#Who gives a fuck when and how bad you fucked up??? Are you trying to get better?? Are you genuinely willing to change and improve??

[lyonnerileyauthor]

your orc mechanic 🔧

your car wouldn't start this morning. fuck. but your last mechanic, he always talked down to you, and tried to sell you things you knew you didn't need.

you'd heard about this new guy, an orc, who worked out of his garage. you didn't think orcs were car guys, but you learn something new every day.

you go in, ready to turn down all the extra services he wants to charge you. instead, he takes your keys, pulls the car into his garage, and invites you to take a look with him.

the starter plugs are bad, he says after only a few minutes of poking around the engine. the cost is parts plus labor. he glances at you over his shoulder, and one of his big tusks lifts as he gives you a lopsided grin. actually, I'll throw in the labor.

he must really be trying to make a good impression in town, you think, as he gets to changing out the starter plugs. but he watches you as he works, that grin climbing higher and higher on his cheek.

you might have an oil leak, he says after he's almost done, and points to a spot on the floor. sure enough, there's a dribble of oil there. I can fix that for you, though.

how much? you ask, because you don't have cash to throw at your car right now.

it's on me.

well, that seems rather generous, but you won't turn it down.

he takes off his shirt, exposing an incredibly large body, with a full chest and a thick belly, all of it coiled muscle under a layer of protective fat. you can't help but stare as he drops down onto the floor and slides under your car, his knees parting as he works. the massive bulge between his legs is obvious, even with loose jeans.

jeez, he's packing.

you wait patiently as he works, trying not to stare but unable to tear your eyes away. when he slides out from under the car again, he catches you in the act, and finally he shows all his teeth as he grins.

do you like what you see? he climbs up to his feet.

your mouth is painfully dry, but you have to admit the truth. yes, of course he's absolutely gorgeous. he laughs when he hears it, and closes the distance between you.

I was hoping you would, because I like what I see.

he tilts up your chin with one grease-stained hand, leaving his fingerprints behind and marking you as his. he has to lean down to reach you, and you find yourself rising up on your toes to meet him.

the orc's kiss is fierce, consuming. it's new to you to navigate around his tusks, but they frame your face perfectly as he takes your mouth, devouring you, conquering you. he pushes you up against the garage wall, making the tools hanging there rattle. the lump in his jeans presses against you as his hand ventures up under your shirt.

you explore him just as ravenously, feeling his sturdy body, the tree-trunk size of his arms. without a second glance at it, the orc clears everything off the work table and picks you up by your ass, setting you on it.

show me, he growls low in his throat. so you obey, taking off your shirt, then shucking your own pants. his pupils are huge and blown-out as he unbuckles his own belt, reaching into his jeans to pull out his cock. he strokes it as he watches you.

touch yourself. you can't help but do as he says, finding yourself already wet. his hand speeds up, pre-cum dripping from that green cockhead as he pins you to the table with his eyes.

are you ready? he advances on you, dragging you to the edge. reflexively you spread your legs, and he smirks as he lines himself up with you. I hope you can take me.

you hope so, too.

but you're so slick, so ready for him, that the soft head of his cock pushes through. you grab onto his arms as he continues guiding himself inside you, biting his lip as he tries not to plunge in deep.

what a perfect pussy. the orc grunts as he squeezes even more of that enormous beast inside you. swallowing me up so well.

you shake and moan as he reels his hips back, then slides in even deeper, until he's fully sheathed in you. you clutch him so tight your nails dig into his strong arms as he starts to fuck you. he kisses you, swallowing all of your moans and cries as he sends you spiraling up higher and higher.

then, all at once, you crash to the earth in a burst of pleasure. your scream fills up the garage as he slams into you once, twice more. he yanks his cock out and his cum arcs out, covering you.

your orc mechanic takes a deep, shuddering breath. now you smell like me, he says with satisfaction, rubbing his cum all over you. I guess I had better fix that oil leak now.

[darlingdaisyfarm]

It’s so sad how mullet Stan lacks content of him 😭😭I wish there would be more fics of him so that’s why im gently asking you to give us more mullet Stan crumbs, it can be anything, headcanons or fic 😔 I will eat everything you’ll serve

⤿❝ Mullet!Stanley x reader headcanons (sfw & nsfw)⭑

a/n: agree i agree just yeah 10000% ! traumatised guys with mullet, bad habits and abandonment, daddy and mental issues are my weak spot

sfw

ᯓ★ he’s terrified of commitment but more terrified of being alone. he’ll push you away just to see if you’ll stay. he wants to trust you, but he doesn’t trust himself

ᯓ★ when he finally realizes you’re not leaving, he clings hard. like, once he’s in? he’s all in. but the idea of starting a family? he wants it so bad but so scared of it. he doesn’t want to turn into his father. he’s aware of his emotional instability and the last thing he wants is to pass that onto a kid. he doesn’t even trust himself to be a good partner, let alone a parent

ᯓ★ despite everything, still has a soft spot for kids but refuses to admit it. will grumble and complain but the second a little kid looks up at him with big, teary eyes, he’s sighing and handing over the last piece of his candy bar

ᯓ★ he is a literal stray, a stray dog that growls when you first bring him home but now follows you everywhere. you don’t date mullet!Stanley, you accidentally adopt him. this man has no home, no direction, no plan. he crashes on your couch “just for a few days, toots, promise” and then six months later he’s still there, wearing your robe, drinking straight from the juice carton

ᯓ★ acts like he doesn’t care but is secretly the most doting boyfriend. will fix your car, carry your groceries, give you his jacket when you're cold, all without asking. he just does it

ᯓ★ he doesn’t take care of himself. showers once every few days, drinks too much, smokes too much, eats like shit. if you ever cook for him it breaks him, he just stares at the plate because it’s the kindest thing anyone’s ever done to him, “you made this? for me?”

ᯓ★ road trip king. you wanna run away? hop in, sweetheart, we’ll figure it out on the way. the kind of guy who drives with one hand on the wheel and the other on your thigh. he’s got half a pack of smokes, a cassette of shitty rock ballads and a mouth full of sweet-talking bullshit

ᯓ★ as i said, he acts like he doesn’t give a fuck but actually gives too many fucks. will pretend he doesn’t care when you get mad at him, but the second you turn away, he’s overthinking. “fuck what did i say? shit, why am i such an asshole?”

ᯓ★ if you tell him you love him, he always hesitates before saying it back. not because he doesn’t feel it, but because he doesn’t think he deserves it

ᯓ★ literally stunned when you take care of him. like, someone is doing something NICE for him??? with no ulterior motive???

ᯓ★ absolutely a ‘leaning’ boyfriend. leans against walls, leans against doorframes, leans against you. big strong arms wrapping around your waist from behind, head dropping onto your shoulder with a sigh

ᯓ★ survives off diner food, gas station snacks, and whatever you make him

ᯓ★ gets nervous when you’re nice to him. he’s been kicked down so many times, he doesn’t know how to handle kindness. the first time you tell him he looks good, he scoffs, says something self-deprecating, but then stares at himself in the mirror later, touching his face trying to see what you even saw in him

ᯓ★ secretly loves being babied. if you push his messy hair back, clean his cuts when he gets into a fight or tuck yourself into his side when he's sitting down, he fucking melts. “psh, ya don’t gotta do all that,” but his ears are bright red

ᯓ★ will steal anything for you. “ya like that necklace, sweetheart? consider it yours.” he’s a walking, talking, petty thief boyfriend who just wants to see you smile

ᯓ★ lets you play with his mullet when he’s feeling lazy. sits between your thighs while you brush it and if you’re gentle enough, he’ll doze off right there, resting his head against your stomach

ᯓ★ loves his car more than he should. will drag you to the garage to show you how he’s fixing up some old junker, but he looks so proud, you can’t even complain. bonus: he makes you sit in it for a “test drive” (he drives too fast just to see you scream and laugh)

ᯓ★ hands always busy. even when you’re just sitting together, his hands are moving, tinkering with something, rubbing circles on your thigh, tapping on table. he's anxious stressed guy

ᯓ★ he falls asleep anywhere instantly. he’s had years of shitty, uncomfortable sleep, so at this point he can knock out in two seconds flat. the first time you see it happen, you’re stunned. “Stan, are you seriously asleep right now—?” he is. sometimes, he falls asleep sitting up, mouth slightly open, arms crossed. if you try to move him, he’ll grunt, shift slightly and keep sleeping

ᯓ★ he’s a sucker for physical affection but doesn’t know how to ask for it. please, just hold him. run your fingers through his hair, rub his back, let him rest his head on your chest or stomach. sometimes, he’ll just stand behind you and wait until you notice and pull him into a hug. he won’t ask, but he needs it

ᯓ★ this man does not know how to handle being desired

nsfw

ᯓ★ he’s big. everywhere. broad chest, thick arms, a cock that barely fits. “c’mon, baby, you can take it. just a little more, there we go.”

ᯓ★ he’s a messy kisser. tongue, teeth, biting, groaning, he devours you. Stanley makes out like he’s trying to fuck you with just his mouth. his hands are always gripping your face, your neck, your hair, he’s desperate

ᯓ★ he loves fucking in places he shouldn’t. against the car, in an alley, in the backseat, behind a bar, on some random motel dresser, doesn’t matter. the risk of getting caught gets him off. zero patience. too horny to wait, too desperate to care where you are

ᯓ★ if you ever scratch his back? he fucking loses it. he wants you clawing at him, gripping his arms, pulling his hair. especially loves it when you bite his shoulder

ᯓ★ fucks like a guy who doesn’t know if he’ll ever get the chance again. so overwhelmed by how good you feel

ᯓ★ he groans and grunts. loud, unashamed. you know exactly how much he’s enjoying it because he never shuts the fuck up. if you try to shut him up, he just moans louder out of spite

ᯓ★ this man talks during sex. a LOT. filthy, filthy, filthy mouth

ᯓ★ but if you try to stifle your moans, oh, he won’t have that. “uh-uh, lemme hear ya, baby. don’t go all shy on me now.”

ᯓ★ he has an oral fixation, always has something in his mouth. a cigarette, a toothpick, his own damn fingers. pussy? oh, he’ll eat for hours if you let him. he’s enjoying it more than you are. his nose is pressed right against your clit, his tongue is buried deep inside you, his big hands are holding your thighs open so you can’t squirm away

ᯓ★ but what he REALLY loves? your fingers. if you put your fingers in his mouth, he’ll groan and suck on them absentmindedly. don't try to pull away, you’re not going anywhere. he’ll grab your wrist, keep your fingers between his lips and just look at you with those dark, needy eyes

ᯓ★ loves when you pull his hair so make sure to always grab and yank his mullet while he’s between your legs and he’ll groan into your pussy like he’s getting off on it

ᯓ★ the kind of man who will fuck you dumb just to make sure you don’t even remember anyone else’s name

ᯓ★ absolute menace with that tongue + so so messy. will spread your legs, settle between them and go to fucking work. licking, sucking, slurping, spitting on your clit, growling against your folds. doesn’t stop until you’re begging. “c’mon, sweetie, one more for me”

ᯓ★ absolutely gets off on how loud you are. doesn’t matter if it’s the middle of the night or the middle of the day, he’ll fuck you so good you’re screaming his name, he prefers it “Stanley” tho, not just Stan

ᯓ★ smokes like a chimney, including during sex. he’s the type to take a long drag of his cigarette while you’re riding him, exhaling the smoke lazily as he watches you bounce on his cock. “fuck, baby, keep goin’. look so pretty takin’ me like that.” then puts it out against the nightstand right before flipping you over and fucking you senseless

ᯓ★ smoking during foreplay too, pulls cigarette out of his mouth and presses it into the ashtray, muttering, “gonna put this out and focus on you, sweetie.”

