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bonezone44 · 3 months

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'Doesn't Nothing Ever Last Forever?' (18+)

Raider!Joel x afab!Reader

Word Count: 5,4k

(FYI: woman in moodboard is a side character.)

Summary: You worked in a brothel outside of a quarantine zone. Every once in a while, you got a visit from Joel and his men. This was your first time being around for one of those visits. (Reader is severely depressed and bisexual [relatable, amiright?]. Reader is not popular at the brothel.)

tags: DEAD DOVE, DO NOT EAT (tagging this to be safe!) Kidnapping, sexual slavery, group sex, overstimulation, rough oral (m). POV switching, canon-typical violence. -- Sex between Reader and Joel is non-con. Reader enjoys it, but the larger context doesn't allow for consent. Fingering, unprotected p-in-v. Degradation. Finger-sucking. Spanking. Orgasm control/denial. Joel is turned on by Reader's history w/ women. Reader is called slut, good girl, bad girl. Reader calls Joel "sir."

A/N: Written for @iamasaddie's writing challenge. ✏ I was so excited by their moodboards, I had to participate. Also, read @toxicanonymity for the original Raider!Joel which heavily inspired this one. 🙏 And special thanks to @milla-frenchy for helping me choose a story line. 😘

story masterlist - main masterlist

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The days bled together, one right after the other. No matter how clear the skies were, a permanent fog had taken over your mind.

The only reason you woke up that evening was all the commotion. You heard the roar of diesel engines and loud men laughing and yelling. The slamming of car doors. Then those voices got louder and closer. Obviously, they had made their way inside your building. You knew you should rise and shine. Get to work. But you stayed curled up on your bed cushion in the shared room as long as possible. Even after your boss had been calling for you.

It wasn’t the kind of job you punched in and out of. You lived in a brothel. You were paid by the client–and even then sometimes all you got was a spare coin or two. A ration slip, if you were really lucky. But those could only be spent at the nearby Quarantine Zone. And the four hour trek there and back was hell on your feet and knees.

Your boss, Larry, finally opened the door to your room, but didn’t say anything. Instead, he allowed the noise and chaos to do the job of waking you up.

You unfurled from the floor and wandered to the bathrooms, bare fit sticking to the tile floors. You had hoped no one would catch you and make you work. You hadn’t had it in you to do anything that day. What you really wanted to do was float away, fly with the clouds on the wind to somewhere far, far over the rainbow.

You found Trisha at the sinks, under the sickly green lights, already washing cum from her hands.

“Joel and his crew are here again,” she mumbled. There was a tremor in her voice.

You nodded blankly. Tired.

She turned around and stared at you with wide eyes. “Joel,” she emphasized.

“Okay?” You shrugged. Your eyes bored into a growing mold stain in the corner.

She scoffed. “Joel is the guy who bought Carrie.”

“What?” … ‘Bought Carrie?’ That didn’t sound right to you. “I just thought… she left.”

Trisha stared at you, aghast. The room was cold, but steam began to fog the mirror. “Are you fucking kidding me? You were there!” She shouted. “You were there when Larry told us he sold her for the fucking water heater!” She pointed at the filling sink.

You blinked. “...Oh.” You wiped your eyes with your hands. “I don’t… really remember.” Her words didn’t quite click it into place for you, but a dull memory played in the back of your mind. You remembered a ‘house meeting’ and hearing Carrie’s name a lot. You remembered getting the water heater. You remembered everyone being upset and yelling at Larry. You remembered curling in the corner, your brain checking out and wandering through the static of your own mind rather than feeling something–anything–in your own body.

That explained all the weird looks you had gotten later when you expressed excitement over the hot water. You had been happy about something for once and everyone responded by staring at you like you were a freak.

But everyone you had ever met always felt so far away. Like you were so deep in the depths of your own mind that the world around you was a movie you were watching. All the people in your life were characters playing out their roles. So you did, too. You went through the daily motions, following some imaginary script in your mind. Playing a part. Doing whatever you thought you were supposed to.

