#joel is twisted

[xanqels]

For I Have Sinned.

DarkCorruptedPriest!Joel Miller x Innocent!Reader

Summary: Father Miller sets eyes on you, and decides then and there that you are to be ruined by him.

Parings: joel miller x f!reader

Warnings: SMUT!!! No outbreak au! reader is a virgin and very naive, loss of innocence, corruption kink (he’s into taking her vcard), blackmail, dubcon, virginity loss, fingering, slight humiliation(?), bit of mocking, pet names (darlin’, baby, sweet girl etc), dirty talk, using the lords name in vain, unprotected piv (wrap before you tap), power imbalance, oral (f receiving), age gap (reader is mid to late 20s, Joel is late 50s), Joel is an asshole in this, mentions of god/the bible/sinning. Conclusion: Joel should not be a priest. if there’s any i’ve misses please let me know.

Word Count: 4.9k

A/N: I would like to thank @chloeangelic for inspiring me to write this and also giving me some encouragement, and I’d also like to thank @toxicanonymity for inspiring me to write dark!joel and creating the joelkemon universe. Also I do apologise if the timing of the story is a bit everywhere, this is my first fanfic!! any and all criticism is welcome with open arms.

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He still remembers the first day he met you.

You and your family had brought him a pie, a cherry one. They wanted to welcome him, congratulate him for becoming the new priest in their humble town. A sweet gesture from such a perfectly sweet girl and her devout family.

He remembered your face, he could draw it from memory if he wanted to - if he could draw, that was. The perfect mix of beauty, grace and innocence stood before him that very day and he was hooked. Hooked on your gaze, your smile, your scent, but most of all, your innocence and blind naivety to the world.

He knew then and there, that you were his to ruin.

Every Sunday from then on, his eyes were stuck on you, what you were wearing, the way your cheeks flushed when your eyes met his. Everything about you was mere perfection. A sight of innocence, of naivety that he couldn’t wait to take hold of and ruin for every other man.

He wanted his name to be the last thing on your lips at night, and the first thing to be spoken in the morning. He wanted to curse your mind with images of him, to make you worship him instead of God. And so, in his mind he curated the perfect plan to get you alone.

“Go forth, knowing that you are cherished,” His voice, a deep texan accent, talking to the congregation, “chosen and empowered by the Creator of the Universe.” But why did it feel as though he was talking to purely you? His words, so enchanting you lingered on every line he spoke. His sermons were fresh, new and slightly modern. A stark contrast from Father Rafferty’s sermons.

“May his grace be upon you. Now and forevermore.” He looks up, eyes scanning the room before landing on yours. Dark brown iris’ peering into your soul, as you feel your cheeks flush. He likes the way your cheeks blush when you look at him. You want him. You need him, he tells himself. “Amen.” He states as you look away, the rest of the congregation, including yourself muttering a simple ‘Amen.’

As you and your family stand up in preparation to leave, Father Miller approaches you, a wide smile on his lips with his Bible and rosary beads in hand. “Mr and Mrs Spencer.” He says, shaking your fathers hand. “How lovely it is to see you again.”

“Well, Father, we could never miss one of your services.” Your mother speaks as you look idly at the floor, eyes tracing over the darkened, dented wood from where people have walked over time. You tune out the conversation, feeling ashamed for dropping Father Millers eyes earlier, and feeling so stupid for blushing.

“Won’t you, honey?” Your fathers voice snaps you out from your thoughts, eyes wide as you look between the three of them. “Pardon?” You ask, heart thumping in your chest.

“Father Miller wants you to help him decorate the church for Easter Sunday. There’ll be plenty of other people there. I think it’d be an excellent idea.” Your father says, as your eyes dart to Father Millers. He smiles, a sweet smile. A comforting, pleasant smile which puts you at ease. Those dark chocolate brown eyes, soft and kind.

You nod, and he clasped his hands together in glee. “Well, perfect. It’ll take a little while, but there’ll be plenty of breaks and we’ll provide food. Hopefully you don’t mind me keeping your daughter occupied for the entire day.” Father Miller says, and your parents don’t seem to mind. Just as long as you’re being the perfect catholic girl you’ve always been. Just as long as you’re kept out of trouble, and as long as you help Father Miller with whatever he needs.

A devout catholic you were. Born and baptised, risen in a strong catholic household and desperate to please the priest. You’d do anything he’d say or ask, as long as it wasn’t a sin, and Joel knew that. He knew how desperate you were to please someone so close to God, his messenger, how you itched to be as pure and holy as one could be. He knew he’d got you wrapped around his little finger

And so, the plan was set in motion. And at 11am on the following Thursday, you were there at the church doors, pushing the solid oak open as you walk into the dim room, the only form of light being the candles Father Miller had lit and the sun shining through the stained-glass windows.

Expecting to be met with various murmurs and fellow church-goers, you find the place empty. Completely deserted, almost, until your eyes lay on him. Tall, stoic and his gaze piercing at you, taking you in. Your small frame, your long white dress, the way your hair lay against your shoulders. The image of innocence.

He smiles, that same sweet smile that he gave you the previous Sunday. “You made it.” He says, walking towards you with his arms out, almost as though he was going to envelope you in a hug.

But he didn’t. He clasped his hands together, rubbing his palms together. “Father Miller.” You exhale softly, eyes scoping the otherwise empty church. “I thought we were all meeting here at eleven. Where is everyone?” You ask, twirling a strand of long hair around your index finger.

He shrugs. “‘m afraid I don’t know. I did invite them.” He says, lying through his teeth. You wouldn’t know that, of course. Too naive to think any differently, to even have a thought that Father Miller may just lie to you. Truth is, he didn’t invite anyone else. Not a single soul. It was only you and him.

You frown, clearly unhappy with the way no one else seemed to turn up but you. The way they so blatantly chose to ignore Father Miller’s need for help. “But you asked for help, surely they should’ve come.”

“Perhaps they got busy.” He lies, looking around the church, eyes glaring at the empty walls. “Anyways, this place won’t decorate itself.” He grins, turning and walking towards the back, hand gesturing for you to follow.

And you do, obediently. Into the back room of the church, full of foldable tables and chairs, boxes of decorations and broken pews. It’s dark, and smells of dust and mildew. The smell violates your nose as you try to adjust to the light, and then Joel flicks a switch, and a singular, dim lightbulb sparks to life.

You grimace at the surroundings. Untidy, dusty and slightly damp. There’s a dark oak table in the corner of the room, covered in cardboard boxes that are filled to the brim. Obviously this room hardly gets properly taken care of, but in a small town like yours, you aren’t surprised. Most of the things that enter this room hardly come back out, unless needed. But, you aren’t here to judge, you’re here to help. Help this poor, middle-aged priest who blessed the community with his sermons and his striking good looks… wait what?

You sigh as you approach the table full of boxes, slender fingers prising open the lids and rooting through the boxes of old memories and décor.

Behind you, Joel was hungrily glaring at your figure. The way you got to work without any questions. So submissive, so silent. Oh, how he can’t wait to hear you moan his name. To cum all over his cock, to..

“Father Miller?” His thoughts are cut off by your melodic voice drifting through the air. “What exactly are we looking for?”

He chuckles, slowly approaching the table. “Sweetheart, it’s not Sunday, and we’re not in a sermon. Please, call me Joel. Let’s drop the formalities for now.” He smiles, looking down at you, and then, his hand is on your lower back. Hardly an inch above your ass. “Just some decorations. Some banners, the candles, my white robe should be in here somewhere.”