ᯓ★ if you complain about him smoking too much, he’ll smirk, tilt your chin up, and say something like, “well, maybe if you keep me busy enough, i won’t need to smoke, huh?” such a brat tbh

ᯓ★ grabs whatever’s closest to tie you up. belt? works just fine. an old rag? perfect. (also wants to be tied up too)

ᯓ★ a tipsy Stan gets handsy, real handsy. he’s already got no shame sober, but when he’s had a couple of drinks, he can’t keep his hands to himself, your thighs, your waist, your ass

ᯓ★ praise him in the most filthiest way possible, call him big, tell him he’s stretching you out, tell him you’ve never had anyone fuck you like this. tell him how much you love his cock, how deep he is. he thrives on that shit, loves being told how good he feels. “fuck, baby, keep talkin’ like that and i might not last.” but he also LOVES teasing you. “poor thing, already dumb from my cock?”, “look at you, makin’ a mess all over me. filthy little thing.”

ᯓ★ i 100% believe that mullet!Stanley is a bratty switch who acts tough but turns into a desperate, whiny mess the second you take control. i think it needs its own post but ok

[cthulhus-curse]

Play-Pretend

Pairing: Agatha Harkness x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 2,016

Warnings: Mommy Kink, Agatha has a penis, Blow Jobs, Exhibitionism, Public Sex, Degradation, Dom/sub Dynamics, Breeding | 18+ Minors DNI

Summary: In which you and your girlfriend find yourselves in quite the sticky situation in the middle of a club.

You should have known better, really. But then again, you always did like it rough. Well, she always gave it to you in such a way. Not that you would complain — never again. 

The lights scatter over your skin. At times they are red while others come as purple, but they don’t help you enough to see through the crowd. You blindly stride through it, head held up high as you make a frail attempt to catch a glimpse of what is far from you. But all you can see is a head of brown hair you know so well. Strands that you often run your fingers upon on display.

“Fancy seeing you here,” You almost have to scream. The bustling club is one your partner had picked out, and all you had to do was show up and sit pretty.

But Agatha is not amused. Quite frankly, she doesn’t tear herself away from the whiskey on her hand until she fully downs it. Minutes pass and you remain standing there, curious eyes gawking at your outfit that leaves little to nothing for the imagination of others. 

It is a game the two of you play. Something of a distraction from your busy shared lives that leave you going to bed as early as you leave the house in the morning. Roleplaying of sorts, Agatha had called it, and you went along with it joyously. Because while she often presented herself with unabashed sweetness and softness, when it came down to your shared pretend-time, she let go of any inhibitions. 

“You look like a whore,” she spits out, and your knees just about buck. 

“Well, I-”

“That wasn’t a question,” Agatha husks, her tone fueled with pure disgust. But by the gods does it do wonders to heave your chest. “Nor did I give you permission to speak. You’ve been a very bad girl today, Y/N. Looks like someone will have to make it up to mommy.”

The club suddenly goes quiet as your sole focus lands on the other woman. She stands tall over you, her heels high enough that she is able to tower over. A predator hunting its prey. And all you turn into is a frail little gazelle who instead hopes to be devoured all night long by the demanding lioness that is Agatha.

“I-”

But before you can dare respond, a hand moves to your throat. Its grip is strong on you, holding on for dear life as fingernails dig into your skin, forcing bits of blood to decorate your flesh. You try to break free, to challenge Agatha, but the woman refuses. She won’t let go, especially not when you so pathetically try to get her to do so nor when the bartender eyes you both curiously from afar. 

The crowd around you both is loud enough so your gasps for air are drowned out. No one is looking, nor would they care much, as Agatha pushes you away into the depths of the club. Far enough where no one can hear you, but still somewhat visible if one were to wander far beyond the life of the party. 

“I want you on your knees,” Agatha orders. She isn’t asking, but instead forcing you downwards in a matter of seconds. “It’s not a fucking question, Y/N. Get on your knees for mommy now.”

Sinking down to the floor, your knees gathering dirt from it, you nod. Your mouth salivates as you look up at the older woman with a fire in your eyes that she shares. Not even as she begins unzipping her formerly tented pants do you break eye-contact. Those icy blue orbs have a magical way to hypnotize you without even meaning to. 

“How dare you? You’re my property, understood? And only I get to see you like this,” Agatha growls. “Stupid pet. I’ll have to remind you who owns you, huh? You’re far too stupid to remember it on your own. Doesn’t surprise me.”

And for good measure, Agatha spits upon your face. The saliva lands right on your cheek, instantly making quick work to travel downwards. But you don’t clean it up – of course, unless you want your girlfriend to truly give you something to cry about. 

The sight of her cock springing free from the violet pair of briefs makes you hazy. It is semi-hard, enough that it slaps your cheek slightly before remaining halfway standing. But the more you bore your eyes into it, hungrily planting little kisses along its head, the further it grows. Agatha can only stare down with pride at her girthy member that her hand can barely wrap itself around. 

“Open up, sweetheart,” Agatha says, this time softer than the last. But she doesn’t need to say anything as you already kiss your way up and down every single inch of her dick. Kissing the small veins that make themselves known, fondling her balls before oh-so gingerly sucking them. You give her the utmost attention she requires. “There’s a good fucking girl. Just like that, baby. Worship mommy’s cock.”

And that you do. 

Your mouth opens wide enough to invite the massive intrusion inside. The salty taste of pre-cum becomes apparent on your tongue as it begins leaking from the rosy tip you enclose your lips around. Grabbing onto her thighs, you steady yourself before slowly moving your head forth. Every passing second, it is as though you take an inch, then another, then another.

Bobbing your head back and forth, you find yourself easily taking almost all seven inches given your years-long preparations. A hand moves to the top of your head, sitting there at first before following along with your movements. Back and forth. Back and forth. Back and forth. Until it forcefully moves you further down Agatha’s penis, your lips brushing along her pelvis before you begin to gargle. And even then, she forces you to enjoy it before letting you find a breath of fresh air. 

“You look so pretty, baby. You weren’t meant for this. Only to suck off your mommy where anyone can see,” Agatha teases. For added measure, she thrust her hips forth slightly, forcing her thick penis further down your throat. “Mommy’s little dick-sucker. Now that’s a fitting name for a slut like you, eh?”

Her balls ghost over your chin as you vigorously suck her off. With your relaxed throat, you are soon able to take more than she can give you, and you want it all. Her dick begins twitching wildly inside you as Agatha holds onto the nearby wall for dear life. Yet none of it dissuades you. No, you keep drilling her cock into your mouth, hollowing your cheeks as you tease her flushed head with your famished tongue. 

It does not take Agatha long to cum, and by the time she does, your head is left pinned between the wall and her body. Copious drops of cum ooze out of her tip, every single one forced down your throat. And you take them all, not daring to waste even a smidge of the special treat you adore tasting. Swallowing it whole to make your girlfriend proud. 

“Did you take all of it?” You watch the woman raise her eyebrows even with the near-lack of light around you both. 

“Yes, mommy,” you promise, opening your mouth to show off its emptiness as you took all her cum for yourself. “I’m a good girl.”

“Uh-huh,” Agatha, with flushed cheeks, hums. She motions you upwards, holding out a hand to help steady you along with the wall. “Now, turn around for mommy, baby.”

Frowning, having thought it was over, you begin to protest. “But-”

“Now, Y/N. Mommy still wants to use her best girl,” Agatha feigns a pout. “Be a dear and let me use your pussy, yeah? I promise I’ll make it up to you.” Her arms help you face the wall, hugging you from behind as she presses her messy dick against your ripped jeans. “Mommy just needs to use her little whore for a bit. So stand there and look pretty for me. Maybe put on a show for anyone that wants to watch.” She nearly tears apart your clothes, ensuring that your backside is clear of any fabric while having tugged on your see-through shirt enough, your breasts jiggle out. “Sharing is caring, after all.”

You would be lying if you said it didn’t make a jolt of need flow down your body. “Of course, mommy.”

The bulbous tip of her dick spreads your juicy folds apart as soon as it touches you. Agatha is desperate, refusing to take it slow let alone for wishing to admire her handiwork. To see you so wet, your slickness drifts down your shaky inner thighs. She smacks your cunt with her meat once or twice, giggling at the lewd noise it makes. Yet still not nearly loud enough compared to the music the club plays. 

The remainder of the club-goes are oblivious to the way Agatha slams her cock inside you with one swift movement. Such roughness is one she has leisurely been building up to. Her fingernails dig into your hips as every delicious inch of her penis forces itself into your pussy which welcomes it with a tight hug. 

“Fuck,” Agatha grunts, a sentiment you soon echo. “Oh baby, your pussy feels amazing.” Her curious hands begin traveling upwards, not ceasing their movements until they find your breasts to grope. “Look how well you’re taking me. You dumb cock-whore.” She slams her waist forth, the head of her penis hitting your sweetest spot. The mewl you let out only heightens her pleasure. “Mommy’s fleshlight.”

The two of you are lost in your own world as you become one. The moist sounds of your pussy being repeatedly abused by your girlfriend’s cock booms across the remote corner of the club you share. The thought of having anyone simply walk far enough to see you being destroyed makes you moan. To be shown off to the world as nothing but a brainless toy for your mommy to use. 

Finding the proper tempo, you begin matching Agatha’s ministrations. At first you are awkward, but with each harsh thrust that comes, you grow more confident. Your skins slap together as nails scratch hips further. A haze overcomes your sights, not that you can see anything around you in the first place, as a warmth settles on your lower belly. 

“Harder,” you plead, and Agatha is more than willing to listen. “Please, mommy.”

“Anything for you, my girl,” Agatha mumbles, gripping your tits as she fucks into you with might. Slow, yet harsh attacks which stretch your cunt out further. “I’ll fill you up so well, baby. I bet your pussy will look gorgeous. Nice and full of mommy’s cum.”

She explodes within you, her cock jittering once against as it begins spurting out drop after drop of white. You try to move away, to find some solace from the warmth that seeps into your cunt which you are to take. But Agatha does not allow you to do so. Instead she continues moving her hips, forcing her penis to your depths as you are fully bred with her seed. 

Her breathlessness is apparent as she stands behind you, peppering sweet kisses along your shoulder. Agatha is quite touchy after the matter, always enjoying a closeness to you after having played pretend with such roughness. And as she moves away slightly, her cock gradually slipping from the hold of your cunt, small droplets of cum begin oozing down your thighs.

“Oops,” Agatha chuckles, shaking her head as she admires the mess the two of you, primarily her fault, created. She rubs her dick over your slit once more, this time garnering an obscene amount of your juices mixed with her seed. “Looks like mommy made quite the mess. Nothing short of what a slut like you deserves.”

With your head already high up in the clouds, you share her amusement. “And who is to say we should stop now?”

