified, your mind scarcely clinging to reality as your sense of self preservation keeps your body upright on your knees. You don't know how you're going to endure this for much longer, physically or mentally.

It's not that you are a stranger to carnal pleasure. You have had some experiences with a man or two in your village during moments of passion hidden within secret nooks of hazy summer afternoons. You had been emboldened by youthful curiosity and lust in those times; those thrilling trysts had given you the perfect opportunity to explore your body and the pleasures it could experience, especially with a man.

But nothing has prepared you for what General Acacius is currently subjecting you to. You have never pleased a man with your mouth like this before. In fact, you aren't even sure how a man can derive any pleasure from such an exercise of aggression.

But then again, General Acacius is not the average man. And your pleasure is not the focus of your role as his mistress. He had made it clear the first time he took you that all you were expected to be from this point on was a vessel for his cock.

He towers over you now, his burly body naked, scarred flesh and hulking muscle on display like a Roman God. The silvering curls of his hair are damp with sweat and stick to his forehead. His lips are slightly parted as his chest rises and falls with his breaths, head tilted downward to watch you with steely brown eyes that blaze with savage wantonness.

"I said again," he barks out, giving your head a tight shake and making you shriek in pain.

He's becoming impatient with you - a dangerous thing to risk with a man like the general, but you aren't purposely being defiant. The last thing you want is to earn his ire but you're struggling to withstand his tortuous pursuit of gratification. You have witnessed him in battle, have seen first hand just how ruthless and barbaric his nature can be, and you have come to understand that his sexual appetite is just as sadistic.

You must stall for a second too long, for Acacius pinches your nose between his fingers, making you instinctively gasp for air. He takes the opportunity to jolt his hips forward and stuff his cock back inside your mouth until the head taps against the back of your throat.

You gag instantly and try to jerk your head away, your nails simultaneously digging into his thighs, but his hold on your hair is like an iron anchor, making it impossible for you to escape.

"Hold it."

You can't do anything but obey him. You stare up at him with wide, panicked eyes, willing him to have mercy on you. After a few excuriating seconds Acacius takes his fingers away from your nose, generous enough to let you breathe. You try your best to inhale through your nostrils but your sinus feels clogged and the intrusion of his cock between your lips is too suffocating for you to concentrate.

"Deeper."

He pushes your head further down his length, stretching your lips painfully. The head of his dick stabs into your throat, causing you to splutter and gag even more. You screw your eyes shut while your stomach muscles tense as you fight the urge to vomit.

"Good," Acacius lets out a gravelly moan. "Good whore."

His hand remains threaded through your hair while the other one shifts to cup under your jaw, his fingers squeezing firmly to keep your mouth pried open. He then begins to rock his hips back and forth slowly, guiding the head of his cock to saw in and out of your throat in lesiurely strokes, never withdrawing from your mouth. It slides heavily over your tongue, saliva pooling around the velvety underside and dripping from the corners of your mouth. His ballsack slaps rhythmically against your chin, sticky and wet with your spit.

All you can do is succumb to his will and just take it. You are vaguely aware of a pulsing sensation inside your cunt, your muscles involuntarily tightening and unclenching in time with his thrusts.

It's humiliating.

"Stay just like that, whore." Acacius orders you, only the slightest hint of breathlessness betraying his detached veneer. "I will continue to train you until every one of your holes can take me without resistance."

His words are like an arrow straight to your heart. Until just a few days ago you were a free woman living a simple existence in your ancestral village, full of joy and promise, surrounded by your loved ones. You were content with your humble life. You took pride in contributing to the community, labouring as every other peasant did in order to enjoy the wealth of fresh fruits, vegetables and produce.

But it all changed when the thunderous sound of galloping horse hooves and men's voices cut through the peaceful backdrop of your settlement. With the swoop of a single Roman sword your idyllic world was slashed to shreds. Everything you held dear, including your very identity, was cruelly snatched from underneath you and defiled and obliterated right before your eyes.

