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ironinc · 2 days ago

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My Dearest Situationship.ᝰ.ᐟ (Pt 1)

Tony Stark x F!Black Reader. (Smut/NSFW)

˗ˏˋ You and Tony are in a passionate yet confusing relationship, with him longing for something more serious and you cherishing your independent lifestyle. When you're together, the spark is undeniable, but when apart, you each lead your own lives. He envisions settling down with someone like you, but you question where your relationship stands. How will this whirlwind romance unfold between two individuals with differing expectations?

⤷ Oneshot, smut/fluff so here’s the warning! Lowkey sugar daddy, sex occurs twice, yearning and romance of course~

⤷ A/N: I fear I’m obsessed with writing things for tony. I just can’t not have a good ideo for the plot!!!

⤷ Word count: 4,658

⤷ Special song to add spice: Make It To The Morning by Partynextdoor.

ᥫ᭡

The penthouse was quiet, save for the low hum of the city below. Too quiet. The kind of silence that made you hyper-aware of your own breathing, your own heartbeat. You leaned against the floor-to-ceiling window, staring out at the glittering skyline, but all you could think about was him. Tony Stark. He had this uncanny ability to occupy your thoughts even when he wasn’t there. And tonight, he wasn’t. Not physically, anyway.

You swirled the wine in your glass, the deep red liquid catching the dim light. It was his favorite. Some ridiculously expensive vintage he insisted on stocking for you. For me,��you corrected yourself.

Because that’s what this was, wasn’t it? A carefully curated arrangement where he provided… everything. The clothes, the jewelry, the apartment. But what did he get in return? Your presence? Your affection? Or something more elusive, something neither of you could quite define?

The sound of a key turning in the lock snapped you out of your thoughts. You didn’t turn around, not yet. You knew it was him. Only he would barge in unannounced as if he owned the place. Technically, he did.

“Still up?” His voice was smooth, confident, and just a little teasing. “Waiting for me?”

You finally turned, your gaze meeting his as he stepped into the room. Tony Stark. The man who could make your pulse race with just a glance. He was dressed impeccably, as always—a tailored suit that fit him like a second skin, the faintest hint of stubble shadowing his jaw. His eyes, though. Those were what got you every time. Dark, intense, and filled with a hunger that matched your own.

“Not waiting,” you lied, taking a sip of your wine. “Just couldn’t sleep.”

He smirked, loosening his tie as he approached. “Liar.”

The word hung in the air between you, charged with the tension that always seemed to exist whenever you were together. It was electric, undeniable. You felt it in the way your breath hitched when he stopped just inches away, in the way his cologne wrapped around you like a second skin.

“You don’t have to lie to me beautiful he murmured, his voice dropping an octave. “I know you missed me.”

You raised an eyebrow, trying to maintain some semblance of control. “Confident, aren’t we?”

“Always.” He took the glass from your hand, setting it aside without breaking eye contact.

“But I’m not the one who’s been pacing all night, am I?”

Damn him. Damn him for seeing right through you. You wanted to argue, to push back, but the intensity of his gaze left you speechless. Instead, you swallowed hard, feeling the heat of his body so close to yours. Too close. Not close enough.

Tony reached out, his fingers brushing against your cheek. The touch was gentle, almost reverent, but it sent a shiver down your spine nonetheless. “Why do you fight it so much?” he asked softly. “This thing between us. It’s real, and you know it.”

You shook your head, stepping back slightly. “It’s complicated.”

“Only because you make it that way.” His hand dropped, but his gaze never wavered. “I’m offering you everything, ____. All of me. But you keep holding back. Why?”

Because you’re scared, and not being independent would be something new for you. The thought flashed through your mind unbidden, but you didn’t say it aloud. Couldn’t. Admitting that would mean admitting how much he meant to you, how deeply he’d already gotten under your skin. And that was dangerous. Terrifying.

Instead, you deflected. “You’re used to getting whatever you want, aren’t you?”

His lips curved into a slow, knowing smile. “Usually. But you’re different. You’ve always been different.”

Your heart skipped a beat at his words, but you forced yourself to stay composed. “Flattery won’t work on me, Tony.”

“Good thing I’m not trying to flatter you, then.” He closed the distance between you again, his hands settling on your hips. “I’m trying to show you what you mean to me. What we could be.”

His touch was firm, and grounding, but it only heightened the buzzing in your veins. You wanted to pull away, to preserve the distance you so desperately clung to, but your body betrayed you, leaning into him instead. His lips brushed against your ear as he spoke, his breath warm against your skin.

“Let me in, ____. Just once. Let me show you.”

The words were a plea, a promise, and a challenge all rolled into one. And they broke you. Whatever walls you’d built, whatever defenses you’d erected, they crumbled in that moment. You looked up at him, your resolve faltering, and nodded.

That was all the invitation he needed.

Tony’s mouth crashed onto yours, fierce and demanding, as if he’d been holding back for far too long. You responded in kind, your hands tangling in his hair, pulling him closer as the kiss deepened. There was no hesitation, no pretense. Justraw, unbridled desire.

He backed you toward the bedroom, his hands roaming over your body with practiced ease. Every touch, every caress, was deliberate, designed to unravel you piece by piece. By the time he pushed open the door, your dress was already pooling at your feet, leaving you bare before him.

Your breath hitched as his eyes raked over you, dark and hungry. “Beautiful,” he breathed, the word barely audible but dripping with sincerity.

You felt exposed, vulnerable, but also… powerful. Like you held him in the palm of your hand, even as he claimed you with his gaze. He stepped closer, his fingers tracing a path down your arm, sending shivers skittering across your skin.

“Tony…” Your voice was soft and uncertain, but he silenced you with another kiss. This one was slower, sweeter, as if he was savoring the taste of you.

When he pulled back, his expression was serious. “Tell me what you want, ____.”

You hesitated, your mind racing. What did you want? Him? Yes, always. But more than that? That was the question you’d been avoiding.

“I want… you,” you whispered finally, the admission tearing free before you could stop it. “All of you.”

A flicker of triumph crossed his face, but it was quickly replaced by something softer, more tender. “You’ve got me,” he said simply. “Now and always.”

The words should have scared you. They did scare you, deep down. But in that moment, all you could focus on was the feel of his hands on your skin, the heat of his body pressed against yours. He laid you down on the bed, his movements slow and deliberate, as if he was memorizing every inch of you.

His lips trailed down your neck, planting soft kisses along the way until they found your collarbone. You gasped as he nipped gently, his tongue soothing the sting. “So sensitive,” he murmured, his voice thick with desire.

Every touch, every word, was deliberate, calculated to drive you wild. And it worked. By the time his hands slid lower, you were already trembling, your breaths coming in short, uneven gasps.

“Tony, please…”

“What do you need, sweetheart?” His voice was low and rough, but there was a tenderness there that made your chest ache. “Tell me.”

You opened your mouth to respond, to beg, but then his fingers brushed against you, and all coherent thought fled. You arched into his touch, a moan escaping your lips as he teased and tormented you, drawing out sensations you hadn’t even known were possible.

“That’s it,” he coaxed, his thumb circling slowly. “Let go for me.”

And you did. Wave after wave of pleasure crashed over you, leaving you breathless and trembling in his arms. He held you through it, his lips pressing gentle kisses to your forehead, murmuring words you were too overwhelmed to process.

When the last tremor subsided, you looked up at him, your vision still hazy. His expression was one of pure adoration, and it made your heart ache in ways you weren’t ready to examine.

“My turn,” he said huskily, his hands moving to his belt. You watched, transfixed, as he undressed, revealing the taut muscles and perfect skin beneath. When he joined you on the bed, you could feel the heat radiating off him, tempting you closer.

His hands roamed over your body, rekindling the fire he’d just stoked. You gasped as he nipped at your earlobe, his breath hot against your skin. “Are you ready for me, Y/N?”

You nodded, unable to form words. He positioned himself above you, his eyes locked onto yours, full of intensity and something deeper. Something that made your heart pound even harder.

“Tell me if it’s too much,” he whispered, his voice rough with need.

You nodded again, biting your lip as he entered you slowly, giving you time to adjust. It was overwhelming, the sensation of being so completely connected to him. But it was also perfect.

As he began to move, you wrapped your legs around his waist, pulling him closer. Each thrust was deliberate, drawing out gasps and moans that echoed through the room. His name fell from your lips like a prayer, and he responded with a groan, burying his face in your neck.

The rhythm increased, becoming more urgent, more desperate. You clung to him, your nails digging into his back as waves of pleasure built once more.

Without a word he stopped you from moving, flipping you around flat on your stomach. He grabbed your hips and pulled them up. Helping you arch your back. He teases you for a second. Using your wetness to tease you with just his tip.

“Tony, don’t tease me—”

With a swift move, he inserted every inch of him, without letting you re-adjust. His strong hands rested on your waist. Controlling your movements he brought your ass to meet his thrusts. His moans were low and so attractive. It added to everything you were feeling.

In this position, you could really feel all of him. It was toe-curling. (BAHHSHHSHA)

“Come for me, sweetheart,” he urged, his voice strained. “I’ve got you.”

And just like that, you shattered again, crying out as ecstasy consumed you. He followed soon after, his body tensing before collapsing beside you, both of you breathless and spent.

For a long moment, neither of you spoke. The only sound was the steady rhythm of your breathing, slowly syncing as you lay tangled together. Finally, Tony broke the silence, his voice soft but firm.

“We can’t keep doing this, Y/N.” He stood up and went to the dresser. Getting himself something to put on and gettingyou one of his shirts to wear plus some pajama shorts. He gave it to you and then sat beside you.

Your stomach dropped at what he said. You thanked him for the clothes and put them on. “What do you mean?”

He turned to face you, his expression serious. “I mean… I’m tired of pretending this is casual. I want more. With you.”

You stared at him, your mind racing. More. It’s what you’d been secretly longing for, even as you denied it. But now that it was out there, hanging between you…

“Tony…”

Tony’s eyes held yours, unwavering, as if he could see straight through the walls you’d built around yourself. The weight of his words pressed down on you, making it hard to breathe. More. It wasn’t just a word—it was a promise, a demand, a fear all rolled into one. You swallowed hard, your voice trembling as you finally spoke.

You hesitated, your hands clenching and unclenching at your sides. “I don’t know if I can give you what you want. I’m not… I’m not built for this. For us.”

His brow furrowed, but he didn’t pull away. Instead, he took a step closer, his presence overwhelming in the best way. “Why not?” he asked, his voice low and steady. “What’s holding you back?”

You looked away, your heart pounding in your chest. “I’m scared,” you admitted, the words slipping out before you could stop them. “Scared of losing myself. Scared of depending on someone else. Scared of getting hurt. And scared to not be independent.”

