#one off [ a shot in the dark ]

[gutsby]

dark!Joel explaining to you how reader-proofed the bunker, because you're his now and he's never ever letting you go.

BESTIE THEY’RE GONNA LOCK US UP FOR THIS 😭😭

Just like Joel LOL okay here we gooooooo…

Confines

Dark!Joel x Dark!Reader

TW: NONCON, Stockholm Syndrome (not the 1D song). Unprotected p-in-v. Bondage. Blindfolding. Dacryphilia. Daddy kink. Choking. Somno. Slapping. Possessiveness.

Good morning kisses from Joel Miller rarely landed anywhere but your cervix. The head of his cock had a funny way of mimicking lips with a tap tap tap at the back of your cunt, like a lover leaving a trail of gentle pecks across your cheeks to rouse you out of your sleep. However, this was no kiss at all, and Joel was no lover. Most times, the man barely seemed to tolerate you at all.

Which was why you’d grown accustomed to the nudge of his cock between your soft, wet, and sensitive walls first thing in the morning, every morning, no matter how often you’d told him you didn’t want to do it like that.

This time, when you blinked to find the outline of his face in the morning’s first light, you were met with a blindfold. When you lifted your hands to steady yourself against the bed, the floor, his chest, just anything to keep you tethered, you felt a pinch at both wrists. They were pinned to the headboard above you, hanging limply as Joel’s thrusts sent the metal frame clanging to the wall.

A warm, stubbled mouth found the side of your face. Just as you flinched, it let out a breathy chuckle,

“Mornin’ dar—”

“Take it off.”

You surprised yourself with how fast the words came. Most times it would have taken a minute or more to regain your bearings after being woken up by Joel’s cock.

The bandana around your eyes just freaked you out. The rope fastenings, too, sent a shockwave of fear straight through to your heart. Your ankles—free, fortunately—kicked around at Joel’s feet in protest as his hips shook and snapped against yours, splitting you open to him.

The lips that rested above your cheek pressed a kiss to it. A real one, this time.

You almost wished it’d been a slap instead. You turned your face away and started to say, ‘Joel’ in vehement disgust, when the mouth left another kiss. Then another.

“Got a surprise for ya, baby—”

And another.

“—just hold still, alright?”

What meager amount of food you’d been able to keep down in the time you’d spent with this psychopath seemed to sour in your stomach at his words. There he was kissing you, holding you, fucking you into the bed against your will, all while speaking so cloyingly sweet.

“Just get it over with,” you seethed, fighting back the upsurge of bile as you spoke through your teeth.

Much to your dismay, the man kept peppering kisses along your jaw as he took you like that kind lover might. Then he made his way up to your lips and claimed them, too, and in between bites of, ‘Fuck off’ from you and ‘Feel so good’ from him, he managed to kiss you. Deep.

His lower half continued to stutter against your own in gentle, shallow thrusts, and with every brush of his cock inside you, your body became a traitor to your mind.

“Fuck y— ah,” you finished in a whimper when the head of him grazed a particularly sensitive ridge. Joel grinned.

“Alright?”

Is it alright I’m fucking you now? Is this okay?

“No,” you snapped at the silent query, shaking your head.

And, at a time when a less patient Joel might’ve slapped you across the face for rejecting his advances, this Joel just pulled you closer. Loosened the restraints around your wrists until your hands dropped to either side of you and finally hoisted you up to sit in his lap, straddling him.

That sweet spot inside you was practically punctured by his cock at this new angle; you let out a soft whine into Joel’s shoulder, and he started stroking your hair.

“I know, I know,” he murmured softly.

But he didn’t. He didn’t.

You clenched your jaw to suppress another sound.

“What…surprise?” you finally choked instead of moaned.

At that, Joel seized your hips firmly in his hands and started working your body in circles against him. Every time you tried to jump up in protest—and pleasure—he’d slam you back down on his cock and keep at it, adamant.

Still soft as he spoke to you: “Guess.”

You were slightly ashamed you had to bite his shoulder to keep from moaning again. But damn, he felt nice.

“You’re letting me go.”

“Correct.”

“Huh?”

You would’ve bit him again had he not pulled you into his chest and sank his member even deeper between your walls. You felt instantly suffocated and filled to the brim, but you couldn’t deny the spark of joy that came to flicker at the pit of your stomach. He was letting you go?

“I mean it, baby. Won’t keep ya tied up no more.” Joel was panting into your hair as his hips started working a feverish pace against you. It was all you could do to hold tight and keep your moans contained; he was drawing your pleasure out with every graceless, desperate stab.

“R-Really?”

As if to answer, wordlessly, Joel tugged at your blindfold.

At first it barely loosened far enough to uncover your eyes, then it inched down your cheeks, painstakingly slow, then it dropped to your collarbone. You were still blinking through tiny, modulating pinpricks of light and an obscure haze when you felt him squeeze the fabric.

The red bandana hung loose around your neck now, but Joel kept a grip on the material as your vision adjusted.

When you blinked twice more, you understood why.

“Where are we?!”

But a very pussydrunk Joel Miller was busy using your body like a bona fide fleshlight. Working you up and down his cock in short, vicious strokes, grunting into your neck, sinking his fingers into your flesh just deep enough to wring a couple pained whimpers out from your lips. You were still straddling his hips, staring over his shoulder as he fucked you with reckless abandon.

“What…is this…place?” Your voice curtailed to a breath.

“Home,” Joel answered.

Home. You had to believe he was kidding.

Surely no person in their right mind could confine you to a windowless, subterranean bunker and call that home.

Then you remembered this man was fucking insane.

Your gaze surveyed the full length of the room by turns. In total, it couldn’t have been wider than four or five of the beds you were sitting on, placed side-by-side, and the walls were slate grey. Concrete boxed you in from all angles. A single, bare bulb hung from a chain overhead, and in its glow, you saw a whole hell of a lot of nothing.

Nothing but dust bunnies and dismal, hellish desolation. Nothing but a stripped-down bed and Joel, still fucking you on it. Nothing by way of a door, even, save for what appeared to be some small wooden panel in the ceiling.

In short, it was solitary confinement as soon as Joel left. Prison for you, and pure, unadulterated control for him.

