#second times a charm | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

pedgito · 4 months

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𝐌𝐄𝐓 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐃𝐄𝐕𝐈𝐋 𝐋𝐀𝐒𝐓 𝐍𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓 (AU) — Joel Miller X Fem!Reader

Summary: I made a joke about wanting to screw dirt-covered Joel even if he was deep in the trenches of hell and...well, yeah. This is pure filth and nothing else. Porn with minuscule plot, if you will | beta'd by @planet-marz1 & @beskarandblasters.

Word Count & Warnings: 6k | 18+, fem!reader, demon!joel, no specific age gap since dude is a literal demon, but reader is early 20s and I picture Joel to be his younger self (around 36), mentions of su*cidal ideations, this all a completely made up concept pls don't come for me about rituals, ect i will cry. virgin!reader, reader's father is a priest and horrible (just a total douche)/mother isn't alive, spitting, oral, unprotected piv, blood drinking, competency kink, innocence kink, mutual masturbation, if i missed anything let me know!

Heaven forbid you end up in a situation like this.

No, literally. Heaven specifically forbids it.

You’ve done the research, the hours and hours of scavenging online in search of the proper offerings, the right way to to complete this…ritual.

It’s foreign and completely out of your element.

As if anyone was familiar with this, beside the defunct group of people that completed these rituals for entertainment but were very swiftly ran out of town, though you’re sure they lay dormant somewhere.

You weren’t sure if any of them were attempting to summon demons to make deals with either, but here you were.

Standing at a dark and lonely crossroads in your hometown, on your knees, begging for anyone to answer your pleas.

Not prayers—nothing like that.

You check and double-check the carefully drawn sigils, recounting the incantation in your head to make sure you said it right, knowing that everything you buried in the small dirt pile in the ground was what was required. Even ripped off the cross necklace your father had gifted you as a child and threw it in a nearby field, not wanting to take any chances.

Maybe this was pointless, hoping on a whim that all those stories were true, that there were other forces at play. Good or evil, it didn’t matter.

Your naivety was showing, the blade held tightly in your left hand was shaking and you thought maybe…just a small drop, maybe it would help.

And you’re almost breaking skin when there’s a solid woosh behind you, the cold draft goosebumping your bare skin, knowing this dress was a mistake, once pristine and white now matted with spatterings of dirt and filth.

“Oh my,” The voice singsongs low from over your shoulder, “now, what is this?”

The knife clatters to the ground loudly.

You chance a glimpse over your shoulder, expression meek and fearful as you take in the man before you.

That’s what he was.

All man, nothing like what you’ve been told to believe. No horns, no wings, no overtowering presence to send you running in the opposite direction. Nothing like the stories you’ve heard as a child.

And he’s rightfully beautiful—clearly defined edges to his jaw, a stature that felt both threatening and comforting, he held himself high, a proper posture that had to have been learned. Taught. Drilled and instilled into his outwardly behavior. He smiles wide, bright and shining teeth behind plush lips and a nose that screamed god-like but you knew he was anything but.

“Speak up, now,” He taunts, voice gravelly and thick, whether it is a forced dialect or not, you hear no flaws—he sounds familiar, looks familiar, and you feel it all may be a ruse, but you don’t question it, “busy night and I’m not being paid to have my time wasted on curious little vermin like you.”

Oh, there it was.

Still, you found yourself nervous as you spoke, suddenly forgetting all rational thinking or why you were even here, scrambling before him.

His footsteps are warning sounds against the pavement as he approaches you, tucking a stray hair behind your ear before he waits, expectantly, a sickeningly sweet smile plastered across his face.

“Tick tock,” He warns, “why did you summon me, sweetheart?”

The endearment feels odd and misplaced, but it still has your insides turning in a way they shouldn’t.

“I—uh,” Your voice is feeble, unsure, “do you—do you think I’m pretty?”

He looks genuinely confused, eyebrows shooting up slightly at your question.

He’s seen a lot, heard just about everything, but this was new. And from a beautiful, timid specimen like you, no less.

“If you want me to say yes, I will.” He offers.

He would’ve agreed anyways—he might not typical most of the indulgences with the human race, but he wasn’t blind.

