Made of glass
🪽you knew joel could be controlling and cruel yet you pushed your luck anyways. stupid, stupid girl…🪽3k
warnings: explicit sexual content (18+), smut, jackson joel, established relationship, age gap, power imbalance, fem reader, afab reader, punishment (belt/ spankings), mentions of pain, profanity, unprotected p in v, degradation, praise, edging/ denial, orgasms, creampie, fingering, daddy kink, consent non consent (i think??? at the very least it’s dubious), emotional manipulation, man handling, angst, toxic! joel, possessive! joel (find me a version where he isn’t lol), sex used as a form of control, aftercare, nicknames, brat reader, dom/ sub dynamics, no y/n, dark joel, hair pulling
basically a whole lot it’s dark shit, let me know if i missed anything as i haven’t really written a whole lot of stuff like this!
reminder: you are responsible for your own internet consumption please do not read if any of the above content is not appropriate for you 🤍
authors note: this came to me to me in a depraved vision, it’s real messed up but i’m obsessed with it.
Kicking at the snowbank with the toe of your boot, muttering under your breath. Joel stalked a few feet ahead, heavy steps crunching loud enough to cover up the steady stream of curses you aimed at the back of his head.
"You gonna pout the whole way home?" His voice cut through the cold air like a whip — rough, worn, irritated.
You didn’t answer yet, just sped up until you were walking at his side, shooting him a look from under your lashes. "Maybe if you weren't such a hardass, patrol wouldn't be so damn miserable."
Joel stopped dead in his tracks. The sudden halt made you stumble a step before you caught yourself.
He turned toward you slow, eyes narrowing as he held your gaze. "You wanna run your mouth, fine. But you pull one more stunt like that back there—" His voice dropped, dark and dangerous, "you ain't leavin' Jackson again."
You crossed your arms, heart hammering against your ribs. "I handled it. You act like I’m made of glass."
Joel stepped closer — close enough that his body heat cut through the winter chill. Close enough that when he looked down at you, it made your knees want to buckle.
"You ain't made of glass," he said lowly. "You're just young enough it, it makes you act stupid."
Your stomach twisted, heat pooling low and tight. You opened your mouth — maybe to argue, maybe to apologize — but Joel cut you off by grabbing your chin between his thumb and forefinger, forcing your eyes up to his.
"You listenin'?" he rasped. His grip wasn’t painful or hard, but it was firm. Commanding.
You nodded, pulse thrumming wild.
Joel’s gaze dragged over your face, slow and simmering. "Next time you disobey me like that... I won't be so fuckin' patient."
There was a dark promise in his tone. Not cruelty — control. Care that was delivered as dominance. You felt it in your chest, your belly, all the way down.
He let go of your chin and took a step back. You almost whimpered at the loss of contact.
"Get movin'," he muttered, turning away. "We’ll finish this conversation somewhere private."
The house was cold when you stepped inside. Joel locked the door behind you with a heavy clunk, the sound final, and for a moment, you just stood there — the air thick between you.
“Take off your coat,” Joel said roughly. “Boots too. Don’t want you runnin’ anywhere.”
You swallowed, hands fumbling at the buttons of your jacket and, kicked off your boots, toes curling against the worn rug. Joel watched you the whole time, his arms crossed, jaw set.
When you were standing there, smaller somehow without all the layers, he jerked his chin toward the center of the living room.
“On your knees,” he said.
Your breath caught — but you did it. Dropped down onto the rug, knees pressing into the scratchy fibers, your hands awkward in your lap.
Joel stepped closer, boots heavy against the floorboards. He loomed over you, looking down at you like you were something he owned, something he was deciding the fate of.
"Now," he said, voice like gravel, "you're gonna tell me exactly what you did wrong. And you're gonna tell me why you're sorry."
You wet your lips, heart pounding. "I—I didn’t listen to you on patrol. I rushed ahead when you told me to wait. I... I could've gotten hurt."
Joel said nothing, just stared down at you, waiting.
You blinked up at him, throat tightening. "I'm sorry," you whispered. "It won't happen again. I promise."
For a second, you thought maybe that would be enough. That he'd sigh, drag you up into his arms, kiss the top of your head and let it go.
But Joel shook his head slow, disappointment etched deep into the lines of his face.