You pressed your palms to either one of his shoulders and tried to lift yourself off him, but the gesture was fruitless. Joel already had an ironclad grip on your shoulder and was anchoring you to his frame as he fucked you. All you could do was sit there and be bounced up and down on his shaft and stare, unflinchingly, at the space there before you.

“You said…said you were letting me go.”

Against your will, tears were welling up.

Joel just stroked your shoulder, then the rest of your back. Then he hummed as if acknowledging something.

“I am,” he insisted, “You’re free, darlin’.”

Before you could object, he continued,

“Free to use this place however you please.”

“W-W-What the fuck is it, even?! Huh?”

You hated how high-pitched your voice had gotten as the realization began to settle over you. This was home. This was freedom. This was life for you, now, in a makeshift bunker beneath your captor’s home. A nightmare.

Joel seemed to resent the tone of your voice, too. Securing a tighter grip, he slammed his cock straight down to the hilt, and for a second, you saw his mask slip.

“This ain’t good enough?” he growled.

The head of his cock carved an angry, erratic shape in your cunt as he thrusted into you at an even wilder pace. You bounced and groaned and hated yourself for whining into each stroke with a welt of pleasure.

“I wanna go home,” you whimpered, at war with yourself.

You’d never felt so aroused and terrified at once, and you could no longer swallow the sounds that were clawing their way up your throat. When Joel yanked you backward to get a closer look at your face, you felt weak.

“You don’t like this?” He made a point to punctuate ‘like’ with a particularly merciless thrust—one that grazed your g-spot and nearly sent stars flying before your eyes.

“Home,” you just keened again, feeling pathetic.

Suddenly, you were flipped to your front on hands and knees. Joel was taking you from behind in no time at all, cock stretching you out in a series of violent pumps.

“This is home,” he spat, “This is your home. Forever.”

Next, the friction from his cock felt like it could’ve started a fire with how fast he was fucking you. Ruthless, reckless, pitiless, and above all else, punishing you for not accepting his gift with open arms. Just when you feared he might yank on your hair, Joel reached for the bandana around your throat instead and hoisted you up to him like the fabric was a leash. You coughed at once.

“Joel!”

“What? This hurt?”

‘Yes’ was barely able to make it past your windpipe with how tight he was twisting the bandana around your neck. He pulled your back flush to his chest and made a point to ignore your breathless, half-spluttered cries as he tongued a wet stripe up the side of your face.

You didn’t realize it then, but he was licking your tears.

“Keep cryin’. Only makes me harder,” he said in your ear.

If you weren’t presently fighting for the ability to breathe, his statement might’ve sent a chill through your body. But as it was, your lungs were waging the battle of a lifetime, and your cunt wasn’t that much better off.

The pleasure continued to build.

You didn’t want it to. Didn’t want him to be the cause.

But it did, and he was. When you clenched around Joel, you heard what sounded like a laugh, then felt three thick fingers slide down to stretch your folds apart.

“‘S’my good little fuckhole,” he sneered. Then, working circles and feeling you buckle under his touch, “Can’t breathe, but she needs to cum on daddy’s cock, huh?”

Something pulsed inside you, and you sensed that it was Joel’s cock twitching within your walls—gloating with that filthy little tidbit between his teeth as he fucked you and drew more strangled moans than he could count. Against every cry in your brain and what remained of your better judgment, you lowered your hand to grip Joel’s forearm. Instead of trying to pry him off, you pushed him in and, for the first time, nodded your head.

“Yes, daddy,” you hissed. Half-breathing.

Joel’s grip tightened on the bandana, and his digits rubbed in even quicker circuits. His cock continued to plunge in and out of you, squelching loud in your ears.

Just when the first shameful crest of your climax began to rise, you were thrust back onto the bed, face-first.

Joel followed you in one fluid, forceful motion and was at the side of your head in an instant, panting in your ear. Still pounding you from behind, but now in prone bone—taking on all the quality and vigor of a wild beast as he fucked you into the mattress and draped his whole body overtop yours. You were splayed out and defenseless, but, importantly, not fighting against him for once. That zeppelin-esque swell of pleasure had blossomed to the size of half your body, it seemed, and right now, all that was left to your mind was finding release on Joel’s cock.

And home.

Home, home, home—almost hell on earth—but home.

Joel grinned, and his eyes searched yours from beside you. You stared right back and met with a bottomless pit.

Then his hips dug into yours once more, driving deeper than he’d been all night, and those two sets of empty, lifeless eyes peering into one another pinched inward with pleasure. You both reached your peak, and your bodies moved in sync, and then spasmed some, writhed a bit, and Joel fisted the hair at the back of your head in some senseless, desperate plea and just kissed you.

You didn’t fight back.

This was home.

For now.

For anyone (no one) who was curious to see my creative process in bringing this dumbass story to life:

[toxicanonymity]

You really are trouble. Silence can never be bought, only rented (pt. 3 of 6)

Can read STANDALONE, or Story Master List

4.4k words | dbf!Joel Miller x F!Reader | 18+ nsfw

Summary: You go back to campus and Joel shows up. You stay with him for a night.

He chuckles then checks you out and a hunger comes over his face.  He looks down at himself before he lowers his voice and meets your eyes again. “What, you wanna souvenir? I’ll send you a picture.”  The way he's looking at you. . . you can practically see the reflection of your naked tits in his pupils, even though you're fully clothed.  He adjusts his jeans and looks out the passenger window behind you.

thx for moodboard @dark-scape. | joel master list

Next: Part 4

content notes/warnings: age gap, protective!joel, reader can wear Joel's jacket & Chad mistakes Joel as her dad (in hindsight I would try to do this a different way but it is what it is and I've left it because it reveals something about her dad), ample sexual tension, non-graphic violence, ref to gaslighting, light hurt/comfort, light stalking, blackmail/manipulation themes, begging, mild dubcon, cunnilingus, cumshot, slasherfucker easter egg🥚, Joel says he can wear something of hers to sleep.

As you drive back to campus, you try to think logically about Joel.  On one hand, fucking him might give you even more leverage, if you could stay detached, but you're smart enough to recognize the poor odds of that.  You also wonder if you should question his motives.  He's never so much as hit on you until now that you have something over him.  To be fair, it isn't out of nowhere -  you held eye contact with him while he fucked your stepmother.  You could’ve walked away as soon as your suspicion was confirmed, but you didn't walk away until he came, eyes locked with yours. Then, the next day, you went to his pool, took your top off, and made him jerk off.  