For a moment, there was silence. Then Tony reached out, his fingers brushing against your cheek. His touch was gentle, almost reverent, as if you were something precious. “Look at me,” he said softly, and you did, your eyes meeting his once more. “You’re not going to lose yourself with me. I don’t want to take anything from you. I want to give you more—more of me, more of us. And as for getting hurt…” He paused, his thumb tracing the curve of your cheekbone. “I’ll never let that happen. Not if I can help it.”

His words wrapped around you like a warm blanket, soothing the edges of your fear. But still, the doubt lingered. “You say that now, but what happens when I’m not enough? When you realize I can’t give you everything you need?”

Tony’s expression softened, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “You already are enough. You’ve always been enough. And I’m not asking for everything—I’m just asking for a chance. A chance to show you that we can be something real.”

Your breath caught in your throat, the sincerity in his voice breaking down your defenses. “Tony…”

He leaned in, his forehead resting against yours, his breath warm against your skin. “I’m not going anywhere,” he murmured. “Not unless you tell me to. And even then, I might not listen.”

A laugh bubbled up in your chest, unexpected but welcome. “Stubborn,” you muttered, shaking your head.

“Guilty,” he replied, his lips brushing against yours in a soft, fleeting kiss. “But I’m also serious. I meant what I said earlier. I want to take care of you, ___. In every way, shape, and form. Let me. Please.”

His gaze was so intense, so full of raw emotion, that it was impossible to look away. “I don’t know if I can,” you whispered, your voice barely audible.

Tony’s hand slid down to cup your chin, tilting your face up to his. “You don’t have to know right now,” he said. “All I’m asking is that you trust me. Trust us. Let’s figure it out together, one step at a time.”

Your heart raced, the walls around it crumbling with each word he spoke. “You’re not making this easy,” you said, your voice trembling.

He chuckled, the sound low and warm. “Good. I wasn’t trying to.”

You closed your eyes, taking a deep breath as his words sank in. One step at a time. He was right. You don’t have to have all the answers right now. All you had to do was take the first step. And maybe, just maybe, it would be worth it.

When you opened your eyes again, Tony was still there, waiting patiently, his gaze never leaving yours. “Okay,” you said softly, the word leaving your lips like a confession. “One step at a time.”

A smile spread across his face, bright and genuine, and he pulled you into his arms, holding you close. “Thank you,” he murmured into your hair, his voice thick with emotion. “You won’t regret this.”

You buried your face in his chest, his heartbeat steady against your cheek. “I hope you’re right,” you whispered.

“I am,” he said, his fingers gently trailing up and down your back. “And to prove it…” He pulled back slightly, his eyes twinkling with mischief. “Let me take you out. A real date. No business, no distractions. Just you and me.”

You raised an eyebrow, a small smile tugging at your lips. “A date? Are you sure you remember how to do that?”

Tony laughed, the sound rich and full. “I might be a little rusty, but I’m sure I can manage. Besides, it’s you—you make everything easy.”

Flutters filled your stomach. He had a way of making you feel seen, and cherished, and not just physically. It was in the way he talked to you, how he held your gaze, how he seemed to understand you without having to say a word.

“Tomorrow night,” he said, his voice firm but soft. “I’ll pick you up at seven. Dress for whatever you want—fancy, casual, it doesn’t matter. Just be ready for me.”

“Understood,” you replied, feeling the warmth of his words sink into your skin.

Slowly, his hand drifted to the small of your back, and he leaned in again, his lips brushing against your ear.

“Good. Now,” he whispered, his tone dropping into something deeper, more intimate.

“It’s late,” he murmured against your skin, sending shivers down your spine, “and I’m not done with you yet.”

His palms slid down your sides, trailing heat everywhere they touched until his fingers hooked into the waistband of your pajama bottoms and tugged gently. “Take these off for me,” he said, his voice husky as he took a step back, just far enough to give you space but close enough that you could feel the heat radiating from him.

Your breath hitched, but you didn’t disagree. Slowly, you slid your shorts down your legs, kicking them aside, leaving only his thin t-shirt covering you. The look in his eyes darkened as his gaze traveled down your body, his lips parting slightly, his jaw tensing. He let out a low exhale, and your stomach tightened in anticipation.

He strode forward, the intensity in his eyes making your heart pound, and he slipped his hands under the hem of the shirt, fingers brushing against the softness of your thighs as it fell over your body. His eyes roamed your bare skin, making you feel exposed, vulnerable, and yet utterly desired. His fingers trailed up your sides, sliding the fabric up, inch by inch, and you raised your arms, letting him pull the shirt over your head.

Tony’s breath caught as he took you in, his gaze lingering as his hands began to explore, trailing lightly over your skin. His fingers brushed your shoulders, tracing the curve of your collarbone, and then he leaned in, his lips following the path his hands had taken. “You’re so fucking beautiful,” he murmured against your skin, the words sending a shiver down your spine. His hand moved down your back, his fingers trailing lightly, sending sparks of pleasure through you.

He pulled you closer, his body flush against yours, his erection pressing against your hip. Your breath hitched as he moved his mouth to your neck, his teeth grazing your skin, making your knees weaken. His hand slid down to your thigh, gripping it firmly as he pulled you even closer. “You feel so good,” he breathed, his voice deep and rough. “So fucking good.”

His hands moved over your body, stroking and caressing you, exploring every inch of skin he could find. He kissed along your shoulder, his lips traveling up to your neck again, his tongue flicking out to taste your skin. His hand cupped your ass, squeezing it gently before sliding down to your thigh again, pulling your leg up to wrap around his hip.

Tony’s breath was heavy against your neck as he kissed and nibbled at the sensitive skin there. His hands moved over your body, his touch firm but gentle, making you shiver and moan. His erection pressed against you, hard and insistent, and you could feel the heat radiating off his body.

“Tony,” you breathed, his name a plea and a prayer as your fingers fisted in his shirt. He leaned back, his hands framing your face, his thumbs brushing against your cheeks, and his eyes locked with yours. His gaze was intense, almost unrelenting, but it wasn’t forceful. It was… possessive, but in a way that made your chest tighten and your breath hitch in your throat.

He leaned in, his lips feathering against yours, and you melted into him, your body softening as you kissed him back. His tongue slipped into your mouth, and you moaned softly as you kissed him deeper, your hands sliding down his chest and gripping the hem of his shirt. You pulled it up, breaking the kiss as you tugged it over his head and tossed it aside. His bare chest was warm and solid against yours, his skin smooth and taut over the muscles beneath.

Tony’s hands slid down to your hips, his fingers digging into your skin as he walked you backward until your knees hit the edge of the bed. He didn’t push you down. Instead, he leaned in, his lips brushing against yours, his breath warm on your skin, and murmured, “Lie back.”

Your heart raced as you followed his command, lying back on the bed, your legs bent and your feet flat on the mattress. He knelt down, his hands wrapping around your knees to spread your legs apart. You let out a shaky breath as his head dipped between your thighs, his lips brushing against the sensitive skin on the inside. His tongue flicked out, teasing you, and your back arched as a shiver ran through you, a soft moan escaping your lips. His hands slid up your thighs, squeezing them gently before moving down to grip your hips again. His tongue moved faster, flicking over you, and your body trembled as pleasure built inside you.

Tony’s mouth moved lower, his tongue sliding between your folds, and you gasped, one hand gripping the sheets as the other reached down to tangle in his hair. His mouth pressed against you, his tongue flicking over your clit, and you cried out, your body trembling as waves of pleasure washed over you. His hands moved up to cup your breasts, his thumbs flicking over your nipples, making you moan as your body writhed beneath him.

“Tony,” you gasped, his name falling from your lips like a prayer, your hips grinding against his mouth as the pressure built inside you, your body trembling with need as he teased and pleasured you. His eyes lifted to yours, and he smirked, his lips glistening with your arousal.

“I like hearing my name on your lips,” he said, his voice low and husky, his breath warm against your skin. “Say it again.”

“Tony,” you whispered again, your voice trembling with need as his tongue worked its magic between your thighs. His name hung in the air like a promise, and he groaned against you, the vibration sending another wave of pleasure coursing through your body. He pulled back slightly, his darkened eyes locking onto yours, and you could see the hunger there, raw and unrelenting.

“Say it again,” he demanded, his voice low and gravelly, his breath fanning over your slick flesh.

“Tony,” you moaned louder this time, your hips lifting off the bed as if to chase his mouth. His grip on your thighs tightened, and he chuckled softly, a sound that sent a shiver down your spine.

“Good girl,” he murmured, his lips brushing against your inner thigh before returning to their delicious task. His tongue swirled around your clit, teasing, and flicking, and you gasped, your fingers tightening in his hair as you arched into him. The room was filled with the sounds of your combined breaths and the wet, intimate noises of his mouth on you, driving you closer and closer to the edge.

You were teetering on the brink, your body coiled tight with tension, when Tony suddenly pulled away. You whimpered at the loss, your eyes flying open to meet his. He smirked, his lips glistening, and climbed up your body, his hands sliding under you to grip your ass as he positioned himself over you. His cock brushed against your entrance, and you shuddered, your nails digging into his shoulders.

“Not yet,” he said, his voice thick with desire. “I want to feel you.”

His words sent a jolt of heat through you, but before you could respond, he shifted his weight, rolling onto his back and pulling you with him. You straddled his waist, your knees pressing into the mattress on either side of him, and he gazed up at you, his dark eyes full of something you couldn’t quite name.

“Take what you want,” he said, his voice soft but commanding. His hands slid up your thighs, his thumbs brushing over your hip bones, and you felt a surge of power, of control, that made your breath hitch.

You leaned forward, your hands resting on his chest as you positioned yourself over him. His cock pressed against you, and you sank down slowly, inch by excruciating inch until you were fully seated on him. Tony’s head fell back, a groan tearing from his throat, and his hands gripped your hips tightly.

“Fuck,” he muttered, his voice rough, and you smiled faintly, moving your hips experimentally. His breath hitched, and you did it again, harder this time, relishing the way his eyes fluttered closed and his jaw clenched.

“You feel so good,” you whispered, your voice trembling as you began to move, rocking your hips against him. His hands moved to your breasts, his thumbs brushing over your nipples, and you gasped, your movements growing more urgent.

Tony’s eyes opened, and he watched you intently, his gaze burning into yours as you rode him. His hands slid down to your hips, guiding your movements, and you let him take control, surrendering to the rhythm he set. His thrusts grew deeper, more insistent, and you cried out, your nails scraping against his chest as pleasure built inside you.

“Don’t hold back baby,” he urged, his voice rough and demanding, and you obeyed, your body convulsing around him as waves of ecstasy crashed over you. Tony swore under his breath, his hips slamming into yours as he chased his ownrelease, and moments later, he followed you over the edge, his fingers digging into your skin as he came with a guttural groan.