"That easy for you, huh?" he muttered. "Say a few words, think that erases the risk you took?"
You opened your mouth — maybe to argue, maybe to beg — but Joel crouched down in front of you, his hand wrapping around your throat, squeezing just hard enough to make you feel it.
"Sorry ain't good enough, baby," he said low and dangerous. "Not when it’s your life on the line."
You whimpered, heat flashing through your whole body. You leaned into his touch without meaning to, desperate for it.
Joel’s thumb brushed along the side of your throat, like he could feel the frantic pulse there. His eyes softened just a fraction — but it didn’t change his next words.
"You need a real lesson," he murmured. "One you ain't gonna forget."
He stood up again, towering over you, the muscles in his thighs flexing as he moved.
"Take off your pants," he ordered. "Now."
You hesitated, hands trembling as you undid the button of your jeans. Joel just stood there, arms crossed, watching — no mercy in his face, no softness.
When you awkwardly peeled your jeans down your thighs, shivering when the cold air hit, Joel finally moved.
He pulled the thick leather belt from around his waist with a slow, deliberate motion — the snick of it sliding free made you clench around nothing, thighs instinctively pressing together.
Joel folded the belt in his hand, testing the weight of it.
"Hands behind your back," he said quietly. "Kneel up, head down."
You obeyed instantly, heart hammering. The floor scratching at your cheek as you rested against the time-worn surface, hands locked behind you. Vulnerable. Waiting.
Joel circled you slowly like a wolf deciding where to sink his teeth. His fingers brushed your clothed back, trailing up to the back of your neck grabbing your attention so you have no choice but to meet his eyes.
"You’re gonna take ten," he said. "One for every second you ignored me out there."
You whimpered — ten felt like an impossibly painful number. But you nodded, desperate to please him now, desperate to fix what you’d broken.
"And you’re gonna count every single one out loud," Joel said, voice a dark rumble. "You lose count, we start over."
Before you could answer, the first crack of the belt landed across the curve of your ass.
You yelped — the sting blooming fast, white-hot and deep.
"One," you gasped, blinking hard against the prickling at the corners of your eyes.
Another lash — harder this time — snapping against the top of your thigh.
"Two!"
Joel didn’t say anything. He just kept going, slow and methodical, each strike placed with brutal precision.
Not enough to leave you bloody — but enough that you felt it. Felt it in your skin, your bones, your pride.
By six, you were sobbing. Knees wobbling. Cheeks burning from the combination of scratchy carpet and tears. Joel paused just long enough to wrap his free hand in your hair, dragging your head back so you had to look up at him.
"You think you’re tough?" he rasped. "That how you acted out there? Like you don't need me watchin' your back?"
"N-no," you choked out, tears slipping down your cheeks. "I’m sorry, Joel. I’m so sorry."
He growled low in his throat — a sound of frustration, and something darker.
"You ain't sorry yet," he muttered.
The last four lashes came faster, sharp and punishing — and by the end, you were sagging forward, gasping for air, thighs trembling.
Joel tossed the belt aside and dropped to one knee in front of you. Pulling you up so you were kneeling straight. His big, calloused hand cupped your face, thumb brushing roughly at the wetness there.
"Look at you," he said softly. "Pretty little brat. Thinkin' you can do whatever you want."
He trailed his hand down your throat, down your chest, over your trembling stomach — until it rested just above your soaked panties.
"You ain't learned a thing yet," Joel murmured. "Still so fuckin' desperate for me."
You whimpered, hips tilting toward him without thinking.
Joel smirked — but it was cruel, slightly twisted.
He hooked his fingers into the waistband of your panties and ripped them down in one savage tug.
Then he leaned back against the couch, spread his legs wide, and patted his thigh.
"Come here," he said.
You crawled to him on sore knees, climbing shakily into his lap, straddling him.
But when you tried to grind down, seeking any kind of friction, Joel grabbed your hips hard — holding you still.
"Nuh-uh," he said lowly. "You don’t get to use me. Not yet."
He slid two fingers through your wetness, gathering it — but didn’t sink them in. Just traced slow, teasing circles around your clit, light enough to make you whimper.
"You're gonna sit here," he said. "You're gonna take what I give you, when I give it. You’re gonna ask for permission and wait ‘til I give it."