-

When you get to your apartment, you bring Joel's jacket inside and drape it over your upper body, all the way up to your nose while you lie on your bed and scroll your phone.  Chad, your kind-of ex, asks if you can talk.  You start typing something, but when he texts you again to add a question mark, you decide to ignore him.  You put on the jacket.  There’s a scrap of thermal paper with gps coordinates in the pocket.  Out of curiosity, you search the coordinates and they're near Uvalde, but you don’t find an address.  The closest thing is an abandoned mall.  

You put down your phone and turn up the jacket collar, then inhale it with your eyes closed.  You get another text and it’s Joel.  For a moment, you feel warm and fuzzy, until you open it.  

“Thinking of you.”  It’s a surveillance picture of you topless in his pool.  A pit opens in your stomach.

You can just picture his smug smile as his big stupid thumb pressed send.   The picture disappears as your ears get hot.  What does he think he’s doing? You text him accordingly. You seethe. But there’s another part of you – a hot, wet part of you, that only wants Joel more with every depraved thing he says and does. You almost wish the picture didn't disappear so you could admire his back and imagine what else could have been. . .

Imagine Joel getting in the pool with you, pinning you to the edge, his thickening cock pressing into you, rock-hard.  Joel wrapping his arm around you, shoving his hand between your legs, pulling your swimsuit to the side, taking you from behind.  His cock filling you up, one hand on your tits, the other between your legs.  Bouncing you on his cock, zero gravity, your knees spread and bent.  You get yourself off with very little effort by imagining this.  It only briefly crosses your mind that, worst case scenario, the oxytocin of each orgasm may work to his advantage.

-

You have to work at the cafe the next day.  It’s gotten slower since summer session ended, but the bookstore still gets traffic from families visiting campus and whoever's still around.  And as long as the bookstore gets traffic, so does the cafe.  

Chad, your kind-of ex, comes in.  You try to remain composed and professional, but it’s humiliating having to serve him after he cheated on you then tried to gaslight you that you were never "together" after almost a year.  He’s wearing a t-shirt from the venue where you met when you saw his band play. 

Your heart races as you write his name on a cup and he tries to get you to take your break.  You refuse.   He invites you to a party, then sits alone in the cafe for a few minutes, manspreading like he owns the place, watching you.  Eventually, he leaves and your eyes well up in tears.   You wipe down tables as a way to get a moment alone to compose yourself.  

-

When you finish wiping down the last table, you stand up and get startled by someone standing way too close behind you. 

Joel’s low, gruff voice asks, “I reckon that's Chad?” 

Your heart jumps to your throat.  “What are you doing here?” Naturally, you’re still mad about the topless picture – or at least, you feel like you should be mad. 

“Comin' back from a job.  You okay?”

You turn around and meet his eyes.  And forearms.   His denim shirt is fitted and his sleeves are rolled up.  Jesus.  

“I don’t have anything to say to you.”

“I know.  You can delete it yourself.  Come out to my truck for a minute.” 

“Seriously?”  

“What, you trust me to do it myself?” 

You roll your eyes and take your break, following him outside.  

-

Joel opens the passenger door for you.  When he gets in the truck, he pulls out an iPad and opens his home surveillance app.  

“We’re on my hotspot.  Here, delete the whole day if you want. Then go to the trash and empty it.”  He hands you the iPad.  “Can’t be too careful these days, Trouble.”  he adds.

Your cheeks burn with exception. Resentment.  “Can’t be too careful ‘cause a creep like you might record me?”   

“See that black bar?" He points. "Means no data for that time.  ‘Cause I turned’em off, just not fast enough.” 

“Conveniently, right before you took your cock out.”  

He chuckles, then checks you out.  A hunger comes over his face.  Maybe it was hearing you refer to his cock.  He looks down at himself before he lowers his voice and meets your eyes again.

“What, you wanna souvenir? I’ll send you a picture.”  You can practically see the reflection of your naked tits in his eyes.  He adjusts his jeans and looks out the window behind you.

Your face gets hot.  You compose yourself and look him up and down.  “If I wanna see your cock, I’ll tell you to take it out.” 

His eyebrows shoot up. "Attagirl."  He whistles as he shifts in his seat.  “God damn, Trouble.  You really are.” He puffs his cheeks as he exhales and shakes his head.  "Who knew," he adds under his breath, looking absently through the windshield.  

You hand the iPad back to him and an alert pops up, catching your eye.  It’s your stepmother’s car at his gate.  It quickens your heart rate.  You study his face for an answer. 

He sighs.  “She keeps callin’, comin’ by.   I changed the gate codes. . . I’ll text you your new one." His brow furrows as he stares into space, then he scratches the back of his neck.  "I reckon I should prolly stay away for a couple days, let her get it out of her system.” 

He deletes the app and reaches behind the seat to pull out an Apple Store bag.  He puts the iPad in the bag and hands it to you.  “Keep it.” It’s blue like the phone from yesterday. You should’ve known. 

“Real creative.  This is your whole plan? Buy me an Apple store?” you hand it back to him.  "I'm not walking back in there with that." 

"Fair enough."  He smiles to himself and leaves it in the truck as you both get out.  He puts on his Ray Bans. 

Joel pulls up his pants and puts his hands on his hips, shifting his weight to one leg and popping out a knee.  Your gaze drifts to the bulge below his belt.  His brow furrows as he looks off.  

“Now. . .'bout Chad. . .  I reckon I got nothin’ but time now if he needs a lesson in manners.”  Once again, you hate him for bringing up Chad.  

Your face tightens despite your best efforts. "Don't bother."

“Aw, shoot.”  He always knows.  “Com'ere, sugar.”  Joel opens his big arms. You can’t resist his bear hug.  You feel safe.

You sniffle and he whispers, “Hey, Trouble. What did the white grape say to the purple grape?" 

"Hm?"

"Breathe." 

You can't help but laugh. He hadn't told one of those in a while. Fitting, too.

“There she is.”  He smiles as you pull away. 

“I have to get back to work.”

“Reckon I'll be 'round if you need anything.” 

“Okay, creeper.”

-

When you get home from work, your roommate is watching the news.  The newscasters are talking about a body found in an underground bunker outside Uvalde near the border.  You look up and do a double take.  