You collapsed against him, your chest heaving as you tried to catch your breath. His arms wrapped around you, holding you close, and you listened to the steady thud of his heartbeat beneath your ear. For a moment, neither of you spoke, the silence broken only by the sound of your breathing.

When Tony finally stirred, his hand brushed your hair back from your face, his touch gentle. “Stay with me,” he murmured, his voice soft but firm, and you nodded, curling into his side as exhaustion washed over you. His fingers trailed down your arm, leaving goosebumps in their wake, and you sighed contentedly, your eyes drifting shut.

But as you lay there, your mind began to wander, the blissful haze of afterglow giving way to thoughts you’d been trying to ignore. Tony’s hand stilled on your arm, and you glanced up at him, finding his eyes already on you.

“What is it?” he asked, his brow furrowing slightly. His thumb brushed over your cheek, and you hesitated, unsure how to voice the feelings swirling inside you.

“I just…” you began, biting your lip as you searched for the right words. “What are we doing, Tony?”

His expression softened, and he cupped your face in his hand, his thumb sweeping over your lower lip. “We’re figuring it out,” he said quietly. “One step at a time.”

You wanted to believe him, to trust that this could work, and you kinda did, but it lingered in the back of your mind. Before you could say anything else, Tony leaned in, capturing your lips in a slow, tender kiss that left you breathless. When he pulled away, his forehead rested against yours, and you closed your eyes, savoring the closeness.

“Get some sleep beautiful,” he murmured, his hand sliding down to rest on your hip. You nodded, smiling at the compliment and too tired to argue, and snuggled closer to him, letting the warmth of his body lull you into a restless sleep.

ON MY SOUL, ON MY GRANNY THIS HAD ME GEEKED OUT GAHHHHSHH. ESPECIALLY THIS EDIT WITH IT V

(Credits: Robertsdesert on TikTok)

I hope you all like this one. Trying new story ideas and this will also have a part two soon, since it was requested 🤍

༘⋆ Part two awaits you soon... ⋆˙⟡

59 notes · View notes

letsgobarbs · 1 day ago

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I wanted to comment as soon as I had read it but I was too busy bouncing off the walls of my home, you know just the average girl dinner reaction.

“then he will wrap his big strong arms around you, and squeeze until he can feel your ribs snap.”

Uuuhhh that’s a real intimate way to kill someone Joel, you sure it ends in reader’s my death? Hmmmm, keep telling yourself that. I was literally so gagged when the reader duct taped the remote to her own hand. I was like we didn’t know we had a genius among us.

I’m growing OBSESSED with Joel’s voices. At least, someone loves us out here.

Give’er a lil kiss.

YEAH GIVE ME A SMOOCHIE SMOOCH.

I was so sad that we almost got shot man Joel better be very fucking grateful AND a twisted ankle for his stupid jerky.

UGH and the flashback fucking killed me. I was so heartbroken for her, I knew something bad was there in the past because it was hinted in Part 1 but knowing her brother was in on it somehow was shit shit shit.

We’re really committed to mister-man, forgetting the pain in the ankles when he’s all sad and depressed.

PUDDIN’. Because every Disney princess deserves a pet sidekick even the crazy ones. And I love how smart it was hahahaha playing dead when she was having a moment.

“Skin peels back like overripe fruit.”

Uh yuck but apt.

Ugh this was all Joel’s fault really man why’d you have to insist on meat???

“Joel would beat your face bloody,” WITH KISSES

“and bludgeon your chest in until it caved” WITH LOVE

“What’s that? Fresh meat finally—”

STOP BEING OBSESSED WITH MEAT THAT’S OUR PET.

OBSESSED OBSESSED OBSESSED with Joel’s inner voice. At least SOMEONE is honest around here.

You are in fact insane, but he made you stop crying.

sigh dream man, honestly. It’s all a girl could want.

“Joel’s blood runs cold like ice… who the fuck are you talking to? Or about?”

bitch YOU! Ya think she’s gonna kill her pet? Naw.

“I’m not trying to hurt you,” you say softly, finally meeting his stare head-on. “I just wanna feel normal again…” Shut. The. Fuck. Up. Yeah Sug, keep that to ya’self. You feel ashamed, real shame, uncomfortable for sharing too much, and now the voices are agreeing with each other? That’s never a good sign. You’ve done something wrong.

Fucking teared up at that bit. We have done no wrong. EVER. She deserves to feel normal, no shame and discomfort in that.

Look'it that, ya went'n made her cry! For what!? She's just trynna be nice t'ya! Jus' like she said. She wants a lil boyfriend, someone t'snuggle up with at night-- like a normal person!

YES YES YES. Listen to the voices inside your head Joel. Is it wrong for me to be so fucking excited for Joel to learn about her past? Because I am. I am SO fucking excited for it. I want him to lose his absolute shit.

Ya’ want that sad lil puppy t’come over here, dont’chya?” He does, oddly enough. You being crazy was better than you giving him the cold shoulder, like he wasn't even there.

JUST GIVE INNNN. Admit you want us so badd.

It’s ‘cause you don’t wanna kill ‘er. Ya’ wanna be deep inside that tight, wet, warm perfect hole.

AKDFSLGNSRKLAWNIRJGBAWOGEJFAWL wow give it up for mister honesty here.

like Joel’s played some terrible prank on you and you just found out.

My heart fucking clenched. I feel so bad for us.

“Ya' wanna be m'crazy girl? Like Harley Quinn?”

FROTHING AT THE MOUTH YES.

Never would I have imagined we would have the most delicious sex with oven mitts on. PERFECT fucking chapter, so scrumptious.

Part 2- Cave In

Series Masterlist | Part 1

Summary: After the civilized world you once knew came to an end-- the men that survived... well they just take, take, take. Growing tired of having things taken from you-- you have a hankerin' to take somethin' for yourself... and make him perfect.

content warnings: Reader (no descriptions besides having hair that can be pulled) is in a weird mindset; hears voices, talks to herself. non-con/dub-con (if you're looking for enthusiastic consent, ya wont find it here) smut, cock-warming, unprotected P in V, creampies, oral (m&f receiving), rough sex, dirty talk, pussy and peen pronouns, alcohol consumption (altered mental state). Joel wears a shock collar and other various horrible things that would keep him in check-- and he doesn't fucking like it.

Reader warning- flashbacks of readers graphic and sad past!!!

While it looks real pretty, this is a Dead Dove, Do Not Eat. If ya do and then come complaining to me that you ate a dead dove-- I'm gonna fight you. I warned you!

Joel’s mind drifts off to the days and nights he spent teaching Ellie how to play guitar– watching her learn, grow more confident in the way she held the instrument. Then hearing her play her first song is one of his favorite memories. He wonders what her, Dina and JJ are doing right now.

He wonders if Tommy and Ellie are looking for him– Joel can’t imagine they wouldn’t be. Not after what they did in Seattle a couple years ago. His daughter and his younger brother would come looking for him, and eventually they’d find him- and rescue him.

The three of them- Joel right alongside them, would kill you in the process, he’d make sure of it.

That’s all he can think about– being rescued and watching you die as you wrap a second layer of duct tape around the oven mitts on his hands.

As much as Joel hates you, he can’t deny that you’re resourceful.

With the shock collar still around his neck, and now, two pairs of oven mitts secured to each of his fists, Joel watches you untie his arms from the chair.

He is stiff, and misses the fucking sun. Joel just wants to the feel the warmth on his face- but he can’t really even think about that now, he’s thinking of all the ways he’s going to fucking knock you out the minute you crawl into his lap.

He’ll knock the shock collar remote out of your hand, headbutt you– a real one, he’ll go right for your nose and try and break it– then he will wrap his big strong arms around you, and squeeze until he can feel your ribs snap.

He’s got it all planned out- until he hears the sound of more duct tape ripping, and he wonders what part of him you’re going to tape next.

Joel watches in horror as you tape the remote to your palm, your thumb gingerly laid across the button that would shock Joel probably into next week. You wrap the tape until Joel can barely see the remote anymore.

You’re more resourceful than he thought, and that’s terrifying. Joel is almost sixty years old– he’s being outsmarted by some insane woman who lives in a mall in what now is the woods outside of Jackson.

How did you get here? Where’s the rest of your group or community? Joel hasn’t seen a single other person since he got here, and he hasn’t seen or heard you interact or say you had to go meet up with anyone since he’s been here.

There is no way you’re surviving out here all on your own on peanut butter, raspberries and whiskey.

“Let me go,” his voice croaks. “C’mon. Y’don’t really wanna do this.” He’s pleading. He hasn’t fully begged yet, not pathetically– which is what you must want to hear. You wanna hear Joel– the big strong man cry and whine and beg for you to let him go.

You drop the roll of tape on the floor beside your feet, “Got some rules ya’ gotta follow, Mister.” You ignore Joel, taking an inched step towards him. “Number one is ya’ don’t hit. You don’t hit– I don’t zap ya'. Sound fair?" You don't wait for him to reply. "Good. Glad we're on the same page.”

Joel rolls his eyes and is immediately met with an intense muscle spasm throughout the entire right side of his face, and down his neck. It spreads out over his shoulder and through part of his chest.

It lasts for only a split second, but it leaves Joel panting, his brow already beaded in sweat from just that short electric shock.

“Jesus fuckin’ Christ– don’t fuckin’--" he starts to warn you with a stern tone and narrow eyes– but he’s greeted by your wet, stare only inches from his.

Your mouth opens and closes once, twice… three times before any sound comes out. “Stop makin’ me hurt you,” you whine, one single tear falling from the corner of your eye. “I really don’t like hurtin’ ya’-- I don’t wanna do it, so don’t give me reason to, right?”

Joel glares at you while deep down inside him somewhere his heart twists slightly.

Awww, look it’er cryin’. Cute lil puppy, alone, out here in the woods–

Joel blinks twice as you crawl into his lap, your soft, warm body pressing against his tentatively, as if you were waiting for him to start fighting you off, to start screaming and shouting at you.

He wants to so badly, he wants to feel his forehead connect with the bridge of your nose as hard as it can– but it’s like you hypnotized him when you curled up on his lap.

“Now ya’ wrap your arms ‘round me,” you breathe against Joel’s neck.

Joel fucking sighs at the feeling, almost wishing you press your lips to the spot directly behind his ear.

Go on, move your arms…

Fuck no! Something is seriously wrong with him, he needs to talk to someone besides you. He knows you’re a bad person; a good person wouldn’t do something like this.

Joel knows that if he puts his arms around you the way you want him to, he might start squeezing, and keep squeezing regardless of the pain from the electric shock. He’d seize up and wouldn’t be able to let you go, even if he wanted.

That might not be a bad thing though, either Joel would kill you, or you would kill him. It would solve his problem either way– and that was fine because he didn’t want to keep living like this. He couldn’t.

