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sinful-mind-joyful-thoughts · 3 months

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𝐋𝐢𝐟𝐞𝟑𝟔𝟎 | 2

part 1 - Tinder

screencaps and gifs: Pinterest

Pairing: dark!Joel Miller x Fem!reader

Warnings/tags: MDNI 18+, DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT, NON CON, DUB CON, Drinking, food, flirting, DRUGGING, KIDNAPPING, talks of true crime, Degradation, Praise, Humiliation, fear, panic, anxiety, spiting, oral M, cum play, Blowjob, throat fucking, threats, Physical Violence, Bondage (rope), THIS IS A WORK OF FICTION, YOU ARE RESPONSIBLE FOR THE CONTENT YOU CONSUME

Summary: A Tinder date goes very, very wrong, but you always consider yourself prepared for such situations. or so you think

WC: 2.8K

For notifications follow - @sinful-mind-joyful-fics

A/n: I tried to step out of my comfort zone a little with this. It's based on a post I saw while doom-scrolling on this app from @blondwhowrites. She had this amazing post about wanting to see more readers who fight and don't stop. They don't lose hope, they go into survival mode, and I just hope I do this idea somewhat justice. AND IT GETS JUICY in this part....

The pounding in your head was relentless, each beat echoing like a drum inside your skull. As your vision slowly cleared, the dim light seared your eyes, intensifying the headache. You lay on a small, dirty mattress, the only things in sight were two small windows letting in weak slivers of daylight, a door, and a set of stairs leading down. You were still in your dress and heels from the night before, the fabric now wrinkled and uncomfortable against your skin.

Panic surged through you, your mind racing. You forced yourself to breathe, reminding yourself that you knew how to handle this. Jess had your location; if you were missing for more than a day, she would report it.

“Stay calm,” you whispered to yourself, your voice trembling.

You took a deep breath, focusing on the small details around you. The room was sparse, but there had to be something you could use. You scanned the area methodically, trying to ignore the fear clawing at your throat.

Your phone. You needed your phone. You patted your dress, but there were no pockets. Joel must have taken it. You closed your eyes, fighting the wave of despair. Jess had your location. She’d check Life360 and see something was wrong.

“Think,” you told yourself, trying to stay rational. Joel had been careful, but he must have made a mistake. You just had to find it.

You stood up slowly, your head spinning slightly as you did. The tightness of your dress and the ache in your feet from the heels added to your discomfort. You staggered to the door, pressing your ear against the wood. Silence. You tried the handle, but it was locked.

The stairs then. You moved cautiously, your heels making faint clicking sounds on the cold floor. You reached the top of the stairs, glancing down. The faint light from below suggested another room, but you had no idea what awaited you.

Taking another deep breath, you started to descend. Each step felt like an eternity, the fear of making noise almost paralyzing you. When you reached the bottom, you paused, listening. Nothing. You tried the handle, but it was locked. Frustration bubbled up, but you pushed it down. You couldn’t afford to lose control.

Returning to the main room, you approached the other door. You turned the handle cautiously and pushed it open, revealing a small bathroom. It was just as dingy as the main room, with cracked tiles and a grimy mirror. There was nothing here that could help you escape.

Desperation creeping in, you began searching the shelves and every nook and cranny. Dusty and neglected, they offered little hope. Finally, on one of the shelves, you found an old can of beans. It wasn’t much, but it was something. You hid it carefully in the folds of the mattress, just in case.

“Okay,” you muttered to yourself, trying to stay calm. “Think. What next?”

Your mind raced as you reviewed everything you knew about the room. The small windows were too high and narrow to climb through. The locked door at the top of the stairs was your best bet, but you needed a way to get through it.

You took another deep breath, forcing yourself to stay calm. Jess had your location. She would check in on you. You had to hold on to that hope.

Footsteps echoed from below, growing louder. Joel was coming. You quickly lay back down on the mattress, feigning unconsciousness, your heart pounding.

The door creaked open, and Joel’s shadow fell over you. You kept your breathing steady, hoping he wouldn’t notice the slight tremor in your hands.

“Just checking on you,” he murmured, his voice soft. “We’ll talk more when you wake up.”

You heard the door close, and his footsteps recede. You opened your eyes, staring up at the ceiling. You had to find a way out. Jess was counting on you. You were counting on you.

“Stay strong,” you whispered to yourself. “Stay smart.”

Hours passed as you combed through every inch of the small room, searching for any flaw, any potential escape route. The old can of beans hidden in the folds of the mattress was your only find. It was growing darker, and your hope felt as dim as the room around you. The sting of despair lingered, but you fought it off, knowing you had to stay strong.

The only light came from the windows, now dark with the encroaching night. You noticed a string hanging from the ceiling, where a light bulb should have been. It dangled uselessly, a stark reminder of your isolation.

The silence was interrupted by the sound of footsteps below. Joel was coming back. You quickly resumed your position on the mattress, trying to appear exhausted and disoriented. The door creaked open, and Joel entered, carrying a tray of food.