“Holy shit.” Your heart races.

“What”

“Oh, I thought I recognized that mall.” 

You consider texting Joel about it, but something tells you not to.  You don't text him at all.  You google it. There are rumors it was a cartel boss.

Your roommate is planning on going to the party Chad invited you to to meet up with a guy you and Chad introduced her to.  You resist her invitation, but she begs you to come just for a few minutes so she doesn’t have to show up alone, and eventually, you relent.  You do a little pregaming at home before heading to the party.  You wear something hot to make Chad sorry – leather pants and a low-cut, lace top – with Joel's jacket over it. 

-

Chad is already drunk when you get  there.  He herds you and your roommate to the drinks. The guy she’s talking to went on a beer run. Aside from the two of you, it’s almost all guys, so you’d feel guilty leaving her there.  You decide to stay just until her guy gets back from his beer run. 

This takes longer than you expect.  Chad keeps trying to talk to you, telling you how good you look, until someone distracts him with beer pong. You have to wonder if your roommate's guy is really on a beer run, or with another girl.  These guys are all the same.  You feel guilty for Chad introducing them.  When the guy finally shows up, he does have beer in hand, but not nearly an hour’s worth when the store is just a few blocks away. 

As you’re getting ready to leave, Chad steps in front of the door.  He begs you to talk to him just for a few minutes.  You refuse and open the door to leave, but he doesn’t back down.  He yanks the door shut, then towers over you and pins you to the foyer wall.  

Within seconds, the front door swings back open.  

“Get your hands off her,” Joel booms as he charges in, then grabs Chad by the shirt and slams him up against the wall. Chad is an inch or two taller than Joel, and yet Joel seems to tower over him. 

“You told your dad?” Chad asks you, incredulous. 

“Get in the truck,” Joel tells you sternly, pointing out the door.  You leave the door open behind you to watch and listen as you very slowly inch toward Joel's truck.

Joel tells him, “If she told her dad, you wouldn’t be breathin'. I'm fixin' to save your life right now."

He releases Chad just long enough for him to turn around and face him so it's a fair fight.   Then, Joel decks Chad in the face.  Chad goes stumbling across the foyer holding his jaw.  

“Get in the truck, now!” Joel yells out the door at you, neck vein bulging, then pulls the door shut and stays inside with Chad.  

-

You get in the truck and the shock catches up to you.  You can’t stop the tears. Your mascara runs and you don’t have any tissues.  You open the center console and don’t find any.  He’s a man, of course he doesn’t have any.  You open the glove box anyway.  A few scattered condoms, no surprise there.  Registration.  Not much else. It's super shallow.  

You lift the tray out.  In the hidden chamber, there’s nothing but a gun and a cylinder. . .a silencer.  In Texas, it'd be weirder if he didn't have a gun. But a silencer? Who is he, John Wick?  What kind of contractor carries a silencer? . . . No. The blood drains from your face. You quickly replace the tray and close the glove box, your heart racing. Was it a bullet wound scar you caught a glimpse of at the pool? 

The mental image of him pulling off his jeans makes you forget about the silencer.  If your leggings weren't leather, you'd probably soak right through them.  

 -

Joel comes out and slams the door behind him. His muscles and veins bulge as he charges toward you.  

"Are you okay?" He asks as he gets in the truck. He leans over to buckle you in. You can smell his sweat and musk. 

"Yeah, I'm fine." 

"That's the guy you were seein' for damn near a year? That damn fool?" 

"Don't," you warn. 

You ride in silence and he calms down. 

"Sorry," he says at a stoplight.  He rests his massive hand loosely on your thigh.  "I shouldn't'a said that " His veins are still bulging.

"You're right though," you sigh. Your eyes won't leave the vein on his hand.

You shift in your seat, the lightest contact of his big, masculine hand literally opening your legs.  You fold your left heel under you, which has the effect of shifting his hand to your inner thigh.  He inhales deeply but leaves his hand resting loosely on your inner thigh. 

"Well, I reckon it's over now," he says. 

He doesn't take his hand back until he needs it on the steering wheel. 

"This isn't the way," you tell him. 

"You're stayin' with me tonight," he responds, then stretches his jaw.  “Got a suite on the river.” 

You absently fiddle with the scrap of paper in your (his) left jacket pocket.  You ask him what job he was coming back from.  He does a double take and holds out his hand. 

"Gimme that," he says sternly. 

“I just like to hear about what you’re building.” 

"Now."

"What, your trash?" you hand it over and he lifts his butt out of the seat to shove it in his pocket. In effect, the motion is a pelvic thrust.  It makes you forget about everything else. 

-

He's staying at one of the nicer hotels on the Riverwalk. He pulls up to the entrance and asks the valet for a minute.  

Joel comes over and opens your door.  "Come on, let's go."  He notices the mascara on your face.  "Shit." He pulls a first aid kit from under the seat and gives you an alcohol pad and uses one to clean the blood off his knuckles. He glances at the glove box contemplatively, but doesn't open it. 

The lobby has an overly modern chandelier.  He gives you a key card. On the elevator, you rest your head on his shoulder.  It's a suite with two bedrooms.  His stuff is already in one of them.  

He gestures to the empty room, scratching the back of his neck, making his bicep look even more enormous. "If you want to, uh. . . Do you need anything? I can go to the store"

"Like what," you implore. 

He leans against the door frame and crosses his imposing arms. 

"I dunno what you need in general, so.  I dunno," he shrugs.  “You’ve got a toothbrush and stuff in there.”  He nods to the bathroom.  

"Is there a blanket?" You ask. 

"You got it." He disappears, opens a few doors, and comes back with a blanket and the iPad.  "Put a couple movies on there for ya.  If you wanna cast one to the TV." 

He swipes it open and gives it to you, and you almost want to cry.  He can tell.  He turns the TV to the right mode for you.  

“You can wear something of mine if you want,” he offers, then leaves to take a shower.

“I always sleep in leather pants,” you say deadpan.  

You may take him up on that later, but not now.  You freshen up and take off his jacket then lie down on the bed, on top of the comforter, but under the blanket he fetched. You start watching Scream.   

-

After his shower, he comes back in boxers and a t-shirt and asks if you're okay.  

You were fine until he asked.  You swallow down your emotions. "Stop asking me that." You sit up and pull your knees to your chest.  