“But, really,” Another gentle touch that you find yourself leaning into, like he could hear your own desperate desires spinning around in your mind, plucking them out carefully and storing them in his own, “why have you called me here?”

“I…don’t remember,” You admit softly, “I—I—“

It’s his unnerving presence that has robbed all rational thinking, as if summoning a devil was a good idea to begin with. But, he’s standing before you and suddenly you have nothing to offer, nothing proposition him with.

Because, really, what were you willing to trade your soul for? A better life? It was impossible.

He cups your face firmly, thumbs pressing into soft, supple flesh, and really—who was he to waste such a beautiful opportunity?

He’s used to older men—addicts, drunks, men who were nothing good for this world and did more harm than good. Still, a job was a job, taking souls was the easy part.

What followed was…much more intense.

He enjoys the reaction of the pathetic people on their knees, begging for any alternative��aside from the few who have seemed more than willing. He would never press the agreement, just a solid—

“Well, enjoy your pathetic little life then.” And disappears, no flare or show.

His time wasn’t to be wasted.

Yet, here he was, tending to the sad sight of you.

“Why are you upset?” He ponders softly, feeling your body thrum beneath his fingertips, the pulse of your heart quickening. “You’ve called me here for a reason.”

“I—hate living like this,” You admit quietly, “my father, he has these values, rules, I don’t want to—I don’t understand them. He constantly compares me to other women, berates me and criticizes how I dress, how I look.”

He pauses for a moment, like he’s sifting through the rolodex in his brain, but even just a touch against your skin and he can absorb every precious memory stored away in your mind.

“Your daddy,” He grins, “religious type, huh?”

“He’s..a priest.” You admit.

Jackpot.

“And—and he’s horrible. He—he cheated, back when my mom was still alive. She—she died a few years ago, drunk driver. But—I just—”

He feels a desire to make you better, ease this pain.

But, there are a few stipulations.

“Oh, sweetheart,” He coos, “I think I may be able to help.”

You close your eyes in relief, taking a deep breath through your nose.

Suddenly his lips are brushing against your ear and it ignites a fire inside your body, a feeling that was new and strange, exhilarating too.

“First, how ‘bout you call me Joel.” He offers, “I go by that up here.”

Right. Up here. Not down in hell.

You fight your curiosity and nod.

“Oh—okay, Joel?” You repeat curiously.

“Perfect.” He smiles, pulling back to look at you.

He feels he might be reprimanded for the idea brewing in his head.

Like, the king of hell might have a bone to pick with him. But, he was his best—there was no wrong that Joel could commit. Plus, he was feeling a little selfish.

Someone so easily influenced, willing—who was he to pass on this opportunity?

“You’re unhappy with your life?” He inquires to confirm, planting the seed in your mind.

“Yes, very much.” You speak quietly, licking your lips briefly and catching the way Joel’s eyes track it, his own lips parting slightly.

It’s almost hard to believe that this was just a skin, that whatever was underneath had to be much more intimidating and terrifying, but you focus on his face, fearful that if you let your mind wander you might end up a sobbing mess.

“And you would like me to make it…better?”

You nod subtly, a quick jerky movement that Joel would’ve missed had he not been paying apt attention to you.

You had potential. He could see it in your expression, pliable—teachable. It was the perfect concoction.

“That’s a mighty big ask, sweetheart.” Joel counters, a hint of playfulness in his tone.

“Please…please, I don’t know what else to do—”

Joel shushes you comfortingly, one of the hands holding your cheek slowly moves to the back of your head, cradling it.

“Well, I could kill your daddy,” Joel offers, “but…really, that’s no fun.”

You stay silent. The idea wasn’t totally deranged, as much as you hated your father. But, you can feel Joel on the precipice of another offer, something you fear you won’t be able to resist.

“Or, you come with me.” Joel offers, a malicious grin growing across his face, “And I can make that pathetic little life so much better.”

Your eyes search his face frantically for any signs of deceit, but they show nothing but the truth.

He wants you. He wants to have you, tuck you under his metaphorical wings and make you one of his own—and you find yourself nodding before you allow your thoughts to wander or doubt to seep in.

“I—I will, please.” You beg, “Just—how does this…work?”

Oh, you poor thing.

“Well—”

“Just a kiss, right?” You wander curiously, hands fisting into the lapels of his suit—the gaudy uniform he was forced to wear when he was on earth, quite a shame.