You gasp, the feeling foreign and leaving a strange feeling in your loins. You look up from the boxes of discarded mess, eyes meeting his. “Father Miller..” You start, but he glares at you, eyebrows raised. You squint your eyes shut and scrunch your face up, mentally cursing at yourself for not using the name he’d asked you to use. “I mean, Joel..” You clear your throat. “Why would your robe be in here? Surely it should be at your house, or somewhere safe atleast?” Your eyes slowly open, meeting his again.

He looks at his hand, gliding it up and down your back slowly, as though he was comforting you. “Well, William – Sorry, Father Rafferty left it in here for me. Just haven’t had chance to come rootin’ through the boxes.” He hums, a low tune, a soft one. “So, Sweetheart, tell me.. have you ever sinned?”

The abrupt question makes you freeze up, frown at the thought and straighten up slightly, eyebrows furrowed. “What sort of a question is that?” You ask. “Of course not. Well… I don’t think I have.” You say, wracking your brain for an answer. It’s normal for him to ask these sorts of questions, right? He’s just looking out for you. To make sure you’re on the right path, that you’re pure and holy. You’ve never even looked at another man in a sinful way, let alone kiss one. Sure, you might think the odd boy is cute, and maybe you’ve looked at Father Miller – Joel in a different way, and that’s made you feel sinful. You have to admit though, his scruffy salt and pepper beard, dark eyes and calloused hands are no match for any of the local boys. Joel was beautiful. Handsome, even. But he was thirty years your junior, and the priest. It’d ruin his career and his relationship with God, yours too. You couldn’t do it to yourself.

“You’ve never kissed a boy?” He asks, curiosity peaking. You knew kissing wasn’t a sin, but it’s not like you needed to worry about it. You shake your head, saying nothing. “Would you like to kiss one?” He asks, his body suddenly moving to engulf yours, his crotch right against your ass as he wraps his arms around your waist. You shudder at the movement, his breath hot against your ear.

“Father, I’m not sure this is right.” The formalities are back, you’re unsure, nervous and confused. Never once has he acted this way towards you, so flirtatious and curious. And yet you find yourself wanting more. A burning forming deep inside of you.

“Joel.” He corrects. “And it’s alright, darling. Won’t do nothing you don’t want me to do.” He grabs your hips and turns you around in his arms so you’re facing him. He places his index finger under your chin, lifting your head up to look at him, his eyes piercing yours.

You swallow thickly, eyes scanning his features. His scruffy beard is stark in contrast to his combed-back hair. The weathering on is face is showing, proving his age, showing how wise he is. He’s gorgeous, for an older man. You never would’ve assumed he was in his fifties, had he not told you. You bite your lip, weighing out the pros and cons in your mind of potentially giving your first kiss to this man.

“Just tell me what you want, Darlin’.” He speaks, “it’s not a sin. Well, it’s definitely not a sin if you kiss me. We won’t be doing anything wrong.” He urges, watching intently as your tongue pokes out and swipes against your lower lip. You nod, if anyone should know about sin it’s him. If anyone should know what’s right or wrong, it’s him.

He doesn’t waste a second, closing the space between the pair of you, his lips pressing against yours. They’re plump and warm against yours, and you’re not sure what to do. You try to copy his movements, lips moving when his do. It’s hard and confusing at first, but you manage to get the hang of it slowly. It’s innocent at first. Soft, sweet and oh, so innocent. But the more he presses against you, the more your back presses against you solid oak table. The sharp edge digging into your back, the pain making you gasp. Joel takes this opportunity to slide his tongue between your lips. A wet, warm foreign feeling in your mouth.

It’s a long kiss, deep and hungry. His tongue prodding and attacking your mouth every so often, and you could swear you feel something warm and tingly in your lower stomach. You’re stood awkwardly, hands by your sides with absolutely no sense of direction, that is until Joel takes your hands and places them around his neck. You allow it, and as you settle in, his hands find their place on your waist, calloused fingers digging through your cotton dress.

You wince as he nips your bottom lip with his teeth, and you pull away, a string of saliva still connecting the two of you. His eyes dark with a newfound fire in them, and something you can’t quite put your finger on.

“Fuck angel, you taste so good.” Joel whispers, his hand coming up and brushing through your hair as he takes your form in. Slightly plumped lips, red and glossy from your shared saliva, eyes wide and still in shock from the moments. “I can’t get enough of you.”

He leans in again, and even though you expect for him to kiss you again, his lips find a new place – on your neck. His beard tickles the sensitive skin, his lips trailing down your neck to your collarbone, which only just peaks out of your modest dress. Your breath catches in your throat, the fire in your stomach growing strangely stronger, more apparent. You sigh out as he plants a wet kiss against your collarbone, his tongue gliding from your collarbone up to your earlobe.

“Such a good girl.” He murmurs in your ear, his fists grabbing your dress and starting to pull it up. You gasp, placing your hand on top of his to stop him, shaking your head.

“No.” You state. “That’s a sin, I can’t go any further, Father. It’s not right.” You tussle in his grip. “I’m waiting until marriage like I should, like God said I should.”

“Oh, sweet girl.” He purrs, slowly shaking your hand off his. “It’s not a sin if you do it with me. It doesn’t count.” He lies, tugging your dress up so it’s just above your waist. He slips his free hand into the waistband of your panties, hissing as his fingers are met with your arousal. “Oh, baby.” He purrs, his finger skilfully prodding your clit. You whine in his arms. “You’re so wet, so desperate.” Wet? That’s what it is? You’re aroused? By this? That strange, unfamiliar feeling in your gut was caused by him?

His fingers swipe your clit, moving at different angles until your face twisted in pleasure and your mouth drops open. A strangled moan comes from the back of your throat, a noise you didn’t even know you could make. A noise you shouldn’t make, but you can’t help it. You can’t stop the chorus of moans falling from your lips, and to Joel it sounds just like a hymn sung in church. So beautiful and melodic to his ears. He loves it.

His index finger trails down, making you frown at the loss of pleasure, prodding your tight hole. You gasp, immediately itching to get out of his grip again. His grip only tightens, and he pulls his hand out of your panties. He looks at the wetness on his hand in the dim light, admiring the shine and your embarrassed face. “Nothing to be embarrassed about, Sweetheart.” He winks before popping his fingers in his mouth and sucking your juices clean off them. You at him in both shock and awe as he reaches behind you and clears the table off, boxes falling on the floor with decorations scattering around the room.

He lifts you up, your dress still hiked around your waist as he places you on the table, stepping between your thighs. “You gon’ show me all of you, pretty girl?” He asks, caressing your face with the same hand he just sucked clean. You felt sick to your stomach, but at the same time, you yearned for more.

“Forgive me, Father..” You mutter quietly to the man himself upstairs, as you nod your head and lift your arms up. Joel takes complete advantage of this, removing your dress and discarding it on the dirty floor. You know it’ll be dirty and possibly ruined when you retrieve it after, but you’re sure you’ll make something up to appease your parents.

He whistles lowly at the sight of you in your underwear, and since he asked if you would show him all of you, he doesn’t ask if he can unclasp your bra, he just does it, hardly giving you time to react. The cool air immediately makes your nipples harden, stiff peaks standing to attention, desperate to be touched. To be manhandled and played with. He discards your bra ontop of your dress, his hands coming back and cupping your boobs.

You bite your lip at the new sensation as he fondles them “Do you trust me?” He asks, what a stupid question – of course you do. You nod, and he removes his hands from your breasts, his fingers sliding into the waistband of your panties. You lift yourself off the table slightly, after a glare of expectance from Joel, and he pries your soaking wet panties from your body, the soft pink colour now darker where wet.