Trisha started telling you more stories about Joel and his crew. About their violence. But none of it sounded real. It sounded like another movie to you. You stood, unmoving, wishing you had some bleach to clean the mold in the corner. You wanted to scrub the grout until it was pure again. Wipe away the layer of filmy mildew from the ceramic tiles. Disinfect every inch of porcelain in this piece of shit building.

Another woman entered the bathroom, fully nude. “Well, look who decided to show up!” she spat at you. “Go out there and do your job. I need a fucking break.”

You sighed and resigned yourself to your fate. “Okay,” you muttered without meeting her eyes. You didn’t bother looking in the mirror or worrying about your clothes. You knew that in your line of work, they didn’t make a difference either way.

You walked out to the main room and saw about a dozen men scattered around the couches, women in their laps or on their knees.

One woman was sitting naked in a guy’s lap while another guy roughly rubbed and slapped her clit. His laughter grossed you out. The woman was crying.

Another woman was getting facefucked and choking. She pulled back to cough and breathe. The man she was sucking on held himself in a tight grip. He pushed the hair from her face and whispered softly to her, wiping away her tears, before shoving his cock right back in.

You nodded at the scene unaffected… well, mostly unaffected. You stared into the middle distance and focused on no one person in particular. The women’s moans were mostly performative–it was obvious. But the men didn’t seem to mind. Their moans were hungry and horny, enjoying whatever stimulation they seemed to be receiving. So that was what you focused on. Their blatant sexual desire. It fueled your own heat. A fire expanding in your chest and between your legs. Your mouth began to water. You sucked in your bottom lip, eager to feel flesh inside you.

You weren’t sure how long you were standing there, watching. It merely occurred to you at some point that one of the men was walking up to you, blocking your view of the scene. He wore a dark brown leather jacket over a v-neck shirt. A small, shiny gold cross hung around his neck and against his sunburned skin. He wore blue jeans and work boots.

Your boss, Larry, yammered in one of your ears at him.

“Joel,” he pleaded with clasped hands. “I’m sure you’d prefer someone like Trisha or-or-or Cameron. I’m sure, she’ll be right back out any minute!”

“No,” Joel says gruffly. “Her,” he pointed to you with his chin.

“I’m sure. I’m sure.” Your boss chuckled uncomfortably and surrendered with empty palms. “Of course!” He grabbed you by the arm and tugged you toward the back of the building. He snarled in your ear. “Don’t fuck this up for me.”

You wanted to shrug him off, but his grip was bruising. What could you ‘fuck up’ exactly? You had been working there for over a year. You weren’t popular, but you got the job done. You didn’t get along with any of the other women there, but what did that have to do with this guy, Joel?

Larry took you and Joel to one of the farthest rooms. It was the nice one with a real bed instead of a mattress or cushion on the floor. You had never been in it before. Not even to clean it. You looked around appraising the paint on the walls. There was a window, but it was dark out. The noise from the main room was barely audible. You liked being somewhere quiet again.

#######

Joel and his crew pulled up around dinnertime in two pick-up trucks. The sun had set and the truck’s headlights bathed the front of the old office building in a warm, dull yellow.

The crickets were louder than hell that night. Joel remembered that much.

Not five seconds after his boys hopped out the trucks did the brothel owner come skittering out the front door with a nervous grin on his face.

Joel liked that. Piece o’ shit like that should be nervous.

Joel hated Larry. The man was fucking pathetic. Weasel-y. So needy and desperate to please. Joel hated that Larry sold him a woman for a water heater. What kinda man would do something like that? This was supposed to be a brothel. The women were supposed to be his employees. He didn’t have the right to sell anybody.