His pointer finger traces the delicate lines of your face, his thumb rubbing against the tip of your nose, down the cupid’s bow of your lip, before pulling gently at your bottom lip, the plump flesh snapping back into its previous position.

“Not…exactly.” He responds, “This deal requires more. A solid connection.”

“So…” The words linger in the air like a suffocating blanket of mystery.

“Have you ever been fucked before?” Joel asks bluntly, your eyes widening in response.

“Um—” You hesitate briefly, “Not…no, not really.”

Well. That was a first.

“Not really?” Joel questions your wording, silently asking you to elaborate.

It was his own curiosity getting the better of him.

“Just..some touching.” You offer blandly, “Over—over the clothes, you know?”

Yeah. Of course.

You were talking about your sexual inexperience to a demon who had half the mind to claim you where you stood, but here he was, curious. He couldn’t explain the intrigue he had for you, but the moment he set eyes on you, he’d had plans.

Joel offers a soft kiss to the tip of your nose, your eyes closing briefly as he moves in.

“Don’t worry, sweetheart.” Joel reassures, “When I’m finished, you won’t feel so clueless.”

And with a deft snap of his fingers, you’re plunged into darkness.

You’re thankful Joel is there to catch you, knees buckling as you transverse through the planes of existence—it’s the only thing you can assume as your surroundings change in an instant.

You weren’t in the middle of nowhere Texas anymore, rather a room filled with dark, leather furniture and amenities you were almost positive Joel had no use for. No chains or torture devices like you might’ve assumed. Just a low light room that could’ve doubled as an open-floor apartment.

This must be where deals are sealed, eyeing the litany of different surfaces Joel would probably plan to consume you over, suddenly feeling completely out of your mind for taking his offer.

He senses your panic, his touch an odd comfort as he whispers, “Don’t worry, you have some leverage here.”

Even if he was lying, you relaxed slightly.

“This deal is…different.” The word feels like a ruse, but he can't find another way to explain.

“It’s not just your soul, but all of it.” He runs a hand down your face, chest, stopping at the swell of your breasts before continuing his way down, calloused fingers playing with the hem of your suddenly pristine, white dress.

No dirt or grime found, it was like the old dress had been snatched away and replaced with a new one.

“You stay here, with me.” Joel explains. “You work for me, with me.”

You stay silent, listening to his offer.

“And you will be mine.”

There it was.

“So…a partnership?” You surmise, feeling his wandering fingertips splay along your thigh, squeezing the flesh in his hands.

“Mmm,” He hums thoughtfully, “more like a mentorship.”

You nod, quickly understanding.

“There’s so much I can teach you,” Joel explains, “That I will teach you.”

His hand gropes your ass suddenly, pulling a gasp from your chest. His nostrils flare at your reaction, teeth bared under his sullen expression.

“Are you ready to offer yourself over to me, sweetheart?”

“Yeah—yes.” You reply, strengthening your resolve and answer clearly.

Joel smirks devilishly—which, in retrospect, yeah. It makes sense. But, there’s a true evil behind his eyes that you’ve yet to witness and had your insides stirring with intrigue.

Unlike most, he was planning to take his time with you.

You expect things to progress with intensity, but they don’t.

Joel graciously guides you toward the couch in the room, taking a seat in the middle before guiding your legs over his lap, allowing you to take a proper seat and relax, his hands exploring exposed skin, fingertips rubbing at the thin strap of your dress snug against your shoulder and drags it down slowly, tracing his fingers along the line of your shoulder.

“Can I…ask you something?” You hesitate to speak, eyes closed as you tilt your head to the side, feeling his finger tips dig into your skin as his hand wraps around the side of your neck, his other hand busy discovering what lies beneath, performing a similar action with the strap until your dress falls to your waist, exposing your breasts.

He runs a careful fingering over your nipple, the bud hardening underneath his touch, before his eyes, and he thinks it may be the most heavenly thing he’s witnessed so far, given his course of work.

“Go on.” He responds, distracted, leaning forward to latch his mouth to your clavicle, the wet heat of his tongue pressed deliciously against your skin.