“Oh, Darlin’.” He groans as he fingers the damp patch, and your cheeks grow hot again. “I’ve hardly even touched you. Hardly even shown you what a good time I can give ya.” He grins, a devilish grin, as he stuffs your soiled panties into his back pocket.

You shiver in anticipation, any worries of sinning or ruining yourself for marriage being long gone. After all, Father Joel Miller said it was okay, and that it wasn’t a sin asking as you did it with him, and he wouldn’t lie to you, right?

He kneels down in between your legs, groaning as his knees click, a sign of his old age. It should snap you out of this, remind you this isn’t who you are, but it does the opposite. Makes you yearn for him, crave him. He grabs your thighs and thrusts you closer to him so your ass is just barely on the table. With one arm wrapped around your waist, he uses his free hand to gently spread your lips, your pussy shining with arousal in the dim light. Glistening, calling for him, he exhales shakily. “Gotta stay still for me, Baby, okay?”

He dives forward, your soaking cunt spread open for him still, and he places a gentle, chaste kiss on your clit. A simple movement that has you jolting, and him chuckling at your reaction. A low, monotone tune.

“God girl, you’re a nasty little thing, huh?” He doesn’t even give you time to answer before he licks a straight line from your tight hole up to your clit. Your moans have his cock rock hard, painfully stretching against his pants. If he doesn’t get to fuck you, he’ll definitely masturbate to the thought of your moans, the way your cheeks were red and eyes glossed over.

He repeats it a couple of more times, licking stripes up your pussy, purely doing it to wind you up and tease you further, as if you weren’t already a soaking mess for him. He takes pity on you and your whines, leaning forward and wrapping his plump lips around your clit, ravenously devouring your pussy as though he hadn’t eaten for days.

It’s pleasure unlike anything you’ve felt before. So intoxicating and mind numbing, you could live on this feeling. Your hands grip the edge of the table, knuckles turning white as you moan, your hips subconsciously rocking and grinding into his mouth. “Joel.” You groan, and he only hums in response, noisily lapping up your leaking juices.

He brings his hand down, the one that was spreading your lips, and gently prods his middle finger against your tight hole. He gently pushes it in, despite your slight squirming and whines, holding it still to allow your pussy to get used to this new feeling, to this intruder. Then, he’s slowly thrusting his finger into you, all the while he’s completely devouring your pussy.

The feeling burns slightly, but is quick to wear off as it soon turns to pleasure, his finger hitting a certain spot that makes you see stars, that makes you unaware of how loud you are, how pitiful you sound. You don’t even realise he’s brought his second finger into the mix until the burn returns and you feel yourself being stretched out further.

You cry out, your hand shooting to his wrist. “Stop.” You command, voice wavering. “Too full.” He pulls his head away, chuckling lowly at the command.

“Too full?” He asks, “How do you expect me to fit my cock in your pretty pussy if you won’t even let me put my second finger in?” He raises an eyebrow. “I thought you were my good girl, are you not? Look at how wet you are, how well you’re taking my fingers.” He gently pushes his fingers in further as he speaks. You look down, the sight simply sinful. Your tight pussy engulfing his large calloused fingers, your juices all over his fingers and knuckles.

“Slowly.” You demand, gently releasing his wrist, and thankfully, he does. He pushes his fingers in, and you’re full. Fuller than you were before, and you didn’t even know that was possible. To feel so filled up and yet.. good? It’s slow, the way his fingers thrust in and out of you, inching deeper every time. It’s progress when the burning subsides, and you nod at Joel.

“Better.” You confirm, and he doesn’t need to ask twice.

His fingers slowly pick up the pace, his tongue attacking your clit again, your hips grinding against him, desperate for more friction, and you don’t even realise you’re doing it.

The burning in your lower abdomen grows stronger, more apparent. Like you’re building up to something momentum, something life changing. “Joel.” You moan. “Fuck, oh God.” You curse, not caring for the moment who hears you curse, or use Gods name in vain. You’ll pray later.

He pulls his lips away from you, smirking up at you. “Gonna cum, baby?” He asks, but you’re unsure. “Let go, Sweet girl. Show me how you cum all over my fingers. Show me how bad you can do.”

Your mouth drops open as his fingers hit that special spot, eyes seemingly rolling into the back of your head as it washes over you. The best thing you’ve felt in your life, crashing over you again and again. You see white flashes, and you feel like you’re on cloud nine. You don’t even realise that you’ve grabbed Joel’s wrist again to keep him in place, your hips rocking back and forth on his fingers.

You’re sweaty, beads of sweat have fallen down your chest, your thighs, and when you come to, you feel filthy, sinful, wrong. Like you’ve just had a piece of you taken. You look down, mouth dropping open as you gently release him from your ironclad grip. “I’m so sorry.” You blubber.

He pulls his fingers out of you, grinning wide at his accomplishment. “Look at that..” He pops his fingers in his mouth, sucking them dry. “Not so innocent, huh? You naughty girl. I heard you curse Gods name.”

“Please don’t mention that to anyone. It was wrong of me. I’m sorry, that shouldn’t of happened.” You plead, the thought of what the community may do to you scares you. You’ve seen what lengths they go to in order to shun someone. “I’ll do anything, just don’t tell them.”

He smirks. “Well, you could do one of two things. You could get on your knees at home and pray to God that he’ll forgive you, although there’s a very low chance of that happening, you sinful little minx.” He chuckles at your sorrowful face. “Or, you can turn around, bend over and let me fuck the sin out of you. I’m sure he’ll forgive you if every drop of sin has been eradicated from your body. Your choice.” He stands, groaning softly as his knees crack again, that reminder of his age causing your pussy to pulse in arousal.

You sigh, wordlessly standing up on wobbly legs. You turn around, gently laying your sweaty body against the table. Your stomach covered in the wetness you’d left behind, the rest of your body being welcomed by the coolness of the wood. “I want him to forgive me.” You squeak.

A feeling of pride in his chest, he smiles. You hear the sound of his belt unbuckling, and then the rustle of his pants as he pulls his cock from out of his boxers. He holds his hand out infront of you. “Spit.”

You gather all the spit in your mouth, spitting it into the palm of his hand. You wonder what he’s going to use your saliva for. “This isn’t going to hurt more than your fingers, is it?” You can hear him stroking himself with your spit, a wet, sloppy sound. You can’t help but wonder what his cock looks like. Is it big? Is it thick? Is it tanned like his sunglowed skin?

“Different for everyone, Angel. Shouldn’t hurt for long if it does.” He says, his free hand adjusting your form slightly. He stands behind you, getting himself into position. “The fact you just came should make it so much easier, and less painful.” He gently pushes the tip of his cock into your tight hole, hissing.

You cry out, the burning sensation stronger than ever as you feel yourself being stretched out around his thick cock. Tears prick your eyes. It’s unpleasant, you feel like you’re being ripped into two, like his cock is going to break you. “Too big.” You cry out again.

He tuts. “You said that about my fingers.” He rolls his eyes. “Too big.” He mocks in a slightly girlish tone. This isn’t the Miller you know. This is someone entirely different. His whole demeanour has changed in a matter of seconds, from the second you bent over for him, he’s far more dominant. “We got my fingers in, didn’t we? Just breathe.” He reaches his freehand down, rubbing your clit in small circles to get you to ease up.

You do as he says, taking deep breaths in through your nose as he continues to stretch your tight hole out around him. It takes what seems like forever before he finally bottoms out, and you hear him sigh. He stays still for a moment, allowing you to adjust before starting to slowly thrust into you.

The burn takes a while to ease off, but when it does and you finally get to embrace the feeling of being truly full up, you’re in shock. You thought two fingers was full, you were wrong.

