#dark joel

The last patrol together had been… relaxed. On your side, anyway. Maybe a little too relaxed. You had missed a couple signs you should have caught, let your attention drift more than once while walking the tree line. Nothing dangerous had happened, but Joel had noticed. Of course he had. The man noticed everything.

Still, the whole lecture had felt unfair.

When you rode patrol with Joel Miller, the man practically absorbed the entire job himself. He checked the tracks, listened to the wind, scanned every ridge like something deadly was about to crawl over it. Half the time he handled things before you even had a chance to step in.

Trying to assist often felt like showing up late to a fight he had already finished.

So yeah - maybe you had been less attentive than you should have been. But it wasn’t because you didn’t care.

It was because when Joel was beside you, the world felt… handled.

That realization had landed right as he was finishing his little speech.

And instead of apologizing like the sensible part of your brain suggested - maybe slipping out of the stables before things got worse - you had planted your boots firmly in the dirt.

“Who then?” you shot back, folding your arms as the words came out sharper than planned. “You're gonna be the one teaching me? I’d love to see you try, old man.”

The moment the words left your mouth, you knew the last part had been unnecessary.

Joel had a particular talent for getting under your skin, but calling him old man had been like flicking a match into dry grass.

The reaction was immediate.

He went still.

Then he released the horse’s reins without looking, letting them fall loosely over the post as he stepped out of the stall. Each step measured enough that your instincts kicked in before your pride could stop them. You weren’t even sure when your own boots shifted backward, but the space between you widened all the same.

Joel’s expression didn’t change much.

That was the unsettling part.

His eyes stayed locked on you, dark and assessing, like he was already calculating something.

“Well,” he drawled after a beat, voice calm in a way that felt more dangerous than the shouting had. “That’s not the worst idea you’ve had.” Another step closer. “Been hearin’ you skipped more’n a few of those self-defense drills lately.” His gaze dragged over you. “Let’s see how tough you act when someone actually puts you on your back.”

And that was how you ended up trudging through ankle-deep snow on what should have been a perfectly quiet afternoon off.

Because you couldn’t keep your mouth shut.

The wind dragged like cold fingers through the trees lining the path to the training barn, snow crunching under your boots with every step as you replayed the moment in the stables for the hundredth time. If you had just walked away - if you had swallowed your pride for once - you’d be somewhere warm right now.

Instead, you had challenged Joel Miller to prove you wrong.

And if you were being honest with yourself, the irritation between you two wasn’t exactly one-sided. Getting under Joel’s skin had become a strange sort of sport. The man had a way of grinding against your nerves until you snapped back without thinking.

Apparently the feeling went both ways.

Your breath curled in pale clouds as the barn came into view, the big wooden structure crouched quietly beneath a dusting of snow. No voices. No movement. Just the faint creak of wood shifting in the cold.

You reached it later than the time he had given you.

Technically by accident.

Mostly.

A small, petty part of you had slowed your pace on purpose. Let him stew a little. Pissed people made mistakes. And today you had every intention of knocking Joel Miller down a peg or two.

The barn door groaned softly when you pushed it open.

Inside, the air was colder than you expected, the structure barely insulated from the winter outside. Your boots echoed faintly against the packed floor as you stepped in, shrugging out of your thick coat and shaking snow from the sleeves.

“Joel?” you called, voice carrying through the wide space.

You draped the coat over a small wooden stool near the entrance. If this training session looked anything like the handful of drills you’d bothered attending before, you wouldn’t stay cold for long.

Movement would fix that.

The training area had been mostly cleared out. A broad patch of packed dirt and old mats where Jackson ran its combat practice. Last time you’d been here it had been crowded - laughter, teasing, half the patrol crew watching each other stumble through holds and throws.

Now the place felt different.

Quieter.

Dim light filtered through the high slats in the barn walls, dust and hay drifting lazily through the beams. A few old crates were stacked toward the back, casting long crooked shadows across the floor. Somewhere deeper inside, a loose board creaked softly with the wind.

But most notably - no Joel.

You suppressed the thought that Joel Miller was almost never late. If anything, he was the kind of man who showed up ten minutes early just to glare at everyone else.

Still.

If the universe decided to make an exception today, you weren’t about to complain.

“Joel?” you called again, already turning back toward the door as you reached for your coat. “If this is some kinda joke -”

A faint shuffle cut through the quiet behind you.

Subtle enough that it could have been anything. The wind blowing through a crack in the boards. A rat scurrying somewhere in the hay.

But your brain, helpful as ever, supplied a different thought.

What if something actually had happened?

Joel slipping on ice somewhere behind the barn. Old men did that, didn’t they?

The image made you snort a quiet laugh as you stepped deeper inside, heading toward the darker end of the building where the stacked crates sat like squat shadows.

“Joel?” you called again, tone lighter now.

No grumpy Texan clutching a broken hip greeted you. Just scattered hay, dirt, and the faint smell of old wood.

Then you noticed the tracks.

Boot prints pressed into the thin dust near the crates.

You barely had time to register them before something slammed into you from the side.

Hard.

The impact knocked the air clean out of your lungs as your body was driven backward into the stacked crates. Wood rattled violently behind you, the force of the hit folding you against it so abruptly that even the instinct to shout died in your throat.

All that escaped you was a strangled breath as the world lurched sideways and suddenly felt very, very close.

You only managed to catch yourself at the last second. Your boots slipped in the dust as the crates rattled behind you, but instinct kicked in before gravity could finish the job. One hand shot out, bracing against the wood long enough to steady yourself before you stumbled back into the more open space of the training floor.

And he followed.

“What the actual hell was that, Joel?!” you snapped, the words bursting out before your lungs had even properly recovered.

Joel Miller stepped out of the shadows like he had all the time in the world. The dim light spilling through the barn slats caught the edge of his shoulders, the familiar broad frame moving toward you with the same steady patience he carried everywhere.

He didn’t answer.

Just kept walking.

The deliberate silence set your nerves on edge faster than any insult could have.

Without thinking you took a step back - mirroring exactly what had happened in the stables earlier. Your heel scraped lightly over the packed dirt before you forced yourself to stop retreating. Straightened your back. Planted your feet.

You refused to give him the satisfaction twice.

“So…” You cleared your throat, hating the faint tremor that slipped into your voice anyway. “How are we doing this? Thought these things usually start with rules. You know. Demonstrations. Maybe someone showing the hold first before -”

A low chuckle slipped from him.

It carried about as much humor as a knife.

“You honestly think that’s what it looks like out there?” Joel muttered.

He rolled one shoulder as he moved, the motion stiff enough that you noticed it immediately. The impact must’ve hurt him too when he slammed into you. He masked it well, but the brief tightening of his jaw gave it away.

Still, the look he gave you afterward made it clear he didn’t care.

“Oh, darlin’,” he added quietly, voice dropping into that slow Texan drawl that usually meant trouble. “You’re in for a rude surprise.”

Two seconds.

That was about how long you had to swallow the sudden spike of unease rising in your chest.

Then the panic got burned away by something hotter.

The sheer audacity of this man.

You took two quick steps backward, widening the distance and shifting your weight the way you’d been taught during drills. Feet planted. Knees loose. Hands lifting instinctively toward your chest.

Fine.

If Joel wanted to play instructor like this, you’d show him you had actually listened during those classes.

Unfortunately, you were still underestimating just how serious he was about the lesson.

He moved before you could fully settle into your stance.

One moment he stood a few paces away.

The next he was on you.

Your hands shot up higher, ready to intercept a grab - because that was what the drills usually started with. Wrist control. Balance breaks.

Joel didn’t reach for your arms.

He swung.

An actual punch.

The movement came fast enough that your brain barely had time to process it. You ducked on instinct alone, dropping your shoulder just as his fist cut through the air where your head had been.

You avoided the worst of it.

But not all of it.

His knuckles clipped the side of your skull as they passed, the glancing contact sending a sharp buzz of pain through your temple that made your ears ring.

“Jesus, Joel!” you barked, staggering back a step as your hand flew to your cheek. “What the fuck -”

“Thought you might try talkin’ your way outta trouble too?” he grunted.

Another swing followed immediately.

You barely avoided that one too, stumbling sideways as the punch cut past your shoulder close enough to stir the air.

And that was when the realization finally clicked.

He wasn’t actually trying to hit you.

Not really.

If Joel had meant it - if he’d put his full weight behind those blows - you’d already be down. Nose broken. Lip split. Maybe worse.

This was controlled.

Terrifyingly precise.

“Of course not, you idiot,” you shot back, breath coming faster now as adrenaline started flooding your system. “I just -”

“You just what?” Joel cut in, circling closer. “Thought you could coast through patrols and let somebody else watch your back, kiddo?”

“I just thought -”

You never finished the sentence.

Because that was when he closed the distance completely.

One moment he was a step away.

The next his hands were on you.

His unyielding grip clamped onto your shoulders before you could react, momentum carrying straight through you as he hooked a foot behind your ankle and swept your legs out from under you in one brutal, practiced motion.

The world flipped.

Your back slammed into the old training mats hard enough to knock the air from your lungs in a sharp, involuntary gasp. Dust puffed around you as your vision flashed white for a split second, stars scattering across the edges of your sight.

You barely had time to register what had happened.

Because Joel was already on top of you.

His weight settled in fast, knees pinning your legs to the ground before you could kick free. One hand locked around each of your upper arms, forcing them down against the mat with a strength that left very little room for argument.

You tried to twist.

Tried to buck him off.

It didn’t move him an inch.

Joel leaned slightly over you, breath still steady despite the scuffle, his shadow falling across your face in the dim barn light.

“Weren’t thinkin’,” he muttered, voice low and rough. His grip tightened just enough to make the point unmistakable. “That right there’s the problem, darlin’.”

“Okay, you know what -” The words came out between clenched teeth as you bucked against his hold again, muscles straining even though every logical part of your brain already knew it was pointless.

Joel barely shifted.

Still, the flash of defiance in your eyes caught his attention for half a second. His gaze dipped toward you and he made a low sound under his breath as he adjusted his weight to counter your movement.

It wasn’t much.

Just enough pressure in the right places to remind you he was still very much in control.

He waited.

Actually waited.

Like he expected some brilliant comeback to fall out of your mouth.

So you gave him one.

“Fuck you, Joel.”

The words snapped out sharp and immediate, and before he could respond you twisted your hips hard - throwing your weight the way you’d been shown once during a half-forgotten training drill.

The motion had a name. Something about breaking a mount by shifting the opponent’s balance.

At the time it had sounded like wishful thinking.

But somehow - 

It worked.

Almost.