“Is this—is this you?” You ask innocently, allowing yourself a bold touch to his face, delicate fingers follow the angular parts of his face until you find your hands seeking the softness of his curls, moaning softly as his mouth ravishes your skin and bites hungrily, but playfully. “Is this your…natural form?”

Curiosity was natural. And it wasn’t the first time he’s been asked if the skin he wears is his own.

The answer is fairly simple.

“No,” He responds, “but, I prefer this. It’s much more—appealing than the other. More approachable.”

“O-Oh,” You sigh, his hands disregarding your breasts to squeeze at your waist, dragging your hips forward to feel his hardening cock underneath you, confined to his slacks but very persistent. If your soul wasn’t already gone, it definitely left your body then, “um…another question?”

Joel chuckles, toothy smile shining up at you as he watches your eyes dilate with pleasure, knowing you were enjoying this. He nods again.

“The, uh, guy—how do you—”

“Are you wondering how I came to acquire this skin?” He finishes for you.

You nod slightly, hearing the faintness of his zipper as he lifts you slightly, enough to shift his slacks down his hips to relieve some of the pressure.

“I’m really not supposed to talk about deals,” Joel drones on, but he knows he’s going to tell you anyways, “but—he was a desperate man, begging me to bring his young daughter back to life. Unfortunately, the boss has a strict policy on resurrections,” He explains, like it’s all merely a simple transaction, though to him it was, “so, he begged me to kill him instead.”

“And you did?”

Joel nods, the distinct rip of fabric as he splits your dress in half and discards it, leaving you naked aside from the thin fabric of underwear that held snug on your hips.

“Sort of. Didn’t seem fair that he went to waste,” He shrugs, “and while he doesn’t occupy this body anymore and I didn’t take his soul, I do occupy the vessel for as long as I please or until I find something better.”

Though, he’s grown fond of this disguise. Taking on his likeness and name, it made deals far more easier when people were willing to approach him. His quota are up, he was rising in the ranks, it was all looking up for him.

Normally, you’d feel the urge to hide yourself away, terrified at being gawked at so openly, but there’s a hunger behind Joel’s gaze that feeds your ego and desire, unadulterated lust behind his eyelids.

“You sucked a cock before?” He asks crudely, but then he’s tipping your chin up, tracing your bottom lip with his thumb, and you can’t offer anything but the truth.

If you had lied he would’ve known in a second.

You shake your head, allowing the slow slide of his thumb past your lips, pressing down on your tongue, pulling your face forward with the leverage and your lips close around the digit instinctively.

“Sweetheart, have you even seen one before?”

There’s a lingering silence that confirms his suspicions.

“Get on your knees,” He offers, spreading his legs until he can pull his slacks off entirely, removing his jacket haphazardly, leaving him in a crisp white button up, tie still secured tightly around his neck—“Go on.”

You found yourself staring, moving obediently as he guides you to the floor, lips hung open slightly as you can feel your tastebuds yearning for a taste of him. It’s mouth-watering, really.

His arms are spread over the back of the couch and he’s waiting, looking at you expectantly.

“Gotta lot to teach you, honey,” He tells you, “better if you learn with a hands on approach—go on and take a peek.”

You shift on wobbly knees, pulling at the waistband of his underwear—it is far from anything you’ve imagined or expected, full in girth and weight as his cock bobs heavily against his stomach, a small string of precum staining his shirt in the process. You can’t help the way your lips part, almost imagining the stretch as you’d force it to fit in your mouth.

God, would it even fit?

And the thought of it inside of you—terrifying, but still exhilarating.

You’re doing the mental math in your head, tilting your head curiously as your brow scrunches in thought. Eight, bordering on nine inches and all thick and uncut, and well-trimmed at the base. But, the part that makes you bite your lip hard enough you can taste blood is the way he rolls his balls tenderly in his palm, almost as mouth-watering to you as the sight of his cock.

Joel knows fascination when he sees it, unrestrained and every so curious.

He’s never encountered a virgin before, not like you. He’s dealt with inexperienced, bad etiquette, but never someone so hopelessly clueless. And yet, still so willing to learn.

You were sent to him, he thinks. Rather than he to you. There was no other way this would end.

You were his now, even without knowing.

And truthfully, that was fine with you.