But Joel had wanted her. And taking her outright would have caused more problems than it would have solved. So he figured a water heater would help keep things peaceful between them. Because his boys liked the brothel. Each little trip helped ease their minds. Gave them something to talk about and look forward to–something other than survival.

Joel’s needs were more permanent. He needed something more full-time rather than once every few months.

His boys started hooting and hollering as soon as the payment of supplies were unloaded and they got to hang out inside. The women weren’t even around yet, but they were more than ready for some physical entertainment. Joel remained standing while the rest of them spread out along the decaying leather couches lining the walls. A shitty little cd player sat in the corner playing old R&B music. He heard his brother, Tommy, singing along to it.

Joel sighed and wiped his face with his hands.

Once Larry brought out a few women, the men started roaring. They were shouting and cheering, pulling their cocks out in excitement. Joel groaned. These boys didn’t know a goddamn thing about seducing a woman and their sad little dicks weren’t gonna get them anywhere neither.

Two of the guys grabbed one of the women, causing her to shout, but Joel was on them not a second later. He gripped their skulls, one in each of his giant hands, and knocked them together like coconut shells.

“Ouch! What the hell, man?” asked one of them, rubbing the sore spot on his head.

Joel shook his head with his eyes wide, boring into the depths of their souls. “Not until I say,” he spat.

They both tucked their heads under, murmuring. “Yes, Joel.” “Whatever you say, Joel.”

The woman got back in line while the boys sat down on the couch.

“I’m sure I’ve got a couple more on the way,” said Larry with a forced smile. “They’re just getting themselves cleaned up, I’m sure, after uh… after finishing dinner.”

Joel grunted. He knew what he wanted–knew what kind of woman he was looking for. And he was quick to realize that none of the women in the room were it. So he waved his hand and his men let loose.

Joel stood with his arms crossed and his back against the front door. He kept his eye on the two troublemakers. Kept his ear on Tommy. Tommy was a talker. He loved to chat up the working women as if he was in a bar back home in Texas and looking to find himself a girlfriend. Joel thought Tommy was being ridiculous—acting like the women could say ‘no’ and walk away. Like he had to put real effort in. It annoyed the hell out of Joel. He wanted his crew to have their fun and be done with it. Why did Tommy have to make it so complicated?

Joel was getting bored and antsy the longer he waited. He was feeling needy, too, with the rough sounds of sex filling the air around him. But he was hopeful, preferring to be patient. And if, in the end, there was no woman he wanted, he would pick one at random and blow off some steam. He would find a replacement some other time or start looking around at the nearest Quarantine Zone.

Then you walked in.

And at first, Joel was ready to shrug you off, too. Sure, you were attractive. But looks weren't everything. That's what got him in trouble with the last woman.

But something in your eyes changed as you scanned the room, taking in the sexual depravity. You didn't shrink in and shut down. You were turned on. He saw the way your chest rose and fell as your breaths shallowed and shortened. The way you chewed your bottom lip. The way you squirmed. That's what Joel needed. Someone as needy as him.

The brothel owner tried to dissuade him. Huh, Joel wanted to laugh. As if that asshole knew a goddamn thing about what Joel wanted–about what Joel needed.

“Take your clothes off ‘n get on the bed,” he ordered after slamming the door shut behind him. He liked how quickly you complied. He didn’t understand why you were so calm, though. He unbuckled his belt, releasing the pressure from his stomach and allowing himself some room to breathe. He let the buckle hang and it jingled as he stepped closer to the bed.

“All fours.”

Again, you complied swiftly and smoothly, facing the back wall.

He eyed you for any sores. Then he slipped his bare hand around the smooth curve of your ass and his fingertips prodded around your lips and entrance. You were already wet, he realized. He slid the edge of his fingers forward against your clit.

You moaned. Something fake and bland.

He pulled his hand away and slapped you on the ass. “Hey.” He grabbed you by the cheeks when you didn't immediately face him. Your eyes never met his. “Don't fuckin showboat me,” he warned.