Joel’s grip slipped just enough that you managed to twist sideways beneath him. Your shoulder rolled, your body following the momentum until suddenly you were face-down instead of pinned flat.

You didn’t wait.

You scrambled forward on instinct, boots digging against the mat as your hands clawed for traction in the dust.

Behind you, Joel sucked in a sharp breath.

The knee you’d driven into his ribs during the maneuver had clearly landed better than you’d planned.

For one brief, glorious second you thought you might actually get away.

Then his hand closed around the back of your belt.

The jerk backward was violent enough that your progress stopped instantly, your body sliding helplessly over the dusty mat as the inches you’d gained disappeared in a heartbeat.

Your fingernails scraped uselessly against the ground.

“Damn it -!”

You barely got the protest out before Joel leaned forward again.

One hand seized both your wrists, yanking them behind your back in a single brutal motion. His grip tightened until your arms were forced together, the angle making it impossible to twist free.

A second later his knees settled heavily against the backs of your legs, pinning you in place while his weight pressed down just enough to make resistance feel laughable.

You opened your mouth to curse him out.

Then you felt it.

The rough scrape of something fibrous brushing your skin.

Rope.

Your stomach dropped.

“Okay - Joel, wait!” The words came faster now as the cord circled your wrists, tightening with practiced efficiency. “Hold on a second -” The rope cinched tighter. “I said wait!” The sharp edge of panic in your own voice caught you off guard.

Joel didn’t react.

“Give me one good reason,” he said simply.

“What reason do you -?” You twisted your head, trying to glare up at him over your shoulder. “This isn’t funny, Joel.”

“It ain’t supposed to be.”

You squirmed beneath him as he pulled the knot snug, the rope biting just enough to make the reality of it sink in. It was too tight for a mere training unit.

You weren’t slipping out of that anytime soon.

Your body shifted restlessly under his weight, trying again to find leverage that simply wasn’t there.

Okay.

New strategy.

“Alright,” you muttered quickly, forcing the words out before the tension crawling up your spine could take over completely. “I get it. Message received. I should’ve paid more attention on patrol. That one’s on me.” The rope tugged tighter. “This is still unfair,” you added stubbornly.

Joel’s knee slid upward slightly as he finished securing the knot, pressing into the small of your back with deliberate weight.

“Fair?” he repeated. His voice carried a faint edge of disbelief. “You think the folks waitin’ out there care about your sense of fairness?”

You turned your head against the mat, cheek scraping the rough surface as you tried to look back at him.

Joel didn’t appear the least bit rattled.

His brows were drawn together the way they always were, deep lines etched across his forehead. The familiar salt-and-pepper beard framed a mouth set in that same firm line you’d seen a hundred times before.

But there was no anger now.

No smirk either.

Just a calm, steady focus that somehow felt worse.

You weren’t sure what exactly he was determined to do, and something about that thought made your chest tighten.

“No, it’s just…” you started, words faltering as you tried to find something that didn’t sound like outright surrender. “I wasn’t expecting you to be such a -”

The sentence cut off when Joel suddenly shifted.

His weight lifted from your back without warning.

Relief barely had time to register before his hands caught your shoulder and hip, rolling you over in one smooth motion.

You landed flat on your back again.

Joel settled over you almost immediately, kneeling around your legs the way he had earlier - only now your wrists were secured behind you, leaving your arms completely useless.

The position pulled uncomfortably at your shoulders, the rope tightening each time you moved. But you decided very quickly not to complain about that. Comfort clearly wasn’t high on Joel’s list of priorities today.

“- such a committed trainer?” Joel finished dryly.

You glared up at him.

“Such an asshole,” you corrected.

Your body twisted again beneath him, instinctively trying to knock him off balance. Your hips jerked upward, attempting to disrupt his center of gravity.

Joel barely shifted. If anything his crotch pushed into your center just as much to secure you.

“Newsflash, darlin’,” he muttered. “World outside Jackson ain’t exactly known for patience.”

You huffed out a breath, rolling your eyes despite the position.

“Yeah, alright. Point taken.” You shifted your shoulders experimentally against the rope. “So untie me already. Pretty sure the lesson stuck.”

Joel didn’t move.

Didn’t even look like he was considering it.

Instead he adjusted his weight slightly, settling into the kneeling position like someone getting comfortable for a long conversation.

Your stomach sank.

“Doubt it,” he said. The words were calm. Almost casual. “Lesson ain’t even started yet.”

Something flickered in his hand then.

Metal catching the faint light filtering through the barn walls.

And when your eyes dropped to it, the breath caught hard in your throat.

Joel had a knife.

For a moment you just stared at it. Then - unexpectedly - even to yourself, a laugh slipped out. It started as a short breath and turned into something sharper, almost incredulous.

Because this was Joel.

Joel Miller might be a lot of things - grumpy, stubborn, occasionally insufferable - but he wasn’t some deranged lunatic who’d decided to start carving people up during a training session.

The man patched fences for neighbors after long patrols. Helped haul lumber for repairs even when he’d already pulled double shifts. Joel Miller carried himself like someone who’d seen too much of the world to waste energy pretending to be nice, but you had never once seen him be cruel.

Rough, yes.

Unfair? Never.

So this?

This had to be part of the scare tactic.

A prop.

A way to drive the lesson home.

And hell… it was working.

Your laugh lingered a little longer than necessary, the sound edged with nerves you hoped he wouldn’t notice. When something overwhelmed you, that was usually how you dealt with it.

“Alright, alright,” you muttered, rolling your eyes toward him. “You can cut the theatrics now. What exactly are you planning to do with that?” You tilted your head slightly, trying to keep the tone casual. “Pretty sure the council won’t be thrilled if I walk back into town with knife wounds from a training exercise.”

You aimed for cool and unbothered. Joel’s eyes flickered briefly over your face. The faint tremor in your voice hadn’t slipped past him.

“Knife ain’t just for stabbin’ people,” he said flatly. “Might need to sign you up for a weapons lesson too while we’re at it.”

Before you could respond, the blade moved.

Not the sharp edge but the flat, dull side. Cold metal brushed lightly across your cheek.

Your head turned instinctively, trying to avoid it, but Joel followed the motion easily - guiding the blade downward along the line of your jaw and throat.

A slow trail of chilled steel.

The tip continued lower, slipping toward the collar of your shirt.

You stilled despite yourself.

The point of the knife tapped lightly against the first button of your flannel, clicking softly against the plastic.

Then the next.

And the next.

Each small contact felt absurdly loud in the quiet barn.

“Don’t see you doin’ much fightin’ right now,” Joel observed calmly. His chin tipped forward slightly, gesturing vaguely toward the position you were stuck in beneath him. “Someone got you pinned like this out there… what exactly’s your plan?”

“I wouldn’t get caught,” you shot back automatically.

Joel’s mouth twitched.

“If an old man can do it half asleep…” he said dryly, tossing your earlier insult right back at you, “I ain’t too confident you’d fare better with a group of raiders.”

Your eyes narrowed.

“If it were raiders,” you countered quickly, “I’d already be exactly where you said I’d end up. Dead somewhere in a ditch.” Your gaze flicked pointedly to the knife. “They’d want my gear. My rations. My weapons. Not my patience.”

Joel’s grin tilted sideways.

Not amused.

Just… knowing.

“You sure about that?” he murmured.

Before you could respond, the tip of the knife slid neatly between one of the lower buttons and its thread.

Your brain barely had time to register what he was doing before he twisted his wrist slightly.

Pop.

The button snapped free.

It shot somewhere over your shoulder, landing out of sight behind you.

“What the - Joel!”

Your head jerked up instinctively, more offended by the destruction of a perfectly good shirt than anything else. Still, something deeper shifted under your ribs.

Because Joel was right. Being captured out there - especially as a woman - wouldn’t end quickly.

Wouldn’t end kindly.

The next button popped.

Adrenaline flooded your bloodstream in a sudden rush and your body bucked beneath him again, instinct overriding reason.

The blade slipped. Not deep. But the point grazed your skin just enough to leave a sharp sting across your stomach.

“Watch it, jerk!” you hissed.

Joel stopped. But not out of concern.

Out of calculation.

Slowly the knife lifted from your half-open shirt and returned upward, the flat of the blade resting once again against the side of your neck.

“If I was one of them,” Joel said quietly, leaning closer, “and I had you stuck like this beneath me…” His voice dropped lower. “Best start pickin’ your words real careful.”

He was close enough now that you could see every line in his face.

Close enough that he had to see the flicker of fear creeping into your eyes.

And he didn’t stop.

Didn’t pull back.

Didn’t soften the pressure of his weight holding you down.

For one alarming second a thought flickered through your head.

He wasn’t ignoring your fear.

He was letting you sit with it.

Maybe even - 

Enjoying the effect.

Your breathing slowed. When you spoke again, your voice came out colder than before. Enough that it caught his attention immediately.

“Yeah?” you murmured. Joel leaned a fraction closer, watching you carefully. “Then listen real close, Joel.”

But instead of the clever insult he was clearly expecting…

You gathered saliva.

And spat.

Right into his face.

Joel jerked back just enough that the dull side of the knife scraped lightly along your skin. The movement was quick - reflex more than intent - and for a second his brows pulled together in something close to surprise.

Then he huffed.

And laughed.

Not the dry little breath of amusement people in Jackson sometimes coaxed out of him. Not the brief exhale that usually passed for humor from Joel Miller.

This was different.

The sound came as a real laugh that rolled out of his chest before he could seem to stop it. It carried something sharp in it too - something edged with challenge that made the skin on the back of your neck prickle.

You realized, distantly, that you could probably count the times you’d heard Joel Miller laugh on one hand.

This one felt… new.

“Alright,” he muttered, still chuckling as he dragged the sleeve of his jacket across his face, wiping away the spit without much ceremony. “Go ahead. Act like a brat.” His dark eyes dropped back to yours. “Let’s see how far that attitude carries you.”

The knife returned to your shirt.

Before you could react, three buttons popped in quick succession.

Pop.

Pop.

Pop.

The sounds echoed in the quiet barn like small gunshots, fabric pulling apart under the pressure of the blade. Within seconds only the top button still held, the flannel hanging open enough that the cold air slipped easily against your skin.

Joel rested the tip of the knife against that final button, his gaze settling back on you.

“Tell me somethin’, darlin’,” he said, voice quieter now. “When does all that stubbornness finally turn into beggin’?” His mouth twitched faintly. “Be real interestin’ to hear you whimper for once.”

The knife didn’t move.

It waited there, hovering against the thread.

“I’d rather you stab me,” you shot back immediately, forcing the words out before hesitation could betray you. “You’re not getting a single plea out of me.”

It was a lie.

You both knew it.