And now here you are, imprisoned as a sex slave and on your knees to service the very man responsible.

This was the second time Acacius had come to your chambers since imprisoning you. He had left you ruined and weeping that first visit, stuffed full of his cum and leaking all over the lavish sheets of the magnificent bed you were to sleep on from now on. You aren't sure how long it has been since then, if he had left the city to conquer another township or had remained in Rome.

You don't even know how much time has passed since the fateful day the Roman army decimated your village; you have no concept of time except from the rising and setting of the sun outside the locked windows of your balcony. The world continues to exist outside of the four walls of the opulent room you have been confined to, while you resign yourself to the life of a mistress to the most infamous war general in the land. 

The cold marble floor bites your kneecaps while tears leak from your eyes, warm and stinging as they trickle down your cheeks. Acacius continues to fuck your face with the same measured momentum, drawing a constant rivulet of mucus from your nose and filthy gurgled retching from your throat. His massive hand on your jaw is like a vice holding you in place and you can already feel the bruises that will surely bloom under the weight of his calloused fingers.

His hands are so wide and thick that he could crush your face with ease, you think. If you want to survive you have got to try get through this, just long enough for him to cum. You plant your hands onto your thighs and dig your fingernails down in an effort to distract yourself from the assault. Your nails imprint into your flesh, determined to pierce the skin and cause a flare of pain, to give your mind something else to focus on instead of the violation of your body.

The strategy works, and what seems like several minutes pass by. All that can be heard in the room is the guttural retch of your throat being abused and the repeated wet smack of his balls, punctuated by the occasional groan from Acacius.

Your mind floats away from your physical being. You become disconnected, so much so that you don't register your top teeth unexpectedly scrape over the ridges of his cock. You don't realise your mistake until he hisses angrily, then suddenly releases your face from his grip to land a prompt slap to your cheek.

Your eyes fling open, vision blurred and dizzied. An anguished wail escapes from the raw ravages of your throat as a burst of pain explodes at the side of your face and radiates all throughout your cheekbone.

"Are you really so careless, or do you think yourself brave enough to wound me?" he growls, yanking at your hair and causing your scalp to prickle painfully. "Answer me, you little slut."

"I'm sorry!" You croak, gasping for air through panicked breathes. "I-I didn't mean to!"

Using his grip on your hair Acacius hauls you up onto your feet, his actions more swift than your muddled brain can comprehend. He shoves you backward onto the bed and you let out a shocked cry when your back hits the mattress with a thud.

"It seems I have yet to properly break that spirit of yours," he huffs down at you, his lip curled upward in reproachful irritation. "But I assure you, it is no matter of concern to me - in fact, I will very much enjoy being the one to tame you."

Despite the fear churning inside your stomach, his threatening words trigger a flame of indignation to lick at the nape of your neck. You have to bite your tongue to fight the impulse to argue back, to question the lack of logic in his accusation. Did he really believe that you had purposely tried to injure him, despite being so much younger and exceedingly inferior in physical strength?

You ball your hands into fists, tears of frustration welling within your eyes. Was it not clear that you had tried so hard to appease him by being pliant and submissive? You bite your lower lip and will yourself not to cry. It would be pointless to cry or argue. Arguing would do nothing but further provoke Acacius's temper and give him a solid reason to hurt you; although, you suspect, he would gladly do so with or without a legitimate excuse.

"Open your legs," he orders.

You tilt your head up and stare past his head of curls to look up at the cream white ceiling, unable to meet the intimidating icy gaze of his brown eyes. You obey and part your legs wide enough to display your cunt to him. He plants his knees on the bed inbetween your legs, the shadow of his massive frame shrouding you like a beast of prey descending upon its defenceless victim.

Acacius takes hold of one of your legs and hoists it upright so that your ankle rests against his shoulder, then positions himself closer to the apex of your thighs. He fists his cock and drags the head up and down over your clit, making your breath catch in your throat at the dull spark of pleasure that unexpectedly curls within your belly.