“This pussy is so fucking tight.” He grunts, his hips slapping against yours as his pace speeds up. “Should’ve fucked you sooner, Pretty girl.” You moan in response, table creaking as he fucks you against it.

“Deeper.” You blurt out. Your body and mouth no longer felt like it belonged to you, it belonged to your lust. Your desperation to cum all over his cock again.

He obliges. “So fucking needy.” He scoffs, but smirks as your moans turn into callings of his name and strings of curses, the tip of his cock nudging that oh so sweet spot you’ve learnt to appreciate in what feels like seconds.

The sounds of skin slapping, moans from you and grunts from him echo around the room, bouncing off the walls and right into your ears, reminding you how your innocence is gone, how you’re no longer pure. How sinful you’ve become, something you’ve lived your entire life avoiding. Something you were taught to never even think about happening, something you were taught to shun others for. And now look at you, what a hypocrite. Bent over a table, being fucked by a man, who despite being very attractive, is decades older than you.

That same feeling is forming in your stomach as he fucks you harder, faster, deeper than before. He’s chasing after his own orgasm too, he can’t help but crumble when it comes to you. You’re just too perfect, and your pussy is his own personal brand of heroin.

It comes abruptly, without any warning, attacks you and your senses. You’re blinded by stars, head dizzy and body feeling heavy.

He gasps, grunting loudly. “Oh, you dirty girl.” He moans, his thrusts becoming sloppy and shallow. Your pussy strangles his cock as you pulsate around it, and it pushes him over the edge.

You can feel him spilling his hot cum inside of you, his cock pulsating in response to your pussy pulsating around him. He collapses on you for a minute, his clothed chest against your naked, sweaty back. You stay like this for a while until you clear your throat and he gets up, his dick now soft as it slips out of you, a mixture of your juices trickling down your legs.

He steps back to admire the view. Your ruined pussy, pumped full of his cum, pulsating around nothing. He hums as he tucks himself back into his pants, tutting at the small wet patch near his zipper. “Messy girl.” He mutters.

You gently push yourself up, grimacing at the feeling of the mixture of your juices trickling down your soft, shaky thighs. You bend over slowly, picking your discarded bra up from the floor and putting it back on. “Can I have my underwear back?”

He shakes his head. “They’re mine now, Angel.” He gives you a cheeky grin. You groan and point down to the mess trickling down your legs, and his response to that is to give you an old rag from one of the boxes.

You clean yourself up the best you can with the resources you’re given, but it’s not enough. He’s pumped you full of his cum and it’s still trickling out. You just decide you’re going to have to pray for the best. You pick up your once pristine white dress, now crumpled and dirty from the floor. You pour, seeing as it was picture perfect only this morning. You sigh, placing it over your head.

“Now, come on. We’ve got a church to decorate.” He winks at you, grabbing a box of decorations and walking out of the room, leaving you alone with your thoughts and feelings.

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Tags: @ramblers-lets-get-ramblin

A/N: sorry but i think it’s absolutely ironic that I’m posting this on the day i’m actually going to church (christening).

[boopshoops]

If any of your ocs has any smug faces/“evil” smirks, could you share? 🥺 (Like these below 👇)

AAA YES OFC!!

Yuu Shi- it partially feels like her default expression, smug lil shit

I have- this- for Jojo

BUT i havent really ever shown this sort of thing with my other twst ocs!!! So i made some doodles >:}

Some genuine smiles from the twins, plus some smugness from my teacher ocs

Writing and art tag list! Just lmk if ya wanna be added @lowcallyfruity @cecilebutcher @skriblee-ksk @kitwasnothere @justm3di0cr3 @thehollowwriter @distant-velleity

[overanalysingfandoms]

Now we have a new version of Demise and red names on Hermitcraft I can't wait for all the angsty fics of all the life series players freaking out because the Watchers are now influencing Hermitcraft...

I like the idea that it's a possible punishment for the addition of Joel and Skizz, 2 life series members and that adding them gave the Watchers a possible 'in' to the server

That and Ren's creeper death which... CINEMATIC PARALLELS

[r-twist]

I drew my top 3 favorite moments from Smallishbeans' first video.

[loganlermanstanaccount]

What you deserve

pairing: Joel Miller x reader

(AO3 mirror)

summary: you confessed. Joel shut down. now he's trying to pick up the pieces.

warnings: angsty asf guys (whoops) , hurt/comfort with a twist! (mostly hurt, minimal comfort)

a/n: part 2 is up! read here.

wc: 800

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He walks into the room so quietly you jump at his voice.

"Ellie said you'd be here."

You don't turn around; fingers fumbling around the med bag you were rearranging. Had been rearranging. It was hard to do much with Joel's voice rattling around in your head.

Jackson was hard. The journey, even harder. Tess, Henry, little Sam. A list of names crossed out in a black ledger. In the heat of the moment, almost you. So finding this little safe haven just west of Wyoming was a miracle and a half. But somehow, you wished you were back out there. Like Joel, you'd take a clicker head on, just to avoid this conversation.

He rubs his wrists demurely and pads behind you. Close, heavy. Hands glancing at your waist.

"Don't." It comes out shakier than you meant it. Unsure. "Please, don't."

He pauses, steps away. "Just wanted a look at ya. That's all." No response. And then he says, "If I didn't know any better, I'd think you're avoidin' me."

You manage a dry chuckle and your shoulders heave, "...good thing you don't know any better."

"I mean it. Are ya…. are you ok? I wasn't thinking, sweetheart, I promise-"

Now, you turn around and look at him, and his voice dies in his throat. Joel Miller, square-jawed, handsome, even in the moonlight streaming into the clinic. Even pallid and pale from the stab wound at the base of his stomach. His brows are knitted together, worried. About you? It was fucking ironic, considering things.

"I just need time, Joel. I'll be okay, but I need time. And some space. And for you not to call me sweetheart, and look at me like-" -like that. Like you hung the moon and stars out in Jackson tonight. "Coworkers. Like you told Tommy. I'm fine, promise."

"Jesus." He steps closer, so this time you can feel his breath on your cheek. He takes your palms and kneads them in each hand. God, this isn't fair. He knows what he does to you, and yet here he is; cradling your hands and looking into your soul. He hasn't said a word and yet you can't move. You should, but you can't.

"M'sorry… listen- listen to me. Please, and then I'll fuck off wherever you wan' me to. Just need you to hear it."

You can't even look him in the eye.

"I thought I was gonna die, twice maybe, on the way back here. The first time, I was stupid. Raiders, fucking idiots, stompin' around the place. 10 years ago, I woulda seen them in time, gotten Ellie away. Wouldn't have gotten stabbed; not a chance. It was my fault. The second time," He pauses, hooks his thumb under your chin. He wants to see you when he says,

"The second time, I told Ellie to leave and get straight back to you. Thought that was it, thought I was a fuckin' goner and then, 10 minutes later, she comes back with a rusty needle and thread from God knows where - and tries to patch me up. All I could think, was that if I survived this, you would kill me. I could hear your voice, clear as day; 'Joel, you so much as get an infection from these shitty stitches I'll finish you off myself', 'Joel, I told you to practice first aid with Ellie every now and then, or you're both gonna regret it,' " He's smiling now. It's sweet and he's so pretty in the gentle light.

" 'Joel, you come back in one piece' "

"Except you left," you say, staring right back at him. "Before I could tell you to come back safe, Joel. Before I could say goodbye."

"I know. And m'sorry, doll. I meant what I said….before. It hurt to say it, but I did. I can't give you what you deserve."