The tension in your chest was already tightening, nerves and adrenaline twisting together into something that made your breathing shallow.

And yet… something inside you refused to back down.

Part pride.

Part curiosity.

Because a small, reckless voice in the back of your mind wanted to know just how far Joel Miller would actually push this lesson.

Surely not that far. Right?

You gave yourself a second to remember exactly who was sitting on top of you.

Joel Miller.

The same man who had barely glanced at you that one patrol when you’d slipped in the brush and torn your shirt on a branch. The fabric had ripped at exactly the wrong place, leaving your cleavage embarrassingly obvious for the rest of the trek back to Jackson.

Joel had looked away almost immediately.

Barely a second.

Like it hadn’t even registered.

That Joel Miller wasn’t about to take things further just to prove a point.

…Right?

And if he did…

Your stomach tightened unexpectedly.

Would it actually be so terrible?

“We’ll see about that,” Joel muttered.

The knife twisted.

Pop.

The final button gave way.

The front of your shirt fell open completely, the two sides sliding apart under the pressure of the blade as Joel used it to push the fabric aside. The cold metal drifted slowly down the center of your stomach, tracing a lazy line over your skin.

Your belly rose and fell beneath it, each breath a little quicker than the last.

“Not even gonna try bargainin’?” he asked, eyes lifting back to yours.

“What for?” you muttered, a little more breathless than you meant to sound. “Don’t exactly have anything worth trading.”

Joel’s grin tilted darker.

“Oh, I dunno,” he said quietly. “Seems like I’m gettin’ a pretty decent view already of what you gotta offer.”

Something in your stomach flipped unpleasantly - and not entirely with disgust.

“Try me, old man,” you shot back, the insult coming out sharper than intended. A thread of nervous energy slipped into the words despite your effort to sound confident. “Bet you wouldn’t even be able to.”

You held his gaze stubbornly, your own grin tight with defiance.

There was plenty of spite in it. Plenty of tension too. Because you still weren’t completely sure what Joel actually wanted here.

To scare you? Or rather something else entirely…

The jab made him chuckle again, deeper this time. His shoulders shifted slightly as the sound shook through him, his weight pressing more firmly against you for a second.

Then he leaned forward.

The knife disappeared between his teeth, clamped carefully by the handle so both hands were free.

Your stomach dipped as Joel’s fingers hooked into your belt.

Opening it took him almost no effort at all. He worked the buckle loose with the same calm efficiency he seemed to apply to everything, his other hand planted beside your head for balance. The knife still sat between his teeth, the metal glinting faintly when the dim barn light caught it. The grin around it was unmistakable - broad, wolfish, the kind that showed just enough teeth to make your stomach tighten.

Your breath hitched the moment his fingers found the button of your jeans.

That was when the realization finally settled in fully.

He wasn’t bluffing.

“Joel…” The word slipped out before you could stop it. It wasn’t exactly a plea - not yet - but it carried something close. A last attempt to catch his attention before the line you’d been dancing around disappeared completely. His head tilted slightly at the sound, like he was waiting for the rest. Waiting for the begging he had predicted earlier.

“You don’t have to,” you added, quieter now. “I get it.”

The sharp edge of your usual sarcasm had faded from your voice, replaced by something more honest - tension, a flicker of fear… and an uncomfortable thread of anticipation you didn’t quite know what to do with.

Joel’s mouth curved slowly at one corner.

The grin that followed wasn’t kind.

His fingers finished undoing the button, lingering a moment at the metal of the zipper without pulling it down. Instead, the back of his knuckles brushed lightly across your center through the layers of denim and cotton, the casual contact enough to make your body twitch in surprise.

Your hips jerked instinctively, trying to shift away from the touch even though the movement accomplished very little.

Joel adjusted his weight slightly, leaning back just enough to free the knife from his teeth. The blade slipped back into his hand, the flat side drifting lazily across your exposed stomach again.

“Bit late for that, ain’t it?” he muttered.

Before you could respond, he leaned forward again.

The knife drove suddenly downward, the blade burying itself in the mat right beside your head with a dull thunk that made you flinch hard enough for the ropes around your wrists to bite.

Joel’s chuckle rumbled low in response.

“Besides,” he added calmly, shifting his weight again, “I ain’t convinced you actually get it yet, kiddo.” His free hand returned to your jeans. “You’re still thinkin’ I’m gonna stop here. Scare you a little. Let you walk off and hope the lesson stuck.”

His thumb caught the zipper. Slowly he dragged it downward. The sound seemed absurdly loud in the quiet barn.

“All you’ve done so far,” Joel continued, voice steady, “is prove you only understand somethin’ once it’s right in front of you.” The zipper reached the bottom. He clicked his tongue softly. “And I ain’t exactly confronted you with much yet.”

“I - I’m gonna scratch your eyes out!” you snapped.

Joel’s brow lifted faintly.

“Be real curious to watch you try that with your hands tied behind your back,” he drawled. “Truth be told, you oughta be grateful you still got ’em.” His tone remained casual. “Seen what raiders do when they’re worried about people fightin’ back. Fingernails, teeth… anything sharp tends to disappear real quick.”

He paused just long enough to make the words settle. Then shrugged lightly.

“Think I can manage you just fine with your claws intact though.”

His hand slid forward again, fingers brushing the edge of your underwear where the open denim now left the fabric exposed.

Your body reacted before your brain caught up.

Your hips jerked upward, the motion automatic.

Joel noticed immediately.

“Now there’s a little fight,” he murmured, the darkness back in his voice. “Thought that tough brat already ran off and left me with somebody a lot more nervous.”

Instead of answering, you twisted harder beneath him.

Your knees drew upward slightly, boots scraping uselessly against the mat as you tried to shift your weight enough to disrupt his balance. It only gained you a fraction of an inch, but the effort felt necessary all the same.

Beside your face, the knife remained planted firmly in the mat.

A silent reminder.

Too close for comfort.

“When this is over,” you muttered through clenched teeth, “I’m gonna make you pay for it.”

Joel huffed softly at that. “When this is over,” he echoed, “you’d be dead in a ditch somewhere.” He tilted his head slightly, watching your expression. “That’s the theory, anyway.” His hand slipped forward again, the rough pads of his fingers brushing lightly against your hip as if testing the reaction.

“In practice?” he continued. His gaze flicked briefly down toward you, as his fingers slipped under the soft cotton of your panties, sliding slowly through your folds, way too wet already for the situation you were in. A slow grin followed.

“Seems like you’re not exactly hatin’ the lesson as much as you pretend.”

You tried to fight it.

Tried with everything you had left in you to keep the reaction from showing, to stop him from seeing what the smallest touch of his hand was doing. Pride alone demanded it. But when Joel’s fingers slid just a little deeper, gathering the slick wetness there before circling lazily over your clit, control slipped through your grasp all the same.

The sound that escaped you was small.

Barely more than a breath.

But it was there.

A whimper.

Joel froze instantly.

Not pulling away - just stilling, the pressure of his hand remaining exactly where it was. Then he leaned forward, lowering his head until his ear hovered close to your lips.

“What was that?” he murmured.

You clenched your jaw. “What, old man?” you muttered back through your teeth, trying to sound unimpressed even as the tension curled tighter in your stomach. “Can’t hear… anyth -”

Your voice faltered.

Because his fingers started moving again.

Slow circles, each motion stealing another piece of your composure until the bite in your words began dissolving into something softer, something harder to contain.

“…fuck,” you breathed, the sound slipping out before you could swallow it back. Another whimper followed, one you tried to stifle by turning your head sharply aside and pressing your lips together.

Joel huffed quietly. “Oh, I can hear those moans just fine,” he said, voice low and amused.

His fingers shifted again, sliding deeper before nudging forward to your entrance with a careful pressure that made your back tense against the mat.

“Just caught me off guard, that’s all.”

Your hands flexed uselessly behind you, fingernails scraping against the mat as your body reacted without asking permission.

“Didn’t realize you were this desperate for it,” he went on calmly. “Could’ve saved myself the whole training lecture if you’d just said so.”

“Don’t - get too excited,” you forced out. Your face remained locked in a scowl, brows drawn tight with irritation, but every small twitch of Joel’s hand kept betraying you anyway. Joel’s mouth curved faintly.

“Funny,” he muttered. “You look like the one getting excited here.”

Before you could snap back, he pressed two fingers into you, stretching you unexpectedly.

The sound that tore from you echoed far louder than you would’ve liked in the quiet barn, bouncing faintly off the wooden beams overhead. Heat rushed through your skin despite the winter air creeping through the walls, your breath coming quicker as your body arched against the pressure.

Joel let out a low hum.

“Well now,” he murmured. “That’s a helpful reaction. Good girl making it easy for me.”

The words good girl slipped from him almost lazily, like he wasn’t even thinking about them.

But they landed.

Harder than anything else he had said.

Being called a brat had been annoying. Something to push back against.

That?

That slid straight under your skin.

Joel shifted slightly above you, his hips grinding forward just enough that you could feel the effect of the situation for yourself. His hard cock clearly visible - and noticeable - through the denim fabric.

“Gotta admit though,” he added under his breath, “didn’t figure you’d let me get this far.”

Your chest rose and fell unevenly.

“Didn’t exactly have much of a choice,” you shot back.

Joel snorted quietly.

“Would’ve stopped the second I saw real fear in your eyes,” he said, almost casually. “That much I promise.”

His fingers moved again, angling just right, the motion pulling another involuntary arch from your back.

“Didn’t expect quite this much anticipation, though.”

Then he withdrew.

Just like that.

The sudden emptiness left you staring up at the rafters for a moment, trying very hard not to look as disappointed as you suddenly felt.

“Anticipating the moment I get to wipe that smug grin off your face,” you muttered.

“Sure,” Joel said mildly. “All talk so far.”

He shifted his weight again, giving your hips just enough room to move - but not enough to actually escape. Before you could twist away, his hand caught your arm, gripping firmly as he rolled you over once more.

The cold mat pressed against the bare skin of your stomach as you landed face-down again, the rough surface biting lightly against your skin.

“Haven’t seen much proof otherwise,” Joel continued. “Well… close to none…”

You could feel the weight of his gaze moving over you as you squirmed beneath him, ineffective against both his strength and the rope holding your wrists.

Then his hands returned to your jeans.

Before you could brace yourself, he dragged the fabric downward in one swift motion, shoving the denim down to your knees and leaving your legs tangled while your butt was suddenly exposed to the chill air of the barn.

“Look at you…” The words slipped out of Joel almost under his breath, less a taunt and more an observation that had surprised even him. His palm drifted across your exposed backside, the touch unexpectedly light at first - almost thoughtful. The calluses of his hand dragged slowly over your skin, tracing the curve there.