Joel grins lazily, the hands fondling his balls slowly moving to his shaft, wrapping around his own girth and down his shaft in a motion that has your eyes drawing to the pink, weeping head.

“Give me your hand.” Joel instructs, extending his free hand to you and encircling his fingers around your wrist to replace his own grip, nothing in comparison to what his large hands could cover.

Testingly, you copy his motions as you squeeze your grip around his cock and mimic a slow up and down motion on his shaft, watching as the foreskin swallows the tip and then pulling back as you feel bold, pressing your tongue against the slit and lapping up the heady taste of him.

It shouldn’t feel like this. This was sinful.

“Hey, hey,” He coos, voice softening as he leans in, hand wrapping around the front of your neck and pushing you back slightly, “don’t get ahead of yourself there, darlin’.”

“I thought—”

His thumb pulls at your bottom lip, saliva spreading against the fleshy tissue and he chuckles.

“You want a taste?” He asks, earning a confirming nod from you. “Open your mouth.”

And rather than allowing you his cock, he gathers a small amount of saliva in his mouth and squeezes your own mouth open by your cheeks, spitting directly into your waiting mouth, eyes widening in disbelief.

You were missing out on. So. Fucking. Much.

“Close and swallow,” He tells you, waiting until you listen, which doesn’t take much push on his part, noticing how obedient you were from the moment he approached you, “already listenin’ so well, sweetheart.”

He releases the tight hold on your face and slumps back into his previous position, cock held firmly in his hands as he taps them against your slack lips, nose flaring slightly as your tongue slips out, lapping at the tip gently. Swirling around the head carefully as you spread your lips, letting him feed his cock slowly into your mouth, slow enough to allow you time to adjust. Gain your bearings.

He’s being gentle, for now—he wants to push your limits. You can feel it, the way he’s restraining himself as his free hand squeezes the cushion beneath him, blunt nails scratching the fabric.

Suddenly, you remember you have hands, feeling them lay numb and useless at your side you quickly gain your bearings and replace his hand with a soft shove and he can see your confidence grow with every solid inch you take. The soft, velvetiness of his dick so welcoming in your mouth, nudging at the back of your throat as you breath sharply pushing until it strings, eyes watering. You pull back with a soft gasp, Joel’s eyes following your movement, drawn to you with an inability to look away, and the faint string of spit that connects your lips to his head still is enough to have him cumming right there, if he wanted.

But, he wanted to savor this. To devour and take.

He gives you a subtle nod of encouragement as you return your lips to his shaft, dragging a long line from root to tip with your tongue before swirling around the tip gently and forcing him into your mouth in one go and out, again. Again. Again. Until your jaw aches with a pain that is welcomed and he seems to take notice—a solid hand cradling your jaw as he rubs at the sore spot with a gentle touch, so juxtaposed to the man he should be.

The man he was. He was holding back, for your sake.

“Can’t believe you’ve never sucked cock before,” He drones on, chin tilted down as he looked upon you, wide eyes staring back, “you wouldn’t lie to me, would you?”

You shake your head honestly, mouth still stuck firmly around him as you bow your head slowly, letting him guide you further down again, stopping only when you feel the urge to gag to then trail your tongue down his sack, the heaviness of his balls weighing against your tongue, allowing the process to repeat several times until he’s satisfied, a sharp hiss through his teeth as he pulls you off roughly, hand fisting into your hair.

‘C’mere,” He mumbles, guiding you a little too harshly into his lap, groaning at the sting as he pulls you taught, lips pressing together in a messy, tireless exchange. You couldn’t even call it a kiss, just tongue and teeth and heated noises as you explore each other curiously, noting how intoxicating it felt to kiss him—the hint that maybe there was something about him that casted a spell on you, not just his charming looks and personality. It’s almost impossible to believe you were minutes away from sharing a bed with the one thing your father used to tell you to fear for your life.

And here you were, ready to toss your soul over for a fix to your life.

But, if Joel was willing to catch you, there was nothing that would stop you.

Joel guides you to the bed with a practiced precision, letting you fall gently as he loosens his tie, unbuttoning his shirt with quick, sharp movements, shrugging it down his shoulders—alas, allow you an unobscured view of beautiful, tan skin and imperfections. A reminder that this body was once human, that it had lived. You rise slightly, pressing up on your palms as you reach out a hesitant hand to press against his chest, the soft scratch of your nails against his stomach causing him to tense slightly, catching your wrist tightly, stalling your movements.