[sweaterkittensahoy]

Okay, so you're a Nazi because you HAD to join the party to keep your government job. That was a thing that happened. A lot of people joined the party because the Nazis made it a requirement to have a job. To have social activities. To get government assistance.

Okay.

Now. All those "Not really Nazis" also ignored and downplayed the Jew Hatred all around them. They watched their so-called friends and by-proximity neighbors get rounded up and taken away and not come back. They saw the Nazis let people in the homes of the Jews to ransack them for goods. They may have even gone in and taken a few things.

"But maybe they were keeping it safe!" I've heard argued. "Why do you have to assume the worst?"

Because we always end up at the fucking worst. Every single time a group of people has joined the fascists because they "had to" or because "it was expected" or because "it was necessary to survive," they became fascists. They took property they knew was not theirs. They didn't ask where their so-called friends and neighbors went. They walked by the ghettos and pretended not to see them. They acted like they couldn't hear the mass murder behind the walls (when they finally built the walls). They didn't do jack fucking shit to actually protect the people they claim they didn't hate.

"But they were scared!"

No, they weren't. The Nazis ruled on promises of better things. Better wages. Better jobs. Better education. Better. Better. Better. And all that cost the German people was ignoring the abuse and murder of Jews. And, once all the Jews had been shipped to the camps, the abuse and murder of whoever was next on the Nazi list of undesirables. Make no mistake, the Nazis were first and foremost about Jew Hatred and then used everything they learned about the population through instigating and worsening Jew Hatred to commit their next act of hatred.

And what they learned was that the German people as a whole didn't fucking care what happened to the Jews if they could go on a cruise and go to the cinema and get a few of the nicer trinkets from that empty house that was taken over by someone who, when those Jews came back to their own fucking house, refused to give it back. Because they didn't HATE Jews. But they didn't care that they hurt them or that they were hurt.

And the current run of antisemitism is actually worse, in my personal opinion. The Germans got material gain for giving the Jews to the Nazis and not saying anything. The current run of antisemites is hating Jews because they've decided it's the most morally pure thing to do in a fucked up world. To hate this one group and do everything to destroy them because they're horribly offended that a marginalized group refuses to accept abuse and injustice and instead stands up and fights. They hate that Jews don't want their fucking pity or their poor baby head pats. They hate that Jews looked them in the face and said, "You're antisemitic, and that's your shit to unpack, not mine to ignore."

All antisemites get now is a sense of feeling better than everyone who supports Jews because they've decided those of us who stand up and call a Nazi a Nazi are "simplifying history" or some shit like that.

That's all they want out of it: To feel like they're smarter than me and others who stand with Jews. That they understand the world better than me. That they know the big secret to understanding the world is to understand how to justify Jew Hatred so it sounds academic and important when it is, in fact, just the same fucking Nazi shit over and over again.

A Nazi is a Nazi is a Nazi. There's not a fucking one who deserves consideration for not being a "real" Nazi. You do Nazi shit, you're a fucking Nazi. And swearing that you aren't a Nazi and that people are trying to misconstrue what a Nazi is to make you look bad is super fucking Nazi.

All the people arguing that there's nuance to Nazis would have made excellent good germans.

[garez19]

yandere! vampire hunter x vampire reader

you did your utmost to hide your silly little secret from your boyfriend. a shame he was always able to see right through you.

warnings/notes: female reader, english is not my first language, mention of injury (not described), not proofread

you love your boyfriend so much. you love alkan, who is a well-known vampire hunter in your town. he’s skilled with his weapons and he knows a vampire when he sees one.

yet you, for some reason, have been an exception to this. he hasn’t found out about your true nature yet. and you’re not sure if he would be as kind as he is once he did. you’d be done, that much was true, but it’d also mean you tricked him. not only a monster, but also a liar you are.

yet, little do you know he already knows everything about you, and he cherishes every part of it. little do you know how he keeps waiting every single night for you to come up to him, crying and confessing, begging for forgiveness. he will be very accepting too, as long as you promise you aren’t going to leave ever -as you pose a serious threat to people in the town-. he will be very tolerant, because how could he do any harm to an angel like you?

as long as you promise to be good for him.

yet you are still stubborn. you’ve gotten weaker as days pass, and alkan is having a hard time waiting especially when he sees your tired body. however, he can’t help but love you a little bit more as you go to such lengths just to stay by his side.

you poorest thing.

if you aren’t willing to tell him the truth, then he would solve it in his own way.

that’s why he is always around you, not giving you time to rest up. he’s always there to watch you, and he never fails to make you feel uncomfortable, as if he knows what you think.

you understand you can’t keep going much longer, and decide to leave to figure it out. yet he still doesn’t let you, coming along with you everywhere you go. and you aren’t even able to protest, because he’s so quick with his “it’s dangerous out there.” excuse. you are trapped. moreover, you are trapped with alkan of all people—the famous hangman of your own kind.

he keeps pressing your buttons. and he finally finds the right one.

“are you okay?” you say, panicked. you knew, you fucking knew he was going to hurt himself when he kept toying with the sharpest knife in the kitchen. hell, it is almost like he did try his best to create a wound deliberately.

“oh fuck… yeah, I am,” he groans. “can you help me patch it up?” he says in pain. you take him to living room with the first aid kit. you both sit on the couch, and that’s the moment it hits you: alkan’s blood smells amazing and you’re about to die of hunger. you try your hardest to do your job as quickly as possible, yet alkan keeps getting in the way.

“wait, it’s too tight, can you loosen it up a little bit?”

“isn’t it a little bit too loose now?”

“can we get another bandage? this one’s all bloody already.”

fuck. fuck. fuck. you really fucked up real bad this time.

yet you try your hardest, and don’t listen to his protests anymore. you bandage his hand carelessly.

you’re done. thankfully, you finally make it. but oh, a shame it doesn’t matter anymore.

you know you can no longer bear with the starvation —the sharp smell of his blood burning your lungs, you find yourself grabbing him. and as your fangs find their way into his neck, you feel the wetness on your cheeks. you know this must be your last meal.

it is your last meal, and you feel blessed it is with your lover.

your hands are on his shoulders. you know alkan, a trained hunter with a handful of abilities, is most certainly able to overpower you. yet he does nothing. he doesn’t try and push you off. he doesn’t cuss you out.

he hugs you. that’s all he does.

“it’s okay, love” his voice is soothing, and it is the first time you hear him talk like this. “you’re okay.” he adds as he caresses your head. his other hand is on your back, and it feels light, like it isn’t there at all.

he winces in pain. yet he keeps soothing you.

“you’re safe,” he rubs your back. and you realize he’s visibly hurt—finally being fed, you come back to your senses.

fuck.

you are absolutely not safe, you think to yourself as you quickly pull away. you are like a scared cat, ready to attack the second alkan tries anything. yet, again, he doesn’t.

his shirt is all messed up, and his neck is bloodied. you can see his face is paler and he definitely looks drained, the scene makes the tears burn your eyes once again.

alkan pulls you towards himself. and then he kisses your tears. softly and slowly. when he finally pulls back a little, he gently grabs your face. his thumb on your cheek, making slow moves like he’s scared of breaking you.

“poorest little thing,” he cooed, “you must’ve been starving for so long.”

you gulped. there’s a metallic taste in your mouth. “I’m sorry.” is all you can manage to let out, and you feel like you can really use an eternal sleep after you just had your last meal. “I’m so sorry.” you say once more.

he doesn’t budge.

“why didn’t you tell me sooner? we could’ve figured something out.” he says calmly, and it all makes you feel like it is gonna be okay, like you are not in trouble at all.

yet you know his calmness means you are in danger.

“let’s get you cleaned, love.”

[hollowed-theory-hall]

Do you think Harry would swear or has sworn? Such a niche question, but trying to realistic write him swearing is such a mixed basket. On the one hand, I don't really picture him doing it, even under extreme distress. But I can also imagine him letting out a light swear if he's having a bad day and has a minor inconvenience

I 100% believe Harry swears. This post ended up being a little longer since I kinda went off and detailed how a bunch of characters in HP swear, not just Harry.

Sometimes, characters are shown to "swear" on page:

“Blimey,” said Ron weakly. (CoS)

“Blimey, it is!” said Ron quietly (OotP)

“What in the name of Merlin are you doing?” said Ron (OotP)

“Why the hell,” panted Ron (DH)

“I’ll join you when hell freezes over,” said Neville. (DH)

“Merlin’s beard,” Moody [Barty] whispered (GoF)

“Merlin’s beard,” said Mr. Weasley wonderingly (OotP)

“Harry, what the hell’s going on?” asked Bill (DH)

“Blasted thing,” Snape was saying. (PS)

("Blimey" and "blasted" are here since they were considered mild swear words when they became part of the language like "gosh" and "darn". "Merlin's beard" is kinda like saying "Jesus Christ" which was also considered a mild swear, even if no one really considers most of the above swears by today's standards).

The above is done when the swears are (very) light and something that you could print in a children's book. But sometimes, characters swearing is censored in the books:

Dean swore loudly. (CoS)

Thankfully, Snape sneezed at almost exactly the moment Ron swore. (CoS)

Ron dropped several boxes, swore, and made a rude hand gesture at Fred that was unfortunately spotted by Mrs. Weasley, who had chosen that moment to appear. (HBP)

and Lee swore so badly that Professor McGonagall tried to tug the magical megaphone away from him (PoA)

The lift clattered into view and they hurried inside. Every time it stopped Mr. Weasley cursed furiously and pummelled the number nine button. (OotP)

When that happens, I assume the swears are ones JKR couldn't get away with in a children's/YA book series. Like: "fuck" or "shit".

(Molly calling Bellatrix "bitch" is the only harsher swear word not censored in the books)

When Harry swears, it's sometimes not censored:

“She doesn’t love me,” said Harry at once. “She doesn’t give a damn — ” (OotP)

“And he didn’t think my mother was worth a damn either,” said Harry (HBP)

“Why not?” asked Harry. “Let’s get rid of the damn thing, it’s been months — ” (DH)

“Where the hell have you been?” Harry shouted. (DH)

But often enough, Harry's cursing is censored:

Harry swore under his breath (OotP)

Harry swore and turned away. (OotP)

Harry swore at the top of his voice, spinning on the spot to see where Mundungus had gone. (HBP)

Harry swore. Someone screamed. (HBP)

So, to me, this suggests Harry says "fuck" or British stuff like "sod off". He 100% does use harsher swears, and it's in character for him to do so. He swears under his breath when shit goes badly or he finds himself in a situation he really doesn't want to be in. He swears loudly when Mandungus escapes him, so when he's really angry, he can go and shout a proper F-bomb. Let Harry say "fuck", his life sucks and he deserves it.

Ron also swears sometimes harsher swears than "hell" or "bloody hell" but he does so more rarely than Harry and when things are really bad. Usually, he goes for lighter stuff like: "Merlin", "hell", or "blimey".