Then his fingers tightened without warning.

They dug sharply into the soft flesh, and the sudden sting ripped a startled cry from your throat before you could stop it.

Joel exhaled a low, amused breath.

“Easy now, darlin’,” he murmured. “You tryin’ to let the whole town know how hard you’re fightin’ back?”

The old barn swallowed his voice and threw it back in faint echoes. Winter air leaked through warped wooden boards, brushing cold against the parts of your skin left bare.

His other hand tugged at the hem of your flannel, pushing the fabric upward just enough to expose the line of your back. His fingers wandered there, following the ridge of your spine like a path. They traveled upward, past the tension between your shoulder blades.

From there, they slid higher still. His hand buried itself in your hair and Joel closed his fist.

Your head jerked back as he pulled, forcing your spine into a sharp arch. The position twisted your face just enough that he could see part of it - your clenched jaw, the stubborn crease between your brows.

“Should’ve gagged you,” he muttered, studying the way your expression flickered between anger and something far less controlled. “That’s what a raider would’ve done. Wouldn’t want you hollerin’ for help.” His grip in your hair tightened slightly as he tilted your head further. “You want that?” he asked, voice dropping lower. “Full experience?”

His knee planted firmly beside your hip, grounding your movements. The other nudged your legs apart a little more, creating space as his free hand drifted back down between your legs.

The moment his touch returned to your wet center, the sound that escaped you was impossible to disguise.

He huffed out a quiet laugh against your ear.

“Well… that settles that.”

His fingers resumed their slow movements, and your body reacted before your pride could catch up. Your words tangled in your throat as sensation swallowed them whole.

Joel felt it instantly as you clenched around his digits.

“Can’t lie,” he said after a moment, voice thick with amusement. “Kinda like hearin’ you make those sounds.”

You tried to respond immediately, some sharp retort ready on instinct - but the rhythm of his hand stole the thought clean out of your head.

It took effort to gather enough focus to speak.

“Funny,” you managed eventually, breath uneven but grin stubbornly tugging at your lips despite the pull in your hair. “You’ve said more in the last five minutes than in all our patrols put together.”

Joel clicked his tongue.

“That’s ’cause you never had anything worth talkin’ about, sweetheart.”

His hand slipped away from you abruptly.

The sudden absence again left a hollow ache you refused to acknowledge.

A moment later, the quiet clink of metal broke the air as his hand moved to his belt.

“That is,” he continued casually, working the buckle loose, “until now.”

You couldn’t see him.

That was the worst part.

The outline you’d caught earlier through the denim of his jeans had been enough to plant the thought firmly in your mind - but without seeing it now, you had no real sense of what waited behind you.

And it was coming.

That much had become unavoidable.

Joel Miller was going to fuck you.

Before closing the distance, Joel leaned forward again. His grip in your hair loosened just enough to guide your head slightly to the side.

His lips brushed near your ear.

The scrape of his beard against your skin sent a small shiver down your spine.

“Wouldn’t mind refreshin’ these lessons now and then,” he murmured. “What d’you think?”

His hips rolled forward slightly against your backside as he spoke and you could feel his rock-hard cock against your skin. The pressure alone made it very clear that whatever came next would be anything but gentle. Or small.

Your reaction betrayed you instantly.

Despite every ounce of pride screaming otherwise, your legs shifted apart a little farther - limited only by the jeans and underwear bunched around your knees. Your hips lifted instinctively, pressing back toward him.

Joel felt it.

The chuckle that rumbled out of him vibrated straight through your body.

“That ain’t an answer, darlin’.”

You squeezed your eyes shut.

Your lips stayed sealed for a few stubborn seconds longer.

Then the words forced their way out anyway, your head giving a tight nod against his grip.

“Y-yes… Joel.” The admission came out strained, breath catching halfway through. “I… wouldn’t mind that.”

“Mind what now, darlin’?”

You swallowed the last ounce of pride left in your body. “Wouldn’t mind you fucking me.”

You barely had time to register the shift behind you.

One moment there was the pressure of his cock lining up at your entrance, the heat of his body crowding yours, the grip on your wrists keeping you arched and exposed.

The next - 

The breath punched straight out of your lungs.

Joel moved in one hard thrust, leaving no room for hesitation, no careful pause to let you adjust around his girth. This wasn’t patient. This wasn’t gentle.

It was rough, immediate, and entirely on his terms.

The sound that tore from you never had a chance to fully escape. His hand left your hair in the same instant and clamped firmly over your mouth, muffling the cry against his rough palm.

Joel groaned low behind you, the sound thick with the shock of it.

Your breath came hot and frantic through your nose against his skin as you struggled to drag air back into your lungs. That first impact had stolen every bit of oxygen from you.

“Fuck, darlin’…” Joel sounded strained as he leaned forward, pressing himself closer along your back. For a moment his forehead rested against the back of your head while he steadied his breathing and settled into the rhythm he wanted.

Despite the brutal beginning, he slowed.

Not enough to make things easy on you - far from it - but enough that the movements stopped feeling like a single overwhelming blow. There was a rough kind of control in it now, a measured pace that gave your body just enough time to keep up.

You mumbled something against the hand covering your mouth, the words lost in a garbled sound. The strain had tears prickling at the corners of your eyes.

Joel huffed softly.

“Wouldn’t have pegged you for such a good girl,” he muttered near your ear, the words carrying that familiar teasing edge. “All ready for me like this.”

The praise sounded almost mocking paired with the relentless rhythm he kept.

Then, unexpectedly, his lips brushed briefly against the side of your neck - a fleeting kiss that contrasted sharply with the roughness everywhere else.

Before you could process it, he shifted again.

His hand slid away from your mouth, leaving your lips parted as you pulled in a shaky breath. Instead, he grabbed hold of your bound wrists, using them like a handle to pull you upward into a deeper arch. The position tightened everything, forcing your back to curve as his other hand dug firmly into the side of your hip to steady you.

“Let's see how good you take me like this.” You could hear the grin in his voice.

“Will you ever shut the fuck up,” you snarled breathlessly, your voice rough from the air you’d been fighting to catch.

Joel laughed behind you - gravelly and clearly entertained.

“Actin’ tough ain’t gonna do you much good right now,” he replied.

Another sharp thrust stole the rest of your retort, a broken sound slipping from your throat before you could stop it.

“In the end,” he continued casually, “you’re gonna be the one babblin’ nonsense… ’cause the only thing left in that head of yours’ll be me fucking you senseless.”

The blunt boldness of his words hit harder than it should have.

Joel had always been many things - stubborn, gruff, irritatingly calm - but this kind of filthy confidence? That had never once crossed your radar.

And damn it, it worked.

Heat built relentlessly in your core, faster than you wanted to admit. Embarrassingly fast.

Joel noticed once more.

“Look at you,” he muttered, almost amused. “Already cockdrunk.” His tongue clicked softly. “Wouldn’t be much of a lesson if you were enjoyin’ yourself too much, now would it?”

The words sent a spike of panic through you.

You twisted your head, trying to catch sight of his face over your shoulder.

Surely he wasn’t serious.

Joel paused just long enough to lean down near your ear again.

“That is…” he added thoughtfully, “…unless you ask real nice.”

The cruelty in it was obvious.

He wanted it. The attitude stripped away, the stubbornness broken down until you were the one begging for more.

And the worst part?

You weren’t nearly as far from it as you wished.

“Joel…” you swallowed hard, your voice suddenly tight. “Please.” The word slipped out before your pride could catch it.

“Yeah,” he murmured, voice softening just a fraction. “I got you, baby girl.”

Another deep slam made your whole body shudder involuntarily as he bottomed out once more.

“Gonna take real good care of you,” he continued, almost conversationally. “Might turn out you’re useful after all.” There was a faint hint of that raider roleplay creeping back into his tone, the mock threat hanging between the words. “Keepin’ you around’s startin’ to sound better than ditchin’ you out there.”

You let it slide. At that point, resisting the game would have taken more focus than you had left.

The tension building inside you climbed higher, tighter.

“Joel… I’m gonna -”

“There you go, darlin’,” he muttered, his own voice rougher now, the control slipping slightly. “That’s it. Show me how you can come on my cock.”

And when it finally hit, it tore through you hard enough to make the world blur at the edges. For a few seconds you forgot everything - where you were, what you’d been arguing about, even your own name.

Joel’s hand returned to your mouth just in time to muffle the loudest part of it, the sound trapped against his palm.

“Beautiful,” he breathed close to your ear as the aftershocks rippled through you. His grip on your wrists tightened briefly. “Wouldn’t mind seein’ that again.” He shifted slightly behind you. “But this barn ain’t empty forever,” he added, voice still low. “And you already got me so close.”

Before you could even process the implication, wondering if he would really fill you up, he pulled out, leaving you abruptly empty. A moment later hot ropes of his climax landed across your back, your bound hands, and the wrinkled fabric of the flannel pushed up around your waist.

Joel’s grunt came staggered, the sound dragged straight out of his chest as he worked through the last of it. One hand was clearly still wrapped around his length, last droplets dripping down and slow strokes guiding the final waves of his release while the warmth of it still marked your back and hands.

Beneath him, your own body hadn’t quite caught up yet.

The remnants of your orgasm still pulsed through you in fading ripples, muscles clenching instinctively around emptiness now that he’d pulled away. Each aftershock made your breath hitch, your nerves still firing long after the moment itself had passed.

The strength drained out of you all at once.

You sank fully down against the mat beneath you, cheek turned to the side as the cold surface pressed against overheated skin.

“Fuck…” It came out hoarse, barely more than a breath.

Behind you, Joel shifted. You could hear the rustle of denim, the quiet sounds of him putting himself back together, but you didn’t have the energy to turn your head and confirm it. Just lifting your arms felt like more work than you were ready for.

“Yeah,” he muttered after a moment, voice still thick. “That about sums it up.” There was a faint grunt as he adjusted his belt. “Could get used to training sessions like that.”

The comment hit your ears just as your mind began catching up with the rest of you.

Your wit returned the moment he was no longer slamming into you.

“Wouldn’t do your back any favors, old man,” you shot back from where you lay.

The sarcasm came automatically.

There was movement beside you that finally made you crack your eyes open.

You caught it just in time.

Joel leaned forward toward the floor, reaching for the knife still embedded upright in the mat where it had been planted earlier. His fingers closed around the handle and he yanked it free in one smooth, forceful pull.

The metal flashed briefly in the dim barn light.

“Careful there, kiddo,” he said, voice lowering again as the knife traced lightly along the line of your spine.

The cool steel sent a sharp shiver through you.