You wonder vaguely if the general has been with many women; if he has lain with willing partners or taken only slaves, if he possesses a harem or prefers to use only one woman at a time. He's undeniably attractive with his regal aquiline nose and tanned skin - surely he wouldn't be lacking in attention or proposals from the opposite sex, be they from the noble society or from amongst the commoners. You wonder if he is married, if he would treat his potential wife with as much cruelty as he does you.

"Let's see if your cunt remembers her master," Acacius purrs, voice husky with desire.

You tangle your hands in the silk sheets beneath you, a surge of dread coursing throughout your body. When you feel the heat of Acacius's cock head against your opening, your pelvic muscles instinctively sieze up. He had left you bleeding and swollen last time and you're terrified that he will leave you just as ravaged and broken.

He attempts to push inside your pussy but you're too tight and he fails to penetrate you even an inch. He tries twice more without success, tsking under his breath before he spits a wad of saliva onto one of his thick fingers and slides it unceremoniously into you. You whimper quietly, involuntarily clamping down on his digit. He growls, annoyed, and begins scissoring it in and out of your hole, slowly breaking you open.

"You can either open yourself for me or I can tear you apart doing so," Acacius mutters coldly. "It makes no difference to me."

You take a deep breath and exhale shakily. He's going to fuck you whether you're prepared or not, and for your own sake you must do whatever you can to lessen the pain. You move your other leg open further to try spread your lips, a wordless gesture that signals your submission.

Acacius removes his hand from your core and grips his cock once more. You take another deep inhale when he lines back up against your hole, then exhale slowly when he successfully begins to push inside of you. Even though his movement is unhurried, the burning stretch is agonising and you croak out a distressed cry.

He rolls his pelvis against yours, feeding half the length of his cock into your pussy. He pulls his hips back but then plunges forward again, coaxing another wrecked sob from the depths of your lungs.

"You're still so tight," Acacius remarks, a hint of amused intrigue in his voice.

He thrusts back and forth, over and over, until your pussy has finally stretched enough for him to smoothly drive his fat dick in and out of you. A symphony of your tormented, tear filled moans accompany every stroke, mounting to an unrestrained screech whenever he knocks against your cervix. You hear a satisfied rumble reverberate from his chest.

"There is no sweeter sound than that of you keening for me like a bitch in heat."

You truly feel like a bitch in heat, being so thoroughly dominated and degraded as Acacius pounds into you with animalistic vigour. The warmth of his body is stifling, and droplets of his sweat spill from his brow and drop down onto your jiggling tits. His rhythm doesn't falter for even a second, not even when he brings his hand to his face and spits saliva over his fingertips.

You don't realise his intention until you feel his spit soaked finger swirl around the outer ring of your asshole. He slips it inside suddenly, and you squeak in shock. You curse, wincing at the uncomfortable sensation of something foreign breaching your back hole.

"This will be my next claim to conquer," Acacius announces with a cocky smirk. "Will you be ready, pretty one?"

[darkinkstuff]

dad!Joel x f!reader

summary: You ask your dad for money to go to the movies… but he has a different idea: making your own movie together at home.

cw: smut, no minors, DDDNE, incest, dubcon, dadcest, daddy kink, rough oral sex, deepthroating, throat fucking, sex tape, pervy and icky!joel, brat!reader. Don’t fucking read if it’s not your thing. No, I don’t wanna fuck my father. Yes, I’m aware Joel wouldn’t do this, been a fan of the game for ten years, this is just fiction.

You found your father in the living room, sprawled back on the couch with one arm over the backrest, a beer bottle dangling from his other hand, like most nights. Any other ocassion you'd make fun of him "Drinking beer and watching TV isn't gonna help you with that beer belly, old man." But tonight you had to be extra nice.