Hermione doesn't swear except for the "Merlin's pants" comment in DH which was clearly meant to be "Merlin's balls" but JKR got censored by her editors and one time she says "damn" in DH. Hermione doesn't even use light swears like "Merlin", "damn" or "hell". She, just, doesn't swear until DH, and even then only twice. Like, her most extreme for the majority of the books is going: "oh my", "oh my god", or "oh my goodness". Hermione is the only member in the Golden Trio that doesn't swear:

“Oh, my — ” Hermione grabbed Harry’s arm. (PoA)

“Oh my goodness,” said Hermione suddenly (PoA)

“Oh gosh, I forgot!” said Hermione (OotP)

“Oh my ...” Harry heard Hermione squeal, terrified, beside him. (OotP)

“Today?” shrieked Hermione. “Today? But why didn’t you — oh my God — you should have said — ” (HBP)

“Oh my — !” shrieked Hermione, as she and Ron caught up with Harry (DH)

I went a bit off track, but theses are some characters and how they swear that I found while searching this:

Harry, Dean & Lee: swear in profanities that need to be censored ("fuck", "shit", "sodding hell") often and sprinkle lighter swears ("hell", "damn") in there. Harry uses "damn" relatively often.

Ron, the twins, Bill & Arthur: use mostly light swears ("hell", "bloody", "blasted") but use some harsher swears ("fuck", "shit") when needed (and Molly isn't looking).

(I assume Ginny is in this above category too, but I only found her saying "damn" once)

Neville, Dumbledore, Hagrid & Snape (at least, when we see him): use only light swears such as "hell", "blasted" or "Merlin" and its derivatives.

Molly: Doesn't really swear except that one time (calling Bellatrix a bitch).

Hermione & Luna: never use profanities unless really at their limit. Don't even use light swears or "Merlin" and its derivatives. Hermione says: "oh my god" or "oh my goodness", Luna says: "oh, no".

Lupin doesn't swear anywhere on-page either.

Surprisingly I couldn't find any mention of Sirius swearing, not even light stuff (like "Merlin's beard"). I guess he really was raised to have proper manners. Or maybe he's actively censoring himself in front of Harry to be a good role model.

[marvelandponder]

I'm gonna speak from my experience and it's probably going to be different than OP's and that's okay

I had super bad social anxiety from about 10th grade through most of university. I straight up believed that if I didn't have anything "worthwhile" to say, it was a burden to say anything at all, because then you'd be subjecting people to a painfully awkward social interaction they didn't want

So basically everything I had to say wasn't "worth it" and I felt like I was failing every social interaction, or cowarding out by hiding myself away when it became too exhausting

I think over the course of those years I had about 4 or 5 therapists?

Each was helpful for different reasons but the one that was the most helpful was a guy who had me write out what I believed about socializing. And we picked them apart until we got to the underlying truth

The one that really stuck out to me was we basically got to a point where he was like "so you believe human beings are inherently judgemental"

That didn't feel right. Like, yeah, we have automatic passing thoughts, but most people don't really care about what's weird with others for more than few seconds. Then they're focused on themselves again

So that stuck out to me as a belief I could revise. Where were examples of when people didn't care about me being awkward or not knowing how to socialize?

We devised a plan to test the new theory

I was in university at the time, and there were scheduled meet ups in our LGBTQA+ centre's on campus. That seemed like a pretty safe place to try things- I had even been there before

So I went. I went a few times. It was still tough sometimes but I started to feel more safe saying things, contributing to set discussion topics, or just being quiet when I didn't have anything to add (and not beating myself up for having nothing to add)

That built a little bit of confidence, then I had a few job experiences that helped too. At first those sucked - I would have panic attacks sometimes. But then around the time I was doing this therapy, I got one where I could tell my managers first thing, hey, I've got anxiety, this is what it might look like if I have a panic attack. And I didn't have a single one that term, or the term after.

I built up confidence just by reinforcing my new beliefs that people really weren't as hyperfocused as I was. I became more social - I had a cubicle of three other students around me, so I joined in on their discussions and even had a good time

Fast forward a few years, I'm now more comfortable and confident in any social situation than ever. I call with friends every week, I go out with my partner and do all sorts of stuff together, I have this huge community of people around me in all kinds of capacities!

I'm not you, and what worked for me isn't gonna be what works for you. Also? It's valid as fuck to not be in a place where you can at all comfortably socialize with any human beings at all, and to be there for so long that you just straight give up. Or maybe it's all you've ever known

That's fucking valid and you don't need to feel ashamed for it. And also, in my personal experience as someone who couldn't socialize without anxiety for several very formative years, people can become social

Doesn't mean you have to, or that one is better than the other. I'm just saying I was in a big doomer place before about my own ability to socialize and if I was talking to my past self, she'd be so fucking relieved to hear that things get better and she doesn't have panic attacks about talking to people anymore. She actually likes it

people are way way too generous in assuming that you can just “learn to be social” and everyone will welcome you with open arms and forgive you forever for all the years you spent not talking to people. sorry no. if you don’t start out social you never get the opportunity to become social. people assume that’s just how you are and treat you accordingly, and it becomes a self-fulfilling prophecy

[delugyu]

Pls toxic guy fic …….. you need to do a pt 2 i love it :)))

hehehe of course <3

(wc: 1.5k — warnings: smut MDNI, jealousy, dubcon elements, thigh riding)

your friends don’t give up in their efforts to convince you that beomgyu’s bad for you, but you have a hard time believing them. beomgyu’s doubled down in showing his care for you—he’s incapable of prying his hands off of you, he showers you in constant praise, and he never fails to reassure you that everything’s okay. the line between platonic and romantic affection has been blurred for quite some time between you and beomgyu, but it’s something you’ve grown used to now.

beomgyu spends every moment he can with you, and makes sure to text you consistently in moments where you’re away. your friends think it’s borderline obsessive, and it never fails to become a topic of conversation in every hang out.

you know better than that, though. this is just what normal is for you and beomgyu. he’s told you enough times for it to be drilled into your head that your friendship can only be defined by the two of you, and you don’t want to make him upset anymore by questioning his behavior.

you do a good job at keeping your life with beomgyu separate from life with the rest of your friends. you learn to stop talking to beomgyu about them, and to feed into your friends’ theories about him as little as possible.

it’s not always easy, however. situations like this, for example, where you’re at the same party with beomgyu and your friends.

“i figured you’d be here,” beomgyu says, finding you as you’re grabbing another drink. he usually doesn’t go to parties unless you go with him, and you came here with your other friends this time. you didn’t even tell him you were going.

“yeah? how’d you know?” you ask. you walk back to the crowd, and beomgyu follows.

“your friend posted something about it.”

you laugh. “keeping tabs on my friends?”

he blinks at you. “no,” he says. seems like he didn’t catch your joke. you ruffle his hair, finding it cute.

you turn when you hear a friend call your name. she’s signaling you over, and you give one last look to your best friend in front of you. “i’m gonna go back to the girls now, but text me if you need me!”

you don’t look for him after that, too caught up in the atmosphere of the party. one of your friends introduces you to a handsome, charming guy. his name’s yeonjun, you find out after a short conversation, and it doesn’t take long for him to ask you to dance.

you’re pressed right up against him, following the sway of his hips, letting him lead the two of you. you’re all giggles as you talk to yeonjun, feeling entranced by the man.

it’s not even a couple minutes later that you’re pulled away from yeonjun, eyes widening at the feeling of being tugged and dragged away from the crowd. you knew who the culprit was immediately; the feeling of beomgyu’s hand on your skin is as familiar to you as the feeling of air filling your lungs.

the next thing you know, beomgyu’s shutting the bathroom door behind you, locking the two of you inside. you get no chance to ask questions before his lips are on yours, kissing you with more heat than you’ve ever seen from him before.

even in your tipsy state, you know this is much further than you’ve gone with him before. he doesn’t pull away, though, sucking your lips like he has something to prove. you jerk your head to the side so his mouth detaches from yours.

“what’s going on?” you ask, searching for an answer on his face. all you find is how pissed off he is.

“you tell me. who the fuck was that?” he levels you with a hard stare, leaving no room for excuses.

“some guy my friend knows,” you answer, shrugging like it’s not a big deal.

his laugh holds no real humor. “your friends always try to slut you out like this?”

“excuse me?” you let beomgyu get away with many things, but even you know when enough is enough.

he doesn’t respond, only leans in to start peppering kisses down your neck. you’re left feeling confused, not understanding his overreaction just a second ago.

your eyes go wide once you feel his tongue on your skin, licking over the spot he just kissed. you give his chest a small shove, but he doesn’t budge. he’s sucking on your skin now, surely trying to decorate it with a mark.

this is definitely too much. alarms ring in your head as all your friends’ warnings fly back to you in droves. you breathe out something that sounds like a whine when he bites down where your neck meets your shoulder. his tongue laves at the area, and his trail of kisses continues down to your collarbone.

“gyu,” you start, threading your fingers through his hair, trying to pull him away. “we shouldn’t be doing this.”

he doesn’t answer, just slips the thin sleeve of your dress down, freeing some skin. his mouth latches onto you dangerously close to your breasts, sucking marks onto you. his hand creeps up your thigh, fingertips pressing into the soft flesh. your other sleeve meets the same fate, prompting much of your chest to be exposed.

“gyu,” you try again, but your call is only met with the feeling of his hand inching further up your thigh.

you finally tug hard enough at his hair to pry him off of you. he’s equal parts anger and lust as he stares at you. he grabs onto your waist and pulls your body into his, wedging one of his legs between yours. a jean-clad thigh meets your center, but you bite back any noise that threatens to slip out.

“what is it with you and trying to replace me?” he asks, eyes flitting down your frame. they linger on the expanse of your chest. he’d just have to pull your dress down slightly for your tits to pop out.

“replace you?” you repeat, trying not to lose yourself to the feeling of him pressing against your core.

“other friends, other men, everyone else but me…” you scrunch your face at his words, not understanding him.

“i hang out with you all the time,” you counter.

one of his hands leaves your waist, making its way up to your breast. you don’t allow yourself to gasp at the feeling when he slowly rubs a thumb across your clothed nipple.

“w-what are you doing?” you ask, hanging desperately onto your sanity.

he brings his eyes back to yours. “i’m taking what’s mine.”

your eyes roll back when he makes you grind against his thigh. his other hand continues to play with your tits, and the stimulation is already overwhelming. this isn’t ever anything you’d expect to be doing with beomgyu.

“we can’t”—your sentence is cut off by a gasp when he presses his thigh against you with more force—“can’t do this.”

“why?” he asks. “you would have ran off to do this with yeonjun anyway. i’m just giving you what you wanted.”

you throw your head back, still trying to fight the feeling, but it’s hard when he’s rubbing you against him so deliciously. your friends were right: beomgyu is taking things too far, but you can’t bring yourself to stop him now.

“how do you feel?” he asks, pulling his hand from your breast to make you look directly at him. he’s got a tight hold on your jaw, so you can’t save yourself and look another way. his stare is so intense, it leaves you feeling naked.

“good,” you answer. he grins at that, and his hand on your hip coaxes you to roll your hips a little more. it doubles the buzz you were already feeling, and you whine at the sensation. your legs start twitching, pleasure taking over.

a knock at the door brings a sense of fear upon you. you look at beomgyu in horror, realizing he’s not going to stop. he leans in, bringing his lips to your ear.

“you gotta cum now, okay?” you shake your head, not wanting to risk the person on the other side of the door hearing anything. “yes, you do.”

he uses both his hands on your hips to drag your cunt across his thigh, determined to get you off before you get kicked out of the bathroom. you cover your mouth with your hand, trying your hardest to keep any sounds from escaping you. it’s so hard when your whole body is succumbing to the feeling, orgasm creeping up on you. another knock sounds at the door, harder this time.