“Taught you a pretty solid lesson the first time about runnin’ that bratty mouth, didn’t I?”

The blade slid down between your bound wrists.

With a quick, practiced slice, the rope gave way.

The tension disappeared instantly as the fibers snapped apart.

“Don’t mind turnin’ up the heat next time,” Joel continued, cutting the last strands free. “If I get the impression you’re still too stubborn to learn.”

The moment the rope loosened, you moved.

Your arms came forward instinctively, and you twisted beneath him to roll onto your side and then upright, pushing yourself into a seated position, pulling up your jeans cumbersomely while he shifted just enough to allow it. Joel settled back on his heels in front of you, watching as you immediately began rubbing at your wrists. The skin there was red, angry where the rope had bitten in. You circled them slowly, working the stiffness out.

“Maybe,” you said after a moment, lips curling slightly, “you’re just a shitty teacher.”

The smirk that followed was impossible to hide.

Joel’s answering grin was just as quick. 

“Sounds like I wasn’t clear enough then,” he replied. His voice carried a tired edge now, the exertion finally settling in, but it did little to hide the faint spark of satisfaction underneath.

For a moment, he simply looked at you.

His gaze drifted over you again, slow and assessing.

Then he pushed himself upright and, almost casually, extended a hand toward you.

You ignored it.

Instead you scrambled to your feet on your own, tugging at your clothing in a half-hearted attempt to put yourself back together. The flannel hung crooked, your jeans still unbuttoned and loose around your waist, and you weren’t entirely sure what you were supposed to do next.

Joel solved that uncertainty by stepping closer. He closed the small distance easily, his broad frame towering over you.

Before you could react, the cold tip of the knife lifted beneath your chin. It nudged your face upward just enough that you had to meet his eyes.

“Better head home now, darlin’,” he said quietly. “And maybe pray I don’t catch up to you to drill the next lesson into that pretty head of yours.”

Your throat tightened.

You actually gulped.

One hand clutched the ruined flannel closed over your chest while you held his gaze just long enough to let him see that stubborn spark still burning there.

“Yes, sir,” you murmured.

Then you took a step back.

Joel didn’t move.

He simply stood there watching as you pulled your coat on and made your way toward the barn door.

You didn’t run.

Not even walked nearly as fast as you could have.

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the door opens with a click, and he walks out, his hair is peppered with white, tousled with sleep. he runs a hand over his mustache and patchy scruff, and then looks at you. shivering, jacket lost somewhere in the bar, minidress and hair loose, makeup still glued onto your face. you look like a doe under the lights of the hallway, big lashes framing your eyes as he looks at you. 

“wha’…?” he says, voice rough with sleep. he’s a sleezebag, but you know he sounds hot. like his voice is enough to hold you tight. 

“mr miller, i’m sorry….” you sniffle, half from the cold, half from the bottom of your heart to wake him up at 3:25am on a monday morning. he probably had work to do, shit to get to, so did you. 

“s’okay.” he places a hand on your shoulder, so warm in this cold... you lean into his touch, like a little lost squirrel, and he’s feeding you nuts. he has keys to most of the apartments, probably, and you hope to just get a spare of the key to your apartment to get back. maybe make yourself a meal because god knows you can’t afford to order in anything these days. 

“i-” you’re trying to stave off a sob, an onslaught of tears, your hands curl around nothing, and your breath hitches – “i left my keys in my room.”

he looks at you, a shivering mess at his porch, your tangled hair mussed, mascara and eyeliner smudged. you look like you’ve been in a tornado, with your doe eyes looking up at him through the moonlight. the spaghetti straps of your dress dig into your shoulder, he trails a hand over your soft skin, the goosebumps prickling your skin. 

your eyes seem hazy, too bright in the night, and he can see tears sparkle in them. they’re too wide, your lipstick smudged past your lips and staining the corner of your mouth. you look up at him, desperate in a way that he’s seen you before, just not at him.

if your eyes weren’t that hazy, you’d see how he looks at you, with open want. his eyes linger at the sweetheart neckline of your dress, the fact that you haven’t worn a bra, your nipples poking through the cheap, thin fabric. he’s never seen you like this, dreamed of seeing you like this, your soft curves in full view for him to kiss and claim. you don’t even notice yourself, don’t even notice your body’s reaction to the cold and to his touch, just focusing on his face as you try and form words that make sense.

he stares at you, and swallows thickly, “call a locksmith, ‘s not my problem.” he says, cruel in a way you don’t understand, you can’t afford a locksmith, can’t afford to pay the $100 to get back into your house. it’s a test, and you pass with flying colours, you just look down, and sniffle, before stepping backwards. 

“s’cold.” your teeth chatter, and you wrap your hands around your bare arms, your voice is so small, hoarse from the kareaoke in the bar, probably from all the shouting, you were going to have a horrible sore throat. the single shot of alcohol burned your raw throat as it went down, and now your stomach feels warm and fuzzy, but you feel so cold. 

“i’m sure we can work out somethin’ “ he says, in that voice that makes your breath stutter, he holds you tight with a large hand around your bicep, and pulls you into his apartment. 

it’s so much warmer inside, his apartment’s nicer too, you assume it’s because he can afford to buy apartments like yours and then rent them out, he lives in a different block, bigger apartment, bigger windows, and it’s warm. 

he’s been nothing but decent – okay. perhaps less than decent sometimes, with the way his eyes linger on you as you walk past him, rushing to get to work when he’s smoking a cigarette in the morning. okay perhaps even less decent, with the way you can often feel his warm breath on you, or his big hands on you when he stands too close. the diner where you work at gives you the shittiest shift timings, and a terrible wage, but it’s the best you can do in this stupid city, just like this apartment block is the best you can do in this stupid city.

now you can feel his breath on your neck, weighing down on you, you’ve always found him handsome, for some reason. his broad frame a recurring theme in your dreams, and now there’s a hand on your waist as it guides you to the couch. you stumble in your heels, and collapse onto the couch, kicking them off, your hands twisting in your tight minidress. fuck. it was just stupid, stupid and sad. sad that you were still stuck in this city, with this job, still single with all your friends so far ahead of you.

they looked at you with pity, that’s how it felt when you met with them tonight. that’s why you were miserable, even before realising you didn’t have your keys. they looked at you with a pity, for you were a fool. a fool who had waited too long, and her life had stayed still. 

“i’ll call the locksmith tomorrow morning.” he says, looking down at you, before writing it down on a post-it note. if you looked past the blur of your tears, you would see his eyes on you, staring at your legs as your dress rode up, “s’like a three hundred and fifty dollars for a new lock and key.”

“don’t need a new lock.” you mumble, wiping a tear away from your hand, your face is so cold, “my old key’s in there, jus’ need to get back in.”

“two hundred for a new key then, to open the door.” he says, your left shoulder’s strap slips off, there’s a tickle in your throat and you don’t know if it’s the cold or the sob. 

“i have a hundred.” you say, with your small voice, a hundred if you budget well enough, and by that you mean you don’t buy groceries for a week. 

“s’two hundred.” he repeats. 

“i know.” your eyes fill up again with tears, but you wipe them with the back of your shaky hand, “can you cover me?”

“m’your landlord girl, not a bank.” he says, unkindly, but not too much so. 

“i’ll pay you back.” you plead, but you probably won’t, you’ve been behind on rent for three months now. 

“just like you said you’d pay your rent?” he asks, and he leans down at you, so your faces almost touch, his eyes stare at you for a moment too long, down at your chest and then back up at you.

“that was-“ you bite your lip, breath hitching, “swear i’ll pay it back.”

“i can take your ass to court.” he pokes a finger in your chest, “file an eviction notice, sue for rent too, n the legal fees, s’that something you want?”

he pulls back his finger, but not before brushing over your nipple, having it harden just a little more under the thin fabric.

“only reason i haven’t done it yet is because i like looking at your ass as you leave for work.” his hand grips your waist instead, squeezing it, holding it. “s’ wasted on that diner, but it’s not enough for me to forget three months of rent.”

“you liked my ass right?” you say, voice wobbly, eyes like that of a deer in headlights. when you blink, you can see the look of pity they give you, a dead end job in a diner, a purity ring on your finger that stayed on a little too long,  “think i can pay you back in another way.”

he lets out a laugh at that, his hand shifting from your waist to your ass, pinching it, “woah, eager aren’t we?” he strokes his thumb over it, before teasing the inside of your thighs instead. something in you breaks, and you feel your breath getting quicker and quicker as his fingers are on your skin.

“please?” you sound so sad, so helpless, but so eager, he can’t say anything but yes. it was so incredibly easy, you were so easy.

“course darlin’,” he drawls, his other hand now on your chest, “say, i’ll even write off the locksmith thing.” 

you let out a whine as he kneads your chest, pinching at your nipple until it’s sore and angry, clear through the dress. it goes straight to his dick, and he can feel himself strain against the heavy denim fabric. 

“okay baby,” he says, “down to your knees.” he tugs you off the couch and you sink to your knees with an eager look, to please, and yet he wants to please you. 

he unbuckles his belt, and pulls down the zip, and his half hard dick springs out, slapping against his tshirt. it’s so big, is your first thought, the second thought is how the hell does it fit up there. 

“a whore like you must’ve seen quite a few of these.” he says, it comes out crude, but you’re determined to let him believe it, suck his dick and have this done with, even if you’ve thought about doing this a hundred times.

“s’this how to do it?” you stammer out, as you tentatively give a kitten lick at it, smelling him, how much of a man he is. 

something in his face falls, but he has you for tonight, you offered. a girl as pretty as you course ain’t ever seen this before, he realises, you’re good in a way that makes saints weep, a madonna and now his whore.

“kiss it.” he instructs, and the tip is red and angry, weeping with precome. your lips kiss it gently, tasting him, how manly he is. you’re clumsy with it, never having done something like this before. your hands shake around his length, and he places a larger hand over yours.

“silly girl, y’don’t even know how to do something as simple as this?” he laughs at you, before gripping your hand with his, and rubbing his precome over his length, covering your hands with it. 

something about it makes your thighs clench, your breath stutter, and you buck your hips against the air, he looks down at you, there’s a flicker of pity in his eyes. 

you look up at him from your knees, doe eyes framed by your hair. “m’i doing it wrong?” you ask, voice so small. and he swallows, perhaps it’s not right, but he wants it, and deep down so do you, why else would you have sank to your knees so quickly. 

“s’okay sweet girl,” he says it gently, “i’ll teach ya.” he says it with such care that you almost believe him, before he grips your hair, to pull your head up to face him. 

he guides your head, holding you still as he slides his cock into your mouth with a rock of his hips, you can taste the salty precome as the cockhead hits the back of your mouth. 