The TV was on, with some sports game he wasn’t really watching. You battered your eyelashes, swaying a little on your feet. “Daddy?”

Joel’s eyes slid lazily to you. He knew that tone, he knew how you'd call him daddy when you wanted something from him. “Mmm?”

“Can I get some money to go the movies with my friends tonight?” you asked, keeping your voice extra sweet, the way you knew he liked.

He hummed before taking a slow sip of beer. “What bout your allowance?”

Your bit your lip. “Already spent it all, daddy.”

Joel arched his brows. “On what?” He scoffed.

“I don't know, daddy! On stuff. Now, can I get some more money or not?” You tried to remain sweet but Joel was getting on your nerves.

“Well, that depends,” Joel tilted his head, smirking, and before you could ask him on what, he already answered. “On whether or not you’re feelin’ generous.”

You knew exactly what he meant, but you still made a face. “Generous?”

“Mm-hm.” He patted his thigh. “C’mere.”

You crossed the room, standing in front of him. “Ugh. You’re so annoying,” you muttered, even as he set the beer down and spread his legs wider.

“Yeah, but you still want somethin’ from me,” he said smugly, reaching for the waistband of his jeans. “If you wanna go watch a little movie. You're gonna have to make one with daddy too first.”

You blinked in confussion. Usually what your dad wanted when you asked for money, or permission to go somewhere was a quick messy blowjob fifteen minutes before your friends picked you up, maybe just a handjob if he was feeling generous that day. “What? Dad, I just want some mone—”

“On your knees,” he said, hooking two fingers under your chin. “I wanna see those pretty lips wrapped around daddy's cock. And this time…” He reached into his back pocket and pulled out his phone. “…we’re gettin’ it on camera.”

Your head snapped up. “What? No. Gross, dad. I’m not letting you record me so you can be some weirdo jerking off to it later.”

He chuckled, he always found your initial objections and that bratty attitude of yours amusing, and hot as hell. “Babygirl, I don’t need a video to get off to you. You’re walkin’ around this house all the damn time, keepin’ me hard without tryin’. But I want this. I want proof of how fuckin’ good you are f’your dad. And you’re gonna give it to me.”

“Ugh. Why do you have to be such a creep, dad? I don't want that on your phone forever. It grosses me out.”

Before you could protest again, his big hands were already on you, yanking you with force by your arm, pushing you down until your knees hit the rug under you. One of his hands dragged you forward by the back of your neck until your face was right between his spread legs. The big bulge straining against his jeans was right in front of your face, and your cheeks heated despite yourself. You hated how your dad, even being so disgustingly gross, still made your pussy ache with just seeing the outline of his prominent cock.

“Daaad—” you started, but he was already unbuckling his belt, and when he did you knew nothing would make him change his mind.

“Open your mouth,” he ordered roughly. “And don’t you dare hide that pretty face from the camera.”

You groaned, and couldn't stop yourself from rolling your eyes. “Ugh, you’re so disgusting. Such a perv.”

He just grinned at your insults. Every time you called him a “perv” or a “creep,” it only made him harder, more desperate to fuck the sass out of you. It wasn’t just the words, it was the attitude behind them, the way you acted like you didn’t want him, like you find him gross, when he knew your tight little pussy was already soaking wet every time he was around you. And that’s what drove him absolutely insane, the thought that he was the only man allowed inside your pretty little body, just daddy. The only one who would ever look after you, who always knew what was best for you. Your resistance only made him hunger for you more, it made him want to claim you, to have you forever, only for him. No other guy could ever give you the love your father gave you.

He held the phone now in his left hand, and he aimed it down at you, the bright flash light almost blinding your eyes. “Say that again to the camera. Go’head, tell em what I am."

“Daddy’s a perv,” you muttered, trying to hide your eyes behind your hand. Joel didn’t let you get away with it, of course not, you’d cooperate, and he’d have your pretty face on close-up chocking on his cock, so with a firm grip, he grabbed your hair, twisting it into a makeshift ponytail, and he tugged your head up so your eyes met his, getting you fully exposed to the camera.