A small sob, and you shake your head. "No, we're not… we're not doing this again-"

"Just hear me out, okay? We don't just work together and it was dumb of me to say so. I'm sorry. Maybe I should've said something when Tess told me. H-how you felt. I'm sorry." and now, a little quieter, "You deserve more than what I can give you. What we do, smuggling shit in the QZ, it's not- it's not a life. That's what you need. A warm bed every night. Dinner parties. Those disgusting fuckin' noodle packets ya like to hoard. All you can eat, sweetheart. Friends. A family, maybe. Someone who can protect you. A life. Please don't cry… you know I don't like to see you cry,"

He wipes the tears from your cheek. "That's why I said what I did. Not to spite you. But because you know I'm an emotionally stunted ass who's only gonna hurt you."

***

part 2

[ilovepedro]

joel miller isn’t real are you fucking joking

[pedge-page]

Joel sleeps big spooning you with his hand wrapped firmly around your neck. Sometimes when he has nightmares, you can feel him clench around your throat. 🫠

[transfemzedaph]

esmp s1 joel smallishbeans u will always be famous to me

[xanqels]

Make Daddy Proud.

joel miller x f!reader

Pairings: joel miller x f!reader

summary: you and joel have never gotten along, so what happens when you come to his house and piss him off?

word count: 5.1k

warnings: size kink (reader is small and joel is a big boy) dirty talk, daddy kink, creampie, breeding kink, cursing, foul language, reader likes to play on joels’ nerves, spanking, hair pulling, fingering, oral (m receiving), choking, alcohol consumption, unsafe p in v (wrap before you tap), pet names, joel is daddy, cum eating (?), tommy ships, minor spit use, brief aftercare, age gap (joel is mid 50s, reader is late 20s), degradation. NO USE OF Y/N!!! ellie is mentioned, sarah is mentioned. slight angst. Save a horse, ride a cowboy.

a/n: thank you all for being so patient with me after my writers block. this is based off of an ask i was sent. this has not been edited‼️

————————————————————————-

Joel Miller.

A dangerous man, a killing machine. A man who wouldn’t hesitate to put a bullet in your head if you looked at him the wrong way. A man who aged like fine wine, and along with it his attitude towards the world soured. A grumpy man.

You met him one evening, the weather starting to cool, when Tommy called you over and introduced you to his brother. Maria didn’t seem to thrilled about the older Miller brother coming to stay, and it was written on her face. You’d known her long enough to spot the telltale signs of her upset and and disapproval. A small frown line on her dark skin, or the way her eye would twitch slightly.

Tommy, on the other hand, a smile on his lips. His estranged brother was alive and well, after all. Who wouldn’t be happy? Well, Joel, it would seem. A scowl on his weathered face, covered in deepened wrinkles, something any normal young lady may see and scarper away at the sight of, but not you. No, you were intrigued. You wanted to hear more about his troubles, his experience on the outside, but when you opened your mouth to greet him, he merely grumbled at you. Thus, starting a month long war of snide remarks and quick insults, immature snipes at each other just to wind the other up. He’d open up to you on the occasional dark night, after many whiskeys and the occasional hug, but by the next day you’d be back to bickering.

The pair of you couldn’t be in the same room without your quick tongue and his dark scowls ruining whatever good day the other had. Tommy was tired of it. Tired of the bickering, tired of the pettiness. He knew you found Joel attractive, he could see it in your eyes the first day he introduced you to him. The way your eyes swallowed him whole, the way your tongue swiped across your bottom lip as you took him in. You’d never admit it though, you were too proud.

As for Joel, on the other hand? He never showed much emotion, he was a tough cookie. If you’d known him before the world went to shit, you’d know he was a carpenter. A lively soul with a daughter of his own. And now? He was closed off, only talking to Tommy, you, Maria and Ellie, the young girl he ended up hauling around with him, or that’s how he puts it. And on the odd occasion, the bartender who serves him his favourite beverage – Whiskey, neat.

“Shove off, Miller.” You whine, pushing his large frame slightly as you try to take seat. “You’re taking up the whole booth, fatass.” You grumble as he rolls his eyes and moves further into the booth. You sit across from Tommy, Maria beside him as you give them both a warm smile.

You can hear Joel grumble beside you, but you brush him off. You take a sip of your drink, grimacing as the liquid burns it’s way down your throat and into your stomach. You notice Maria has a tall glass infront of her, raising an eyebrow. “Only water tonight, Maria?” You ask, and she nods.

“On patrol tomorrow morning.” She sighs. “So, can’t really be dealing with a hangover. Need to keep my mind clear.” She taps her head with her index finger, and Joel just scoffs.

“That’s some pussy shit.” He says, earning a glare from both you and Maria. Tommy was in his own world, watching Cameron and Pete arm wrestle at the bar, secretly rooting for Cameron. “You gotta learn how to handle your drink better, Maria. Heck, I even take a bit of whiskey with me on the days I am on patrol. Keeps ya warm.” He shrugs as he takes a sip.

“Just because you drink like a fish doesn’t mean the rest of us have to.” He frowns at that, but you continue. “Next time you fear you might get cold on patrol, dress up warmer. Don’t want you freezing to death now, do we cowboy?” You pat his shoulder in a faux friendly manner.

“There’s only so many clothes a man can put on his body, darlin’.” You like that nickname, “darlin’”. Though sarcastic, it warms you, electrifies your loins and leaves you wanting more. “Gotta let the whiskey warm ya from the inside.”

You scoff, silently mocking his words with your face screwed up. You loved and hated the game you’d play. “I’d expect an old man like you to have more sweaters, Miller.” You circle the rim of your glass with your index finger. “I see you flaunting around town in your shirts and flannels. I know they’re not thick enough to keep you warm. Just an excuse for you to drink on the job, I’d say.”

“I’m not an old man.” Joel scoffs, shaking his head. “You’re just young and clearly have no knowledge of the world. Not my fault you’re so naive.” He speaks, swirling the liquid around in his glass, avoiding eye contact with you.

You close your mouth for a moment before opening it again, a single syllable falling out of your mouth as you were just about to tear Joel a new one, you weren’t naive, but Tommy cuts you off with a laugh and a cheer. Obviously, Cameron had won.

He turns back to the table, his eyes immediately scanning yours and Joels faces. He frowns. “God, are y’all bickering again?” He asks, eyebrows raised. You feel like a child being scolded. “You two just need to bone it out or something.” He earns a smack to the arm from Maria for that. “I’m just sayin’! These two bicker like there’s no tomorrow. It’s getting past a joke now.” He grumbles, finishing his last dregs of his now room-temperature whiskey.

You sit back in the booth, arms folded and pouting. Joel just rolls his eyes, but chuckles to himself at your scowl. He pats your head in faux sympathy. “Cheer up, Doll. I’m sure Uncle Tommy didn’t mean to scold you.” He coos, and that only annoys you more.

You smack his hand away, annoyance written across your features. “Piss off. You’re not my daddy, Joel.”

“I could be.” He says audible only for you, grinning. “All you have to do is say the magic word, and I’m all yours, darlin’.”

You look in his eyes, and for a moment you think he could be serious. A dark glint behind those deep brown eyes. Something resembling lust, a fire, a yearning for more, but that glint flickers away as his grin grows wider until it turns into him laughing. A hearty laugh, a laugh that could warm your soul.

“God, give in, Joel!” You push him again, but he only laughs harder. It only annoys you more, and you end up having yet another grumble in your seat over it.

“Oh for gods sake, what did I just say?” You hear Tommy shout at the pair of you for bickering again, and that brings a smile to your lips.