He approaches the bed and sits down on the edge. He lays a hand on your knee, and you ogle its masculine knuckles and prominent vein as he says "I know it's been a rough week." He doesn't seem to know what else to say, but his eyes look sincere.   

You scoot over to make room for him on the bed and lift up the blanket.  He lies down and lets you into the crook of his arm.  He smells good. You watch most of the movie like that, not moving.  Just inhaling his scent and lusting after him, your wits battling your carnal need. He falls asleep for awhile but wakes back up.

-

On the screen, Billy Loomis sucks blood off his own fingers. Joel says, “There he is.”  He's seen your canvas tote bag with that image on it.  “See?  You’ve always had bad taste in men.”  

You punch him in the chest playfully and he acts like it hurts.  His smile kills you.  

You’re on a bed with him, snuggled  up with him, your head on his enormous bicep, and he feels far away.  Why doesn’t he try to fuck you?  It hits you like a punch in the gut that if you want something, you're going to have to take it.  And God, you want something.  You know better, but you want it.

You wet your lips and watch his face.  The pattern of his facial hair is so perfect.  Every little blank patch is perfectly placed.  Every touch of gray and silver.  It’s all of him, really.  Every broken capillary on his skin, every line.  It’s the most perfect design.  It’s almost unbearable. 

You hook your far leg over his.  He glances at you.  You pause the movie.  He does a double take when he sees the way you’re looking at him.  You’re trying to work up the courage to make a move.  Your lips part, and your hand glides up his chest to his neck, resting by his vein. His heart rate quickens.

“Terrible taste,” he mutters, reading your eyes like a book. 

You slowly lean in. He intercepts your mouth, controlling the nature of the kiss.  He kisses half your bottom lip, then trails his lips down your chin.  You tilt your chin up and he kisses its underside, open-mouth.  He pivots over your leg to be on top of you with one leg between yours.  His expansive hand runs down the side of your lacy top to your free leg, and he grabs your hamstring as your knee bends around him.  Your hips lift and you grind into his thigh, desperate for whatever he’ll give you.  He hardens against your inner thigh and you hear yourself gasp softly.  

Joel gets between your legs entirely.  He moves slowly.  He lays his hardened boxers against your leather pants right where you throb and ache for him.   His lips land lightly in the hollow of your neck, and he sucks gently.  His hard-on only rolls into you once, sending a jolt of electricity through you before he cruelly takes it away as he works his way down your body.

He tenderly kisses your collarbone, then the lace border of your slutty top.  He lifts your shirt up and you pull it over your head, along with your bra.  His lips press between your breasts, his beard lightly tickling their soft skin.  He palms one breast while his nose nudges your other nipple and they both harden painfully.  He sucks just below your nipple and his hand trails down to your pants, grazing over your zipper, then engulfs your entire crotch. His flattened fingers rolling firmly but gently into your clit, over your pants.  He breathes heavily.  

You arch your back and he breathes, “God almighty,” before taking your other tit into his mouth.  

Then, he continues his slow journey down your body. He plants two open-mouth kisses on your stomach.  You’ve never been so wet or ready.  His kisses trail down below your belly-button, to your leather pants.  

All this instead of just kissing you on the mouth like you wanted. It feels like heaven, but it also doesn’t sit right.  

"It's not happening," you say. 

"What?"

"I'm not gonna fuck you." You're saying it to yourself more than to him. 

"Oh, I'm not gonna let you, sugar," he rumbles in a near-whisper.  Then, his nose digs into the leather between your legs. 

"Just wanna taste you. Make you forget everything else." 

He has both his thumbs on your mound and presses his mouth into just the right spot, a wave of pleasure washing over you, lifting your hips.  His mouth presses and consumes you slowly, but so hungrily that his beard would be hurting you if your pants weren’t on. You're already twitching.

He looks up and his tired eyes swallow you whole. 

You feel exposed.  You’re extremely aroused, and he feels far away.  You would much rather be making out, with his whole body wrapped around you, his hardness grinding into you. Still, you can't deny this feels very, very good. 

His fingers curl into the front of your waistband, and he looks up.   

“I'm not into that," you tell him. “Can you kiss me?”

“I’m about to.  Ever had it from a grown man?” he asks.  “Or hell, a woman?" he adds.  

You don't answer.

“You don’t know if you’re into it.”

He craves you badly - it’s all over his face.  You do want to see how hot he looks doing it.    

"You have thirty seconds to convince me," you tell him. 

"Only need ten."  You're throbbing so bad that might be all it takes, period.  

His thumbs unbutton you. He starts to unzip you and inhales sharply when he sees you're commando. You let him peel off your pants.  He does it slowly, looking at your pussy like a juicy burger the whole time.  He pauses to thumb you, like he can’t resist.  

“Fuck me,” he says when he feels how wet you are. He thumbs your clit with one hand while pulling your pants down with the other.    Then he finishes taking them off, prowls back toward you, arms bulging, and puts your thighs over his muscular  shoulders.  

It's surreal seeing Joel between your legs.  He feels your naked breast and hooks his other hand under your thigh, holding your hip loosely.  Tension is coiling deep in your core, throbbing, looming, tighter, more desperate than you knew it could be.  

The hand on your breast slips down your torso as he kisses your inner thighs, his beard scratching you lightly. He plants a kiss on your mound, opens his mouth, and licks his way down to your clit.  He’s careful not to drag his facial hair against your most sensitive skin.  He nudges the side of your clit with the bridge of his nose.  You throb and squirm, and his large hands on your hips hold you still.  He seals his mouth around your clit and the top half of your dripping seam.  He applies suction while his strong tongue languidly laps you.  

With a groan, you release a breath you didn’t know you were holding.  You want his cock.  You can hardly stand it.   

Between heavy breaths, you tell him, “Time’s up.  Come here.” 

But he keeps devouring your pussy.  You tangle your fingers in his hair and whine, “Joel, please” and he laps you more firmly, makes eye contact with you.  He flicks his tongue, sucks, drags his tongue down, plunges his tongue inside you and you moan. 

“Take your cock out,” you tell him.  You're aching to be filled.

He pulls his face away, shiny and red from the nose down, replacing it with his hand.  He pulls his boxers down.  The sight of it makes your temples weak.  He thumbs your clit and slips one, then two fingers inside you, making your head fall back as you clench around him. It’s not what you want, but it’s so much better than nothing.