You nodded frantically, desperate, needy beyond words.
Joel smiled, slow and mean.
"Good," he murmured. "Now beg me, baby. Beg me nice. Maybe I’ll decide you earned it."
You squirmed in his lap, trembling, your hands still locked behind your back like he told you — but it wasn’t enough. You needed more. You needed him.
Joel’s fingers circled your clit slow, lazy, never enough pressure. Barely there, just a cruel little brush that made your whole body jerk.
"Poor baby," he murmured, voice dripping with mock sympathy. "Look at you. Cryin', squirmin', makin’ a mess all over my jeans."
You whimpered, rocking your hips helplessly, but Joel's hand tightened around your hip, holding you down, keeping you exactly where he wanted you.
"You thought you were grown out there, didn't you?" he said, tilting his head like he was talking to a naughty child. "Thought you didn’t need me tellin’ you what to do."
"Please, Joel," you gasped. "Please, I'm sorry, I swear—"
He chuckled low in his chest, your pathetic attempt at an apology amusing him.
"Sorry?" he echoed, sweet and cruel. "Baby, you don't even know what sorry means. If you did, you'd woulda been on your knees beggin' me to teach you better out there."
"I am," you sobbed, hips jerking. "I'm begging, Joel, please, please, I'll be good, I promise, I’ll listen next time, I’ll do whatever you want—"
Joel's thumb flicked your clit a little harder — still not enough to send you over, but enough to make your back arch, a broken cry ripping from your throat.
"Mm. Sounds pretty," he drawled. "But you said a lotta pretty things before, didn't you? Promised you'd behave out there. Look how that turned out."
"Different this time," you gasped, babbling now, too desperate to think straight. "I mean it, I’ll be good, I need you, I need you, Joel, please—"
Joel smiled — a slow, wicked, almost fond thing.
He leaned in close, lips brushing your ear.
"You’re so fuckin' pretty when you're stupid like this," he murmured. "Mouthy little thing turned into my sweet cryin' girl again. Bet you'd promise me the fuckin' world just to get a little relief, wouldn't you?"
You nodded frantically, tears spilling freely now, shame and need tangling so tightly you couldn't tell them apart.
Joel kissed your temple — so gentle it almost hurt worse than the teasing.
"Poor thing," he whispered. "Didn't even know what you needed ‘til I gave it to you."
You were falling apart in his lap, soaked and aching and dizzy with it.
"I’m sorry, Daddy," you sobbed without thinking, the word slipping out wild and raw. "Please, please, I’m sorry, I’m yours, I’ll listen, just—please, Daddy, please."
Joel went still for half a second — like the word lit something inside him.
Then he hummed low, pleased. His hand cradled the back of your head, pulling you in so your forehead pressed against his chest.
"There she is," he murmured. "There’s my good girl."
You shuddered in his arms, still hovering on the edge, broken open and waiting for him to decide what you needed.
Joel slid his fingers back between your legs — this time with real intent. Real pressure. Real promise.
"Sweetheart," he said softly, the mocking edge finally gone. "I know you’re sorry."
He kissed the top of your head, steady and sure.
"Cum for Daddy."
You shattered.
Your whole body locked up, a ragged sob tearing from your throat as you came hard, soaking Joel’s jeans, clinging to him like he was the only thing holding you together.
He held you through it, murmuring soft, filthy praise against your hair.
"Good girl. That’s it. That’s my baby. Knew you had it in you."
You didn’t stop shaking for a long time — and Joel didn’t let you go.
You were still trembling in his lap, forehead pressed to his chest, gasping for air like you’d just survived a war.
Joel rubbed slow, steady circles into your back — not saying anything at first, just letting you come down enough to feel how wrecked you were.
Then he hooked an arm under your knees, the other behind your shoulders, and lifted you like you weighed nothing at all.
You whimpered — from sensitivity, from trust, from the way your body just gave itself up to him completely.
Joel carried you through the house, the floor creaking under his boots, until he reached the bedroom.
He laid you down on the bed — but didn’t leave you long.
He followed you down, covering your body with his own, caging you in with his weight.
"You did so good for me," he murmured against your ear, voice low and thick. "Took your punishment like a big girl. Cried real pretty too."
You whimpered, squirming under him, already aching for more — even after everything.