“Now, I could be nice about this,” Joel begins, “prep you right and let you come around my fingers first,” You perk up slightly, struggling against his hold as you felt the need to disobey, to touch him just once more, “that what you want?”

You nod hesitantly, earning an inquisitive look from Joel.

“Sweetheart, tell me you’ve touched yourself before?”

He’d snap if you said no—it might actually break him.

“Of course.” You reply quickly, offering a fiendish smirk.

He laughs lowly at your unabashed honesty, releasing your wrist to trade for a finger under your chin, tilting your chin up slightly.

“Show me.” He purrs, “Show me how you like to touch yourself.”

His hands follow the slope of your legs as you lean back against the plush pillows, helping the spread of your thighs with the back of his hand, taking in the sight of you with fresh eyes, in all your untouched glory. Cunt glistening with a need that has been growing and growing since he first touched you, folds dripping with a slick wetness as you spread your fingers down your core and applying a gentle pressure to your clit that was welcoming, safe. It was a feeling you were familiar with.

But, Joel doesn’t want that.

He allows a few minutes, uninterrupted, selfishly admiring the sight of you. Head thrown back, fingers working away tirelessly as they traded between dipping inside of you for that yearned feeling of pressure, to be filled, before sliding back up to your clit, rubbing at the sensitive bundle of nerves until you were panting, threateningly his name hung at the back of your throat, unable to find the courage to look at him this deep in your own seek of pleasure and release.

His fingers trace but never stray to close, they stretch your limits by edging the seams of your thighs but never to the point where it breaks your concentration, but somewhere between the almost sigh of his name and his quick ascent onto the mattress as it dips slightly, his fingers are replacing your own with a deep, thankful moan.

“Joel,” You finally sigh, “oh—that’s—”

“Better?”

“So much,” You whine, “So much bigger, fuck—”

“Dirty,” He clicks his tongue, “kiss all the boys around town with that mouth?”

“Maybe,” You shrug innocently, “but—fuck—never let them fuck me, Joel.”

Joel nods knowingly as one finger becomes two, sensitive hole fluttering around his fingers and squeezing, greedy. He knows it is going to be a tight fit, difficult, but not impossible. You rest your full weight into the bed, giving up the attempt to stay upright and fight for some leverage here—it was useless with his fingers inside of you, working you over like he’s known your body for years, every touch overlapping the next and driving you mad, feeling your body shake as you neared the edge, ready to jump off and into his arms, knowing he would catch you.

But, he wasn’t going to allow that.

“Not yet, sweetheart.”

He can sense it before you do, so in tune with your body. He grips your thighs suddenly, settling them over his hips as he leaned on his calves, pressing the head of his cock near your entrance teasingly, watching as you tensed around nothing, void of his fingers too.

“Can’t waste the opportunity of your first time without my cock being stuffed inside you when you come,” There’s another gentle, teasing press as he slots himself more securely against your body, face cradled in his free hand as he rubs the apple of your cheek tenderly, “right?”

You nod, leaning into his touch as he pushes inside in one slow, persistent push of his hips, feeling your body shake underneath his touch, cunt already squeezing him needly, greedily pulling him in and begging for more. More. More.

He grunts softly when he’s fully sheathed inside you, settling his hands in the dips of your waist, thumbs pressed against your stomach as he pulls out to the tip, allowing another slow drag of his hips, mostly for show.

He’s being kind. Too nice. And you don’t need that right now.

Joel laughs louder than you’re expecting, startled as he tosses his head back, picking up his pace slightly as he pistons his hips in a sharper, pointed roll. Snap. Snap. Snap.

Deeper and deeper each time.

God, was he reading your fucking mind?

“You humans are a curious species,” He comments, “So greedy, so hateful, but there are—huh, special little beings like you.” The veins in his neck bulge as he switches positions suddenly, leaving you half folded under his willful, pliable hands, his arms barricading you in as the pace was nearing unbearable, just teetering on the edge. You yelped at the sudden change, quickly dissolving into a litany of moans as he could see the switch in your expression as he hit that special, spongy spot inside of you. “So fucking perfect.”