It would drive him fucking insane. He already feels like he is going insane the way he wants to kiss your neck, and suck on the spot where your collarbone ends, and your throat begins.

C’mon, fuckin’ do it. Ya’ know she wants it, give it to her– make her fuckin’ beg for it first…

Oh fuck, Joel knows that is the unstable part of his brain talking– and he has to shut it out.

You are Joel’s attacker, his fucking captor– the one keeping him from his family, the one he worked so fucking hard to get back. He might never see them again because of you. He’s thinking of all the ways he could hurt you–to hurt you badly, he wants to see you dead– but all those feelings of anger and hatred flee from his brain when you press the most soft, sweetest, barely-there kiss to his jaw.

“Thank you,” you murmur, resting your head on his shoulder. The way you sigh and melt into Joel, molding to him, has his head spinning for a whole new reason, and he’s completely fucking sober this time.

See big feller, ain’t that hard t’just comply.

Joel realizes only then that he has both of his arms wrapped around your waist, holding you close to him, with his cheek resting on your head.

She ain’t t’bad, right? Smells nice’n sweet, like a pretty lady.

It’s so hard to hate you and want you dead when your soft, sleepy breaths flits across the skin on his neck.

“I have more movies–”

“Anything besides the princess movies- please,” Joel sighs, not removing his cheek from your head. “I can’t do the princess movies again, anything else…”

“Do you like Batman?” The action of you lifting your head off his shoulder is the only reason he pulls away from you. “The cartoons?”

Joel snorts, and nods his head at you. “I do– me ‘n Tom–” Joel stops himself from sharing too much with you for no reason whatsoever, his eyes dropping to your bare thighs.

It makes his mouth water when he looks at them, even though they’re bruised to hell, with fresh cuts and old scars adorning your supple, and kissable looking skin.

He can feel you looking at him, waiting for him to finish what he was about to tell you. His eyes flash up to yours when you question him.

“Who’s Tom? Whatta’bout him?”

Joel can see your desperation in your face and eyes–they're wide, still slightly wet with the tears from zapping him moments ago. You must want to know so badly, and he decides to use it to his advantage.

“Get me some meat– anything– n’ I’ll tell ya’.” Joel can’t help but smirk to himself because this is going to work.

Your eyes light up, and you lean in real close- the tip of your nose pressed against his. “Promise?”

Joel nods, his eyes locked on to yours, “Promise.”

Give’er a lil kiss.

Joel leans forward to do it, but you pull back with your brows furrowed and a scowl on your face.

“No. Ya’ punched me last time ya’ did that.” You whisper at him, still frowning.

“Sorry f’that-” Joel starts but you don’t let him finish.

Your head shakes from side to side quickly, eyes still wide– untrusting, but desperate for something, he’s seen that look before so many times in so many different sets of eyes. After you scramble out of his lap, finding your footing on the floor beside the chair, you look down at him, still frowning.

“Sorry don’t mean nothin’- not out here it don’t.”

S’okay, Sug. You’ll be fine– Mister-man’s gonna be real thankful.

“Well he fuckin’ better! I hate gettin’ shot at, I hate havin’ t’fuckin run real fast- I hate that the place is almost three fuckin’ hours awa–” Your eyes fall onto the horizon where the sun is starting to rise just over the mountains in the distance. “Ain’t even get any fuckin’ sleep–”

Oh Sug, it’ll be worth it, he’s gon’ tell you–

Lies. He’s going to tell you lies, and for what!? You almost got shot–

“I know I almost got shot— You don’t think that I know I almost got shot!?” You’re nearly shouting in the woods. “Now both of yous be fuckin’ quiet– m’tired, and I twisted my fuckin’ ankle–”

And it’s the truth, you did twist your ankle when crossing the stream about a mile back, and thankfully the raiders had stopped following you a while ago, but with all the adrenaline it was easy to keep running. That was, until you slipped on those stupid fucking rocks.

It takes you thirty more minutes to get home, and by the time you do everything hurts, and you just want to go to sleep. Your ankle throbs with every tender step you take.

Taking a deep breath, you plaster on a smile and push open the door. "Honey, I'm home," you call out in a sing-song voice, trying to mask all your exhaustion and this fucking pain that won’t quit.

Mister’s already watching for you as you make your way slowly down the stairs. His eyes narrow as his eyes mill across your frame.

You don't look great. Disheveled, torn clothes, scrapes on your hands and knees from when you fell.

"What happened t’ya?"

Oh he’s worried ‘boutchya! Let him help you, honey.

You wave off his question with a limp hand. "Never mind me,” you toss your backpack on the table, the bottles of whiskey clank around inside noisily as you sit down in the metal chair beside Joel’s recliner. “Gotch’yer meat you wanted to fuckin’ bad.” You say, rolling your eyes.

Mister-man looks you up and down. "Y'look like hell," he says, his eyes tracing over the scratches on your arms and legs.

You ignore his words and his wandering eyes and open up your backpack. “I got jerky,” you pull out two large containers of dried meat and set them on the table. “-got bread ‘n more peanut butter— they had jam this time.”

“Who is ‘they’?” Joel asks, his eyes never leaving you even as his arms and wrists begin to twist gently under the restraints.

Embarrassment floods you, it takes over everything that you are, just like it did when you told him you had been watching him for a while. You know what you did was bad, and you shouldn't be stealing or killing-- but you're only doing it for him!

You look at him, with a hollow feeling in your chest that you can't quite place. "They’s just... people," you say quietly. "They don't matter none."

Joel tilts his head, studying you so intently that makes you want to squirm. "Ya’ hurtin’?" he asks, voice rough like sandpaper grating your ear canal.

“Who is Tom?” You avoid all questions about you, and any issues you have because why burden Mister-man? You're not his problem, you want to give him a worry, burden free life here in the mall with you and Puddin'.

Mister watches you very carefully as you pull a slice of jerky out of the container, he’s practically drooling when you place it as his lips. He groans as he begins to chew, and immediately takes another bite before he’s even swallowed the first.

He doesn’t answer— not even after the entire piece of jerky is gone, so you withhold the next piece.

“Who. Is. Tom?” You shift closer to him and wince when your ankle brushes against the leg of the chair.

"Tom... Tommy is my brother." His voice… there's something almost tender in his tone when he says his brother's name.

It feels like someone it clenching your heart in their fist, and they’re fucking squeezing.

"You're my fucking sister!" His voice is so hoarse, raw and desperate. It doesn't even sound like him anymore. "Don't— please, don't fucking do it, I'm sorry-" "You told me sorrys don't mean nothing anymore— not out here they don't!" You shout back at him, the gun in your hand trembles right along with the rest of your body. "You were supposed to t-take c-care of me! You p-promised mom and dad," you sob, your thumb pulls the hammer of the revolver back and your index finger squeezes the trigger. "Hey, HEY!" He holds both of his hands up, a weak attempt to shield himself from whatever is about to happen. Shoot him, kid. He deserves it after what he put you through. He let those guys— The gun just goes off, you don't even feel yourself pull the trigger. All you see is a fine, red mist explodes from his forehead and the back of his skull— and then everything is quiet, everything is calm. Good job, Sugar. I'm so fucking proud of you.

That was the first time you ever heard the light voice, the sweet voice that says nice things to you.

And m'gonna be here for ya' forever, Sug.

“I know,” you sigh.

Mister blinks at you, “You know Tommy?”

You blink back at him, “No?”

The silence stretches between you, thick and heavy like the evening air at the end of the summer. Joel watches you, his eyes darting between your face and the jerky still in your hand. “Okay…”

“Did Tommy like Batman?” If Tommy likes or liked Batman or anything about that universe at all, he’s an okay guy in your book.

“He likes Superman,” Joel chuckles when he delivers the news. “I’m the one who likes Batman.”

You audibly gasp, “You like the comics and the cartoons?”

Joel's lips twitch at the corners, almost forming what looks like a smile. "Used to read 'em with Tommy when we was kids. " His eyes fill with sadness.

You lean forward, tilting your head to the side in curiosity. "Why’re y’sad?" you whisper, the pain in your ankle momentarily forgotten.

"I ain’t sad," Mister-man is gruff. "Tommy and I used to collect comics, argued about who was cooler. Obviously Batman, 'cause he ain't got no superpowers. Just pure skill. Tommy thought Superman was better."

“Both of ‘em suck— I just like Harley Quinn,” you nod.

You were going to say more but the very faint sound of clicking ticks in your ears. It’s far enough away that you can get upstairs and drop the metal gate that locks the store up nice and tight.

It’s never fun, and you don’t like having to do it— but thankfully you just made a haul, so you’ll be good for a couple day.

You just hope Puddin’ is okay. Ya' saw him yesterday, but he didn't sleep in the big bed with ya' like he normally would.

“Har—” Mister-man starts, oblivious to the terrors that are lurking just above your head.

“Shhhhhh,” you hold your finger up to your mouth and furrow your eyebrows at him. “Stay quiet ‘n I’ll give ya’ some more jerky, okay?” You whisper almost silently.

He nods and stays quiet because he knows how scary those fucking things are, and he probably doesn’t want to be tied to a chair if one every came around.

Standing up feels like a pack of sparklers— like the ones they used to have at the 4th of July parties when you were a kid, before all this— it feels like those, popping and sizzling up your leg. You have to bite back a moan as your body leans against the table for support. The table skids across the floor noisily as you hold yourself up on it and it makes your blood run cold.

You have to get up those stairs and drop that gate, Sug. Mister is countin’ on you…

It’s like time freezes and all you can picture is poor Mister getting torn apart.

You hesitate listening intently. The clicking grows louder, a sickening, bone-chilling sound that echoes through the abandoned mall. Your twisted ankle throbs, but adrenaline starts pumping through your veins.

“Gotta move, sweetheart.” He must have heard the clicking this time too. Joel’s whispering voice is even and calm even though your chest feels like it could cave in on itself, your ribs feel like they could explode inward towards your lungs like sending shattered bone fragments hurdling towards your delicate, soft insides. “Y’can do it. I know it hurts—”

The metal gate. Everything around you goes silent, and the only thing you can hear is the sound the gate makes when it closes and locks into the floor. You have to get to the metal gate.

You clutch the railing with a white knuckle grip and pull yourself up the stairs two at a time, biting almost completely through your bottom lip, grunting with each painful step.

The clicking is clearer, and closer now that you’re on the same level as the infected, and you can tell there is more than one, and they’re moving fast.

“Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit,” you hiss as you limp towards the entrance of the store.

As you reach it, you can see the seven infected closing in fast. Your sweet, sweet Puddin’ is hauling ass towards you— the infected right on his little, scaly tail.

“C’mon Pud,” you whine, dropping the gate down for just enough room for him to run through, and possibly let one of the infected in if you weren’t quick enough closing it behind him.. “C’mon Puddin’!”