“That’s right,” he said, pulling his cock free from the confinement of his pants. That cock that you already knew too well, was hard ever since the moment you walked into the living room, he couldn’t help it, that was the effect you had on daddy’s body, seeing you with your pouty glossy lips, with your little tank tops that showed your pretty nipples, or little skirts that he’d love to lift just to fuck that tight pussy like he owned it. His cock was thick, his heavy balls hanging below it. He took hold of his shaft and brushed the head agaisnt your lips, smearing his pre-cum all over your pink lipgloss, coaxing your mouth open so he could plug his cock inside you. “Now open up, babygirl. Show the camera how good daddy thaught you to suck cock.”

With a shaky huff, you parted your slick lips. There was no point fighting it, you wanted the cash for those tickets, and your dad was aching for his girl to worship his cock. He’d told you a million times already he’d never had a woman suck his cock so good like his babygirl did, maybe part of what turned him on so much was your initial resistence, maybe it was how you’d always start lazy, like you’d rather be watching paint dry instead of sucking him, that until he’d start fucking your face, and he definetely loved how you’d always take it, you’d complain, but you’d take it. The moment your lips spread, he wasted no time, sliding his thick, pulsing length into your waiting mouth. The phone hovered close, the lens capturing every detail as your tongue swirled, coating him in wet saliva.

“Fuuuuck, yeah, just like that,” he growled, loving that first moment of feeling your mouth around him. “Look at her, fuckin’ perfect, takin’ her dad so damn good. Prettiest little mouth in the whole damn world. Made it especially to suck this cock.” His hips rocked forward, pushing deeper into you, his groans filling the air as your throat tightened around his invasive girth, a slick gag escaping your mouth. “That’s it, babygirl, choke on it. Let ‘em hear how much you love this.”

Your muffled whimpers vibrated around his cock, a desperate sound that might’ve been a complaint if your mouth wasn’t so stuffed. The tears started to spill from your eyes, making your cheeks glisten as you struggled to take him. You tried to pull back, gasping for air, maybe to spit out another “gross old man” at him, but his rough hand clamped harder at the back of your head, pinning you in place, making it impossible for you to move, or to do anything else but to keep sucking his cock.

He kept talking into the phone like some depraved narrator. “She’s actin’ all bratty, tryin’ to squirm away,” he told the camera, arrogantly, “but this little slut loves when daddy fucks her pretty mouth raw. Ain’t that right, sweetheart?”

You managed to pull back just enough to gasp, his grip loosening for a split second. “No, s’gross, daddy, I—” Your defiance was cut short as he thrust forward again, his cock plunging deep, the swollen tip ramming the back of your throat. You gagged hard, the wet, choking sound filling the air as your body jerked. Saliva dribbled down your chin messily, as you fought to breathe through your nose.

“Mmhm,” he drawled delighted. He loved watching you struggle, savoring the way your face contorted, your cheeks hollowing, brows furrowing, tears streaking down your flushed skin, your throat spasming around his length, the obscene gluck-gluck of each thrust echoing as he pushed past your gag reflex, forcing you to take every inch. “Fuck, look at that. Love those little noises you make when you choke on daddy’s cock. Say it now. Tell me you’re daddy’s filthy little cocksucker.”

You glared up at him with defiance, managing a muffled, “Mmmgg, n-no,” the sound garbled around his shaft. But his grip tightened, fingers digging into your scalp, and he tilted your head back, forcing you to meet his gaze, you broke, voice trembling as you choked out, “…’m d-daddy’s… l-little c-cocksucker,” each word punctuated by the wet, sloppy rhythm of his cock sliding deeper into your throat.