A glorious thing the human body was, indeed.

“Think—think I might just have to ask my boss for a decade off,” He jokes half-heartedly, and given the context you could laugh, but you’re only slightly sure he’s joking, “keeping this pretty little pussy all to myself and fuck you until you don’t remember a damn thing.”

You don’t have words, sounds—not even a thought. The press of his cock at your cervix almost mind-numbing as you clawed at his skin, flawed but indestructible when he occupied it.

“Not even that sweet name of yours,” He whispers it delicately in your ear, realizing that you had never properly introduced yourself but somehow he knew, “you were made for me, you know?”

Like a prophecy, destined to be fulfilled.

“Any path,” He stops briefly, voice shaky as he feels himself nearing his own end, “it would’ve led to this, sweetheart. To me.”

There’s a soft switch of something over your head, his face contorting slightly in pain as you watch through hazy, half-lidded eyes, before he’s bringing his bloody palm to your mouth.

“Wo-Woah, what—” You panic, the crimson liquid dripping down his palm slowly.

“Shhh, shhh,” He soothes, “Trust me.”

He knows you’ll take his word for it, already nodding with a surety as he raises his hand to your mouth, but he continues to talk, allowing you the reassuring words you crave.

“This bonds you to me,” He explains, “Seals the deal—no more shitty life, no more weak, poor soul to keep you tied there,” You feel the hot rush of liquid as it pours into your mouth, like a surge of power as it seeps into your tastebuds, like the strongest drug known to mankind as it filtered through your body, made you felt as if you could do anything, “it’s you—just me and you now.”

His eyes roll back as you suction your lips around the inside of his palm, moaning out a deep and strangled, “Fuuuuck—”

You’re greedy with the blood, fingers digging into his forearm as you drank hungrily, face messy with the thick liquid when he finally pulls away, leaving you in a state of dissociated euphoria.

Floating.

You feel the entire room fade, shifting behind him as he does the same to your own palm, a quicker and precise knick as he trades a small amount in favor of the copious amount you took from him, selfishly.

It was intimate, too intimate. An intensity behind his eyes as they flashed a sudden shade of black as he consumed you, before quickly shifting back to their normal state, warm pools of dark honey, darkened with desire. He notices you staring at him, wandering eyes.

“Do I scare you?” He asks lowly, melting with your soft, pathetic whines.

“Nonono,” You mumble weakly, squeezing desperately around his cock, “never.”

He rests his forehead against your own, a few gentle rocks of his hips and it’s forcing you both over the precipice with little effort, guttural gasps into stale air, face mushed together as you clung to one another and panted, feeling the warmth flood between your legs as he came with a strong, forceful snap of his hips.

“Oh, baby,” He sighs, “that was—”

The room is still spinning, your mind running on a high.

“Your blood—I think it’s—”

You can’t get the words out, his cock slipping out of you gently as he shifts, falling on the bed beside you. He grabs your wrist carefully, dragging slow fingertips up your arm, each touch like an electrical current against your skin.

“Powerful shit, isn’t it?” He chuckles softly.

You nod deftly, turning to look at him.

He looks so…normal. Like, had you met the real Joel back home, this was him.

Maybe it still was, you could never truly know.

“What…what happens now?” You ask hesitantly, “Am I—am I dead?”

Joel comforts you with a soft touch, fingers brushing your cheek as he turns you, pulls you into his chest as he follows suit and cuddles against you, still exploring your body with wandering touches, feeling every nerve-ending breathe a new life into your body.

So, not dead? You definitely didn’t feel like it.

“No,” Joel assures you, “‘Least, not really. Soulless, yes. But, your mind is still there.”

“O—okay.” You still weren’t sure what that meant.

“Memories will fade overtime,” Joel continues, “But here—with me, you’ll have leverage. Power.”

Joel traces his fingers along your chin and brings your eyes to his, “You’ll learn, I promise.” He assures, “Just a little bit of patience.”

You nod understandingly, leaning into the comforting touch he provides.

“But, in the meantime,” Joel’s eyes trace the length of your body, “there’s a lot more I can teach you, sweetheart. If you’re willing to learn.”

Luckily, you were more than willing. A wicked grin stretching across your face, and he knows then that he made the perfect choice, fate or not. This was forever.

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