It’s like your words spur him on and his little legs kick into overdrive. He slips under the metal gate just as the infected slam into it, throwing you off your balance. You’re thrown back at least three feet, and watch in horror as the gate starts to rise on its own.

Move kiddo, come on! Get your ass up and fucking shut that gate!

Your body screams in protest as you scramble across the floor, your twisted ankle sending sharp bolts of pain through your leg.

Puddin' is playing dead right behind you, but you don't have time to think about him right now. He's safe and inside, that's all that matters. The gate keeps rising, inch by torturous inch, and the infected are pushing against it with stupid inhuman strength!

"No, no, no," you mutter, pushing through the pain. The clicking grows louder, more frenzied, as the first infected begins to squeeze its misshapen head underneath the rising gate.

Pulling the knife from your belt in one hand, you bring it down into the skull of the infected trying to slip through, and with the other, your fingers grapple for a hold on the handle of the metal grate.

The infected skull cracks open with a sickeningly wet crunch, dark blood and gray matter splattering across the floor.

Your hand finally grips the smooth metal tightly, even though now your palm is nearly dripping with sweat, and with a grunt that feels like it's being stolen right out of your lungs, you pull down with all the strength you have left inside of you.

The gate comes down with a crash that echoes throughout the mall, the infected on the other side of the gate screech and squeal loudly. Some of them stick their arms through the slots, and their skin peels back like overripe fruit, claws scraping desperately for any piece of you they can reach.

You don't even want to think about how grotesque they are, you flip the lock that secures the gate to the floor as their fingers grapple and scratch deep into your skin. It clicks into place and you finally exhale, not realizing you had been holding your breath.

So fuckin’ proud of you, Sug. Knew you could do it.

The shrieking cries of the infected fill the otherwise silent mall and the confined space you’re now trapped in. You can't help but glance back toward Puddin'—the little white and gray furball who is still playing dead.

“S’okay, we’re safe,” you sigh, letting yourself rest on your elbows and then on your back completely. You stare at the ceiling, and wonder how long the infected will stick around.

The sounds coming from right above Joel has his heart racing, and he’s trying to free himself from his restraints harder and more desperate than ever before.

With a roar of determination, uncaring of the dangers above him, he jerks one arm up and then down. It’s not enough; he can still feel them biting into his skin painfully, creating new rope burns.

“C’mon, c’mon!” he grunts as time stretches into an eternity. The picture of you being shredded by gnawing and gnashing teeth makes his stomach churn.

Just as that thought creeps in, he hears a metallic rattling, but the wailing of the infected are still clear as day.

The clang of metal echoes again, and for a moment, he thinks maybe you did it. Maybe you’ve locked them out. Maybe you just signed yours and his death certificates and locked some of them in the store.

He tries to twist his wrists again, then again, but each movement sends sharp, stinging pain surging up his forearms. “Fuck!” He exclaims loudly.

She’s up there, fightin’ them off all alone—

"I know, dammit.” His jaw is tense and he focuses all of his energy on trying to loosen the ropes enough, or rub them against the metal fame to fray it enough so he can snap them. The strain builds in his muscles, and he can feel the ropes biting deeper, but he can’t stop— the feeling inside him brings him right back to the hospital in Salt Lake when he was looking for Ellie.

He thought he had felt helpless then, he thought he had felt helpless when that girl and her group of friends had trapped him and Tommy in that cabin— but now he knows the true definition of despair. Tied to a chair, listening to you getting torn apart right above him, and then he’ll have to watch those infected come to tear his throat out.

The door to the basement opens slowly, and Joel’s heart almost stops beating completely. Bile rises in his throat at the uneven steps that start down the wooden steps. It’s a slow, clumsy sound accompanied by grunts and pained whimpers.

When your boots come into his line of sight, he exhales loudly. The sight of you, safe and still breathing sends a warmth through Joel’s spine that spreads into the rest of his body and he’s not sure why.

Awe shit, she’s hurtin’ real bad.

Joel fucking knows, he can see it with his own two eyes. You’re limping, worse than you were went you bolted upstairs and now you’re covered in fresh wounds, and blood trickles down your left forearm, wrist and fingertips, leaving little droplets in your wake. Your cradling something dead and furry in your right arm.

“Ya’ get bit?” Joel’s skin prickles as he asks, trying to get a better look at your arm, straining to see in the dim light.

“Naw,” you grunt at him, sitting in the chair you had been sitting in before you had run upstairs. “Just got scratched.”

Joel eyes you, unsure if he can believe you while you extend your left arm and show him the deep gouging scratches carved into your flesh. “S’bad,” Joel murmurs as you press your arm against your dirty jeans. He flinches at the sight, and turns his arms under the ropes.

What’chya wanna do? Hit her or help her?

Both? Joel synchronously wants to do both. He wants to lay you down on the mattress across the room and tend to your wounds. He wants to wash the blood of your skin, and wrap you up— watch your eyes glisten and sparkle as he cares for you. And then Joel would beat your face bloody, and bludgeon your chest in until it caved.

“M’fine,” you offer weakly. “Ain’t the worst that’s ever happened t’me.”

Somewhere deep inside of Joel twists painfully when the inflection in your tone tells him you think that’s true.

“How’s your ankle?” Joel doesn’t bother looking, he knows it’s bad by the way you limped down the stairs.

“Said m’fine,” you grumble, setting the dead animal down on the table very gently next to the shock collar remote.

“What’s that? Fresh meat finally—”

Joel doesn’t even see it coming, your hand moves so fast and the next thing he knows he is being zapped into silence.

“Ain’t fuckin’ fresh meat- you don’t ever speak about Puddin’ that way, ya’ hear me?” You zap Joel the entire time you’re speaking, and he can barely hear you over the screaming between his ears. It’s deafening and blinding, and making him feel fucking stupid.

“Fine fine.” Joel grits out through a jaw clenched so tight he might actually break his teeth.

You flick the remote off and toss it on the table as if it’s too hot to touch any longer. The buzzing in Joel's ears fades slightly, leaving only the thudding of his heart and the rasp of his breathing.

“I fuckin’ hate hurtin’ you,” you sob softly, wrapping your arms around what appears to be an opossum. You pull it closer to you, and nuzzle your face against his fur.

Joel recoils at the sight, but watches as the dead animal comes to life, and gives your cheek a gentle lick. “That’s your pet?” He asks, disbelief dripping off his tongue.

You don’t look at him, or even really acknowledge that you heard him— you just continue to snuggle the animal and cry quietly.

Joel doesn’t really know what to do, he wants to comfort you in a weird way, but he still wants to see you dead? But the thought you dying also scares him a little?

It’s ‘cause you wanna be the one snuggled up next t’her. Jealous of an opossum—

No the fuck he doesn’t! Joel does not want to snuggle up to you, he doesn’t want to feel your warm body pressed against his—

Even though she’d fit perfect right next to ya’. Picture it, ya’ got’chya arms ‘round her ‘n you got your legs all wrapped in hers…

The sight of you, vulnerable and fragile with that small, stupid animal, tugs at his heart in ways he hasn’t experienced in years. He shakes his head violently, as if he could actually dislodge the thoughts spinning in his mind. “You’re fuckin' crazy,” he mutters to himself under his breath.

Your chair scrapes across the floor as you turn quickly to the right so you can face him. Your jaw ticks and one of your eyes twitch. “I ain’t fuckin’ crazy— stop sayin’ that.” You whisper to him. “Why ya’ bein’ so mean? I jus’ saved your life…” Your face twists up like you might start crying again, and your eyes now are still wet with the tears you had been crying moments ago.

“Saved my life?” Joel scoffs through clenched teeth, the remnants of your electric assault still tingling faintly in his fingers and toes. “That’s what y’think you did for me?” He can feel his resolve faltering as the fat, wet tears begin to roll down your cheek, but he forces himself to stay angry. It feels safer— it feels better that way. “More like puttin’ me through hell, darlin’.”

He doesn’t even mean for the word darlin’ to come out of his mouth, he wasn’t even thinking it, at least— he doesn’t remember wanting to cal you darlin’.

But the moment it slips out, he watches your expression change. You wipe at the tears staining your cheeks, smearing dirt and blood across your face. A flicker of something warm and soft ignites in your eyes, like sunlight breaking through dark clouds. “Darlin’…” you echo him, a fractured smile threatening to bloom despite the pain etched across your features.

Joel’s heart sinks, and also bursts with pride all at the same time. You are in fact insane, but he made you stop crying.

Look’it that, she’s almost smilin’ now.

That warmth spreads through him again, against his will—against all logical reason. “I didn’t mean it,” he mutters, not really sure if he did mean it or not. Yet the sight of you still clinging to that opossum, caressing him carefully as he nibbles gently on one of your fingers. The sight draws him in deeper than he would like to admit, but he just wants to clean you up, wrap you in bandages and then let you fall asleep on his lap.

“Didn’t… mean it?” You repeat the words like you don’t understand them, and your smile falters just a bit as you study his face, searching for truth. “Liar,” you smirk at him.

There is a warmth in your crazy eyes that makes Joel want to sink as far into the chair as he possibly can, he wishes he could disappear but he doesn’t. He says, watching you like he’s frozen in place. “Nah, s’just the shock talkin’,” he whispers and nods his head to one side like there would be a video replaying the who ordeal that happened only moments ago. He wishes there was so he could watch it happen over and over, so he could build up the walls around him, keep you the fuck out of his head.

“Yeah…” There is a distance to your tone, like you’re not really there anymore, and you drop your gaze to the opossum nestled in your arms. “Ya’ made me do that though,” you whisper, eyes flicking up to him quickly— they’re darker, a little scary and Joel wishes he could hide inside his own skin.

“Made you?” Joel’s voice rises, anger flaring throughout him like a wildfire in a forest of dead, dry trees. It spreads fast before Joel can control himself.“Y’think I made you do that? You are a crazy fuckin’ bit—”

You zap him again with a jolt that sends white hot sparks crawling up his spine, and sucks the air right out of his lungs.

“Shut up, shut up, shut up!” you scream and clutch the opossum tighter.

Joel watches as it goes back to playing dead in your arms. He’s about to shout back at you, start a screaming war and hope those infected break through that gate upstairs and kill both of you— but then you whisper something quietly, and Joel almost doesn’t catch it.

“I’m not gunna fuckin’ do that, stop tellin’ me t’kill him.”

Joel’s blood runs cold like ice… who the fuck are you talking to? Or about?

“Are you still hungry?” Your voice is soft, almost sweet now. “I can get you more jerky… I got lots of whiskey—” you say, the fierce anger from moments ago melting away, replaced by a manic eagerness to please him. You reach for your bag again, your arm still bleeding badly— but you’re unfazed by it, or at least doing a good job pretending it doesn’t bother you.

