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gutsby · 9 months ago

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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:

#IF YOU NEED ME I’LL BE CHEWING THE BARK OFF THE NEAREST TREE #joel miller #joel miller tlou #joel miller smut #joel miller imagine #joel miller one shot #joel miller x reader #joel miller fanfiction #the last of us #tlou #the last of us fic #joel miller x you #dark!joel

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