“Attagirl,” he said, and his phone caught every second as he started thrusting harder into your mouth. He moved his hips fast and deep, like trying to bury his cock deep down your throat, punishing you with every stroke. You could hear his breathing getting heavier, hear the slick noises of your spit coating him and dripping down his ballsack.

“Fuck, look at this filthy mess she’s makin’,” he growled for the camera, tilting it to capture the glistening strings of drool dripping from your swollen lips, your mascara streaking down your cheeks in dark rivers, your jaw quivering as you gazed up at him, utterly defenseless, like you had no choice but to let him fuck your mouth raw until he was done with you. “She’s a perfect messy thing. So fuckin’ perfect f’me.”

His thrusts grew more brutal by the second, giving you no chance to catch your breath. His thick cock slammed against the back of your throat, bruising your palate, the raw ache spreading with every punishing stroke. Your throat tightened, saliva pooling and spilling over, making wet sounds as he used you. When your face flushed a deep red, gagging too hard on the slick mess of your own spit, he yanked your head back by the hair, his grip rough and unyielding, forcing you to look at him.

“Mgggh… daddy… enough,” you rasped, spit clinging to your chin. “You’ve got your stupid video already.”

“Just a bit more, babygirl, ‘m almost there,” he cooed, as he pushed your head back toward his throbbing cock. “Be good f’daddy, and he’ll finish real quick.”

You rolled your eyes, but complied, letting him guide you back. Your tongue slid deliberately along the underside of his shaft with every thrust of his hips, the wet drag of your mouth pulling low moans from him. You hummed around him, cause you knew how much he liked the vibrations, they made his cock twitch. He shoved himself deeper, burying himself to the hilt, until your nose was crushed against the coarse hair at his navel, his balls heavy against your chin. He held you there, grinding shallow, cruel thrusts into your throat until your lungs burned, your hands clawing at his thighs, desperate to pull away.

With a harsh tug on your hair, he ripped you off his cock. You choked, gagging violently, spit stringing from your lips to his glistening tip as you gasped for air, your chest heaving after being suffocated by his length.

“Gonna give you somethin’ to remember this by,” he rasped. You whimpered, shaking your head weakly, knowing exactly what was coming, but he didn’t care. His hand pumped his cock furiously, as he aimed the swollen tip at your tear-streaked, spit-slicked face. The first thick, hot rope of cum splattered across your cheek, followed by another across your chin, your nose, your parted lips. It was a flood that felt endless, so much cum dripping down your face in sticky streaks. “Ahhh, Ahhh yesss, ffffuck yeah… take it, babygirl. Take all of your daddy’s cum,” he groaned, making your stomach twist with a mix of disgust and heat. You hated how vocal he was, his filthy words made you cringe, his ragged breaths, the way he moaned, it all sounded gross out of his mouth.

“God damn, babygirl…” he panted, finally lowering the phone, the flash blinding you as it lit up your cum-drenched face. His other hand gripped your chin, tilting your head up to show off the mess he’d made. “Stay just like that. Wanna get a good shot of my baby.”

Your cheeks were flushed from the heat of it all, your hair a wild tangle from where Joel’s fingers had gripped and yanked, tugging hard as he’d used your mouth. The makeup you’d spent hours doing to look pretty for the movie date with your friends was now a wrecked mess, your chest heaved, each breath was a shaky gasp as you tried to steady yourself after he’d finished. Thick ropes of his cum clung to your face, dripping down your cheeks, pooling at your chin, some already drying in sticky streaks.

“Hold still, babygirl,” Joel rasped. His free hand was now wrapped around his cock, fisting it lazily, he moved it so the swollen tip of it would brush your jaw as he smeared his release across your skin, dragging it toward your lips. The other hand held his phone steady, angling the camera to capture every inch of your ruined face in the frame.

You turned your head, whining, you already hated his cum, the smell, taste and texture of it, but now he was ruining all your hard effort, “Ew, Daddy, gross—stoppp. You’re ruining my makeup even more.”