You pull out a glass jar.

“Are those coffee beans?” Joel can barely believe his eyes. His mouth starts to salivate immediately.

You wrinkle your nose at him and shrug your shoulders. “Dunno— they look like some kinda bean— smell all burnt up to shit though,” your nose stays scrunched up as you begin digging around in your bag again.

“Lemme smell,” he can barely contain his excitement as he watches you unscrew the lid to the mason jar. There is a hesitation in your movements when you go to hold the jar under his nose, like you’re trying to figure out his game, the trap he’s set. Your eyes scan all around him, face and body unmoving. “I jus’ wanna smell it— I’ll tell you if it’s coffee or not,” he’s as close to begging for something as he’s ever gotten.

“You like coffee?” You sound so curious, and gingerly place the mouth of the jar under his nose. He takes in a deep inhale and the wonderful, deep and rich aroma of coffee fills his nostrils.

Joel groans loudly, and for a long time as the scent permeates his sinuses, he can almost taste it on his tongue for a fleeting moment.

“Take that as a yes,” you giggle and let him breathe in the smell a little longer. “How do I make it for ya’?” You ask, pulling the jar away and screwing the lid on tight.

“Gotta grind those beans up real fine— then let it brew in some hot water.” Joel explains, watching as you dig around in your bag for more of your loot. "They make special pots for it— percolators."

"Percolators?" You parrot him, tilting your head to one side—

Cute lil puppy.

You fucking are, Joel hates to admit it to himself but even all covered in blood, and muck— looking like you've been to hell and clawed your way back out by the skin of your teeth— your eyes are bright and alert, watching him intently.

"Yeah, keeps the coffee grounds out of your water—" he starts, but you cut him off.

"So you put those crushed up beans… in the water… to just not want them in the water at the end of it all?" You hold up the coffee beans and look at them incredulously, your eyes squinted and narrowed on the glass jar with one eyebrow cocked up slightly.

Joel can't stop the corners of his mouth from turning up at your expression, your face still dirty and tear stained. "Never had coffee before?"

You shake your head at him, and continue rifling through your bag.

The opossum on the table comes alive again now that you're calm and quiet, he pops his little head up and this is when Joel notices the small teal and pink collar around his furry neck. As you pull the rest of the things out of your pack, the little critter starts to lick and clean your wounds.

It makes Joel grimace at the sight of the wild animal trying to help you, take care of you, but again— it tugs at a place inside of him he hasn't dared venture in years.

You're in the small bathroom just off the main room cleaning up in the sink you filled with water from a jug you brought down yesterday. “Ya’ wanna sleep on the bed t’night?” You nod to the mattress pushed up against the wall across the room.

What the fuck?

Mister-man looks just as shocked as the dark voice in your head sounds. “Ya’ gon’ let me sleep comfortably- take these fuckin’ ropes off me?” His voice is bitter and bites at you, makes you furrow your brows at him.

Sug, he’s been tied up for a while now—

For good fucking reason, he’s going to kill her the minute she unties him.

He’s got the dang collar on now, he’s gonna listen to her.

What happens when she falls asleep? Huh? She’s been up going on almost eighteen hours—

How d’ya know how many hours it’s been? She don’t have a watch or a clock!! You don’t know what the fuck you’re talkin’ ‘bout.

She’s going to fall asleep and the minute she does— he’s going to strangle her.

The image of Mister-man with his hands around your throat makes you do two things— it makes your stomach flip, and it makes your cunt clench.

What the fuck was that?

She likes the idea of Mister-man chokin’ her a lil, dont’chya Sugar?

The heat rises from your chest and up your neck, behind your cheeks. You kinda do want Mister to choke you a little, but not with the intention to kill you!

“What’re you fuckin’ smirkin’ ‘bout over there?” Mister snaps at you.

When you look at yourself in the mirror, you are smirking and just standing in front of the sink frozen in place. You swallow hard, trying to ignore the images of Mister’s big, strong hands around your neck. “Nothin’,” you lie to him, which makes you feel bad— but you can’t tell him that’s what you were thinking about.

Tell him, see what he says…

Will you shut the fuck up—

“I figure you can sleep there ‘n I’ll sleep in the chair t’night— still gon’ have to tie you up, but least you can lay down…”

That’s not really what you want. You want his arms wrapped around you, and your legs all messed up in his. You wanna feel his warm breath on the top of your head because that’s gotta be the best way to fall asleep, feeling someone else’s warm body, feeling their heart beating inside their chest.

Let’s ya’ know they’re really there- ain’t a dream or something you’re imaginin’.

“Why the hell d’ya want me all comfy f’anyway, huh?” he asks, suspicion laced in his tone, but a hint of curiosity glimmers behind his dark brown eyes.

You shake your head and go back to cleaning your arm so you can bandage it. “No, I’m jus’ tryin’ t’be nice. Figur’d you could stretch out if ya’ wanted.”

He watches you, that suspicion still etched into the lines of his face, but the curiosity is unmistakable, swelling in the way his brow furrows deeper and his lips twist just slightly. “Why ya’ tryin’ to be nice?”

“I dunno… don’t want you hatin’ me no more—”

Stop it right now! Shut the fucking door and stop talking to him.

“Why would I ever stop hatin' you?” His voice is low, almost a whisper. Mister-man hones in his gaze on you like a hawk. “You think bein’ nice t’me is gonna make me forget that ya’ tied me up down here?”

You shrug lightly as you wrap a bandage around your arm, feeling the warmth of blood already seeping through the fabric.

Don’t listen to him, Sugar. He don’t mean it.

Sounds like he fuckin’ means it.

“I’m not trying to hurt you,” you say softly, finally meeting his stare head-on. “I just wanna feel normal again…”

Shut. The. Fuck. Up.

Yeah Sug, keep that to ya’self.

You feel ashamed, real shame, uncomfortable for sharing too much, and now the voices are agreeing with each other? That’s never a good sign. You’ve done something wrong.

“Normal?” He chuckles, but it feels malicious. “Ain’t nothin’ fuckin’ normal about this, sweetheart.”

“Stop sayin’ that if you don’t fuckin’ mean it!”

His laughter dies down, leaving an awkward silence between you. The room feels smaller, somehow and it feels like Mister-man is right on top of you with judging eyes. “I do mean it,” he replies, softer now but still sharp and angry. “Y’think it’s normal t’be tied up in the basement by some—”

“Some what?” You interrupt him as the anger rises to meet the shame and hold its hand.

Mister stares at you, face unchanging when he speaks. “Some. Crazy. Fuckin’. Bitch.” He enunciates every word. “What is this? Some fuckin’ fairy tale to you? One of your stupid princess movies, huh?”

“They’re not stupid,” you snap back, your voice rising in defiance. “And I’m not crazy. I just…”

“Just what?” he presses, his tone challenging. “What do you want from me?”

Don’t fucking say it.

“I jus’ want ya’ t’like me,” you whisper- feeling small and insignificant. “Want ya’ t’not hurt me again,” you point to your still slightly blackened eye.

His studies you like you’re a problem that he can’t solve— the muscles in his jaw flex, and he pinches his brow together tightly. “Ya’ want me t’like you?” He echoes softly, he says the words like they might unleash an evil into the room.

You nod, feeling like you’re frozen and on fire all at the same time, it makes your stomach churn like you might be sick. The way he’s staring at you make you feel naked and exposed.

“Why?” he asks suddenly, breaking through the silence and makes you flinch.

“You’re handsome,” you let the words slip out of your mouth before you can stop them.

He shifts in the chair like you made him uncomfortable, confusion weaving its way into the creases of his hardened and in fact, beautiful face.

“Handsome?” he repeats the word like it's a foreign language, like it’s something he hasn’t heard in ages.

“I sure think so,” you nod again.

Your face is so hot it feels like it’s being held to flames.

Well, this is the most you’ve talked to anyone in a real long time, Sug… it’ll get easier.

You could just stop talking completely and go to sleep. You’re delirious.

No she ain’t. Mister-man is handsome, and she want’s him inside her again real bad.

Your walls clench around absolutely nothing at the thought of his thick, throbbing length plunging inside of you, stretching you to fit around him perfectly. The idea of it happening again makes you dizzy and you can’t help but bite your lip, your face somehow grows hotter than you thought possible.

The look Mister gives you- the half smirk, one raised eyebrow makes you think he can read your mind.“Handsome,” he snorts softly, eyes never leaving you, but now they trail down the curves of your body. “You trynna ‘sit in my lap’ again, sweetheart?” The words come out of his mouth slow like molasses, and that country twang he has sends a shock right to your core.

“Maybe,” you say, voice trembling slightly but unwavering, “maybe if you wanted to, I would.”

His face softens slightly, the anger and suspicion melting away like snow in the sun. He raises an eyebrow, a small smile playing on his lips. "Why would I want that, honey?" he asks, his voice teasing slightly.

“You seemed to want it the other night,” you limp out of the bathroom and sit down in the metal chair beside his recliner.

“I was real drunk,” Mister explains, but his demeanor has changed, he looks relaxed, he’s resting his head on the back of the chair, looking at you through hooded eyes. “Ya’ took advantage of me,” he growls softly, but beckons you over with a nod of his head.

“Ya’ told me t’do it…” you snap. “I ain’t take nothin’. Advantage- I ain’t-- what? You asked me t’do it!”

He sure fuckin’ did ask you! How dare he say that bullshit ass—

I hate to admit it, but… he’s right—

The last thing you ever wanted to do was take something from Mister-man that he didn’t want you to take! It’s the worst feeling in the world- being held down and forced into—

Shhhhh, Sugar. It’s alright, s’all over now. It was just a misunderstanding.

“I ain’t m-mean t’do that,” you say weakly through the lump forming in your throat. “I thought ya’ wanted me t’do it— that’s why ya’ punched me?”

His eyes widen slightly, “I didn’t punch ya’ for that.”

"Then why did ya’ punch me?" Your voice cracks slightly as tears begin welling up in your eyes again; embarrassment filling every cell within your body once more.

“I was gonna try’n leave. Go home—”

“Ya’ lied t’me… said you’d stay,” you whimper, wiping the tears before they can fall.

“Please stop cryin’…” Mister-man's voice is surprisingly gentle as he speaks, and you feel your heart squeeze in response.

You sniffle, trying to regain your composure. "I wouldn’t have done it if you didn’t ask me first," you mumble, wiping your nose on the back of your sleeve.

"Why not?" Joel asks softly.

Look'it that, ya went'n made her cry! For what!? She's just trynna be nice t'ya! Jus' like she said. She wants a lil boyfriend, someone t'snuggle up with at night-- like a normal person!

There isn't anything fucking normal about you, not at all.

“I ain’t like stuff gettin’ taken from me,” you admit quietly, turning your gaze away from him.