“breathe through y’nose, come on.” he says, and you take in a deep breath, smelling him as he pulls out of your mouth, just to push it in again. with every thrust, he gets deeper and deeper, and they harder.

you suck him in as best as you can, his cock so much bigger than your mouth, and you do your best so your teeth don’t get in the way. 

“s’good isn’t it?” he teases, seeing the way your face flushed in pleasure as he kept bucking his hips, ans, you let out a pathetic moan around his cock.

“y’good too.” he praises you, and that gets your panties wet in a way you don’t understand. simple words of praise have you rocking against the air, against nothing at all. “can’t believe this is y’first time suckin’ cock, mouth so perfect f’me.”

he comes in your throat, and you can feel his cum coat the inside of your mouth, sticky and salty and a man. and he pulls out with a sigh, noticing you lick your lips to taste the salty cum spattered on them.

you start to get up on your wobbly legs, but then he grasps your hand, looking at you. looking at you, maybe you want to do this again, and again, poison laced with sugar.  

“what kind of gentleman would i be f’i didn’t return the favour.” he says, and he’s not a fucking gentleman, he’s whored you out for money. but, then again, you’d whored yourself out for money, he was just accepting services instead of money. 

you sit back down on the couch, and his hand pushes away the hem of your dress that rides higher and higher until it reaches your soaked panties. “see, she’s eager, ain’t she?” he whispers in your ear, and his voice is so rough, it seems like it’s out of a dream.

he peels off your panties with his fingers, thick, that trail over your sensitive nub and your drooling cunt. they’re simple, with a lace trim, and he crumples them up and puts them in his pocket, for later, whenever that would be.

you cunt is so desperate, so wet, and your hips buck against the air. he doesn’t even have to ask if he’d be your first, here on his couch, in his living room, your greedy cunt sucks up his finger as soon as he pushes in, lips glistening with your arousal.

he makes you feel so full and warm, just with his fingers, and then he pistons it in and out, his finger stretching out your tight hole. “s’it a lot?” he asks, a bit too kind, and you nod pitifully.

then he slides another finger in, and you grind against his hand, desperate as your cunt drools more, all so needy with your arousal. he starts pumping his fingers into a steady rhythm, and his fingers curl inside of you in a way that feels right. 

your clit twitches with overstimulation from his hand, and he rubs at it one more time. something breaks in your stomach, and you feel your orgasm crash over you, eyes rolling back in pleasure as you feel yourself gush around his fingers.

you take a few deep breaths, hands that expect to grip the fabric of the couch feel his warm, strong arms underneath you, holding you. 

“y’came from my fingers?” he slides them out, and you feel empty as he does so, “fucked my couch up.”

you frown, but you still look up at him, holding your loose limbs. “s-sorry.” you just mumble, feeling the dizzying pleasure all over you. 

“y’sweet.” he says, after a minute, and you can swear you feel a kiss pressed to the top of your head in your blissed out daze. your body still twitches, and you can feel the stickiness between your thighs. 

he cleans you up with a gentle cloth, and you wake a few hours later to your thighs being dry and your heels on your feet. you think at least the walk of devastating shame wouldn’t be so bad, until you realise that your apartment is still locked, and you can’t get back in.

your eyes shift to the table, a stack of bills and a key with a post-it note underneath.

“should cover groceries, called the locksmith about the key. see you next thursday. rent’s due for this month.”  it’s just $50, but it is enough for groceries, you sigh in relief that he isn’t taking you to fucking court. the key sits in your pocket as you walk back to your apartment, your lack of panties hidden by the dress’s hem. see you next thursday, he says, rents due this month, he says, and it doesn’t feel like you’re whoring yourself out.

*****

Tommy can’t believe that it’s happening. It feels like a dream. And he’s had so many about you. His sleeping mind was tortured by the images of you on your knees, your mouth open and ready to welcome his throbbing cock, or splayed on the dinner table, legs open and pussy waiting to be stuffed by him. He used to brush them off, feeling embarrassed and guilty the next morning when you’d say ‘hi’ to him in the kitchen. They subsided when you left for another year of college, only to return with a new force after you came back for the holidays.

He used to tell himself that he’d never do anything about it. He’d never do it to Jess, to you. Your youth should be carefree and not burdened by your middle aged stepfather wanting to fuck you.

But this summer it got so much worse. It seemed like you were testing him, his sanity, his loyalty to his wife, your mother. Everything you wore called for his hungry eyes, your every move, laugh, smile made his cock twitch in his pants. He took too many cold showers. It started to get ridiculous. So he decided to give himself a way out. He jerked off to the thought of you almost every day. He pumped his throbbing member in the bathroom after seeing you in a flowy summer dress. The image of you on the grass with your ass in the air, pussy glistening under the bright summer sun pushed him over the edge and after a few moments of ecstasy he felt sick. With himself, with his dick, with his life.

When Joel asked him ‘that’ question whatever wall he had built in his mind fell apart. The way you talked to him that night at the bar made it impossible to deny it. Impossible to stop it from happening. He needed to fuck you.

***

Tommy was mere minutes from his desire becoming reality. You’re on his lap, straddling him, your naked pussy pressed tightly to his bulge.

“Fuck, angel, you have a knock out ass,” Joel comments driving the three of you home through the dark streets and glancing from time to time at the way you’re grinding against your stepdad’s clothed cock.

“Thank you, uncle Joel,” you purr, parting from Tommy’s neck with a pop. A flash of a streetlight eliminates a darkening hickey on his skin that you’ve left for Jess to find.

Your bra and panties are long gone, stuffed into your purse. Tommy’s hands are kneading your ass cheeks and you pull your neckline down before pushing your naked breasts into his face. He immediately takes your nipple in his mouth and starts sucking and licking, his groans sending vibrations against your sensitive skin.

“Oh, daddy,” you whimper and he thrusts his hips into you making you jump on his crotch.

He lifts his face to you and you meet his gaze, so full of affection and need you wonder where and how he’s been hiding all that.

***

When Joel parks the car at the driveway you get off your stepdad and, after fixing your dress, jump out of the car trying not to flash the neighbors with your pussy. The night covers up his company but Tommy still tries to keep his distance out in the street. Yet as soon as you open the door and walk in he grabs you and spins you to face him. His mouth crashes on yours and he devours you like the tastiest fruit he’s ever had.

Joel enters and comes up to you two placing his big hand on your ass. You part from your stepdad and look at the men, your eyes shiny with excitement.

“Let’s go to the bedroom,” you offer while your head is spinning with possibilities of what they’re going to do to you.

Joel hums and pouts his lips seemingly chill about your invitation but his bulge is the biggest you’ve seen on him and you know that you’re the reason. You smirk and open your mouth, ready to diss him, but instead a gasp leaves your lips when Tommy bends down, presses his shoulder to your middle and lifts you off your feet. You clutch the shirt on his back scared of falling but he’s holding you tight so you start giggling.

“What the fuck? What are you doing?”

“The bed will wait”, he says and slaps your ass and pussy lips which are fully exposed in this position.

You tilt your head up gawking at Joel with wide eyes but he just chuckles following you two,

“Daddy knows best, angel.”

To your surprise Tommy takes you to the dining room. He carefully lowers you and sets you down on the dining table.

“Lie down for me, babygirl,” he mutters and manhandles you on your back along the surface and then stands between your legs, at the head of the table. You turn your head to the side and see Joel leaning against the wall with a smug smile on his face.

You lift yourself up on your elbows and look at Tommy with an eyebrow raised,

“I think a bed would be more comfortable, daddy.”

He places his big hands on your thighs and rubs them up and down making the ache in your core burn brighter. You open your thighs wider and he looks at your pussy exhaling a soft ‘yeah’.

Then he turns back, grabs a chair and sits down. You see his face between your thighs and feel your pussy clench and gush more.

Tommy pulls you closer to him and you place your feet on his thighs. He takes them in his hands and takes your shoes off one and then the other.

“Always wanted to eat your sweet pussy at this table instead of Jess’s dry turkey,” Tommy says as he puts your bare feet on the table, your knees bent and your pussy perfectly on display for him.

You moan, lowering your head back on the surface as your heart is booming in your ears.

“H-how long have you wanted me, Tommy?” you ask, trying to keep your cool but inwardly screaming with joy at his confession.

“Long enough to know exactly what I wanna do to you,” he mumbles and in the next moment you feel his warm lips on your cold wet pussy. You gasp and look up seeing him push his tongue between your folds and start making out with your cunt. You whimper and turn to Joel who’s still leaning against the wall watching your stepdad feast on your pussy nonchalantly like it’s some half decent cable porn. His eyes are dark and you know his cock wants to come out to play judging by his massive bulge but he waits, not wishing to interrupt you two. ‘Fuck,’ you think, ‘He really wants his brother back in Austin’.

You return your eyes to your stepdad whose curly hair is tickling the insides of your thighs now as his tongue circles around your clit and then slides down finding your dripping hole before he starts fucking his hot muscle into you.

You moan loudly with every thrust, your legs trembling and stomach heaving with an upcoming orgasm. You run your fingers through his hair and he growls against your flesh. The vibrations make you arch your back with pleasure as you tilt your head back whimpering,

“Fuck… daddy.”

Suddenly you hear Joel’s voice, gruff and calm, as he walks to the wet bar,

“Want some whiskey with your pussy, Tommy?”

Tommy smiles against your folds and parts from them for a second to reply, “Nah, she’s fucking juicy. Might need a napkin.”

He looks up at you and winks as you smile back at him biting your lip. Then he dives back and starts gently sucking on your clit. You’re about to unravel when you see Joel coming up to the table with a glass of whiskey in one hand and his cock in the other. You curse through your whimpers seeing his huge member pulsating and throbbing, his dark pink head glistening with smeared pre cum. You know you did it to him and pride blooms in your heart.

“Mind if I play with her mouth, ‘daddy’?” Joel asks, making his voice higher to parody you when he says the last word.

Tommy seems to be lost in the process of eating you out and just hums. Joel takes it as a ‘yes’ and after grabbing your shoulders pulls you closer to the end of the table and to his cock.

“Open wide, tongue out,” he commands after taking a sip of the liquor and placing the glass on the table above your head. You watch his cock bob over your face and your mouth waters.

You do what he’s told you - open your mouth and stick your tongue out.

“Good girl,” Joel praises you while Tommy is making out with your cunt. You buck your hips into his mouth looking for an increase of pace but he’s meticulous and slow in pleasuring you.

Suddenly Joel slaps your cheek with his cock leaving a wet precum spot on your skin.

“Focus, angel,” he says as he rubs the tip against your lips. You chase it with your tongue and reach up but he takes your cheeks between his fingers and squeezes with a groan,

“Suck on my balls first, then I’ll see if you deserve my cock, little slut.”