“Darlin’, makeup’s the least of your worries right now,” That little smirk of his was there across his face. He tapped the head of his cock against your cheek, leaving another sticky smear, ugh, it felt so thick and warm. “Look at that. Prettiest fuckin’ mess I’ve ever made.”

You groaned dramatically, squeezing your eyes shut when he dragged himself across your mouth, the wet tip catching against your bottom lip. “Ugh, dad! You’re seriously so disgusting. I can feel it sticking to me.”

“Mm-hm,” he hummed amusingly, “and now every time daddy jacks off to this, he’s gonna see you sittin’ there, takin’ it like a good girl.” He tilted the phone closer, zooming in on the mess he’d made, his tip rubbing his cum into your skin in circles. “Look at that. Daddy’s cum paintin’ my girl’s pretty face. Not a damn inch of you I ain’t claimed.”

You huffed, rolling your eyes toward the camera, so annoyed at the fact that sucking him wasn’t enough, now you had to put on a show for him too. “Don’t call me your girl, dad, especially when you’re… ugh… smearing it all over me like some perv.”

Joel chuckled, his thumb coming to tilt your chin up so you had to look directly into the phone. “Say it,” he ordered.

You frowned. “Say what?” You already knew, just enjoyed playing dumb to try and piss him off

“Say whose cum it is.” His tone left no room for argument. With dad his words was always final.

You squirmed, glaring at him through your lashes. You knew daddy loved the attitude and the sass, maybe that’s part of why you did it, you internally wanted to please him. “I don’t wanna—”

The sharp slap of his cock against your cheek cut you off, followed by another lazy drag down your nose, he was really smearing his cum and dragging his cock all over yur face. “Say it, babygirl.”

You sighed heavily, your voice dripping with reluctant sass. “It’s yours, dad. Obviously. It’s all yours. Happy now?”

“Real happy,” he smirked, leaning in to press the head against your lips until you parted them. He pushed just enough to smear the taste onto your tongue before pulling back. “Now tell the camera you love it.”

You groaned, feeling your face hot. “I hate it.” You did hate the taste, it was always salty and bitter, but there was something about knowing that it was you, not any other woman, but you, his baby, making your daddy’s cock hard, and making him cum so much, that made you ache between your legs.

“Try again.” He always knew he had to insist a little with you before you gave in,

You gave him an exaggerated pout but muttered, “I love it,” in the most unconvincing tone possible.

Joel chuckled, and he finally lowered the phone, satisfied with the result of his little homemade movie. “That’s my girl.” His hand cupped your jaw, smearing one last streak of cum along your cheekbone. “Gonna keep this one for a long, long time.”

You wrinkled your nose, part of you disgusted with the idea of your father jerking off alone with the video of you sucking him off, but another part secretely turned on by it, of course you wouldn’t let him know, you had to keep up the act. “You’re literally the grossest man alive.”

“And you’re the prettiest mess alive,” he shot back, leaning down to kiss the corner of your mouth, smearing even more of himself there, enjoying how much it bothered you having his seed on your face.

“Can I have the money for the tickets now?” you huffed impatiently. “Need to go fix my makeup again.”

Joel let out a chuckle, as he reached for his wallet in the back pocket of his jeans.

[tremendum]

.·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·..·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·..·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·..·:

Mr. Miller’s Masterlist

(not my gif.) 

.·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·..·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·..·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·..·:

[series warnings (read individual for extra warnings): mean!Joel Miller x fem!reader, mentions of canon-typical injuries/violence/blood, consumption of alcohol and marijuana, age gap (implied 20+ years), rough smut (PiV, unprotected), sir kink, Jackson era, toxic reader and Joel tbh (mostly Joel), slapping (reader gets slapped and joel does too, all consensual), degradation kink, praise, dacryphilia, porn with SOME plot and feelings, possessive Joel. slow burn relationship - sort-of enemies to lovers.]

all parts contain smut.

Keep reading