Joel narrowed his eyes, sitting up a bit straighter in his recliner, the leather creaking underneath his weight. "What’ya mean by that?"

“Lets get ready for bed, ‘kay?” You ignore his question and stand up, wincing when you put any weight on your ankle. You hold the remote in your mouth gingerly as you begin untying him from the chair.

****

Joel watches you from the mattress in the corner. You have his hands still bound up in the oven mitts, and now you’ve tossed a rope over a pipe in the ceiling and tied up his elbows so he can move and lay down. Stretch out if he wants to, but he can’t walk more than five or six feet in either direction— and the pipes secured tighter than he had been hoping it would be.

Joel can hear you reading the Batman comic books to yourself and that opossum you keep calling Puddin’, but you haven’t looked or spoken to him since you tied him up an hour or so ago. Just left him with two things: a plastic bottle of water and metal flask with whiskey in it. He was silently thankful when you twisted the lids off without him having to ask.

He knows struck a nerve with his question, but he didn’t really expect you to shut him out completely. He takes a swig from the plastic water bottle.

Ya’ want that sad lil puppy t’come over here, dont’chya?”

He does, oddly enough. You being crazy was better than you giving him the cold shoulder, like he wasn't even there.

He wonders if you read to that stupid animal every night, and if you snuggle with him in the bed you sleep in upstairs. He wonders if you have to drink yourself to sleep every night with how many bottles of whiskey you brought back.

His mind just continues to race.

****

Joel can’t sleep. He thought for sure the minute he put his head down, he’d drift off and sleep better than he has since you tied him up down here, he’s got a blanket and a pillow now but they do nothing to comfort him into closing his eyes.

Call her over, see if she’ll come snuggle up next to you.

“Hey,” Joel whispers into the completely dark room.

“What?” You whisper back to him from the void.

“C’mere— it ain’t fair ya’ gotta sleep in that chair. I know s’uncomfortable.” What the fuck is he doing? He’s not going to willingly allow you into his space, is he?

“M’fine,” you murmur back to him. “Go t’sleep.”

“Can’t sleep— come sit in my lap again,” Joel smirks to himself because fuck, what he would do to feel your warm cunt enveloping him like you were made strictly for him, and him alone. It makes his cock twitch just thinking about it.

Joel holds his breath, waiting for you to respond. Then, finally, you murmur back, your voice barely more than a whisper, “Why would I do that?”

“‘Cause I’m handsome…” Joel teases you, listening to the way the chair creaks as you shift on it. He wishes so badly he could see you. “I know ya’ wanna feel good, I wanna feel good too.”

“Y’just wanna punch me again, try’n escape—”

“Where would I go? Them infected are still up there, I ain’t gettin’ outta here anytime soon,” he’s being honest. He had thought about it, but the idea of having to share a room with your dead body— even if he moved you upstairs, the idea of having to wait around with your corpse until the infected cleared out gave him a bad feeling.

It’s ‘cause you don’t wanna kill ‘er. Ya’ wanna be deep inside that tight, wet, warm perfect hole.

“Fuck,” Joel mutters under his breath. His cock’s fully hard now, and it’s making a tent in the black sweatpants you put on him before bed. He rubs the oven mitt on his hand against the bulge in the fabric and groans loudly.

“What’re you doin’?” You ask from your place in the chair.

“Come find out, sweetheart.” He sighs, leaning against the wall the mattress is pressed up against.

Joel listens to you limp and shuffle towards him in the dark. Your hands hesitantly touch his shins before you crawl onto the bed with him.

“Take ‘em out f’me, baby girl,” he leans into you now that you’re sitting next to him, pushing his nose into your hair. He inhales deeply and takes in the heady scent of your sweat lingering whatever fucking pheromones that are making him just as insane as you.

“Ya’ really want this?”

Joel wraps an arm around your waist, pulling you as close as he can get. “M’sober this time,” he moan quietly into your ear when you push his mitt covered hand, away and slip your hand underneath the waistband. He bucks his hips up into your fist as you begin to stoke him.

“You’re s’warm,” you sigh, turning your head to face him.

Joel wastes no time catching your lips in a kiss, slipping his tongue into your mouth to taste you, savor your flavor. You taste like whiskey and strawberry jam. The smell of cheap bathroom hand soap lingers on your skin from washing up in the sink. All of it makes him feel like hes intoxicated.

“Fuck, y’feel so good,” he growls into your mouth, nipping at your bottom lip gently as you pull away. “Take these fuckin’ mitts off me—”

Your hand leaves his pants and the warmth of your body is gone from beside him. “It’s a trick?” You sound hurt in the dark, like Joel’s played some terrible prank on you and you just found out.

“No, no, no-” he’s desperate for your touch. It felt so good, and he wasn’t even thinking about trying to trick you or do anything shifty once you took the mitts off, he wanted to grip you and grope you. Plunge two or three fingers right into your wetness. “No, m’not trynna trick you— I just wanna touch you.”

“S’what you said last time,” you snap at him. He can tell you’re still close, probably still on the mattress. He shifts and tries to get closer to you but he hears your skin drag across the concrete floor.

“Shit,” Joel grumbles. “I know, fuck— I know, but I mean it this time-”

“I don’t believe you.”

Of course you don’t believe him! He socked you right in the eye as hard as he could the last time he didn’t have at least 4 inches of padding on his fists.

“I wanna make y’feel real good, the way y’were makin’ me feel real good just then,” he’s inching towards the sound of you dragging yourself across the floor on his hands and knees slowly. The ropes stop him from going any further while you continue your retreat. “C’mon, baby…”

“Y’just sayin’ that, don’t mean it…” The sound of your body shuffling away from him stops though, and he wonders if he’s got you on the hook with the pet names.

Try it again, Mister.

“Please, honey… I wanna hear y’moan Mister’s name,” he coos to you, hiding from him somewhere in the darkness.

You let out a long, slow, shaky breath before you answer. “What is your name…”

He’s so fucking desperate for some sort of relief that he tells you before he can come up with a fake name— he’s learned the hard way about sharing his real name with strange women. “Joel.”

“Joel…” You whisper back to him. “My very own Mister-J?” You sound excited.

“Mister-J?” Joel cocks his head to one side, but is pushed back onto the mattress by the force of you barreling into him.

“That’s what Harley calls the Joker,” your straddling his waste again and without thinking twice, Joel wraps his arms around your waist and pulls you into him. His forearms brush against the bare skin of your thighs and it makes him groan softly as he pushes you down into his lap.

“Ya' wanna be m'crazy girl? Like Harley Quinn?” Joel chuckles as he nudges his nose against your chin, tilting your head back to expose your neck.

You hesitate, and pull back from him slightly.

“I ain’t gon’ bite you,” he promises, leaning in as much as he can so he can press his lips to the column of your throat.

“Fuck,” you breathe out, sinking into him like you’re melting. “Oh fuck,” it leaves your mouth as a whimper, and Joel’s cock throbs at the sound.

“Like this?” He nips at the spot where your neck meets your shoulder and you shiver in his arms. He can’t hide the smile, he doesn’t care to. He loves that he’s capable of making you make those sounds.

You hum an almost silent ‘mhm’, and wrap your arms around his neck and thread your fingers through the curls at the nape.

Joel has so much more room to move around now that he’s unrestrained, so he rolls his hips up into yours so you can feel what he has to offer. You gasp and arch your back, pushing yourself further onto him. He moans softly, his mitts trailing down your spine and cupping your ass cheeks as best they can. He can feel the heat between your legs growing and he has a nagging thought in his head.

Lay down, let her climb right on top—

Joel shifts and wiggles down onto the mattress so he’s flat on his back, with you still straddling his hips. “Take your lil shorts off,” Joel taps your thigh, and then lifts his hips so he can shove his sweatpants down his legs.

You don’t ask any questions. You roll off of him and Joel feels your shoulder touch his as you lay down to remove your bottoms. You go to crawl back into his lap but he stops you.

“Sit up here,” he grips your hips as best he can with the mitts, and tugs you up to his face.

“What!?” You sound distressed, “Ya’ want me t’do what?”

“Turn around, and sit down,” Joel growls up at you.

You hesitate, the uncertainty clear in your voice. "I-I don't know..."

"C'mon, darlin'," Joel coaxes, his voice low and husky. "Let me taste you. I promise ‘m gonna make you feel so good."

With shaky movements, you turn around and slowly lower yourself over Joel's face.

He inhales deeply, taking in your scent. "That's it," he murmurs encouragingly. "Just like that." Joel can feel the heat radiating from your core as you hover uncertainly above him. He lifts his head, nuzzling his nose against your inner thigh. "Lil lower," he nips at your supple skin.

With a soft whimper, you finally sink down onto his waiting mouth. Joel groans at the first taste of you, his tongue delving between your folds. Your sweet and tangy, a little sweaty and musky— it’s fucking heady and perfect. He can’t get enough.

“Oh fuck,” you shudder as Joel licks a stripe from your clit to your entrance, which is already dripping and Joel feels pride swell in his chest.

Without Joel having to ask, or prompt you in any way, you lean over and take his hard, aching cock in your hand. Joel nearly comes right there when he hears you spit on it noisily and palm your warm saliva around the throbbing, drooling tip.

“Fuuuuck,” Joel moans approvingly before his tongue pushes into your entrance.

"Oh god, Mister," you whimper, your hand still working his cock in long, slow strokes. Then you kitten lick the tip and he has to stop himself from bucking his hips.

Joel's mind goes blank as your warm, wet mouth envelops the head of his cock. He groans against your pussy, the vibrations making you shudder above him. His tongue laps eagerly at your fold, drinking in your arousal as it flows freely.

You bob your head, taking more of his length with each downward motion. Joel's hips twitch, fighting the urge to thrust up into the heavenly heat of your mouth. Instead, he focuses on pleasuring you, sucking your clit between his lips and flicking it with his tongue.

You whimper around his cock, grinding your hips down onto his face.

Joel pulls back slightly, his breath hot against your core. "That's it, baby girl. Ride my face," he growls before diving back in, his tongue circling your clit.

You pull away, your hand replacing your mouths ministrations and rest your head on Joel’s hip as you stroke him, never faltering on giving him pleasure. “Please d-don’t stop!” You cry out, your grip tightening around his shaft as you rock your hips. Joel's mitt-covered hands grip your thighs, urging you on.

"Gonna cum for me, darlin'?" he murmurs against your slick folds. "Let me taste it."

Joel feels you tense above him, your thighs quivering as you grind down harder on his face. He doubles his efforts, lapping at your clit with quick, firm strokes of his tongue. Your hand on his cock speeds up, pumping him in time with the rocking of your hips.