"So tight," he marvels.   He gathers your wetness and lubes himself with you.  Not what you had in mind.  You at least want to feel his hardness against you.  You beg him upward toward you, but he won’t go.  

He strokes his stiff manhood as his head returns between your legs, his tongue tracing your folds up to your clit. You begin to squirm and he holds you down with one hand, a sight that makes you weak. He hums "Mmm" and moans into the apex of your folds. You're throbbing desperately, your hips move on their own, and he must feel it.  

"Come for me, sugar," he mumbles into your warmth.  Then he opens his jaw, firmly plants his lips, and digs in again. 

Your thighs tremble, threatening to close in on his cheeks.  You dig your head into the pillow.  With each pass of his tongue, each push of his lips, the tension in your core coils tighter until it can’t hold anymore and springs open all at once.   As your hips lift against his mouth, his lips press back and he swallows you hungrily. 

Pleasure blooms from your core in rhythmic pulses.  Your arms and thighs jerk randomly in unison, your abs lift you off the pillow.  You’re a prisoner to the pleasure, moving at its will, until your climax wanes.  The release floods your chest and you pry his head off you.  You finger his clean, messy hair.   

Joel flattens his fingers to take more wetness from you and you shudder with an aftershock.  He sits up on his knees and his brow furrows painfully.  You're too busy memorizing the look on his face to fully appreciate the way his ass clenches as he starts to come. Relief covers his face and he grunts as his hot load shoots onto your stomach.  

-

He pulls his boxers back up, sits back on his knees, and breathes.  His tan, masculine hands affectionately rub your thighs, and you watch his chest rise and fall.  Somehow he never looks vulnerable, even right after he comes. 

Joel steps away and comes back with tissues. He cleans you up and runs you a bath. 

"Good night, Trouble." His thumb affectionately brushes your temple and he kisses you on the head. Then, he goes to his own room.  

-

tysm for any reblogs/comments, I love to know what y'all are thinking 🫶

Tags: @jbcalway @daddy-din @angelmenace @silkiers @axshadows @legs0pen4dilfs @fan-fiction-floozy @grnherbs @icuminurbutt @lokanda @not-a-unique-snowflakewflake89 @likeanimagepassingby2 @witchy-jadda @mxtokko @missannwinchester @cannolighost @anxiousankylosaurus @montenegroisr @97cityy @lillyrob @billyloomiswhore4 @cloudroomblog @boysddontcry

[dravencroft]

Grandmother Esther, my friend's latest Vampire: the Masquerade character for a one-shot session we played a couple of days ago. She is just a sweet, quiet blind old lady who speaks with ghosts and... eats flesh.

[aqqleshiqqing-archive]

goofy ass trainer couple red and jaide would like to battle‼️

[stick-by-me]

What are they doing in the cemetery?

(Clearly crimes)

New follower sticker for: @thenightwindtunes!

[dootznbootz]

I shouldn't be sharing this because spoiler but I'm too fucking excited for it.

In the fucked up Calypso fic I'm working on, he'll be back home and I'm going to write protective af Penelope cradling a dazed Odysseus (PTSD shit) and she's glaring and showing her teeth at the onlookers who think he's crazy and I'm going insane because of it.

[jce93]

thry have the perfect sun/moon dynamic but u guys arent ready to hear that js yet 🤫🤫🤫🤫🤫🤫🤫🤫🤫🤫🤫🤫🤫🤫

[intertexts]

the thing that's got me really fucking hooked with black sails so far though is that lately i've been going man i really do enjoy splashy violence & gratuitous gore & such, but i want to see something where the violence enacted onscreen has a real and heavy weight to it. (this is of course the fault of me reading what happens next & it entirely + permanently changing my worldview) & this show fucking does! there's so much blood in this show & so far it is always a shorthand or a parallel or a metaphor or foreshadowing or five different layers of such...

[exastriis]

Here be an experimental ship for Suzie! Fun fact, her and Alfred actually had a crush on Gilbert during the Revolution– er, rather just Alfred, but Suzie too by proxy just because he keeps fanboying about Gilbert in his letters hshdhf,, I'm not sure when or if they even met during this time, but this is just a fun what-if regardless! As for the other one, I had a human band AU in mind– maybe some kind of punk-metal band? Gil is the vocalist and Suzie is the bassist. I also think Suzie got him the little chick patch, lol. They make for a fun couple, but entirely too akin to the match analogy. The relationship starts out hot and passionate— but it reaches a fever pitch and they eventually go their separate ways. Thankfully on amiable terms, though, given they weren't dating for long. Gilbert is too stuck on his own ways and Suzie wants something different. I think it would be funny if this AU had a PruCan endgame, because seeing your ex-boyfriend-bandmate getting wedded to your close friend is... probably insanely awkward 😭 thankfully she meets Alfred there, huh? 🥴💖

[ ᴄᴏᴍᴍs ᴏᴘᴇɴ | ᴅᴏ ɴᴏᴛ ʀᴇᴘᴏsᴛ ] she/they pronouns for suzie!

[arolesbianism]

Sits in shambles I didn't read maybe Jorge's id correctly in the mysterious hermit logs the first god knows how many times I read them and only just now realized that it's the same id as the scientist that speaks in the agricultural notes log why must I be so bad at reading

[ectonurites]

almost 4am can't stop thinking about the meaning of the idiom 'to have blood on [someone's] hands'—to be responsible for a person's death—combined with the fact that Zach is the one we are specifically shown with Daryl's actual blood on his hands (once for real and once in a dream)... Not Josh who had been holding the sword Daryl fell onto, but Zach who took the sword out.

[robertsbarbie]

my brother: probably is going through the worst thing he’s ever been through in his entire life

me: how can i make this about myself and my sadness

[booasaur]

See (2019) - 3x02

[mushroom-for-art]

Syn has been living in my head rent free so he gets put in situations, situations being going to a nice café apparently and chatting with another shadow mewtwo, hope this is okay @seasidemew also Pikkot and the concept of Stardust Café belongs to @spikyegg!