“come on, show me what i do to you,” beomgyu urges, eyes locked on your face. he smiles at your wide eyes, so conflicted between wrong and right. you have no choice—your climax hits you before you can stop it. you close your eyes and focus on being as silent as you can while your hips stutter against him.

“good job,” he praises as you come down, hands moving from your thighs to fix the straps of your dress. you bring your hand off your mouth when he pulls his thigh from you. you feel like you can finally breathe again.

“we need to talk about this later,” you say.

he smiles. “why don’t we just go back to my place and talk about it there?”

[be-xkyy]

I couldn't help but write this, I feel inspired after watching a police movie.

Tw: yandere, violence, abuse of power, dirty talk, unprotected sex, age differences, infidelity, alcohol, dubcon.

Yandere Corrupt Cop who has been a cop for almost ten years without getting a fucking promotion and having to deal with his crazy wife who only knows how to complain and claim him when she's at home. She's a bitch.

So it's normal that he's upset and frustrated. He has to be in the patrol car all day and all night scouring the streets looking for assholes who can't follow the fucking rules. They deserve a good beating before taking them to the police station.

But what he fucking hates the most are weekend nights, having to deal with drunk and drugged teenagers in their fancy cars who think they're a lot because they have rich daddies. fuck them. He drives on the empty roads except for the occasional car, quiet night. Until he sees a car that passes quickly on the avenue clearly exceeding the fucking speed limit. Bastard.

He accelerates and turns on the siren following the car that doesn't slow down for a few more blocks, his hands grip the steering wheel tightly and he feels his blood boil. Whoever it is is screwed. Finally after what seems like an eternity the car slows down stopping on the side of the road.

He decides parking right behind, he turns off the siren and only the red and blue lights flash in the night, he gets out of the car annoyed adjusting his seatbelt before slamming the door, he walks towards the car approaching the tinted window that slowly rolls down revealing the typical rich kid but his eyes are fixed on his passenger a sexy little thing, his girlfriend maybe? He's not sure but what he is sure of is that he loves you.

"Officer, we may have exceeded the speed limit a little but if you want you can give me a ticket—" the boy begins slurring his words clearly drunk but before he can finish he interrupts with a firm voice.

"Get out of the fucking car now, both of you. And face the hood, quick."

He watches angrily as they hesitate until finally the boy opens the door and staggers out. You follow his example, both of you standing in front of the car. He approaches and grabs the boy hard, giving him an unexpected blow to the stomach that knocks the wind out of him. You let out a shriek and the boy doubles over in pain. When you try to get closer, he puts his hand on his gun holster, looking at you and you freeze.

"Weren't you taught that you should automatically stop when a law enforcement officer orders it? Why are you trying to be smart, huh?"

He says as he flips the boy over, folding his hands behind his back. He grabs the cuffs from his belt and locks them on his wrists. He then stands up, looking at you standing there like a scared servant. Sexy girl. A sly smile slides onto his lips and he nods towards the hood of the car in front of you.

“Bend over the hood, quick.” He watches as your clouded eyes widen in disbelief at his words almost as if you can’t believe what’s happening. You shake your head as you say in an alcohol slurred voice “No. You can’t-”

“I can. And you can bend over the good way or I can bend you over the bad way, but I advise you to be good for your boyfriend’s sake.”

You bite your lip hard looking at your boyfriend on the ground in handcuffs, small tears pricking your eyes as you lean over the cold hood your cheek and palms flat against the metal, he reaches over his hands quickly grabbing a handful of your covered ass, squeezing the globes tightly before pulling up your skirt revealing your ass and lace panties.

"Looks like you were going to have fun huh? Did I ruin your moment? Don't worry I'll make it up to you at least baby"

He says in a teasing coo as he raises his hand and brings it down on your ass. Smack, smack, smack. You gasp at the spanking that leaves your skin red and stinging painfully. You close your eyes when you hear the sound of his zipper opening, he brings his fingers up to your mouth hitting your lips.

"Spit."

You reluctantly comply letting your saliva drip onto his fingers and he uses it to lube up his fat member pumping a few times before pulling your panties to the side revealing your puckered hole and glistening pussy he guides his cock into your folds sliding in as far as he can until he bottoms out, you bite your lip to keep from whimpering at the feeling of being so full.

He growls at the feeling of your walls throbbing around his cock as you try to accommodate him. Your nails dig into his head as he begins to thrust into you hard, the head of his cock hitting your g-spot over and over again making you dizzy, he places his hands on your hips using them to move you back each time he thrusts into you sending currents of undue pleasure through your body.

"Fuck– you're tight, huh! You don't get fucked enough huh baby? Poor pussy"

He says in an amused voice, when you don't respond he grabs you by the hair lifting you up and bringing your back to his chest, you feel his hot breath against the shell of your ear sending shivers down your arched spine.

"You know I wanted you from the second I saw you, I don't usually do this with women but I wanted you, I wanted you, very romantic huh, darling?"

He laughs against your ear as if it were very funny and you hold back so as not to insult him, you don't answer him and he rolls his eyes, without stopping thrusting into you he lowers the hand that is on your hip towards your pussy pinching your clit hard between his fingers and you can't contain your moans any longer, his movements become erratic at the same time that the knot in your belly tightens you try not to cum but it is difficult with all his attentions you reach the breaking point when he passes his wet tongue over your ear.

You can't help but cum, letting out a moan of pleasure as your vaginal walls contract around his cock. You can feel it throbbing inside you with a few final thrusts. He stops, letting out a guttural growl, filling you with his warm seed. You collapse onto the hood. He pulls out of you as his cock softens, sliding into his pants. He examines your open hole and watches as his cum slides out, so he uses two fingers to push his cum inside before adjusting your panties as he says in a threatening tone.

"I trust this will stay between the three of us, won't you? I'd hate to have to arrest you or worse."

[dilfologies]

would u ever do stepbro!satoru x reader x his bestfriend!suguru ?? :3

would i ever… oh nonny, i think about it daily. clearly. as you can tell by this drabble that is entirely too long (just like their co—)

“look at her, geto. she wants you to touch her so bad.”

suguru stood in front of where you sat at the end of the bed. you were sitting so pretty on your knees, so patiently, just itching for him to touch you. satoru kneeled behind you, reaching his hands down to knead your breasts. the eye contact you both held with suguru made him feel like his skin was on fire.

satoru swiveled your head to the side and captured your lips in his, kissing you like a man starved, all in front of suguru. the kiss was sloppy and wet, too desperate to be coordinated. when you pulled away, you looked back up to see suguru looking dazed.

suguru exhaled softly, “you didn’t tell me you had such a slutty little sister, satoru.” his large hand covered one of the tits that satoru abandoned, palming it and toying with the nipple. his hand was cold despite the warmth of satoru’s bedroom, making you shudder.

“well, he wanted to have me all to himself,” you breathed, “but i was the one who put this idea in his head.”

suguru chuckled. “that right? you wanted both of us to fuck you? you want us to destroy that little pussy, that it?”

your pussy was dripping. his words were spurring you on, making you dizzy. you weren’t the only one excited, though. satoru’s cock was hard and heavy on your lower back and you could feel his precum leaking from his tip onto your skin.

within a moment, you were shuffled backwards enough to where you were on all fours. satoru at your back, suguru at your front. satoru wasted no time in stuffing your cunt full with his thick, leaking cock. his fat tip prodded at the spongy spot that he was all too familiar with.

while you were focused on satoru’s antics, suguru had shoved his pants down to his ankles, freeing his cock. you all but drooled at the sight. all the slight veins and the upward curve he had, his reddish-pinkish tip enlarged and gleaming, and the small trimmed up bush at his base which you could only assume led up to a happy trail. god, if you knew satoru’s best friend had a cock this pretty, you would’ve suggested this long ago.

“well?” suguru huffed, “is the whore gonna do ‘er job like she’s s’possed to?”

and gosh, did you try, wrapping your pretty, salivated mouth around his tip, licking and sucking and cleaning off all his salty precum. you tried to slowly make your way down, considering just how large he was, just every time satoru thrusted into you, you were knocked further down suguru’s length.

he groaned when you gagged on him, and lifted you up by a fistful of your hair to give you some air. saliva pooled out of your mouth and down his cock.

satoru rolled his eyes from behind you, “fuck, suguru— just use her throat. trust me, she doesn’t mind,” he gave you a sharp slap on your ass that was sure to leave a handprint before trailing his hand to your spine, pressing down so you were slightly more arched. and then he leaned down to your ear, “right, baby? don’t cha want sugu to fuck your slutty little throat? hm?”

you yelped as he delivered a particularly hard thrust. “yes! haaah— puh-lease, sugu, use m-my throat!”

suguru didn’t have to be told twice. as soon as satoru re-straightened his back, he plunged his cock all the way down your throat, as far as it would go. you took him all the way down to the hilt, nose stuffed in his hair that smelled oddly of floral scents…

both boys fucked you as if you were their toy, their little plaything. satoru was relentless, his thrusts sloppy and desperate and rough, thick cock stretching you thin. and suguru would have himself so far down your throat for such extended periods at a time to the point where your vision would start blackening at the sides. he’d always seemed to know exactly when to pull back and allow you some air.

you could stay like this forever, sandwiched between the two men who were always so protective of you, who always looked after you, who fucked you as if you were going to disappear any second now.

suguru was the first to finish, warm, thick load filling up your mouth completely. his eyes bore into you the entire time.

“swallow.”

an order that you simply couldn’t disobey. you stuck your tongue out flat so he could see all his spend was gone. suguru groaned and captured you in a heated kiss. remnants of the taste of himself remained on your buds. and fuck, if that didn’t shoot his cock straight back up.

it wasn’t long before you spasmed around satoru’s cock, squeezing him so tightly that it made his breath hitch. suguru talked you through it the entire time, until satoru spilled inside you. his filled your cunt full of his seed and fucked it so deep within you.

the two shared one look, both knowing their cocks were equally as hard once again, and they started switching places. despite having a significant amount of energy stolen from you, you were excited and your ass wiggled in the air as suguru rounded your backside.

you were in for a long night, but as your boys’ plaything, you were simply just unable to complain!

[maenoakasuna]

Hi! I saw your request post. Would you write a short platonic fic with either Alastor or Lucifer? I don’t see very many of those often and they’re cute and funny. Thanks!😁

Them as a Boyfriends

• Hello ! Sorry for the waiting, but the request is finally out ! So, it's not a fic, but more some uncanon fact about Lucifer and Alastor as boyfriend. I wasn't sure what did you mean by platonic so I stayed in the romantic part, somehow. It's not 100% romantic but I think it's still cute. Hope You will ( all ) like it :)

_________________________ L U C I F E R ________________________

-Will always Hold your hand in public or give a kiss on it

-He will open every door for you or push the chair when you’re sit on it ( What a gentlemen )

-If you’re sick he will rush to the drugstore and maybe overreact by buying every meds or painkiller he could find, just to be sure you will have to good thing

-If you fall asleep somewhere, he will gently bring you to your room without waking you up. He will just take you in his arms.

-At Night, if you’re not able to sleep, he will take you in his arms and fly across hell to show you everything. 

-He’s not jealous but if you spend more time with others and less with him, he will be sad and think he’s not enough for you. His insecurities and depression will take him over. He will say he’s alright but that’s not true. He just doesn't want to bother you with his negative thoughts. 