“Thought you might be hungry,” he said, setting the tray down on a small table.

You forced a weak smile, sitting up slowly. “Thanks.”

Joel watched you with an unsettling intensity as you picked at the food. You needed to keep him talking, to gather more information. “Joel, why are you doing this?”

He smiled, a chillingly calm expression. “I just want us to get to know each other better. Away from all the distractions.”

“By locking me up?” you challenged, your voice trembling.

“You’ll understand in time,” he said, ignoring your question. “Are you feeling better?”

You nodded, though your mind was racing. “I’m just a bit dizzy still.”

“Good,” he replied, his eyes never leaving yours. “Get some rest. We’ll talk more tomorrow.”

As he turned to leave, you mustered the courage to ask, “What if I need something? There’s no light in here.”

Joel paused, glancing at the dangling string. “I’ll see what I can do about that.”

The door closed behind him, and you were alone again. You waited, listening to his footsteps fade away before you sprang into action. You grabbed the can of beans from its hiding spot and approached the string. It was a flimsy hope, but perhaps it could be used in some way.

The night stretched on, each minute feeling like an hour. But you remained vigilant, your true crime instincts sharpening with every passing moment. You would find a way out. You had to.

Eventually, exhaustion overpowered your fear. Clutching the can of beans tightly, you lay down on the mattress, forcing yourself to rest. Your eyes grew heavy, and despite your best efforts, sleep claimed you.

You awoke to the feeling of hands on your wrists. Panic shot through you as you realized Joel was there, his grip firm and unyielding. You tried to pull away, but your limbs felt sluggish, uncooperative.

"Shh," Joel murmured, his voice unsettlingly calm. "Just a precaution."

You glanced around frantically, your heart racing. Joel was binding your wrists together with a length of rope. The realization hit you like a cold wave: you were trapped, and he was making sure you couldn’t escape.

“What are you doing?” you demanded, your voice shaking.

“Making sure you don’t hurt yourself,” Joel replied, his tone eerily soothing. “You seemed restless in your sleep.”

“I won’t try anything,” you pleaded, struggling against the bonds. “Just let me go.”

Joel’s eyes met yours, and you saw a flicker of something dark in his gaze. “I can’t do that. Not yet.”

You fought harder, but Joel’s grip was strong. He finished tying your wrists and then moved to your ankles, securing them with the same methodical care. Fear bubbled up inside you, threatening to spill over.

“Please, Joel,” you begged, your voice breaking. “You don’t have to do this.”

Joel stepped inside, holding a light bulb in his hand. He dangled it in front of you, a cruel smile playing on his lips. “I brought you something,” he said, his voice dripping with mock kindness. “But you’ll have to earn it.”

You glared at him, your anger simmering beneath the surface. “What do you want from me?”

Joel knelt down beside you, his gaze intense. “I want your cooperation,” he said softly. “You need to show me that I can trust you. That you’re willing to play by my rules.”

“What rules?” you demanded, your voice trembling with a mixture of fear and defiance.

He leaned closer, his face inches from yours. “Simple ones. Behave. Don’t try to escape. And, most importantly, tell me everything I want to know.”

Your heart pounded in your chest as you realized what he was asking. He wanted information—about you, your life, your vulnerabilities. He wanted control.

“Why should I trust you?” you spat, trying to keep your voice steady.

Joel’s smile widened. “Because if you don’t, things will get much worse for you. But if you cooperate, I’ll make sure you’re comfortable. Like giving you this light bulb, for example.”

You swallowed hard, the enormity of your situation crashing down on you. You had to play along, at least for now. You had to buy yourself time.

“Okay,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper. “What do you want to know?”

“It’s not what I want to know per se, it’s what I want you to do in this moment,” Joel said, his voice chillingly calm.

You stared at him, fear and defiance battling for control. “What do you mean?”

Joel’s smile widened, and he reached out to brush a strand of hair from your face. His touch was gentle, almost tender, but it sent a shiver of revulsion down your spine. “I want you to relax,” he said, his fingers trailing down to play with the ends of your hair. “I want you to be... cooperative.”

You jerked your head away, trying to pull back from his touch. “Get away from me,” you spat, your voice trembling with anger and fear.

Joel’s grip tightened, and he yanked you closer, his eyes darkening. “You don’t have a choice,” he hissed, his voice low and menacing. “It’s this or death. Do you understand?”

Your heart pounded in your chest, terror flooding your veins. You struggled against him, but his strength was overwhelming. “I won’t do anything for you,” you said, your voice barely more than a whisper.

Joel’s expression hardened, and he pushed you back onto the mattress, pinning you down with a frightening ease. “You will,” he said, his face inches from yours. “You will, or I will make your life a living hell. Do you understand me?”

You fought back, trying to twist away from him, but he held you fast. Panic surged through you, and you bit back a scream. “Please, don’t do this,” you pleaded, tears welling in your eyes. “Just let me go.”