“Okay,” you said flatly.

He didn’t like how detached you were. How unafraid. But he willed himself to be patient–the amount of wetness coating his fingers eased his anxiety. He continued to play with your folds as he asked questions.

He cleared his throat. “You like workin here?”

You shrugged. “It’s a job.”

“How long you been here?”

“About a year.”

Joel hummed. “I don’t remember you from last time.”

“Probably had the flu.”

“You got over it okay?”

“Mm-hmm,” you nodded, closing your eyes. You seemed to like it when he moved his thick fingers around you real slow. He liked that.

“You got anything else? Any diseases?”

You shook your head. “I don’t get a lot of men.”

Joel paused. “Why not?”

You shrugged. “I dunno. They like the other girls better.”

“Why’s that?”

You shrugged again. “They’re better at fakin it.”

Joel didn’t know how to feel about that answer. He continued to rub your clit, feeling you get slicker. “So what? You do handjobs, blowjobs?”

“Mostly.”

He noticed an uptick in the tone of your voice. “You like doin those?”

“If the guy is cute.”

He slid his fingers from your clit to your entrance to your other hole. He didn’t push in, only pressed against it, and you sighed. “What about this?” he asked, biting his lip. “You like gettin your ass played with?”

You hung your head and nodded. “If they do it right,” you said with another uptick in your tone.

Joel liked that. “Ever have a train run on ya?” He slid his fingers back to your clit.

“Yeah,” you answered with a whimper.

“You like it?”

Your breath hitched as Joel’s fingers sped up. “Been through worse.”

“Worse? Here?” Joel asked, wondering what could happen at a brothel that was worse than a gang-bang.

“No just… you know…” you sighed with pleasure. “--in general.”

Joel furrowed his brows. You were being honest with him. Too honest, in his opinion. But you were rolling your hips into his hand. And he didn’t want to make the same mistake twice.

He shoved two fingers inside of you without warning. Your body twitched and you moaned–and it was different this time. Quieter. Realer. Joel liked that. He didn’t mind taking his time to get you ready if he knew you would enjoy it.

“You like fuckin, huh?”

“Who doesn’t?” You snickered, pushing back into his thrusting hand.

Joel took a deep breath, maintaining his composure. But he knew then that he wanted you. That you were just what he needed and more.

#######

You liked this Joel guy. He took his time. He was asking you questions, trying to get to know you. You don’t remember the last time anyone had done that. …Well, maybe when you first started working there. Trisha and Carrie and a couple of the other women tried, but this felt different for some reason. Like it was leading somewhere. Like there was a promise at the end of it. Like maybe he really wanted to make you come and he wasn’t just there for himself.

And you liked his voice. It was smoky and deep. He had an accent like a cowboy. It was comforting, in a way.

And his fingers felt nice. He knew what he was doing. You couldn't remember the last time a guy got you that wet with just his hand.

Part of you felt a little hopeful. You thought you might finally get to have some fun like the other girls did. Most of the guys you got were ugly or just plain ol’ depressing. Another part of you couldn’t stop thinking about Carrie for some reason. You’re not sure why she kept coming up in your mind. You two never worked together. You barely knew her at all.

“You ever fuck the other women here?” Joel asked.

“Mm-hmm,” you hummed in proud affirmation. It even pulled a smile from you.

“What's that mean?”

You weren’t sure how you expected him to react. You weren’t sure why you answered that way. “It means… yeah,” you replied while embarrassment burned your cheeks. You had barely looked at him before, but now you really didn’t want to see his face.

“Yeah, you like fuckin women?” His voice turned breathy. You heard his buckle jingle and the slide of the zipper of his jeans.

It turned you on to know that he liked that. Some men hated it. Made you feel like shit for it. But man, this Joel guy was something else. It made you want more of him. More of his fingers. His voice. His skin. “Yeah,” you moaned and shoved yourself harder into his hands, thrusting his fingers deeper.