-If you’re mad about him, he will do EVERYTHING to get your forgiveness. He can’t handle you being mad at him. And he will sincerely be sorry for whatever He did.

-If you had a bad day, he will just prepare your favorite Meal, prepare you a hot bath with bubbles and after that you are gonna eat in front of your favorite movie or show with a lot of warm blankets.

-He’s not really good at cooking except for making pancakes but he try his best

-He's the kind of boyfriend to like wearing matching outfits or accessories.

-He’s the family type of guy. Will be more than happy to have kids with you if it’s what you want to, but will never pressure you or talk about it if it’s not something you plan. He already have charlie anyway and he’s 100% with that.

-If you have periods, he’s the type to get a little nervous and will ask you if you need anything, but he’s kinda scared of the side symptome. Like should he give you chocolate and cuddle you or should He just give you space ? He doesn't really know how to handle that but he always does his best. Just tell him what you need.

-His favorit type of kiss his on the forehead. Lips are cute but forehead kisses are everything. It mean more to him than any other type of kisses.

-His favorit pet name for you is : Little Love or My love

_________________________A L A S T O R_________________________

-Showing affection his not his cup of tea, but sometimes, he will put his arm around your waist.

-Just like Lucifer he will open every door for you, like a gentlemen.

-He usually don’t care when people ask him to do something, but coming from you he will do it without even asking.

-He’s a great cook and now how to cock many things. Ask and you will have.

-Will agree to do skin care with you or let you paint his nails

-If you’re sick he will wrap you in too much blanket and cook some soup, bring you medicinal tea and don’t you dare leave your bed.

-If you’re sad he will take you out for a walk and will let you talk about what happened. He will not say a word, just listen to you in silence until you reach a beautiful place. You will completely forget why you were sad and just enjoy the landscape.

-His favorite Pet Name for you gonna be : My Dear, darling

-If someone hurt you, physically or mentally, no one is gonna see this person ever again. If you ask him if he was him who did this, he will not deny it but will not say he did something. 

-He’s not jealous but he don’t like other touching you. If someone start to be to touchy with you, he will give this person a scary warning to fuck off.

-If you ever work with the Vees…darling, believe me, you want. You don’t want to face this creepy part of your boyfriend. 

-If you have periods, Alastor will stay calm, get you everything you need and even accept to cuddle if you are in pain.

-Even if physical touch is not his thing, his favorite place to kiss you is on the cheeks or the top of your hand.

-If you’re mad at him, he will apologize and that’s pretty much it. Get over it and if you don’t, that’s not his problem.

-If you fall asleep somewhere, he will put a blanket on you and stay close until you wake up and will escort you to your room, making sure you are safe.

-If you ever talk about having kids with him, he will just laugh and say with his natural big smile ‘’ I will think about it, my dear ‘’ ( Not, he will not )

-The only physical touch he really love, is when a nice music start, he like to take you for a dance and hold you close to him. He only dance with you. In private or public, he don’t care. That’s he’s way to show you love.

[crushedsweets]

How do they make fun of Nina?

AHHH i have such a long answer for this cuz its smth that i think abt a lot but i havent really talked abt it bc i get so frustrated On her behalf LOL...ill try to be quick

they'll harmlessly tease her for a lot of stuff like her clothes("who the hell wears knee high converse still"), dating choices ("and why exactly are you with that loser"), general dramatic behavior ("can you calm down nina its not that deep"), etc.

most of the time, she can brush it off like "OH MY GODDD guys you just dont get itttttttt" and giggle cuz she trusts theyre just teasing affectionately. but sometimes she gets defensive, or they catch her at a bad time, or it's a very specific phrase that gets her really worked up. and toby/clocky dont know when to back down, cuz theyre stubborn and think shes too sensitive if she gets upset

...so.

in that specific comic, i was imagining she was venting about stupid work drama. toby starts laughing at her, clocky is like "youre so dumb why are you getting involved with that shit". nina's been having a rough week so she gets kinda snappy going on about "its my job i spend half my week there and im friends with some of them like im gonna get involved clocky". meanwhile, toby and clocky just keep ragging on her about how shes alwaaayyysss in drama, always getting worked up, shes so sensitive, generally kinda talking down on her. and eventually shes like HOLY FUCK IHATE YOU GUYS SHUT UP

ok i know im the one who headcanoned them like this but toby and clocky make me so mad for this LMMMAAAOOOOOO

theyre huge stubborn hypocrites who think that THEIR emotional responses are displays of strength/self respect/power, while nina and jacks are displays of weakness/being a doormat. they believe that nina and jacks kindness, sensitivity, and desire for connection is pathetic, and these qualities of theirs get amplified when theyre together. which is why they validate their behavior while making fun of ninas

clocky is first to finally settle down and realize she's being an asshole because this is how SHE learned to protect herself through years of abuse and bullying, but not how NINA learned to protect herself through her own abuse/bullying. something about fight, freeze, fawn, flee all being different, but valid, responses to trauma

I'D ALSO LIKE TO SAY nina isnt the like group punching bag or anything by any means. theyre all still very protective of her, care about her, and do take care of her in their own ways. kate doesnt make fun of her at all (just cuz kate doesnt really sit around and make fun of anyone but toby), and jack is much more in tune with boundaries and her emotions. toby and nina are just the easiest to mess with cuz they both give funny reactions

[intimidating-fettuccine]

AHH OKAY what if there was Yandere Jeff and Tony who had a darling that was also a yandere for them? idk if you've answered this before

I know you meant Toby but seeing Tony made me laugh very hard (but I also misspell his name like that lol). Giving you some toxic yandere boys with equally toxic partners today <3 I hope you enjoy, I was pretty hyped for this request

Jeff:

Yandere Jeff wouldn't know what to do with himself in this situation. He's incredibly emotionally unstable in general, but he's also inherently distrustful of you, so he can't tell if you actually mean the affections you're trying to give him, or if you're trying to manipulate him. This will in the beginning cause a LOT of problems on your end, as Jeff's anger issues are going to skyrocket, and his physical abuse and violence toward you is going to increase for a little bit because his twisted brain tries to convince him you're just trying to trick him. However, you sit there and take it, because you love him. You always assure him that it's okay, that he can take as much time as he needs to believe you, and you'll still love him all the same, after all, his violence is another expression of his love for you. Your words following the beatings you receive are the thing that finally starts to crack Jeff's disbelief that you could possibly love him back, and over time, he'll calm the fuck down a bit, and be much less aggressive toward you.

However, the clinginess that occurs from this will be the replacement. He needs you right beside him, 24/7, with every single ounce of your attention. You love him, don't you? You said you wanted to be with him, didn't you? Then that means your brain should be filled with only thoughts of him, just as his is filled with only thoughts of you. Of course, you obey him, though. Being showered in his attention and having him spend so much time with you is all you've ever wished for, and now you get to be by his side forever. The new downside to this is that if you ever decide you don't want to be by his side for any amount of time, the anger comes back even worse than before. Why would you need space? He's the only thing you need in life, so why don't you want him? Were you lying to him? Were you trying to trick him? You're back at square one, but all the same, you'll subserviently take it, because your beloved is giving you all of his attention. So long as you're good and stay by his side, every moment of every day forever, you'll be just fine, physically, at least. Emotionally, or mentally? Perhaps not, with your obsessions feeding into each other and making you worse, but at least you're in love.

Toby:

I feel like this could go one of two ways. If you become a yandere for Toby BEFORE he ends up locking you up somewhere, I feel like he'd actually be a much more tolerable yandere than I traditionally write him as. He's got the reassurance, from how clingy you are with him, how you're always checking in on him so obsessively, how you've got the same possessive look in your eyes that he has when he looks at you. In this instance, I don't think he'd feel the need to chain you up somewhere. You're already with him as often as you can be, begging to be by his side just as he begs to be by yours, so he feels secure. He could continue living in the mansion (although of course, everyone notices how codependent and toxic your relationship seems, even just from the outside where they don't even see everything), and be completely content to continue living "normally" with you. So long as you continue to have only eyes for him, and allow him to control pretty much every single aspect of your life willingly, he doesn't get too bad compared to someone like Jeff.

But then, there's the second way, and if you only become a yandere for him AFTER he locks you away, he will be far, far worse. By the time you're chained up where he hides you, he's already escalated to breaking your legs to prevent you from escaping and enjoying his love for biting into you and causing you physical pain and suffering. If you become a yandere for him during this, it's going to reinforce in his brain that he's doing the right thing. He might stop breaking your legs after a certain period of time, sure, but his other violent tendencies only increase. You like it, don't you? How he looks covered in your blood, the pain he forces you to feel, you enjoy it so much, don't you? Of course you do. You've become so conditioned into it that you don't even resist him anymore. You allow him to mark and ruin your body in any way that he wants to because he's just showing you how much he loves you. You love him too, so it's only fair you willfully accept anything he has to offer you, and you do so with no resistance. He's so overjoyed that you've finally learned to accept your place beneath him, and it only encourages the twisted, broken parts of his mind, but you don't really mind. After all, your mind is starting to look the exact same way, and it makes you both quite euphoric.

[writella]

hi writella!! i love your writing sm <3

Is there anyway you could do a pervy!daryl or stepdad!daryl x reader?? or maybe a pervy!negan or stepdad!negan x reader??

💗💗💗

Hi and thank you!!!! I’ll do some perv!daryl headcanons for now. And if you’d like me to do negan, just ask again, but also read this Negan headcanon I wrote because I think it also gives “pervy” vibes since he’s daydreaming about the reader.

Here are some perv!daryl + weird boyfriend!daryl headcanons:

- Okay, so to start, I believe Daryl is more of a freak in his mind than in reality– there are some things he’d only ever do or reveal once he felt very comfortable and accepted in his relationship.

- This is because he’s a late bloomer and it takes him a long time to open up— we all know this.

- But it’s also because he would always be very concerned with treating you right; trying to be very gentle and caring even though he’s extremely awkward, doesn’t know his strength, and doesn’t see himself as a gentleman type like his friends, etc, etc… so he’s always trying to be good to/for you, but here are some things he would do if he 100% acted on the weirder parts of his mind:

-If this is before you started dating, everything would be very secret, with lots of daydreaming:

- Listening in while you masturbate when you think you’re home alone, of course; Stealing panties from your drawers or laundry bag, of course; Smelling them or going in the closet to smell the center of your jeans to see if your scent is there too, of course... basic stuff.

- Moving on, the first time you’re on the back of his bike, he tells you that it’s dangerous if you don’t hold on tight and lean into him, so you’re basically squeezing his waist with your core riding up on his lower back and ass, and he always tells you to move in more from time to time so he can feel the friction of you moving against him— even if just for a moment.

- He always wondered if it made you wet, and it did, but you’d never tell him. You thought you were the freak for thinking that while he was just trying to make sure you’re safe.

- Sometimes, when you have to go on his bike again, you’d do a little prayer, hoping it wouldn’t happen this time, and sometimes it doesn’t, but most of the time, it always does.

- And while you would go to the bathroom as soon as you got home to clean yourself and try not to think about it because Daryl was just the nice man who brought you home to Alexandria just a few months ago, he was jacking off in his room trying to remember exactly how your front felt against his back as if it were still happening.