Joel’s grip tightened, and he leaned in closer, his breath hot against your face. “You have no idea how much worse things can get,” he whispered, his tone icy. “You will do what I say, or you will suffer.”

Tears streamed down your face as you realized the hopelessness of your situation. You were trapped, and there was no way out. Jess had your location, but would it be enough? Would she find you in time?

Joel released you slightly, still keeping a firm grip on your wrists. “Now,” he said, his voice softer but no less menacing, “are you going to be a good girl and cooperate, or do I need to show you what happens when you disobey?”

You swallowed hard, the weight of his threat crushing your spirit. “Okay,” you whispered, your voice breaking. “I’ll cooperate.”

Joel’s smile returned, and he released your wrists and undid the binding, sitting back on his heels. “Good,” he said, his tone almost cheerful. “That’s a good start. Now, let’s get you a bit more comfortable.”

He stood up and walked to the door, leaving you trembling on the mattress. You watched him, your mind racing with thoughts of escape, but the reality of your situation kept you paralyzed with fear.

Joel returned a moment later, holding the light bulb. He approached the dangling string and screwed the bulb into the socket. The room was suddenly bathed in harsh light, revealing the true extent of its dinginess.

“There,” Joel said, turning to face you. “That’s better, isn’t it?” He walked over to you, his presence looming ominously. “Now say thank you or I’ll leave you in the dark with the mice.”

You stayed on the mattress, savoring the small distance between you. “Thank-” Joel cut you off.

“No, no. Thank me properly,” he said, a sick grin spreading across his face. You wanted to smack it off, to fight back, but you knew it would only make things worse. “Crawl to me,” he commanded.

The words made your cheeks flush with humiliation. Your mind raced. If you wanted to escape, you needed to gain his trust. But was his trust worth your dignity? You hesitated, the internal conflict paralyzing you.

Joel's grin faded slightly, his eyes narrowing. “Do it,” he growled, a dangerous edge to his voice. “Or I’ll make sure you regret it.”

You took a deep breath, forcing down the surge of anger and humiliation. “I can’t crawl with my legs bound,” you said, your voice dripping with sarcasm. “Unless you want me to flop around like a fish.”

Joel’s eyes flashed with annoyance, but he knelt down and untied your ankles. “There,” he said, standing back up. “Now, crawl.”

Tears pricked your eyes as you slowly shifted onto your hands and knees. The dirty floor scraped against your skin, and every inch you moved felt like a mile. You could feel Joel’s gaze burning into you, his satisfaction palpable.

You reached him, your head bowed, heart pounding in your chest. “Thank you,” you whispered, your voice barely audible.

Joel chuckled, a dark, humorless sound. “Good girl,” he said, reaching down to stroke your hair. You flinched at his touch, but forced yourself to stay still. “See? That wasn’t so hard, was it?”

You bit back the bile rising in your throat, refusing to give him the satisfaction of seeing you break down. “What do you want from me?” you asked, your voice shaking.

Joel moved his hands to his belt, his eyes darkening with sinister intent. "I think you know what I want you and those pretty little lips to do," he whispered, his hand caressing your face. He finished unbuckling his belt, and as his pants fell to the floor with a thud, you flinched involuntarily. "Pull down my boxers," he ordered, taunting you as if you were a child.

You swallowed your pride, your mind racing with strategies to fight back. As you lowered his boxers, he taunted you further, waving his length near your face. Instinctively, you reached out with your hand, but he grabbed your hair roughly, yanking your head back. "I didn’t ask for your hands," he spat, his voice laced with venom. "I asked you to suck my dick."

Before you could react, he spat on you, his warm saliva trickling down your face. You opened your mouth to protest, but he shoved his length into your mouth forcefully, leaving you no time to prepare. The size of him stretched your mouth painfully, making you feel as if you might rip apart.

"This can’t be over soon enough," you thought, struggling against the overwhelming violation. But to your horror, you felt a strange sensation growing between your legs. His cock was hard, the taste of his precum salty on your tongue.

“Look at me,” he demanded. You resisted, focusing instead on his messy brown hair. You felt a wave of disgust at yourself for even noticing such a detail. This wasn’t the man you met on Tinder; this was a psychopath.

He gripped your head with both hands, forcing himself deeper into your throat. "That's it," he groaned, thrusting shallowly. The sound of your gagging and choking filled the room. "I don’t care if you fucking choke to death. Your throat feels like heaven."

As he continued, your mind raced for a plan. You took breaths through your nose, waiting for the perfect moment to make him pay for his actions. Just as you prepared to bite down, he thrust deeply one last time, and you felt a hot, steamy rope of his cum hit the back of your throat, its salty taste overwhelming.

Joel roughly pushed you away, pulling up his pants as you fell back, coughing and choking, your throat raw and dry. He walked over, fixing his belt. “See, it wasn’t that hard now, was it?” he sneered.

Before you could respond, he left the room, the only comfort in the dark basement now the solitary light bulb. You lay there, trembling with rage and humiliation, vowing silently that you would find a way to escape and make him pay for every moment of torment.

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