originally for Febuwhump 2024 Day 17 - hostage situation | Febuwhump masterlist
words: 578
summary: Your group falls victim to Joel Miller's hunters.
warnings: dark, dead dove do not eat, non-con, past non-con, hostage is not quite accurate but we'll pretend, captivity, dark!Joel, raider/hunter!Joel, Joel Miller is Not a Nice Man, canon-typical violence, gun violence, descriptions of murder, oral (m receiving), forced oral, ambiguous ending, dick sucking at gunpoint (but no gun play), yet another one I may return to some day idk, no use of y/n, joel can pick reader up (but imo, joel can pick anyone up. this is game joel, he's a brick fuckin house.)
dividers by @saradika-graphics
They’ve got you lined up on your knees, hands behind your head. Well, they have what’s left of you.
You’d never seen Joel Miller or his crew before. Obviously, because you’re still alive. And he hadn’t exactly introduced himself, but he didn’t really need to.
His brutality and bloodlust preceded him.
“…so happens, I’ve got a coupla openings. Anyone here whose loyalty ain’t?”
Beside you, Paul raises his shaking hand.
“Yeah? You ready to turn on your boss?”
“Yes, sir,” Paul says immediately.
Several of Joel’s men snicker. You feel the spray hot on your side before the crack registers in your ringing ears.
Oh god.
Joel’s wearing a lazy, crooked grin and strolls casually down the line. He tips your chin up with the hot barrel of the gun, and you whimper.
“You his girl?”
You don’t want to speak but you’re afraid to jostle the weapon, so you whisper, “Yes.”
“He disloyal like that to you?”
You really don’t mean to, but you scoff a little. “Was his girl, not his girlfriend.”
“Oh,” his grin curls. “So I just shot your master. Guess that makes you mine, now.”
You shudder and stay quiet.
He doesn’t like that. The gun drags up the line of your jaw to your temple. “Rather follow him to hell, sweetheart?”
“No, sir,” you whisper.
“Go on then. Show me if you’re gonna be worth it.”
He doesn’t lower the gun.
Your hands shake as you bring them to his belt buckle and pry it loose. You can do this. You’ve done worse for Paul. Same shit, different dick.
When his cock springs free, you can’t help it. You gasp.
Joel laughs. “Guessin’ I’m a little bigger than you’re used to?”
You nod.
“Get chokin’ on it, then.”
And, god help you, you do. Not that you think any god will help you. If they were going to, they would have done it by now. If they gave a shit.
It’s clear that no one gives a shit.
So you give him your best. You take the fat, drooling head in your mouth and suck, swirling your tongue and hollowing your cheeks. You don’t move your hands from behind your head.
You get the feeling he isn’t one for the build up, so you try to acclimate to his girth as fast as possible. He’s about as long as Paul but twice as thick. When you start choking on him, as requested, he holds you there with a hand on the back of your head. After that, he picks up the control and fucks into your mouth.
You’ve gotten pretty good at taking it, so you do. He gives you no warning before he spills down your throat, but doesn’t seem to mind that you cough and sputter after, gasping.
“Good enough to buy you a couple of days,” he says with a shrug. He finally withdraws the gun from your head. “Get the fuck up.”
He doesn’t wait for you, just drags you by the collar of your shirt and lets you stumble to follow. He shoves you up against the cold side of a truck, face pressed against the passenger window, and ties your hands behind your back.
Satisfied, he hoists you up and drops you into the bed of the truck. You scream a little in surprise and a lot in fear.
“Shut the fuck up,” he barks. “It ain’t a long ride. Not a fucking sound, or I’ll dump ya in the river instead. Got it?”