“So what? You lick their pussies? Rub your little cunts together?”

Your mouth hung open from his words. “yeah,” you said with a hot breath. He pulled his fingers from inside of you and drew circles on your clit. You started whimpering. You nodded your head as fire burned in your core and across your skin.

“That’s why you work here, huh? You got a needy little cunt?”

His fingers were moving so fast, the muscles in your legs were jumping and your toes were curling. “Uh-huh,” you moaned loud enough for your voice to echo around the bare room.

“That why you left the Q-Z? This slutty hole wasn’t get fucked enough?” His fingers slid back inside your entrance. You’re not sure how many he stuffed in, but it was more than before.

You nodded with a desperate moan, your right leg slapping the mattress beneath you in frustration. You needed more. His fingers, his words–they weren’t enough. Your body was hot and sparking and you needed-needed-needed. “Joel, please,” you begged, turning to face him, finally opening your eyes again. He was stroking himself and the sight of his cock made you drool.

“Whatchu need, sweetheart?” He asked and you could almost kill him for it.

“Please, please fuck me, Joel. Please.”

“Need it that bad, huh?” He kicked off his boots and shoved his pants all the way down to the floor.

You got out of the way as he crawled into the bed and sat up against the headboard.

“Come and get this cock, you fuckin slut,” he growled. One hand held his length while the other pulled you by the arm.

You were too hungry to notice how tightly he gripped you. You hovered over his lap as he lined himself up with your entrance. You stared at the curve of his lips on the way down, the mix of gray and brown hairs in his mustache. But there was white on his cheeks and chin. You briefly wondered how old he was. But you couldn’t bring yourself to get a good look at his face. Too busy melting from the pressure of his cock stretching your walls. Fuck, it felt good. You braced yourself on his firm, wide shoulders and brought your hips back up a few inches before sinking down on his length even further. You groaned and tucked your head into his neck.

#######

You started sucking on his neck and his hips began to thrust up into you.

“It ain’t enough that I’m stuffin your cunt?” he grunted. “You need me in your mouth, too?”

You moaned against his throat, sending goosebumps all over his skin. “Yeah,” you said through panting breaths, before latching back on, teeth and tongue digging into his muscle.

Joel liked you. He really liked you. You were wet and riding him just right. You weren’t mechanical about it, neither–like Joel was just another job to you. There was a sadness to you, sure. It was probably why you didn’t get a lot of men. Men wanted to forget their troubles at the brothel. Have some fun. They wanted the world outside to disappear with their cock inside a woman.

But Joel had tried that. And it hadn’t worked out so good.

So this time, he looked for someone different. Someone who would understand. Someone who would get why he needed to fuck and when and how he needed to fuck, too.

And you were telling him everything he needed to know. He was learning what you wanted and what you liked and what he could use to threaten you into compliance.

He pulled you away from his neck, not sure how he felt about being covered in hickeys. “Here,” Joel prodded your lips with his middle and ring finger. “Suck on this, you greedy little slut.”

And you did, moaning desperately as you rolled your hips in his lap. You gagged as he slid his fingers back and forth on your tongue, saliva spilling from the edges of your lips and down your chin. Your eyes were closed and he knew there was nothing going on in your mind. He knew you were focused on nothing but how good he was making you feel.

You started bouncing on his cock and he slapped your ass with his free hand. He gripped your hip hard enough to bruise, forcing you to stop.

“Did I say you could do that?”

Your eyes popped open–meeting his directly. You tried to pull your head away to answer, but Joel shoved his fingers in even further.

He repeated himself. “You tryin to come right now? Did I say you could?”

You let out a pathetic whine and shook your head.

He slapped your ass again and this time he noticed your pussy clench around him. He heard a small moan grow and die in your throat. “You come when I fuckin say you can come,” he snarled with his teeth clenched. He smacked your asscheek again and thrust up into you.