It was late when the four of you walked home, with Joel being the first to leave the group, and you being the last. And it wasn’t long after that for you to get changed into an oversized grey shirt and some old fabric shorts. They were old, tatted and had holes in a few areas, but they were comfy and you were thankful to even have clothes to sleep in.

You lay in bed, looking up at the ceiling, the slight buzz of the alcohol in your system making you sleepy, but the thoughts running through your head kept you wide awake. You knew Joel was just being grumpy when he said you were naive. You weren’t naive, you’ve been through the exact same shit he has with the Cordyceps infection that ravaged everything you ever knew and stood for. It upset you, the fact he thought so lowly of you, the fact he thought you didn’t know any better than him.

The upset swirled in your stomach, half of turning into anger at his stupidity. If he’d ever taken the time out of his day to actually have a half-decent conversation with you, aside from those late-night drunken talks he usually forgot, he’d realise you’re not naive at all.

The anger bubbled inside of you, until you find yourself out of your bed and storming down stairs, throwing on the first coat and pair of shoes you could find. You set out onto the dimly lit streets of Jackson. You needn’t worry about locking your door, everyone knew the rules and the consequences and wouldn’t dare set foot wrong.

You found your feet dragging you towards Joel’s house, your mind had no control over your body at this point. You were determined to prove him wrong, to show him you weren’t naive. And that’s how you ended up banging on his front door, impatiently tapping your foot against his porch.

You were actually surprised when he opened the door, his hair all scuffed up, eyes squinted slightly as he rubbed sleep out of them.

“What do you want?” He asks, voice gruff and deep with sleep. You’d obviously just woken him up. He yawns, leaning against his door frame in nothing but a pair of plaid pyjama pants. God, he was so attractive, if you weren’t mad at him you’d jump his bones right now. His tanned skin, marked with scars and evidence of his battles. It stirred something in you, he stirred something in you.

He clears his throat, and you snap out of it, eyes darting up to his. He has his eyebrows raised, dark iris’ boring into yours. You shuffle slightly, swallowing thickly. “You really upset me.”

He groans, rolling his eyes. “Chin up, Darlin’.” He sighs, running a hand through his ragged hair. “Can’t we talk about this tomorrow? I gotta get my sleep.” He yawns, moving back into his house slightly as he goes to shut his door, but you place your foot in the gap and push it open.

You step inside, shaking your head. “No, Joel. I can’t sleep. You said I was naive, what do you mean by that?” You ask, and he just grumbles to himself as he shuts the door behind you. Obviously, you weren’t leaving anytime soon, and you’d just made your mind up then and there, and Joel had no say in the matter.

He laughs, thinking you’re messing with him. His laugh falters as he sees the look on your face, pitiful and innocent. His smile turns into a frown, furrowing his brows. “You’re not serious are ya?” He chuckles nervously. “C’mon darlin’, I was only messing with you.”

“Yeah, well it wasn’t cool. I’ve been through just as much shit as you have, Joel. You can’t just take my experience for granted.” You speak, folding your arms across your chest.

“You’ve had it easier than the rest of us.” He looks away from you, avoiding your gaze. “You haven’t dealt or even seen half of the shit I’ve gone through. The things I’ve had to do just to survive, the looks on peoples faces I’ve had to endure.”

“Don’t give me that shit, Joel.” You take a step forward, his eyes darting back down to yours again. “Just because you lost Sarah doesn’t mean you can disregard everyone else’s experience. We’ve all been through the same shit.” You regret saying that immediately.

That statement, the mention of Sarah. It’s like it clicks a switch in his mind, his face warps into something you’ve ever seen before, pure disdain. Pure anger. You can see his nostrils flare as he takes in deep breaths, and his chest rising and then falling. You’re both somewhat afraid and oddly aroused.

“How fucking dare you?” His voice stone cold, jaw stiff as he steps towards you, backing you against the front door, pointing at you as his tall, stoic frames completely engulfs yours. You wince, turning your face away from his as his hot breath hits your cheek. “You do not mention her name in my house. You do not mention her name at all, you don’t deserve to even speak her name.”

Tears prick your eyes, you feel so ashamed of yourself. You’ve hit a new low, you’ve stooped to a new level, all because he called you naive. You brought up the ghosts of his past, the things he has nightmares about that leave particularly dark circles under his eyes, the thing he often drinks to forget. No wonder he’s angry at you.

“Joel.. I’m sorry.” You whimper, giving him big doe eyes. He just tuts and shakes his head.

“Stupid. Stupid naive girl. You need to be taught some manners.” He’s suddenly calm, or atleast calmer, and you don’t get to question it, his hand wraps around your waist and he’s dragging you into the main room, switching the lamp on. He sits himself down on the two-seater leather couch, and you look at him confused.

“You’re so gorgeous.” He speaks, and you’re even more confused. You’re stood inbetween his legs, his hand caressing your face. Have you just stepped into another dimension? His mood swings are confusing, but he’s so fucking handsome. “Why don’t you apologise to Daddy properly, hm?”

And there it is, the burning hot feeling in your stomach, the desperation to be touched, manhandled, anything. He manoeuvres you into his lap, your crotch ontop of his, hands gripping your waist. He glides your coat off your shoulders, throwing it onto the other side of the room. You shiver, goosebumps raising on your arms from your loss of warmth, your heart beating a million miles an hour as he leans in.

“You gon’ be good for Daddy?” He asks, his texan drawl coming out in full force as he leans towards your neck, placing soft, open-mouthed kisses along it. You whimper at the feel of his warm, plump lips against your cold skin, unable to answer him until he’s nipping and sucking at your jawline.

“Maybe, maybe not.” You sigh out, and he seems not to mind your answer, rather he seems intrigued by it. He pulls away, eyebrows raised.

“That so?” He tilts his head, his right hand coming up to grip your face, making you look at him. “I’m not afraid to show you who’s boss, Doll.” His fingers buried in your cheeks, his eyes full of intensity. You think you broke him. “You crossed a line.”

“I know I did, and I’m sorry.” You choke out, tears still pricking at your lash line. “Please.” You beg, you don’t even know what you’re begging for. He releases your face from his grip, smiling to himself. His hands grip your waist again, and he leans back, eyes scanning your fragile form. He hums.

“You’re a sight to see.” He growls softly, gently grinding you against his crotch. You whine at the feeling as he repeats it once, twice until you feel his cock harden against you. You don’t even have to see it to know it’s big.

He leans forward, lips connecting to your neck again as he guides you, but he soon finds he doesn’t have to as you take control yourself. You gently grind against his clothed cock, whining at the friction as your sleep shorts catch on your clit. He leaves a sloppy trail of open-mouthed, wet kisses against your neck, and you can’t believe this is happening.

He pulls away, lips glistening with saliva in the light. You don’t stop until his hands hold you in place. You look up at him, confused. His pupils are blown out, eyes full of lust and desire, hunger for you.

“Think you’re ready to apologise?” He strokes your hair and you nod. “Don’t take long to break ya.” You roll your eyes at that, unable to muster up a witty comeback, and he pulls your hair. You moan at the feeling, the pleasure going straight to your weeping pussy. “None of that now, Darlin’. Alright?” You hum, and he gently pushes you off his lap.

He stands up, towering over you as he points to the floor, and you kneel down. He nods, happy with your submission. He bends down slightly, cupping your face in his hand. “You know what I want?” You nod, tongue poking out to wet your lips. He stands back up. “Good.”

Your hands are quick, scrambling to grip his waistband, as you pull down his plaid bottoms slowly, not knowing what to expect.