- If you were dating someone else, he’d silently hate them and just daydream of you coming to him at night and telling him that they can’t satisfy you, and he fucks the daylights out of you instead.

- He also loves daydreaming about you needing to sleep next to him one night for whatever reason and he either hears you have a sex dream he needs to alleviate, or you are asking him to hold you because it’s cold and you keep moving and it just ends with you having sex, or him waking up to you stroking his dick through his pants and that ends with you bouncing on him, or you’re cuddling while sleeping in what he imagines and calls your “girly” pajamas, and he slides his thigh in between and out of nowhere you start grinding on it. Literally, anything that has to do with you looking all clean and cute and fucking in bed is all he thinks about when he’s either going to sleep or waking up in the morning.

- He also fantasizes about eating you out on your period. He’s never done it before and wants to so bad.

- One time you wrote him a letter to say thank you for bringing you here and giving you a home, saying how “I owe everything to you and if you ever need me, I’ll always be there for you,” and of course that became one of his favorite things to read to masturbate.

- Also, if you liked women as well, I think he would just be into the fact that you like pussy or that you’ve eaten pussy before, and the thought makes him super hard.

- He imagines he’d have a threesome with you and a woman but only if you really wanted to. He’d most likely just ended up pleasing you though. That’s really all he wants, to see you satisfied, that’s the part of the fantasy that really gets him off, seeing you happy and seeing a part of your true self he hasn’t seen before.

- Now, after you two start dating:

- Daryl would ask you not to flush the toilet after you go to the bathroom just because he wants to smell it– he never tells you that part, though. He finds all your smells extremely intoxicating for some reason.

- You’re always just confused, but you’ve come to terms with the fact that you have a weird boyfriend. I mean, he showers weekly, not daily— he only does so daily when you tell him to, especially if he plans on sleeping in your bed that night— he collects random rocks and knows the names for all of them, has random animal teeth in his pocket, barley talks, is a starer, one time wore walker ears around his neck like a chain, and can shoot any animal, or person, if he needed to, straight in the head at nearly any distance. He could be quite unsettling to many people. You loved him though. And so did Rick and everyone in the group.

- But thank goodness they didn’t know some of the other things he does when alone.

- Like there was one time he just randomly sniffed your armpit, like a long ass inhale, during sex and you didn’t get why but you were too in the moment to question it. You just started laughing and then he started fucking you harder until you shut up because he got embarrassed.

- He really wants to do it again though, he just hasn’t yet. But he’s thought about it. More than once. He liked the smell. A lot.

- He also asked you to ride his arm (think of it as an alternative version of this story) because he knows a lot of people in town say he has nice arms and looks very strong so he feels confident about them and thinks you wetting his arm up with your slick is hot.

- Daryl somehow always knows when it's that time of the month. It honestly scares you how accurate he is. Again, another thing you’ve just decided to accept about your weird boyfriend.

- He’s always asking how your cramps are because if they’re bad he’s taking you to the bedroom and fucking you, and most importantly, eating you out.

- The first time it happens you’re absolutely shocked. Having sex on your period is one thing, but oral sex? You never knew someone could be into that, to desire the taste of your literal period blood, but here’s Daryl being as slobbery as ever, and even more of a mad dog honestly than when you’re not on your period.

- But there was something about him doing it, the way it happened so fast, how horny he was, that was just so fucking hot you simply couldn’t stop him when he took off your panties and dived in. You were so surprised by his forwardness and that’s another reason you could not resist him.

- You were moaning so loud; he had never heard you like that, but it just came over you and it made his confidence sky rocket. You didn’t even hear when Rick came in downstairs in the middle of it….. you were so embarrassed later, but it was one of the best heads Daryl had ever given you. That man was hungry for it.

- You told him it was very good and that you liked it, but you’ve never asked him to do it. At this point, you just always know it’s going to happen at least once when your period comes, and you just get secretly excited about it. You’ll never let him know. You want him to think he’s the weird one but in truth, you dream about any time he’s done it when he’s gone on a trip and he is just happy he finally gets to do what he always fantasized about and you didn’t think he was strange for it.

- One of the first times you had sex, Daryl pushed your panties to the side and fucked you while you were still wearing them. It was one of his favorites that he liked smelling from your drawer before you dated so he asked if he could keep them now and you were almost speechless as to why— especially because it’s hard to find good pairs in the post-apocalypse— but you just said yes because the sex was good, and because again, he was your weird boyfriend and you secretly liked that about him.

- Sometimes he’d put them back on you to fuck you the way he did the first time.

- If you think about it too hard it kind of grosses you out because you could only imagine how dirty they are— you knew he he probably never cleaned them— so you just try not to and just focus on the fact that stoic and grumpy mister Daryl is unabashedly grunting and groaning on top of you just how you like.

- Daryl hardly does his laundry— Carol is very kind, only because they’re best friends, and still helps him out with it when he actually gets around to wanting to clean it or doesn’t want to bother you that day— but one time he tells you he’s doing it and wants to help you out with yours. Once again, you are shocked, but you happily give it to him— one less chore for you so you take it.

- Little do you know he’s obviously sniffing all your panties and specifically looking for the ones that might be a little hard at the center so he can suck on them.

- God! These things are so much easier to do now that you’re a couple. He loves it. 😁

- Alt!timeline– If you were dating Rick instead of Daryl:

- Obviously, he’d like to listen in on Rick fucking you, making love to you, anything.

- And maybe he even kind of like and was turned on by the fact that it was Rick fucking you specifically. Something about it made him jealous in a way that he secretly liked. But he keeps that in the back of his mind and just focuses on your voice.

I know this is probably nothing to some of you but I’m Daryl’s good girl! I’m Lana Del Rey Ocean Blvd era! I can’t believe I thought of some of these. I feel like the girl in my last fic who felt dirty calling him daddy… excuse the crashout. :’)

[bohemianblasphemy]

Heist.

Billy Butcher x fem!reader

You and Billy team up for an undercover mission in Vought Tower to corner a target for information. Pretending to be a couple was proven to be more realistic than you both bargained for.

Contains: canon violence, gun use, jealous butcher, Mr and Mrs Smith vibes, Billy turned on by reader being a badass, incel vibes from a target, Smut, Car sex, unprotected P in V, creampie, Oral (f! Receiving), handjob, bad writing

A/N: Is it after 3am as I post this? Yes but we back with some Billy goodness! I hope you enjoy ✨

The Boys had a new target - Stan Edgar’s assistant- who was linked to Homelander’s next shady gig, and you were gonna find out what it was. And what better way to get to that information is to be undercover at Vought’s annual celebration of the Seven?

Frenchie, with his self proclaimed ‘Jack of all trades’ skills managed to scrub up some phoney invites for Butcher and yourself, made up with fake aliases - an English tycoon and his brand owner girlfriend- totally inconspicuous.

“You right there, love?”

Billy’s voice cut through the moment of disassociation you were experiencing, wall-flowering the cream colour marbled decor of the Vought Tower walls.

“As good as I can be being in this fucking hellhole, plus my feet are killing me in these heels.” You replied back, pupils raking in his all black suit.

His shirt buttoned all the way to the top and dressed with a tie- it was such a different sight of his usual attire, but did it look hot?

Absolutely it did.

His eyes grazed over the floor length strapless dress that hugged your figure, your hair pinned into a messy updo with a striking red lip that pulled the entire look together.

He thought you looked so damn beautiful…

With a clear of his throat, he squashed those thoughts down into his chest - they both had a job to do.

“Frenchie, have you got eyes on the target?” You murmured, hoping that the ear piece could pick up your hushed tone.

“Target is all the way over in the corner of the ballroom, Mes Amours. Get yourselves over there, pretend you love each other.” Frenchies crackled voice was laced with a teasing tone, before cutting off.

Butcher sighed and rolled his eyes slightly, but couldn’t help the flush that danced along his collar before turning to you, feigning that smirk he always adorned with.

“Shall we then, love?” He offered his arm, which you took a little too eagerly. He didn’t take mind to it - after all It was just for show right?

Right?

Making your way through the crowd, the overwhelmingly pretentious ‘I’m richer and better than you’ conversation was the hot topic amongst the wealthy guests invaded your ears, almost threatening to give you a headache.

Your eyes swung to glance at Butcher, his expression slightly stern as he observed the room. There was no way of steering your attention away from him, not when he looked that good in a suit.

“You’re starin’…” his gruff voice hit your ear, making you snap out of your hypnosis. “Lookin’ at me like you wanna jump my bones, sweetheart…” pressing a kiss to the shell of your ear.

The action brought a sudden spark to your system- was that apart of the act? Or was it real? Your brain was in overdrive as you tried to interpret what it meant.

Stop it. Focus.

You cleared your throat, trying to ignore what had just happened. “Jesus, you’d think these people would at least have a personality.” You feigned a chuckle to change the subject, bringing up the pile of the snobs that were lined up like sardines on the floor. He chuckled, letting it go this time. “Nothing in those brains of theirs love, only money in their pockets.”

Scanning around the sea of people as you settled in your own little corner, your eyes fell on the target who was attempting to chat up one of the many beautiful women in the room- only to be rejected once more.

The scowl on his features was amusing to say the least, similar to how a child would look if they had their iPad taken away from them.

“Eyes are on the subject Frenchie, I have an idea…” you spoke without faltering your expression as you turned to butcher. He raised a brow at you, an expectant look formed as he waited for you to explain your plan.

“Go over to that bar, wait for me to give you a signal.” You created a gesture for butcher to recognise. “Wait what’re you gonna do?” “You’ll see, trust me.” You gave him a reassuring squeeze on his bicep, eyes flicking to his before turning on your heel as you strutted toward the target. Billy watched as you swayed your hips just that little bit, his unsavoury imagination picturing what you would look like with that dress ripped off of you-

“Butcher, what the fuck is she doing?!” Frenchie spoke into the ear piece, a mix of concern and annoyance, giving poor Billy boy a fright. “Fuck knows, French. Just keep an eye out if this go sideways yeah?” Billy sighed, before making his way to the bar- a whiskey on the rocks being poured for him as he watched you like a hawk.

You took a deep breath as you approached the wimpy assistant, hearing him muttering to himself about how ‘all women are the same’- great, one of those guys.

“Well… hey there.” You grimaced at your sham seductive voice, but it didn’t seem to faze the assistant- his attention turning to you. “O-oh hello, um… I’m uh-“ he fumbled as he muttered his name, as he tried to straighten out his suit jacket and adjust his greasy hair.

“Cute name… I’m Layla.” Your fake name rolled off the tongue unnaturally- again, another pinch of cringe filling your being. “What do you do with yourself?”

As the conversation progressed, Billy leered at you from the bar as you flirted with the subject. Watching how you twirled your hair around your finger as you gazed at him like he was created by God herself, swatting your hand against his chest when he supposedly said something funny. He knew it was all fake, but the grip he had on his glass gave away how he truly felt, along with his scowl and flared nostrils.

“Why don’t we…” you whispered, coming close to his ear- your breath tickling his skin. “Go somewhere… private?” You pulled your bottom lip between your teeth, twirling a finger around his ugly patterned tie.

The man was flushed, nodding rapidly at your offer, his forehead sweating with nerves. “Come this way, there’s an empty office down the hall.” He grabbed your hand, starting to lead you down a hall, beyond the makeshift barrier between the rest of the building and the ballroom.