Joel reached down, undoing his jeans, dragging them down enough to free himself. His cock was heavy, flushed dark, leaking at the tip.
He caught your chin in his fingers, tilted your face up to his.
"You ready for me, sweetheart?" he asked, voice soft but commanding. "Gonna let Daddy fuck that attitude outta you real gentle now?"
You nodded frantically, tears still clinging to your lashes. "Please, Joel. Need you. Need you inside."
Joel smiled — slow, dirty, affectionate.
"Course you do," he murmured. "You’re mine baby. Ain't goin' anywhere without me."
He lined himself up with your entrance — soaked and ready for him — and pushed in slow, steady, giving you every thick inch.
You gasped, back arching, nails digging into his shoulders, still clad in that flannel that was so... Joel.
Joel groaned deep in his chest — a rough, needy sound.
"Fuck," he muttered. "So fuckin’ tight still. Made for me, baby. Made for Daddy’s cock."
He bottomed out and stayed there, letting you feel every pulse of him inside you, every inch stretching you wide, filling every part of you that needed it.
Then he started moving — slow, deep thrusts that dragged the head of his cock right against your sweet spot, over and over, until you were keening under him.
Joel held your hands above your head with one big hand, the other gripping your waist, using your body like it was his right — and it was.
You wanted it to be.
"Look at you," Joel rasped, thrusting slow and hard. "Took your beltin', took my fingers, now takin’ cock like a good little girl."
You moaned, helpless, clenching around him.
Joel leaned down, kissed your open, gasping mouth — slow and claiming — then pulled back just enough to murmur:
"Say it again. Say who you belong to."
"Y-you, Daddy," you sobbed. "Belong to you. Always."
Joel groaned again — a filthy, wrecked sound — and fucked you harder, deeper, his control slipping just enough to make it rougher, just enough to make you sob his name again and again.
"You’re mine," he growled, voice shaking. "Mine to take care of. Mine to fuck. Mine to keep safe."
You were close again — so close it hurt. And he could fucking feel it.
Joel kissed you hard, swallowing your cries.
"Cum for me again, sweetheart," he panted against your lips. "Wanna feel you. Wanna make you fall apart on my cock."
It took barely a few more thrusts before you shattered — clenching around him so tight it milked his cock right over the edge right after you.
Joel fucked you through both your orgasms, his mouth pressed to your ear, murmuring broken praises:
"That’s it, good girl, so fuckin’ good, Daddy’s so proud of you."
He stayed inside you after, cradling your body against his, still pressing soft kisses to your hair, your forehead, your cheeks — his calloused hands never leaving your skin.
Like he had to remind you, over and over, that you were safe now. That you were his.
Joel rose above you, still and steady just enough to look at your face properly, letting your racing heart slow. His breath was warm against your temple as he wrapped his arms tighter around your trembling body.
“You did good,” he whispered, voice rough but gentle. “Real good.”
You clung to him, tears still slipping free — not just from the intensity, but because you finally felt it. The way he cared so damn much it scared you a little.
Joel kissed the top of your head slowly, as if committing every trembling inch of you to memory.
“I ain’t never lettin’ anything happen to you, you hear me?” he murmured. “You’re mine — all of you — and I’ll take care of you better than anyone else ever could.”
You sniffled, nodding against his skin. “I’m sorry, Joel. I mean it this time.”
He pulled back just enough to look you in the eyes, those rough, scarred hands cradling your face like you were the most precious thing in the world.
“I know, baby,” he said, voice soft but sure. “And I ain’t just sayin’ that ‘cause I wanna hear it. I’m sayin’ it ‘cause I believe it. You’re mine. And I’m gonna keep you safe—no matter what, I never wanna hurt you but, I just can't risk it.”
He kissed you again—this time slow and sweet, full of promises and fierce protection.
You melted into him, the fierce heat and the gentle care tangled into one perfect, messy feeling.
Joel smiled, a rare softness breaking through his usual gruffness.
“Now,” he said, voice low and teasing, “you gonna behave on the next patrol? Or do I gotta remind you who’s really in charge again?”
You giggled—a shaky, relieved sound.
“Promise, Joel,” you whispered. “I’m yours. Always.”
He kissed you one last time before settling beside you, holding you close as sleep finally claimed you both.