"Oh god, oh fuck," you whimper, your voice muffled against his hip. "I'm gonna-- I'm--"

Your words dissolve into a high-pitched moan as you come undone. Joel groans as he feels your pussy pulse against his mouth, a fresh wave of your arousal coating his tongue.

Your sounds, the way your hips continue to rock against his mouth as you unravel has his own release bubbling up to the surface. Joel groans deeply as his own orgasm crashes over him, his hips bucking up involuntarily as he spills into your hand. You stroke him through it, milking every last drop as he shudders beneath you.

Joel's whole body twitches as you clean him and your hand with your tongue, "Taste good," you mumble against his stomach, pressing soft kisses to the trail of hair between his cock and belly button.

Then, with shaky movements, you lift yourself off of Joel's face and turn around to face him. Even in the darkness, he can sense your uncertainty.

"C'mere," Joel murmurs, his voice rough. He reaches out, pulling you down to lay beside him. You settle against his chest, your breath warm on his neck.

“Don’t kill me in my sleep, ‘kay?” You sigh, pressing a kiss to his pulse point.

Joel murmurs something incoherent, already on the verge of falling asleep.

Sorry it was like 45 minutes late (two days early if you look at the master list ok?-- I may have had something to drink.... and of course thanks @pedrospookie for that adorable fucking mood board. I hope you all like this chapter-- it's a little domesticated (i think), but I have more crazy, unhinged antics coming next chapter!)

TAG LIST: @pedrospookie @gothcsz @joelmillerisapunk @sp00kymulderr @paleidiot @goodvampykitten @rosebuds-and-moonlight @diabaroxa @zhazy-blog2 @almostempty @xdaddysprincessxx @tobethlehem @lilac-boo @xkyxkyxxlylcylulucuflfluclu @rav3n-pascal22 @baronessvonglitter @joelmillerisapunk @syd-djarin @probablyreadinsmut @itwasntimethatdidit40 @letsgobarbs @lovehappyloki @joelalorian @pedrostories

(omg I think I got everyone but that's so many people, please let me know if I left you off or if you want to be taken out of the tag list!)

#kidnapped!joel miller x unhinged!reader #pedro pascal characters #fic: girl dinner #joel miller x reader #joel miller/reader #DDDNE #joel the last of us #joel miller smut #pedro pascal #tlou joel #joel miller #crazy reader insert

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gothicxreylover · 3 days ago

Note

Ello, This is a request! Can you do yandere hashira with reader who is genuinely insane, but they can’t seem to manipulate her at all. Like they try to use readers mind against them but it isn’t working at all, please? (Also I love your writings sm pls don’t ever quit)

I’m so happy that you like my writing! Here’s your request and I hope you like it!

Setting: A quiet, isolated forest clearing at sunset.

The Hashira had been observing you for weeks now, their obsession growing with every moment spent in your presence. They couldn’t pinpoint exactly what drew them in—it wasn’t just your strength or beauty but the way you existed outside of logic, your mind like a maze with no center.

Each one had tried their own approach to bring you under their control, but nothing seemed to work.

Kyojuro Rengoku

Rengoku’s fiery enthusiasm burned as brightly as ever as he cornered you by the edge of a cliff. The vibrant hues of the setting sun mirrored the intensity in his golden eyes.

“You must understand, my dear,” he declared, his voice loud and confident. “I will protect you from the world! It is full of dangers, of people who cannot comprehend your brilliance. I will never leave your side—this is my duty!”

You tilted your head, your grin wild. “Protect me? From what, Kyojuro? The world is already in my hands!” You spread your arms wide, laughing as though the universe itself were an elaborate joke only you understood.

His smile faltered for the briefest moment. “No, no… I must be the one to guide you. To keep you safe.”

But your eyes gleamed with madness. “Guide me? Where? To the edge of the sun? To the void? Tell me, Kyojuro, what lies beyond the flames you cherish so much?”

He froze, unable to process your logic—or lack thereof.

Tengen Uzui

Tengen leaned against a tree, arms crossed, his jeweled headband glinting in the fading light. He smirked, exuding his usual flamboyant confidence.

“You’ve got flair, I’ll give you that,” he said. “But don’t you think you’d shine even brighter by my side? Together, we’d be the flashiest duo this world has ever seen.”

You chuckled, pacing circles around him. “Flashy? Bright? I prefer the shadows. They hide the creatures with the sharpest teeth, the ones that bite even the brightest stars.”

His grin wavered as you leaned in close, your voice dropping to a whisper. “Tell me, Tengen, what do you see when the light fades? Or do you close your eyes so you won’t have to look?”

For the first time, his confidence felt like a mask slipping off, and he couldn’t find the words to respond.

Shinobu Kocho

Shinobu sat across from you, her sweet smile hiding her true intentions. Her voice was soft, almost musical, as she offered you a cup of tea.

“I simply want to help you,” she said, tilting her head like a curious bird. “You’ve been through so much, haven’t you? I can see it in your eyes. Let me ease that burden.”

You accepted the tea but didn’t drink it, staring into the liquid as though it contained the secrets of the universe. “Burden?” you murmured. “No, Shinobu, you’ve misunderstood. My mind isn’t a burden. It’s a playground.”

Her smile twitched as you looked up at her, your eyes glittering with an unsettling glee. “And you’re just another player in my game. Tell me, what’s your move, Doctor?”

For once, Shinobu found herself at a loss for how to proceed.

Sanemi Shinazugawa

Sanemi was more direct, his sharp tone cutting through the silence as he stepped toward you. “You’re reckless. Do you even realize how close you’ve come to getting yourself killed? You need someone like me to keep you in check.”

You burst out laughing, clutching your sides as though he’d told the funniest joke in the world. “Keep me in check? Oh, Sanemi, you’re adorable!”

His scowl deepened as you approached him, your movements erratic but deliberate. “You think you’re the one in control here? Tell me, what will you do when the leash snaps? When the dog becomes the master?”

He clenched his fists, his frustration boiling over. But no matter how hard he tried to intimidate you, your madness outmatched his fury.

Giyu Tomioka

Giyu stood silently, his usual stoicism giving nothing away. He watched as you twirled through the clearing, humming an off-key tune. Finally, he spoke, his voice quiet but firm.

“You’re different from everyone else. That’s why you need me. I can understand you in a way no one else ever will.”

You paused mid-spin, turning to face him with a grin that sent a chill down his spine. “Understand me? Oh, Giyu, even I don’t understand me. What makes you think you can?”

He frowned, his grip tightening on his sword. “Because I… I care about you.”

Your laughter echoed through the trees, a sound both joyful and haunting. “Care? Oh, Giyu, caring is for people who think the world makes sense. But it doesn’t, and neither do I.”

For all his quiet determination, even Giyu couldn’t pierce the chaos of your mind.

Of course! Here’s the scenario focusing on Gyomei Himejima, Muichiro Tokito, Mitsuri Kanroji, and Obanai Iguro as yandere Hashira, paired with a reader who’s genuinely insane and immune to their manipulations.

Gyomei Himejima

Gyomei towered over you, his prayer beads clinking softly in his massive hands as his voice rumbled through the quiet air. “Your soul is lost, like a wandering child in the dark. But I can guide you to the light. I can be the anchor that keeps you safe.”

You tilted your head, blinking up at him with a dreamy smile. “The light? The dark? What’s the difference, Gyomei? If you close your eyes, they’re the same.”

His brows furrowed, the soft tears slipping down his face slowing slightly. “You’ve endured great suffering. I can feel it in your presence. Let me carry your pain—it’s too heavy for one person alone.”

You stepped closer, your grin sharp and mischievous. “Carry my pain? Oh, no, no, Gyomei. Pain isn’t a thing you carry—it’s a thing you wear, like a cloak. It keeps you warm in the coldest nights.”

For the first time, Gyomei hesitated. Your words were as nonsensical as they were impenetrable, and his usual comforting presence seemed to slip right past you. Even his unwavering faith couldn’t pierce the chaos of your mind, and yet his obsession only deepened.

Muichiro Tokito

Muichiro watched you from a distance, his pale eyes unreadable as the mist swirled around him. “You’re strange,” he said plainly, his voice as detached as the fog around him. “But I like that. It’s… calming.”

You turned toward him, your movements erratic, as if you were following the rhythm of a song only you could hear. “Calming? Oh, no, little cloud. I’m not calm—I’m the storm that blows through the trees and never stops!”

He blinked, his expression unfazed but his curiosity piqued. “Storms come and go. I could make you stay. The mist is soft; it’ll keep you safe.”

You laughed, spinning in a circle. “Stay? In the mist? But then I’d disappear, wouldn’t I? What happens to me when there’s no sun to burn it all away?”

For a moment, Muichiro faltered. You were as elusive as the mist he surrounded himself with, impossible to hold onto. And yet, that made him want to capture you all the more.

Mitsuri Kanroji

Mitsuri practically glowed with excitement as she stood before you, her hands clasped together tightly. “You’re so amazing! I’ve never met anyone like you before—so unique, so special! You make my heart feel so warm!”

You giggled, leaning in close to her with wide, unblinking eyes. “Warm? Careful, Mitsuri! If you get too close, you might burn!”

Her cheeks flushed pink, her love-struck smile only growing. “I wouldn’t mind! I’d let myself burn if it meant being close to you!”

You clapped your hands together, laughing wildly. “Burn and turn to ash? Oh, Mitsuri, you’re just like a moth chasing the flame! What will you do when you have no wings left?”

Her smile faltered for only a second before she shook her head. “That doesn’t matter! I’d still follow you! No matter how far or dangerous, I’ll always be by your side!”

Your chaotic energy left her dizzy, unable to get a grip on your mind. But it only made her love for you more fervent—after all, what could be better than chasing the unattainable?

Obanai Iguro

Obanai stood in the shadows, his mismatched eyes following your every movement like a predator stalking its prey. Kaburamaru slithered around his shoulders as he finally spoke, his voice low and sharp.

“You’re reckless. Dangerous. You’ll get yourself killed if you keep this up.”

You turned toward him, your head tilting at an unnatural angle. “Death, death, death—everyone keeps talking about death! Are you scared of it, Obanai? Does it creep into your dreams at night?”

He stiffened, his grip on his sword tightening. “I’m not afraid of death. I’m afraid of losing you.”

Your grin widened, your eyes glittering with a chaotic light. “Lose me? You can’t lose what you never had, little snake. I’m not something you can catch in a cage!”

His jaw clenched, Kaburamaru hissing softly as if sharing his frustration. “You belong with me. No one else understands you like I do.”

“Oh, Obanai,” you whispered, stepping closer until you were inches away from him. “You understand me? Then tell me… what’s the color of madness? What does it taste like?”

For the first time, Obanai found himself at a loss for words. You were a puzzle he couldn’t solve, a force of chaos that slipped through his fingers like sand. But that only made his obsession with you more consuming.

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