You glare up at him but your anger subsides when Tommy’s fingers enter your wet hole. You feel the ache of a stretch so it must be two or three digits.

“Give some love to your uncle, babygirl,” Tommy says as he’s watching your cunt suck in his thick fingers.

“Yes, daddy,” you mewl and both men sneer at your obedience.

Joel manhandles your head under his cock and after cupping his sack places it in your open mouth. You lick and suck on his balls which are smooth and warm while Joel is stroking himself lazily. With a free hand he tugs down your neckline and starts playing with your breasts, twisting your nipples, kneading your flesh which adds to your pleasure.

You focus on one of his balls, suck and roll it gently with your tongue. You moan and hear Joel’s voice join you. The sound makes your pussy flutter around Tommy’s fingers and when you switch your attention to the other ball, your stepdad pushes on your soft spot a couple of times and ecstasy overtakes every cell of your body. Your cries are muffled by Joel’s balls lying heavy on your tongue.

“Fuck yeah, sweetheart,” Tommy breathes out as you’re clenching his fingers hard and then lowers his face to lick off your cum.

Joel takes his balls away and leans down watching your face twist with ecstasy.

“Just like that, angel. Good little slut.”

Your eyes lock before he leans lower and kisses you plunging his tongue into your mouth. The taste of whiskey and Joel invades all your senses and you answer his kiss hungrily grasping his shoulders.

You part from your step uncle when you hear Tommy’s voice and see him standing next to Joel now.

“Daddy’s turn, babygirl.”

Joel steps away grabbing his glass and emptying it in one go, his cock hard in his hand.

Tommy helps you to sit up on the edge of the table and lifts you up. You kiss him, wrapping your legs around his waist. He smells and tastes like you.

“Let’s take the slut to bed, Tommy,” Joel rasps and you feel his hand engulf the back of your head.

Tommy’s lips leave you and he looks into your eyes,

“Where do you want us to fuck you, sweetheart?”

“Your bedroom, please,” you purr with an innocent smile. You mean their bedroom on their marital bed and when he hears it, his upper lip twitches. For a second fear grips your heart when you think he’s disgusted with you, reminded of his brutal betrayal of his wife.

But in a flash his lips are caressing yours with vigor. His mouth slides to your neck and he harshly sucks in your skin there making you cry out.

“Fuckin’ dirty girl. Wanna be fucked in your mama’s bed, on her favourite sheets,” he growls into your neck and then heads to the stairs holding you in his arms.

***

When you three get into the master bedroom their hands are immediately all over you and you feel too hazy and drunk on endorphins to know who’s taking off your dress, whose lips are sucking hickies into your neck. Soon Tommy and you are sitting naked on the foot of the bed as you’re straddling him. The nightstand lamps are illuminating your bodies with dim and soft light. He’s kissing you gently as his cock nests between your bodies and you’re slowly grinding your soaked pussy against it.

Suddenly you feel a big hand wrap around the base of your throat and move up to your jaw applying pressure and tilting your head up. You don’t fight it and look up seeing Joel’s face hovering over yours.

“Are you gonna be good for us, baby?” He asks, staring into your eyes.

He doesn’t wait for an answer, but takes your chin between his fingers and opens your mouth. You widen your eyes in confusion until he leans down and spits in your mouth. You moan as the warm liquid slides down your tongue and into your throat and you swallow it. Joel hums approvingly and bends down to kiss you. It’s more gentle than the first time. Joel’s lips muffle your whimper when Tommy takes your breast in his mouth and swirls his tongue around your nipple. You cry out when he nips at the bud and part from Joel.

“Don’t be jealous, daddy,” you whine looking at your stepdad whose fingers are digging into your hips.

Joel sits on the bed next to Tommy, also naked and your eyes dart between the brothers.

They’re both gorgeous - wide shoulders, broad chests, golden skin. Tommy is thinner than Joel and his cock is not as big but their members are longer than anything you’ve taken so far. A little part of you is worried but you’ve wanted it for so long and you’re fully ready to be ruined by them.

“Daddy, uncle, please fuck me,” you plead pouting your lips.

“Her pussy is mine,” Tommy says as his fiery eyes land on Joel and then you.

“I can fuck her ass, no problem. For me. But it can be a big one for her,” he smirks and slaps your ass cheek. “Is your ass ready for uncle Joel’s visit?”

You can’t wait to be fucked so you silently get off Tommy’s lap, kneel on the bed between the men and lay down between them, sticking your ass up in the air.

“I’m not sure. Can you check?” You purr wiggling your butt and you hear Joel groan while Tommy curses.

You rest your cheek on your hand bringing the other to your ass and pull on the flesh showing off your holes to the men.

“Good little whore,” Joel praises you rubbing your ass cheek, “Do you think she’s ever taken it up her ass?”

“For her own good I hope she has, or you’ll rip her apart,” Tommy replies and the brothers laugh as your core tightens from hearing them talk about you as if you’re not in the room.

“Aw, angel, look at your pussy winking at us. Fear turns you on, huh? Good to know…dirty slut.”

You feel him spit on your tight hole and then he pushes the tip of his finger into you. You clench around it with a mewl and he slaps your ass not too hard but enough to leave a mark, “Relax, baby, need to get this ass ready.”

He tries again and inserts his digit up to the top knuckle.

While Joel is opening your asshole up like a Christmas present, Tommy climbs up the bed and rests his back against the headboard. He positions you so you’re between his legs. His cock is in his hand right in front of your face and you don’t hesitate to lift yourself on your elbows and lick a wet stripe along the underside of his length. His soft salty skin makes you salivate and you take his tip in your drooling mouth sucking on it and licking the slit. You moan swallowing his precum while Joel pushes his finger to the last knuckle and begins stretching you for his cock.

“Love the taste, sweetheart?” Tommy mumbles, closing his eyes for a second and bucking his hips up to get deeper into your hot mouth.

You start bobbing your head up and down while your hand is jerking your stepdad’s shaft as your eyes flutter shut with pleasure. Tommy's cock in your mouth feels like it belongs there and you give all of yourself blowing him until he holds your head between his hands stopping you.

“Hey, hey, babygirl, you’ll make me come like that… wanna fill up your pussy.”

You take his cock out of your mouth begrudgingly and rest your head on his inner thigh still gripping his cock.

“If you don’t fuck me soon, daddy, I’ll lick your balls and make you come all over your stomach,” you purr with a naughty smile but cold eyes, getting impatient. Tommy looks up at the ceiling, mumbling curses under his breath.

“Is she ready?” He asks Joel with a shaky voice and you hear his older brother hum as his finger leaves your asshole. You feel looser and miss Joel stuffing your tight ring.

“Get on the side, you two. I ain’t kneeling,” he roars.

Tommy manhandles you on his lap and scoots up to the edge of the bed holding you close. Joel stands behind your back.

“Maybe we can get you a cuck chair, old man?” You giggle getting comfortable straddling Tommy when suddenly Joel grabs your throat and pulls you up on your knees, your back pressed tightly to his chest.

His lips brush the shell of your ear as he hisses leaning down, “I’m about to fuck your ass, stupid slut, getting on my nerves ain’t the best idea.”

“Joel,” Tommy's voice is worried, “she’s kidding.”

To reassure your stepdad you moan and snake your hand around Joel’s neck grabbing his hair and pulling him closer.

“Don’t worry, daddy, uncle Joel and I are just playing.”

Joel growls and pushes you on Tommy’s chest.

“Plug her sloppy hole, brother, then I’ll wreck her ass. Got lube?”

Tommy nods his head at the nightstand.

You hear Joel shuffle stuff around in the drawer and then he jiggles a lube bottle in front of your face.

“Half empty, angel, your mom’s either as dry as her turkey or she loves it up her butt,” he chuckles.

“I fucking hate you,” you grunt through gritted teeth as jealousy burns your insides.

Tommy kisses the corner of your mouth trying to calm you down and then grabs your hip with one hand to guide you while the other holds his weeping cock at your wet hole.

You immediately pierce yourself on his member in one swift move moaning together with him. You feel full to the brim as your folds part for his girth and your walls snugly envelope his hardness.

“Holy fuck, babygirl, you’re tight”, he breathes out.

“My pussy is just for you, Tommy,” you whisper in his ear, tilting your hips and pushing your ass out hoping Joel will get the hint.

The older brother accepts your invitation right away and drops a generous amount of lube on the spot just above your asshole. You flinch feeling the cold liquid slide down to your tight ring and then your pussy stretched around Tommy’s cock.

Joel’s hand grips your shoulder for leverage while his fat lubed up tip presses to your asshole. The nerves churn in your stomach and your nails dig into your stepdad’s shoulders as you breathe deeply trying to calm down and relax your muscles.

Joel pushes the head into you making you half gasp-half moan as he stretches you. It aches just a bit as you’ve been wearing a butt plug in preparation for the night but you furrow your brows and open your mouth acting like an anal virgin for your unaware stepdad. ‘You’re his innocent stepdaughter’ after all.

“Daddy, he’s so big,” you whine, biting your lip and looking into his eyes.

“‘s right, angel,” Joel smirks behind you.

“Wanna stop?” Tommy asks, his voice concerned but you shake your head. No way you want to stop this!

“No, just hold me, please,” you plead and Tommy hugs you tightly, his arms over yours as you nuzzle the crease of his neck.

In this position, resting on your stepdad’s chest, your ass is sticking out perfectly for Joel who pushes his slicked hardness into you slowly while Tommy is rubbing your back whispering ‘good girl’s into your hair.

You mewl when Joel bottoms out with a growl hitting your pussy with his heavy balls.

Being completely full with the brothers’ cocks you whimper loudly when you sit up a little and feel them move inside you.

“Oh fuck, you’re both so big.”

“Move babygirl, you’ll get used to it.”

You hear Tommy’s words and grind your hips back and forth and all three of you moan in unison.

“Fuck, angel. Unclench your ass, you gonna make me cum too soon.” Joel groans and you take a deep breath trying to subside your excitement.

“Please move,” you mewl breathing deeply and they start slowly fucking you.

You’d never tell him but you’re grateful to Joel for going at it at a slow pace as your plug had nothing on the man’s girth and you feel the dull pain of the stretch as he’s pushing his cock in and out.

Tommy notices your pained expression and cups your cheek before giving you a passionate kiss. His cock twitches inside you as he’s thrusting up into your pussy with deep and slow strokes.

“You’re doing so good for us, babygirl,” he whispers as your lips brush. His hand kneads your breast, thumb and forefinger twitch your nipple as the other slithers down to your mound. He finds your hardened clit and starts rubbing it with two fingers.