Business was steady within multiverse Stardust café, Pokémon filed in and out most ordering their treats to go as they continued on their journey through the possibilities while some chose to stay and take a seat, taking a moment to relax within the calm aromatic atmosphere of the shop, freshly baked treats and breads steamed creating a delicious scent with carefully crafted teas to suit. The customers chatted at their tables to those they'd never even met before from entirely different worlds all taking the time to enjoy the delicacies lovingly baked by Pikkot in the kitchen, strangers exchanged cakes and brownies to each other in warmth as for a time a great sense of community was created within the room.

Due to the boundaries of this space within and between universes synergy corrupt individuals found that they quickly mellowed out as the behaviours of seeking more power were impossible in this environment and yet being in this bubble outside of worlds kept them appeased allowing many to return to an almost rational state. Though the many customers still exercised an air of caution about the two dark hued genetic Pokémon that were chatting up a storm at one of the tables, creating a noticeable area of empty seats. The taller, lighter gray hued of the two laughed into his hand as his tail idly swayed the end glowing brightly as it brushed across the floor. The more dark blue gray hued one with bright glowing crackles of energy flashing over her skin continued moving her hands in flourish as she told her story, her tail tip flicked in engagement though rested on a stool rather than laying on the floor like her companion's due to the bright shining and incredibly sharp crystal fused into the tip of her tail.

"Of course I wasn't going to let such a cheap tactic fly, while I understand it from a battle strategy point of view my way of seeing it is, if one is going to execute some cheap trick you need to be sure you can follow through, use it to your advantage to strike an ending blow and win, otherwise you're just gonna piss me off," she laughed a bit of an empty cruel laugh her tail swaying near the base which didn't quite reach the end, "well, I say that is if the miserable little creature had any real chance of winning." Her hand moved, rolling her wrist to flourish with her hand once more, "not to brag or anything." Her tone not matching her statement.

"I will give them the fact they managed to create a mark," her finger touched over a small scar on her forearm tapping it before turning her arm in examination, "not that it's that noticeable, well not noticeable to normal people at least but noticeable to champions," her mouth turned into a grin and although she showed teeth it was playful as her tone complimented casually. Her companion smirked as he raised a brow before relaxing into a chuckle.

"Complimenting me won't make me reconsider my evaluation on how much of a threat you might be," though they watched each other with equal caution there was a level of ease and playfulness to his tone, "but it does boost my ego." She tutted.

"Arceus in heaven above we can't be having that," she remarked playfully. She leant back casually in her chair in a half stretch as he turned from the waist to look around the café casually at hearing the bell on the door chime, he regarded the Bisharp with little interest turning back to sitting forward. There was a softer chime from the order up bell as a short, glasses wearing orange tailed mewtwo collected the plates of cakes and other confectioneries along with the two teacups and a specially chosen tea brewed in a teapot to compliment the taste buds. As they walked around the front desk carefully holding the tray in their hands the Bisharp moved backwards in a deliberate fast beat that saw their foot standing directly on one of the mewtwos toes and their bladed body roughly knocking into them also as the mewtwo staggered from surprise and no doubt pain. Their momentum saw them side stepping before they steadied and slowed the tray still balanced and no treats lost or tea spilt as they sighed in relief.

The Bisharp barked some remark about watching where you're going to the Mewtwo as they continued forward, keeping their head down before arriving at the table of the shadow Pokémon without further incident. Carefully they took the plates from the tray placing them on the table along with the teacups and pot, the lighter one, Syn glanced over the food that had been delivered and brought his eyes over to glance at the other mewtwo, short for mewtwo standards for sure with a short tail to boot, a bump in the chest piece that would indicate a mega stone along with some noticeable scarring around the region. His eyes glanced at the cuts made in their side that were starting to slowly bleed.

"That looked like it hurt," he commented casually as they put down the last of the tables order, he watched them move their shoulder and arm to look at the cuts and frown to themselves.

"aah drat…I guess it did," the mewtwo who he realized was a female spoke from their mouth, "could've been worse though, so glad it wasn't." Her tone was infectiously positive and a bit on the loud side."Pikkots gonna end up making a first aid wall of shame for me though at this rate," she laughs in an easy manner, "well I hope you both enjoy, and Darkness don't cause any trouble."

The darker mewtwo made something of a bleh sound in response as the orange two walked back to the kitchen to go receive first aid for their cuts, giving the bisharp an incredibly wide berth.

Syn made a soft laugh, "I still can't believe you settled on Darkness as your name."

"Oh yea sure Mr Syn-ergy crystal, I was young I'd only had this body what 3 minutes when I made that choice, I'm looking into experimenting with a new name ya jerk." Her tone was easy though as he chuckled picking out a treat to try from the selection, dramatically hovering his hand above the plates twirling his finger.

"So, how do you know that other mewtwo? Didn't strike me as the type of person you'd hang out with."

Darkness took a macaron and popped it in her mouth happily enjoying the texture and flavor on her tongue with a satisfied hum before speaking with projected telepathy, "she's not, that was May she's," she paused struggling for words rolling her wrist in a few circles before uncertainly settling on, "she was my first suitable host that survived having me implanted into them, and she's the horrid creature that mutually corrupted me as I corrupted her." She made a noise, "and I suppose now in this body I'm technically her clone sibling as I had to use her genetic sequencing to create this absolute form of perfection." She gestures to herself proudly in emphasis, "I blame the unique situation of our corruption for my, difficulties now with taking over another host. Luckily this body suits me quite nicely." She shrugged casually lifting the teapot carefully with psychic energy and pouring the tea into one of the available cups, she glanced with her eyes and motioned with her head and Syn moved his cup to motion that yes he would like a cup too.

"You must be fibbing," he brought the cup to his lips to take a drink before biting into a cupcake, he continued telepathically, "she's hardly a viable host? I haven't seen her use any Psychic powers, she walks around mouth talks and carries things in her hands plus she let that Bisharp get away with bullying her, she seems too soft to survive a corruption event. And there's no way you're cloned from her, she's all small and cute looking and you're well," he gestures vaguely, "you're designer."

"Good save with that one," She chuckled "and you're telling me, I am well aware of the state of her," Darkness sighed a bit turning a cupcake between her fingers, "she's, something, she's annoying weak and placid but it took me years to wear her down enough to take over, I was implanted before she was even technically full grown or officially born. It's embarrassing to think how long she prevented me for, but I suppose admirable in a weird way. I have a bit more of an appreciation for her now that I'm, more organic, urg semantics." She bit into the cupcake aggressively with a frustrated huff at her display of emotions.