You whimpered and squeezed your eyes shut.

“That turn you on?” He gripped your ass in his hand. “You like takin’ your medicine, bad girl?”

You tried to turn your head, but Joel still had his fingers in your mouth and he held you in place. You looked at him with the most pathetic, pleading look.

“I asked you a question,” Joel growled with wide eyes. His cock twitched inside of you. “You like takin’ your medicine? You like bein told what to do?”

You squeezed your eyes shut again and quietly nodded.

Joel liked that. He liked that a lot. He took his fingers from your mouth and gripped your cheeks. Your eyes popped open again. He licked his lips. “You be a good girl and make me come first, then we’ll see what you get, okay?”

You nodded.

“Now what do you say?”

Your brows furrowed.

“When I tell you what to do, what do you say?”

Your face softened. You blinked slowly before answering. “Yes, sir.”

“That’s right.” Joel grunted and thrusted his hips. “Now, make me come, you little slut.” His fingers dug into your own hips to guide your rhythm to what he wanted. “Make me come and we’ll see what you get.”

“Yes, sir. Yes, sir,” you murmured again and again.

Your warm, wet cunt sucked him in and stroked him. He could hear it, too, how drippy and turned on you were. It wasn’t long before he tossed you off him with a grunt, throwing you onto your back on the bed. He only fisted his cock twice before shooting his spend on your spread open pussy, on the hair on your mound. He wiped his cum down and around on your clit. “Come on, girl. You can come now. Come on,” he chanted. He rubbed your clit back and forth with the flat of his four fingers. “Give that greedy little cunt what it needs. Come on.”

Your body curled in as you orgasmed and you moaned loudly into your arm. Joel didn’t see the need for you to be quiet, but it was too late to do anything about it now. He rubbed you with his thumb until your legs clasped shut and you squirmed away.

He wiped his hands on the sheets and got up from the bed. He pulled his jeans back on, but waited to buckle his belt. He sat back down and put his shoes on.

You were still lying where he left you. Curled up in the fetal position. It almost looked like you were falling asleep. He figured you might as well rest up now. The drive back home was a bumpy one.

He sighed when he stood up. He figured he should get the liquor bottles out of the truck sooner than later. He huffed. Larry was a real piece of shit for trading a woman for liquor. But Joel wanted you. And he was gonna have you.

#######

You were reeling. Sexually, you were satisfied, but every other emotion bursted and channeled itself through your muscles and across your skin. You felt so vulnerable. This man had seen you–seen you! Like you were a real person or something! Like you weren’t just a ghost or a character in a movie! Everything felt wrong and you couldn’t figure out why. And you couldn’t stop thinking about Carrie for some reason.

You stayed as still as possible until you heard Joel’s booted footsteps leave the room. You were grateful he didn’t say anything or try to touch you again. Your body trembled as you got out of the bed. You walked on shaky legs to the bathrooms to clean yourself. The world around you was so close and too clear. You could hear and differentiate everyone’s voices in the main room. The air was humid and you could taste it–actually taste it like it was a wet, moldy cloud in your mouth.

Your hands tremored. You tried to exert control over them, but you were barely able to turn on the sink. You mostly swatted at the faucets until water came out. And there was no comfort to be had in the warm, rushing water. You noticed tension in your cheeks and thought you wanted to cry, but couldn’t make any tears come out.

The woman in the mirror scared you. It was you. You knew it was you. But she felt unfamiliar. Three dimensional. You wanted to run. Run away to the Quarantine Zone or—or anywhere but here.

Then you heard screaming, shrill screams from what had to be one of the other women. Suddenly you were being dragged out of the bathroom. Trisha’s hands were on you. Her fingers were small and thin and her skin was smooth and cold. You had never noticed before.