But then you see it. It’s angry red tip, weeping with precum and you just know he hasn’t had something like this in a while. His own hand? Maybe, but not another woman. It’s girthy, and has a considerable length to it, maybe seven inches? If not slightly more. It’s definitely going to be a stretch, a burn, something for you to gag and choke all over, but you’re almost certain he’ll hit those right spots with it. The spot you struggle to reach with just your fingers.

“Take a picture, it’ll last longer.” His voice pulls you out of your trance, and you wonder how long you’ve been looking at it, drooling over it. “You gon’ open your mouth for me, Doll?” He holds his cock at the base, waiting patiently for you to open your mouth.

You shuffle slightly, placing your own hand around his cock as you open your mouth and lean forward. His precum spreads across your tongue, salty and slightly bitter, but you don’t mind, rather quite the opposite. You hear him groan as your warm mouth and wet tongue take him, moving your head down slowly, only getting to about halfway before your gag reflex starts to kick in. You stop, pulling back and repeating the same motions, only managing to fit about half of his cock in.

At some point, he grows slightly impatient, taking his hands and placing them on the back of your head. He holds you in place as he thrusts forward, the entire length of his cock gliding down your throat. You gag at the intrusion, eyes filling with tears again, but you focus on him. The way your nose is pressed against his lower abdomen, the way he smells. You want to make a mental image of this, remember and cherish it forever lest you forget it.

He gently pulls you back, repeating the action multiple times. Tears roll down your cheeks as he fucks your face, head feeling slightly dizzy as he depraves you of oxygen. He moans, and you can feel his cock throbbing in your throat. He tears your head away from him, groaning softly as he wraps his hand around the head of his cock, staving off his orgasm.

You gasp for air, coughing and spluttering slightly as you come back down, wiping your tears from your cheeks with the back of your hand.

You okay?” You hear him speak, sounding slightly out of breath. You nod, wiping the drool from your chin. Your pussy was aching by this point, you just wanted to be filled by him, to be fucked relentlessly til you didn’t know your own name.

He helps you up, ever the gentleman he is, and sits himself back down on his couch. He removes your sleep shorts, and then your shirt, manoeuvring you back into his bare lap. His eyes scan your body, now naked and in all its glory. He groans at the sight, hand coming up to pinch your hard nipple.

You sigh at the feeling. “How many fingers can you take?” He asks.

“Two.”

“Two what?”

“Two, Daddy.” Your cheeks flush. He holds his hand up next to yours, and your fingers are nothing compared to his.

Yours a thin, nimble and fragile. His are calloused, thick and long. “Only two?” He asks, incredulous and you nod.

He furrows his brows, bringing the pad of his thumb to his lips, swiping his tongue along it. He reaches down, placing his thumb on your clit, rubbing in small circles. You moan, hands coming up to grip his shoulders.

“Just makin’ sure you’re wet enough.” He knew he didn’t need to, he could see you practically dripping on his lap, but he just wanted to hear you moan.

He pulls his hand away and you frown, until you see him sucking on his index and ring finger. He pulls his fingers out, examining them in the light before giving you a look, and you nod. He was asking if you were ready.

He brings his hand down, gently pushing his two fingers into your tight pussy. You cry out at the dull burn, but underneath the burn you could feel the heat, the need growing for him. He lets out an audible sigh, he makes a scissoring motion with his fingers, stretching you open for him.

“Oh, Joel.. Fuck.” You moan, squealing when you feel his calloused hand smack against your arse. You whine, frowning at him. He just shakes his head.

“Wrong. Try again.” He stills his fingers inside of you, they’re just nudging that sweet spot you’d been unable to find yourself.

You groan as you wriggle in his arms, trying to get him to move. “Fuck, Daddy. I’m sorry.” You beg. “Please, Daddy.”

It seems to appease him, as he’s soon fucking you wide open with his fingers again. He makes a ‘coke here’ motion with his fingers, and you’re sure you can see stars.

Your nails dig into his broad shoulders as he hits that spot, throwing your head back. He takes this to his advantage, leaning in and sloppily leaving kisses along your collar bone.

“Fuck, Daddy I’m gonna cum.”

“Don’t you fucking dare. I haven’t said you can yet.” He grumbles against your skin.

You try to hold off, but the pleasure is so overwhelming. He’s hitting that spot again and again, purposely rubbing up against it even though you’re struggling. You can’t hold on.

“Fuck, I’m cumming.” You cry out, and to your mercy he allows you to ride through it.

It’s quite possibly the best orgasm you’ve had. Your jaw goes slack, and you feel as though you’re having an outer body experience. You can feel it in every crevice of your body, on every inch of your skin. It’s incredible, you never knew you could feel this good.

You slump forward, resting on Joel’s shoulder as you come back to planet earth. You’re still panting by the time you come to.

“Oh, sweet girl.” He tuts, and the sound sends chills down your spine. “Didn’t I tell you not to cum?” He slowly pulls his fingers from your pussy, and you jolt, the movement sending aftershocks through your body.

You sit up, strands of hair sticking to your forehead as you meet Joel’s eyes. They’re angry, but still full of lust. You disobeyed him, and now you’re gonna have to suffer the consequences.

He lifts his fingers up, examining them in the light again. “Look at that.” He grins, your slick gleaming in the light. You’re embarrassed, you made that mess. You’re surprised when he places them in his mouth and sucks them clean. He shuts his eyes momentarily, giving you an exaggerated moan. “You’re delicious, Doll.” He says as he pulls his fingers out of his mouth. You truthfully don’t know what to say, but it seems as though Joel didn’t plan on you speaking anyway. He practically pushes you off him onto the seat next to him. He stands up, rolling you over on your stomach.

You can’t see what he’s doing, until his hand connects with your ass. You yelp out, fingernails digging into the leather.

“This is for cumming without my permission.” He speaks. “Dirty little slut. Can’t even wait for her daddy’s orders, hm?” He asks, spanking your ass again and again until you’re certain he’s left a bright red handprint.

Every slap he gives sends waves of pleasure to your pussy, and you can’t believe you’re enjoying this.

His hand reaches up, wrapping itself in your hair as he pulls your face up, he leans towards you. “You gon’ listen to me?”

You nod. “Yes Daddy, I promise.”

He wipes the tears running down your cheeks, and honestly you hadn’t even noticed you’d been crying. He plants a kiss to the side of your temple, a simple gesture that shocks you.

He flips you over again and climbs in-between your legs. You watch as he places your legs on either side of his waist, and begins to gently stroke his cock.

You can feel yourself desperate for him again, even the simplest of his movements turn you on.

He holds his hand out infront of your face. “Spit.” He commands, and you do. He wipes the spit on his cock, even though he doesn’t need to as you’re wet enough, but he enjoys it when you do what you’re told.

You gasp as you feel the smooth head of his cock against your tight hole, biting your lip as he pushes into you.

The stretch hurts more than his fingers, but it was expected. He’s thick. You scrunch your face up as he pushes into you, and you hear him sigh as he bottoms out. You open your eyes, lifting your head up slightly to see where you’d connected at the seams. A holy sight, a gorgeous sight. You’d take a picture and frame it on your wall if you had a camera.

He reaches up and caresses your cheek, rubbing his thumb against your bottom lip. You open your lips slightly and he slides his thumb into your mouth.

You suck on his thumb as he starts to pull out, slowly, before slamming back into you. Your tits jiggle at the force, and he seems to find that somewhat amusing.

“You’re so fucking gorgeous.” He coos. “Gonna make you my little cum slut.” You moan around his thumb.