Your head swivelled in butchers direction, twitching your head to signal him to follow before disappearing into the hallway.

Billy slammed his glass on the bar counter, bee lining to your direction. His thoughts were running rampant with jealousy- wanting to be the one who you were giving bedroom eyes to, the only one that your delicate hands would touch.

He was determined to make sure you knew that you were his, and he was yours.

Turning that corner down the hall and following the sound of your heels, Billy gets a glimpse of an office door- the one that you and the object of his jealously had just entered.

As he reached the door, he saw you perched on a desk, the target moving to stand between your thighs to press sloppy kisses along your neck and chest - Billy’s entire being filled with hot rage and envy as he slammed the door, alerting them of his presence.

Your eyes landed on butcher, smirking as your plan had worked - the asshole was stuck in a room with you two, no where to run or hide. “Cmon man, can’t you see I’m about to get lucky here-“ he couldn’t finish his sentence before you grabbed him by the throat, squeezing it.

Billy’s eyes nearly popped out of his head, sure he had seen you take down criminals before but… doing it in a dress and heels? It was doing things to him.

“No fucking way that you’re getting all this.” You grumbled, pulling out the pistol that was strapped to your thigh, pressing it to his temple.

“We have a question for you, and you’re gonna answer them- or…” you pressed the cool metal against his temple. “Your brains are gonna be all over this fucking office.”

“Fuck you, you fucking bitch!” He spat, trying to make a grab at you before Billy yanked him away, slamming him to the desk, his arms locked behind his back.

“Right, cunt. You’re gonna tell us what Homelander is up to, or someone’s bollocks is gonna be cut off and shoved down their throat.” Billy bared his teeth, a death grip on the man’s hair. “I’m not telling you shit-“ he grunted in pain as butcher lifted his head and slammed it against the counter again.

“You will be, or this pretty lady right here-“ he pointed to you. “Is gonna blow a crater into that head of yours. Now, you gonna spill? Or is she gonna paint this nice table with your cerebrum?”

The assistant was silent, trying to writhe out of Billy’s grip, not before you lay a backhanded slap against his cheek. “Answer him, fuckface.” You were aggressive, but that slap was just the tip of the iceberg of what you were capable of.

“Okay fine!” The man whined, making you and Billy look at each other in confusion of how quickly it was to make him break.

“There’s a - a secret lab, a bunker in the Bronx. They’re creating something - like, a stronger dose of V. Homelanders involved with it. They’re using people as Guinea pigs and they’re dying, That’s all I know. Please let me go, please don’t kill me.” He pleaded, tears brimming his eyes.

You looked down at him, a faux pout contorting on your lips. “There you go… see what happens when you do as you’re told?” You smirked before the butt of your pistol hit his temple and knocking him unconscious, his limp body ragdolling to the ground.

“Subject is down, Frenchie. We have the information and heading back to base.” You said into your piece, hearing Frenchie confirm that he had received your message.

Butcher stood in place, his blown pupils never leaving your figure as you sat perched on the table, raising the skirt of your dress to put your gun back in the holster.

He couldn’t take it anymore, moving to plant his feet in front of you- pressing himself to your front. He pulled up your chin, making you look at him- taking your surprise.

“Fuckin’ hell love, seeing you do that…” his calloused thumb pulling down at your bottom lip, smudging some of your lipstick. “Drives me fuckin’ crazy, always has.”

A small chuckle left your lips, pressing a chaste kiss to his thumb- all those teasing words and small touches exchanged between you both since you both met all lead to this moment... never to turn back.

“Watching me slapping people around turns you on now does it?” You purred, straightening his jacket and tie. “Mmm… yeah. Makes me wanna fuck the shit outta-“

“Oh mon dieu, don’t dirty talk on the job.” Frenchie groaned, cockblocking the situation to save his poor ears.

Butcher let out a laugh, putting his forehead on yours. “Bloody hell, making me forget we’re on a job there.” His eyes averted to the unconscious body on the ground.

You rolled your eyes as he stood up straight again. “Let’s get outta here then hmm?” You said softly.

He nodded in agreement, taking a hold of your hips to shimmy you down the furniture piece, pulling you into his side as his arm extends around you- his palm just above your ass.

As the pair of you exited, there was a shout down the hallway- security guards had noticed the barrier had been moved, catching you both in the restricted area.

“Shit run!” Billy practically dragged you further down the hall- searching for any way out - anything to get out to the car. Your feet ran, trying to ignore the grief of pain your shoes were giving you through your soles.

“Frenchie we need a way out right fuckin’ now.” You said, your words becoming breathless. “There’s an exit on your left at the end of the hall, the closest way to get to the car. fous le camp de là!” The Frenchman’s now frantic tone cut off, you both had to run and get out of that tower.

Your hands pushed hard on that door as you reached the exit, the home run towards Billy’s Cadillac not leaving room for any fault. The security guards started to threaten their use of weapons, the familiar sounds of rounds clicking in their hand guns.

You winced, starting to limp from the poor choice of footwear. Billy noticed you falling a few feet behind, turning around to get back to you- picking your arm to sling over his shoulder to help carry you the last few hundred meters.

“Nearly there, we’ve got it love.” He reassured, his free hand reaching for the keys in his pocket - becoming in range to unlock the car as you approached.

As soon as you both reached the car, the sound of shots echoing in the alley way rang in your ears as he threw open the passenger door, pushing you into your seat and slamming the door as Billy slid over the bonnet, getting into the drivers side.

There was no time to strap in, Billy putting the pedal to the metal and screeching out of that alley way, dodging any bullets ricocheting towards the car as Billy reached top speed, twisting through the bustling New York streets.

“We can’t go back to the hideout just yet, gotta lay low somewhere so we don’t compromise the others. That alright?” Butcher glanced over at you as your fingers took out your earpiece before fiddling with the fastening on your heels, a breathy sigh of relief as you freed yourself from them. “Y-yeah… that’s okay. Let’s get to a secluded spot.” You replied softly, the exhaustion from your escapade was chasing after you.

He chuckled as he watched your relieved face from being able to rest, taking out his ear piece.

It was silent for a while, the outside landscape dissipated from the city lights to more natural surroundings.

“You did well, sweetheart…” he complimented, pulling his signature smirk and placing his hand on your thigh, giving you a reassuring squeeze before pulling back. “So damn good…”

A small giggle and teasing smile came over you, a swipe of your tongue over your bottom lip as you watched him drive.

“Mm… I could hear you praise me any day.”

“Trust me lovey, I’ll give it to you in abundance.”

Your hand snaked down to his own thigh, moving agonisingly close to where he wanted you most- your palm rubbing up against the smooth fabric of his clothed cock.

He let out a deep sigh through his nose, his arousal spreading through his body - the feeling of your hand on him was more addictive than any drug he had ever taken.

“I cant wait any longer, I’m pullin’ over.” Billy huffs, drifting down a dirt path- travelling a few kilometres to a secluded area concealed by trees and foliage.

Putting his Cadillac into park, his darkened gaze turns to you. “Get in the back, now.” He ordered, his words pooling in your core. Without a word you unbuckled your seatbelt, opening the car door to get into the back- draping over the leather seats.

Butcher followed suit, taking off his suit jacket and loosening his tie as he crawled over you- his lips pressing against yours hard, almost bruising as he desperately sought out your taste.

Your hands pulled at his dark hair, a deep growl from within his chest spilling into your mouth as he moved his lips to your neck, sucking on the sensitive skin and coaxing moans and his name to fall from your kiss bitten lips- sounds he had longed to hear.

“I’ve waited… too fuckin’ long for this.” His voice was husky as his lips trailed down your collar, before flipping you over onto your stomach. “As much as I love this dress on ya, I need to see what’s waitin’ underneath.” He smirked as he took hold of the zipper and pulled it down, your back becoming exposed to him. “Oh I’m sure you’ll like what waiting for you…”

Billy peeled the rest of your dress off of your body- admiring the arch of your back, the roundness of your underwear covered ass as he ran his large palm across your skin- hooking his index finger under the material to pull it down your thighs, leaving your silken cunt on display for him. “So fuckin’ wet and I ain’t done nothing yet.” He chuckled, running his finger through your delicate folds, earning another delicious moan from you.

“Billy… please - do something.” You whispered, desperately needing some relief on your aching core.

He adjusted himself behind you, his strong fingers holding the apex of your thighs open as he leaned in close, his hot breath hitting your center- his tongue dragging flatly against your cunt, savouring your taste before dipping back down, lapping at your clit.

The way he felt against you was unbelievable- that mouth of his was to die for. Your hips uncontrollably bucked up against his face, moaning at the sensation of his dirty mouth bringing you to euphoria.

“God Billy… fuck!” You whined, unable to stay still before he dug his thick digits into your ass cheeks, holding you in place as he continued- not stopping until you came hard on his tongue. “B-Billy I-i can’t hold- please, Im gonna cum…” you breathed, unable to hold your head up as your thighs shuddered- a high pitched moan erupting from within you as your orgasm washed over you.

“Such a good girl, so sweet…” he grumbled as he dragged his tongue over you once more, manoeuvring it over your slit- pressing a kiss to it before turning you around onto your back.

He kissed you with that same lusty passion as he did before, feeling your hands unbutton his shirt to reveal his chest. The soft defined muscles, tufts of chest hair, faded scars and freckles that riddled his chest left you in awe, your fingers touching his hot flesh as you worked them down to the hem of his slacks.

You worked fast to unzip them and pull them down slightly, giving you room to release his cock from his boxers. His hard length was leaking pre cum as you ran your delicate fingers over it- slowly and softly pumping it, earning a grunt of pleasure.

Billy panted, burying his head into your neck. “Feels good-“ he managed to get some words out, but your actions made him feel like putty in your hands. “Someone likes that…” you purred, biting down on his earlobe.

“Fuck love I need to fuck you, I can’t take it.” He breathed, swatting your hand gently from his cock.

He made sure you lay comfortable in the back seat, before sitting on his knees in front of you, running his length along your wet cunt - before sliding himself into you with an audible grunt, your tight walls squeezed around him as you let out a cry of sinful sounds.

“ move, please…” you whispered, grabbing onto his shoulders as he began to thrust at a faster pace. The car began to rock, the windows began to fog as Billy took you- his palms kneading your breasts as he watched your sensual expressions, motivating him to fuck you a little faster.

His thrusts never faltered, his mouth falling open in the overwhelming feeling of being in you, finally having you…

“So fuckin’ tight, and all mine…” he bit down on your shoulder, causing another cry to burst from your lips.

It didn’t take much time before his thrusts became sloppy, his cock throbbing to announce his release. “Gonna cum- fuck…” he gritted his teeth.

“Fill me up, I want it. Give it to me…” you pulled at his hair once more, a higher pitched grunt filling the Cadillac as one final thrust made his orgasm wash over him as he rutted his cum deep within you.

Billy lay there for a moment, deep breathing coming from both of your bodies before his hovered above you- giving you a warm smile and pushing some hair away from your face.

“Beautiful…” he muttered, pressing a soft kiss to your lips. You smiled back up at him, a soft blush crawling across your cheeks. “Who’d have thought that the mission would end like this?” You chuckled.

“Wouldn’t have it any other way, love…”

Tags <3: @bluemerakis

[letsgobarbs]

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!)

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