The lights in the main room were so bright that you could see everything. Every small piece of leather that had flaked off each of the couches and landed on the dirty, carpeted floor. The carpet itself was covered in dust and dirt and leaves. Where did the leaves come from? you wondered. How did they get tracked inside? Weren’t people wiping their shoes like they were supposed to?

There were people moving around. Naked. Half-naked. Clothed. All talking over each other. And blood. Bright red blood. One of the women, with long gold hair, was covered in it, shrieking in pain with both her hands on her hip. Two others guided her past you towards the back. One of Joel’s men was apologizing to Larry. He had black curly hair and a thick mustache. Larry was screaming in his face.

You saw Joel from the back as he pushed himself up from the couch. His shoulder rose and fell with deep, heaving breaths. There was blood dripping from his fist and there was someone beneath him. Once he stepped away, you saw an oblong fleshy ball of bright red where a face should have been. The body beneath the ball didn’t move.

You folded in half and started heaving. Trisha shrieked in your ear.

“I’m so sick of you assholes coming here and-and-and-and–” Larry was caught in a loop as he pulled his gun from his pocket. It was a small revolver. You watched his gray-skinned thumb pull back the hammer. “I’m sure! I’m sure!” he yelled over the shouting.

The man with the black curly hair lunged at Larry with a curse.

The gun-shot stilled everyone in the room. It was loud enough that for a moment, you thought you had been shot. The vibrations pierced you to the very center of your being. But then… Larry was on the floor. Sprinkled with dust from the ceiling tile. And then there was more blood. Bright red blood spilling out from his body.

You breathed in relief. Not only that you were still alive, but that it was Larry that was dead. For a few beautiful seconds, you felt free. Free from his bullshit and free from the brothel. Free to go back to the quarantine zone and start over again.

Trisha’s smooth fingers pulled one of your arms, but something warm and calloused pulled your other. You looked up, confused. It was Joel. Joel’s hand, which had been on you only minutes previous, felt so strange and unfamiliar. You had just shared a bed with him but–that had been a different man. Certainly different than the one that stood before you now with blood-splattered on his clothes and sweat beading around his temples.

“You can’t take her!” Trisha cried, tears pouring out her eyes. “You can’t take her!”

“Sorry, darlin’,” he said. Joel’s eyes looked sad. “She’s mine now.”

Terror fell over you like a cold, biting wind. He was talking about you.

Your body started trembling again. You tried and failed to pull your arm away from his grip. “NO!” You shouted. Your vision went blurry as you sobbed. “Don’t take me! Please!” That was why you couldn’t stop thinking about Carrie. Joel had bought Carrie. Trisha had told you that Joel had bought Carrie. But the information hadn’t clicked into place. You had spent so long avoiding your body, avoiding feeling any emotion at all that when it spent all night trying to warn you, you couldn’t hear it. You couldn’t feel the siren in your gut telling you to stay away from Joel. And now that siren was loud and clear. But it was far too late for you to do anything about it. “Don’t take me! Pleasepleaseplease!”

Joel didn’t budge. He leaned in real close to you. “Now you told me you like bein told what to do.” Your face went fiery hot with shame. He yanked your arm, pulling you from Tasha’s grip. “And right now, I’m tellin you that you’re comin with me.” He continued to pull you out the front door, towards his truck.

“No! Nonono!” You cried. You tried one more time to shake him off, but it was pointless. He was too strong. You were too weak. And you started to wonder if you could have prevented this or if it was simply your fate. Your own boss hadn’t been able to say ‘no’ to these men. What could someone like you have done?

You sobbed into your hands as you sat in the truck. The man with the black curly hair got in the driver’s seat. Joel sat on the other side of you and rubbed your back in some sick attempt at comfort. “You be good for me–” he said, adjusting himself. “--then we’ll see what you get.”

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a/n: Please let me know if I missed a tag. Also, idk if it's really a DDDNE story or not. ??

story title taken from the song "Mary the Ice Cube" by Primus.

#joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x afab!reader #✏️ game #✏ game club

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