He raised a brow at her, "it took years to possess her? And what happened when you finally succeeded?" he leant his elbow on the table leaning in a bit to hear more, he was a bit surprised in all honesty wondering what that meant for the power this May had to remain herself for so long.

"When I finally was able to take control I found a strange amount of potential within her, I found when used by the right person, myself of course, she could be incredibly powerful and dangerous. She was strong and I'll admit I was shocked at how well she took hits. Though I decided partly from vainness and partly from the fact I resented her at the time that she was inadequate even with her potential and decided to find the perfect vessel which led to having to clone and make the perfect body myself. I have to do all the hard work around here." She chuckled to herself.

"I'll admit though, I do worry about what she'd be like under the effects of an unaltered synergy crystal, no ideas mister," She lazily pointed a finger at him in accusation as he put his hands up in mock surrender pondering what would happen if he extended his corruption to her.

"I can see your face thinking, it could be your funeral." Darkness shrugged idly before smiling a bit as she chuckled to herself pointing with her thumb at a different mewtwo of a red pink hue and many discoloration patterns wearing a prosthetic on one arm and using psychic energy to recreate the other to make up for not having actual arms below the elbow and higher on one arm and a more pointed tail, "it also means I'm related to that fool over there another clone not made by me, if I have to put up with them at least I get free entertainment." She laughed a bit but Syn could see a bit of softness to her as she watched the other mewtwo flirting away to some male customers.

The orange mewtwo May returned from wherever she'd gone sporting some plasters and bandages carrying trays and deliveries out to people once again. "So, that scar on her chest was-?"

"That's from me yes," Darkness casually answered before he could finish as she touched the jagged crystal growing out of her chest, "burst out of her when I finally took over, was incredibly painstaking making sure I got every piece out of her when I transfered into this form, I'm amazed I can still mega evolve with the mewtonite in such a state." She moved her tail, lifting it to show off the sharp crystal on the end like a blade, "this was all home grown however, carefully shaped and added."

"You grew synergy crystal?" Syn asked intrigued as she started to tell him about the process of successfully managing to grow and farm synergy crystal and how to encourage the crystals to grow a certain way.

Syn continued to glance over at the other customers as they discussed in lengths the process of crystal growing. He would watch the other mewtwos as well, some from many other universes arrived and he observed and mentally categorized them. Most of them looked like easy pickings, others looked like very filling meals. At some point Darkness as sneakily as possible opened a jar of gherkins, he accepted one to try in confusion to why she brought them to a sweetie café watching her bite into a cupcake and then a gherkin. He could faintly hear Pikkot in the kitchen gasp in absolute horror as though sensing someone was committing crimes against his baking as Syn could only stare in bafflement.

"Not pregnant are you, dear Darkness?" He smirked playfully in mock as he looked at her and she looked back at him, with the silence becoming just a touch deafening.

"Look-" She began before there was an incredibly loud clattering of metal trays and the scraping of a chair rapidly sliding across the floor before clattering over loudly. It distracted both the shadow Pokémon enough to look over at the drama.

The bisharp from before was stood with their table and chair thrown about and trays scattered across the floor. The red pink hued mewtwo apparently called Matt had his arms to his chest in startled protective reflex as he stood near the trouble making Pokémon.

"Look I'm gonna have to ask you to leave, that is completely unacceptable! Like look at this mess man, I'm gonna have to pick this all up!" Matt threw up his arms in an exaggerated fashion at his frustration at the mess. The Bisharp eyed Matt up as it moved slowly stalking to the side like some predator eyeing up its prey. The other customers quickly moved to be as far away as they could to be out of the danger zone.

"Woah.. Woah hey now..dont like how you're looking at me..you wouldn't attack a guy with no arms would ya?" Matt turned on his feet following the prowling Bisharp not letting it get behind him and quickly yelping as it decided to lunge with Matt promptly half throwing himself to the side out the way yelling, "NEVER MIND I GUESS YOU WOULD."

He slipped on some smooshed cake as he attempted to scramble away from the danger, Syn almost wondered if he should step in if only for the thrill of a fight. He moved to stand and felt Darkness grab his forearm with a quiet, "hold on I wanna see what happens," as he gave her a confused look wondering why she was preventing probably the only competent person from stepping in to help her supposed brother.

The Bisharp swung their arm to slash with intent to cause serious injury before it's body froze in place, a thin shimmering white outline could be seen around their body as May stepped out from the kitchen with a cold expression, her eyes completely white. Despite the psychic energy rolling off of her in waves picking up the scattered chairs and tables scooping up squished cake and generally tidying up she didn't float, her arms carefully wrapped under Matts to pull him up as he moved to very quickly duck behind his furious sister.

She looked around the restaurant scanning over to make sure that no one else was hurt and nothing else needed fixing as the Bisharp made a grunt of effort as they attempted to break free of the psychic restraint, her head snapping to look at them at the sound.

She stared at them, tail swishing up and down as the metal blade on their arm began to quietly rattle and with a crack the metal shattered and they dropped to the floor at the sudden release.

The bisharp wailed at the destruction of their blade and there was no sympathy on her face as they stumbled holding their injured arm that hung limp with the pain having more than just a damaged pride as they fled out the door. Her eyes remained aglow watching after them, undoubtedly aware that with a damaged blade the social position of that bisharp was now ruined, that they would likely lose their pack and struggle to hunt, and there was still no sympathy on her face as she blinked and her eyes returned to normal.

"Boooo you should've killed him," Darkness hollered as other customers looked at her in horror at her suggestion as she simply smirked and shrugged. May shook her head checking over her brother asking if he was hurt before sweeping up the scattered metal shards off the floor and moving to apologize to the nearby customers for the actions she just took.

"What just happened.." Syn glanced at Darkness in bewilderment but also in slight awe at the casual brutality he just witnessed.

"I told you, Mays got potential but for some reason she can use her powers to protect other people and not herself and when she does use her powers? Well you saw what happened. Again, no ideas mister I don't wanna see her as a shadow version of her."

"Of course," he spoke glancing over as May went back to work, "I wouldn't dream of it." He lied casually.

[meezer]

I knitted a lot today while listening to the heart of darkness audiobook. but this means I have not had a lot of leisure time and time alone... time to p3r