His pace is slow at first, almost as though he doesn’t want to break you, but he soon picks up the pace. Your mouth falls open as sweet melodies fall from your lips, and he trails his hand down to your neck. He wraps his hand around, gently squeezing your neck as he fucks you, hard.

You feel as though you’re on cloud nine, your mind is spinning as he fucks into you. You don’t even care that you’re sweating so much you’re practically glued to the leather, or the fact he’s nearly depriving you of oxygen for the second time tonight. You’re just focused on the way his cock feels, the way it hits that sweet spot and nudges your cervix. A pleasurably painful sensation.

He removes his hand from your throat, leaning down and taking one of your nipples into his mouth. He sucks on it, gently pulling it with his lips before letting it go. He plants opened mouth kisses along your salty skin, sucking and nibbling at the soft spots on your neck. There’ll be marks tomorrow.

“Fuck, you feel so good.” He groans. “I’m gon’ ruin you for any other man. You’re mine, you hear?” He growls against your skin.

You cry out, arching your back slightly as you feel the leather rip from your skin. “I’m yours, Daddy.” If someone told you that you’d be in this situation five hours ago, you would’ve laughed in their face.

You can feel it starting to grow again. The fire in the pit of your stomach, the wave that grows ever larger before it crashes.

He can tell you’re close again, the way your pussy strangles his cock. It makes him desperate to feel you cum around his cock. “You gon’ cum sweet girl?” He sounds breathless, almost as though he’s on edge himself. His thrusts are growing slightly more erratic.

You can’t reply, you just nod. He brings his free hand down to rub your clit, rubbing circles into it.

“Fuck. I’m gonna cum.” You manage to make out, face scrunching up as the intensity of it builds.

“Cum for me, Doll. Strangle my cock.” And you do just that.

Your pussy pulsates around his cock, legs shaking as you reach your high. Your mouth falls open in yet another silent scream, and he fucks you through it. Your head feels so light, you feel as though you’ve reached new highs, reached new extremes.

His hips are stuttering by the time you come to, and you can tell by the way his cock is throbbing and by the noises he’s making that he’s close.

He doesn’t give you much warning apart from those tell-tale signs, as he thrusts harshly into you a few more times before he’s moaning your name. You can feel him throbbing inside of you as he paints your walls in ropes of his thick, warm cum. You feel stuffed.

You both lay there in silence for a while, him ontop of you whilst his cock softens.

He eventually clears his throat, slowly sitting up and running a hand through his hair. You make eye contact, and all that anger and must that was previously in his eyes has gone and been replaced by adoration. He caressed your face again. He slowly gets up, and you hiss as his cock slips out of you.

He reaches down, fingers spreading your pussy as he looks at it, full of his cum. He grins, scooping up a bit that had run out and pushing it back in. You can hear the squelch of your juices, a vulgar sound.

He slowly gets up, and you can hear his bones crack as he stretches. He pulls his bottoms back up, turning around and looking at you from above. You were a sight. Eyes slightly red from the tears, sweaty skin and a pussy leaking with cum. He stays there for a second, making a mental memory of how you look.

“One moment.” He walks out of the room, and you can hear the tap in the kitchen turn on and off.

He returns moments later with a damp cloth and a cup of water. He cleans you up as you drink the water, giving you a warm, genuine smile. A rare sight.

As he’s cleaning you, he places a hand on your smooth stomach, caressing it softly.

“You’d look so good swollen with my babies.” He murmurs.

“What was that?”

“Nothing.”

————————————————————————-

tags: @ramblers-lets-get-ramblin @planet-marz1

a/n: please note this has not been edited and is my second ever fic. will happily accept any constructive criticism :) also i love receiving asks so feel free to say whatever

[boopshoops]

What if I just... *AGGRESSIVELY DUMPS OUT PILES OF LORE ABOUT TWST TEACHER OCS*

Ok so hi this is Ezra Goldspire. He is twisted from mother Gothel from Tangled >:D. He is the Art and Music teacher in my fic The Creation of a Villain, and he is pure(?) of heart, dumb of ass <333

He is inspired by changeling fae, having been raised by humans. He is still rather young in fae's terms of aging, and he only just began teaching. He's been instructing at NRC for about three years now, and he is pretty well known for being easy going and lenient with lectures.

Despite only being around 300-ish years old, he is very self conscious about aging and mortality due to his upbringing. He takes great care of his appearance, and often struggles with insecurities of how he wants to display himself. This is especially true since changeling fae are known for their shapeshifting abilities. Would people like his real face??? What does his real face even look like??? Who fuckin knows!

He also truly cares for his students and fellow staff a LOT. Almost to the point where he gets ridiculously attached. However he is more familiar with human lifespans and mannerisms than most fae, he can still be possessive enough to the point where he will position himself in a guardian role, "hiding" students away from dangers when in reality, he's just limiting them.

And uhh hello again, this is Joel Bullion. He is twisted from John Silver of treasure planet. Given the existence of robots n such in Ignihyde, I was like... wait, why can't cyborgs be a thing?

He teaches a multitude of different subjects, including astrology, culinary crucible, technomatic enchantments, and aids Coach Vargas with joint P.E. lessons on occasion when he's not too busy.

Opposite to Ezra, but not quite like Trein, he has a reputation for poking at and picking on students. He doesn't really get along too well with his other colleagues due to his antics, but his position in the school is highly valuable seeing as he teaches various subjects.

He's mostly in this teaching gig for the cash, not gonna lie. It feels more like a side hustle for him, honestly, as he's more focused on procuring his own wealth and adventure outside of NRC. Does this mean he doesn't care for his students...? Not necessarily, though there are really only a select few he enjoys speaking with, and most the time it's because they speak more like friends than teacher and student. For most of them though, their struggles are free entertainment. Suffering is fun. 💕

Anyway ramble over LMAO

[prismatic-ink]

why do I feel like my favourite character in a tv show died. they're real people they're literally fine. Jimmy just streamed and Joel is probably going to go back to posting regular videos more consistently WHY AM I HEARTBROKEN

[suffering-and-happy-about-it]

how we feelin’ ‘bout a dbf!joel short series inspired by doja’s rules?

[apolloskazoo]

ellie finding paw patrol themed bandaids around jackson & snatching them & bringing them home bc she thinks they’re funny. her seeing joel asleep on the couch and trying to stifle her cackles as she starts putting paw patrol bandaids on all of his scars (he’s a hardened apocalypse survivor, he’s got a lot). him waking up and ellie being unable to hold in her laughter, and she tells him not to take them off no matter what

joel going out on patrol a couple of hours later covered in paw patrol bandaids

“joel what—”

“don’t ask.”

[the-blind-assassin-12]

Last Line Tag Game

Rules: share the last line you wrote (or drew) and tag as many people as there are words (or as many as you want to).

In the past week or so I was tagged THREE times by @trulybetty @littlemisspascal & @novemberrain-writes (thank you so much, darlings!!) and I’m so sorry it took me that long to respond but here I finally am, so to make up for taking five-ever, here are THREE snippets from things I’ve been working on:

from Survivor Blues Part Six: Table Scraps -

from Flat Circle, Twisted Game -

from Recall Part Three: Un(f*cking)believable -

If anyone is curious about any of these, my inbox and messages are always open and I’d love to chat!

Tagging: @something-tofightfor @insomniamamma @morallyinept @secretelephanttattoo @whatsnewalycat @brandyllyn @maggiemayhemnj & anyone else who sees this and wants to tag in!!

[chambers003]

Sortof Grian thumbnail redraw

[wildemaven]

In a strange turn of events, there’s been some character changes made and Javi G no longer makes an appearance in Strangers… Excuse me while I go daydream about Joel Miller poolside, for science of course☀️