Joel is panting and huffing behind you fucking your tight ass. He takes a hold of your throat and squeezes getting your attention.

“Imma fuck you hard now, slut. Ready or not.”

Tommy starts objecting but you want nothing more right now than to be ruined by their cocks.

“Yes, uncle Joel…Fuck me... Daddy please… my holes are yours.”

Joel immediately increases the pace at which his hips slap against your ass pushing his member into your asshole.

Tommy whines at your words and braces his hand on the bed before he starts power fucking your dripping cunt.

Your brain completely shuts down as your holes are being wrecked by your step uncle and stepdad. Your nails scratch Tommy’s shoulders as your core tightens, pussy and asshole clench around their fat cocks and your eyes roll back as your orgasm approaches fast.

“I told you this slut wanted it, huh?! Her holes were made for our dicks, brother. Look at her cock dumb face!” You hear Joel’s triumphant speech and see him slap Tommy’s shoulder. “Proud of you brother. You took what you wanted!”

Your stepdad smiles and looks at you with dark eyes. Joel leans over your shoulder, grabs your chin and turns your head to face him.

“You’re our fuck toy now, got it, angel? We gonna fill you up so good your belly will bloat. And we’ll do it again cos it’s all you’re good for… being fucked and suck our dicks and balls,” he growls as they’re pushing their cocks in and out. “Say it, “I’m your fuck toy, uncle” he commands shaking your head.

“I’m your fuck toy, uncle,” you repeat obediently as your eyes well up with tears. You’re moved by the immense pleasure coursing through your veins and your climax hits as you cry and moan squeezing their cocks. Tommy grabs a hold of your shaking body as you squirt and drown his member. Squelching sounds fill the room and the extra wetness sends Tommy over the edge as he shoots his cum deep into your womb.

Joel is still holding your jaw, then he curses and crashes his mouth on yours. His kiss is brutal, dominant and overwhelming, plush lips abusing yours, tongue licking into your mouth.

It takes a few strokes before he begins filling your ass with his warm seed. He parts from you moaning and your heart sings hearing them both omitting the sounds of pleasure because of you.

When they stop moving inside your body, you fall on Tommy’s chest and he holds you through the aftershocks, still buried deep inside your pussy.

Joel pulls his cock out and slaps your ass before plopping across the bed next to Tommy and you.

Tommy kisses your cheek panting and falls on his back next to Joel.

They’re looking up at you, eyes roaming your body, glistening with sweat, and smiling, Tommy with affection and Joel with his usual wolfish grin.

You must look spent and fucked out and your stepdad tells you to lay down. You get on the bed placing your head on the pillow and Tommy goes to the bathroom for a wet towel.

Joel turns on his side bracing his head on his hand, semi hard cock resting on his thigh, and watches you for a few moments before speaking,

“Show me.”

“What?”

“How good we filled your holes”.

You smirk at him and bend your legs pressing the knees to your chest. Joel scoots up closer to you and glides his middle finger against your asshole and up to your entrance and then clit making you flinch at the overstimulation.

“Squeeze it out,” he commands, opening your thighs wider.

Tommy comes back just in time to see your pussy contract and push out his cum and his cock twitches. It slides down to your asshole as Joel’s spend trickles out as well. Joel mixes the liquids with his thumb and then sits up to feed them to you. Tommy gets on the bed and watches you lick Joel’s finger clean off their warm cum.

When you’re done Tommy gently cleans you up with the wet towel while Joel gets up to light a cigarette and then lies down next to you smoking.

Tommy throws the towel away and joins you two. He turns your head and you make out for some time while Joel’s filling the room with smoke. You know Jess is going to be livid and smile internally.

Tommy parts from you and looks into your eyes, “delete the recording, babygirl, you don’t need it. This pussy is mine now”, he whispers against your lips as his hand cups your heated center. “We’ll make it work.”

You swallow loudly and look at Joel who’s watching you two like a hawk. His eyes are cold and intent. He shifts his jaw, then takes a drag of his cigarette and exhales the smoke in your face.

You turn away feeling your eyes sting and look up at the ceiling.

What the fuck are you going to do now?

*****

Thank you for reading!💖

Your comments and reblogs will make me very happy!❤️

Part 5

General tag list: @nervousmumbling @harriedandharassed @bbyanarchist @milla-frenchy @missannwinchester @iamasaddie @stevie75

Series tag list: @koshkaj-blog @survivingandenduring @nana90azevedo @mermaidgirl30 @oldenoughtoknowbettersstuff @obscurexsorrows @tammythr @ratoonstown @anama-cara @pedge-page @huskyfox5 @ashleyfilm @neverwheremoonchild @stevie75

RAIDER JOEL @toxicanonymity

Raider Joel + Sweet Pea plethora of stories, scenarios, world building.

WRITER SPOTLIGHT @romana-after-dark

THE WRONG WAY Raider Joel, Completed series. Joel is the leader of raiders and takes the reader for himself as back and future payment for their protection. This is very, very dark and broken Joel and a reader who knows nothing better in her life. Stockholm syndrome only deepens after finding out she’s pregnant. Tommy is a good guy and many complicated and interesting relationships. Bonus Oscar Isaac character! And sequel GHOST OF YOU

KEEP CRY’N Joel finds a new toy and gets off while you cry

WRITER SPOTLIGHT @kewwrites

BULLET FOR YOU, DARLIN’ Dark raider Joel takes the reader for his own personal pleasure, takes place years into the outbreak, …

SUNSHINE Slow burn to darkness, begins pre-outbreak. Woman and her young son move into the house across from Joel and Sarah. They all hit it off from day one… until dark Joel doesn’t want to let Sunshine go…

CLOSE YOUR EYES AND PAY THE PRICE FOR YOUR PARADISE @ozarkthedog

Reader breaks down in the middle of outbreak nowhere and Joel and Tommy stop with their truck and pick her up…

@patti7dc

THE HUNTED and THE CHASE

Multi part series. Non outbreak, Serial killer Joel in a cabin in the woods hears a woman humming, collecting berries outside. He thinks she’s his next victim…

🝮NO ONE BUT ME @koshkamartell

Dark Joel feels the reader belongs to him and doesn’t take no for an answer. But he won’t make it an official relationship. Reader has given up on sneaking around with Joel without commitment and ends things. She starts a new job at the Jackson library along side another man…

ALL I DID WAS WHAT I HAD TO @corazondebeskar-reads

Raided Joel saves you from an abusive husband only to become his pet. And he doesn’t share

SMACK MY BITCH UP @milla-frenchy

You’re captured by raiders and given two options… either will make you free use for the men of the community. Starting with the boss Joel

SMOTHER @beardedjoel

Cold, starved, alone, directionless after you’ve run from your community being overrun by raiders. You come upon an solitary inhabited cabin with a man chopping wood outside. You take a chance at possible kindness and a badly needed meal. Joel brings you in and in his mind you need him to take care of you…

THE MENU @tightjeansjavi

QZ Joel who smuggles and sells, you who are bratty and in need of a fix to cope with this life. He wants you and over time you show up at his door wanting to be fucked…

CAPTIVE, CONFLICTED @joelsgreys

Taken by Joel as his own, you’re both scared and confused about what you feel

SINGLE STORIES

WRITER SPOTLIGHT @katiexpunk

LITTLE MOUSE Reader is stood up at a seedy bar and aggressively approached by a seedy creep. Murder Daddy / Biker Joel saves the reader then takes her on his bike…

NIGHTMARE BEFORE CHRISTMAS You’re an escort, strictly public date and no sex. Tonight’s date does not go as planned…

ULTRAVIOLENCE @devilmademewriteit

Raider Joel saves a woman from being raped, only to take her for his own.

WRITER SPOTLIGHT @ozarkthedog

SHADOWS Walking home in the cold darkness through Jackson when Dark Joel comes along…

ENSNARE Jackson Joel who needs an outlet for his darker side- CNC with reader

WRITER SPOTLIGHT @corazondebeskar-reads

THE DEVIL YOU DON’T KNOW (OR HOWEVER IT GOES) Raider Joel catches you on his land. Abduction/suspension

THIS WORLD IS NOT MADE FOR YOU Raider Joel takes you out of the house, but when you’re out of sight you’re attacked and he kills 4 men. You’re taught a lesson

THE ART OF BREAKING Non-outbreak Joel brings you to his desires (and yours) to make you his perfect little pet.

JOEL FUCKING MILLER on AO3 @pedroshotwifey

Dark and angsty Joel + a hard working reader in the QZ… both loners, 🔥 first encounter

COMMON TONGUE OF YOUR LOVING ME @tightjeansjavi

Raider Joel finds you in his territory. You’re alone. He offers you two choices- become his pet or be thrown to his men…

IN DARKNESS AND IN SECRECY @divinehedons

You escape the QZ only to be caught by Joel

FREE USE @softpascalito

CNC with Joel

HATE @notjustjavierpena

Joel uses you as he likes. Plenty of degradation. When you ask him to pull out he doesn’t.

PET @nala2811

Your group is massacred and you’re put in a cage at a raiders market to be sold. Joel buys you and takes you back to his compound to share with Tommy

HURT AND PROTECT @lokischocolatefountain

Joel will beat anyone with his bare hands that insults you, but will take you any way he likes even in the middle of the QZ 🌶️🔥

KEEP ON YOUR MEAN SIDE @milla-frenchy

Alone and hunting for mushrooms in the woods you’re grabbed from behind by a man who puts a gun to your head, told to do whatever he wants…

WRITER SPOTLIGHT @joelscruff

TO FREEZE OR TO THAW Joel takes you into his group and then takes you as his

A KINDNESS YOU CANT AFFORD part 2, Tommy helps you dress, you cockwarm Joel while he gives his group of raiders directions

YOU’RE MINE, LITTLE DOVE @mountainsandmayhem

You take a walk in the park at night to be alone, looking up at the stars in the dark when you’re grabbed, tied, gagged and thrown into a truck… twist ending

TRAINING DAY @koshkamartell

You’re home from a long day at work to find Joel and his friends over watching a game, ruining the plans you had made that morning to spend the evening together. Angry, you decide to flirt with the men and Joel is furious, you see a side of him and Tommy you’ve never known before

GODLESS @javier-penas-wifexx420

You’re a whore at a brothel in the west. A little town who paid dues to Joel and his men- ruthless when they came into town. On this visit Joel buys you from your pimp…

MINE @callachloe

At a function and Joel reminds you who you belong to

Raider Joel and his pet coded listening pleasure:

🔪🩸I’m always looking for more to add (this is just the beginning!) so check back and if you have suggestions/recs I’m glad to take a look!