#i have been needing to refresh this for a while

[peachii-nitenite]

Much Needed Support (sfw-suggestive content) Part 2

Synopsis: Now sick with a stress cold, Jayce and Viktor take you back to your dorm to rest. And also to unpack everything that happened in the lab. Upon reminiscing, the boys get an idea. 2.2k wordcount Content: reader with feminine pronouns, sexual tension, fluff, partial nudity, boys getting shy about said nudity, mutual pining, self-doubt, idiots in love, getting sick, friends to lovers, pervy daydreams, discussions on medical neglect, mentions of chronic pain, descriptions of chronic pain (slightly implied hand kink???), Jayce's corset kink lol

while i would consider this part PG-13, part 3 might end up being actual smut at this point...

The sun was low in the sky when you finally stirred awake, the late afternoon sun blazing through the windows of the lab. You found yourself curled up in the blanket your friends had so graciously lent you, with Jayce’s coat beneath your head as an impromptu pillow. You could still smell him on it: a clean smelling cologne, black coffee, and forge smoke.

It was some of the best sleep you’d had in weeks.

Still not enough to completely banish your fatigue, but enough to feel a bit of relief. The gentle sounds of quiet tinkering and clinking of delicate tools echoed from across the room.

“Still hard at work…” you mused sleepily.

Jayce perked up from his workbench once he noticed you stirring. Perhaps you were still half asleep, because the level of fondness in his eyes as he smiled over at you seemed a bit more than the norm. 

Or perhaps, you had simply dismissed it before.

He set down whatever he was tinkering on as strode over. You wanted to sit up, but the position you were in was so comfortable you could almost feel yourself going back to sleep.

“Shh…you can sleep a little longer” he murmured softly, gently stroking your upper back. You let out a sleepy hum, burrowing your face further into his jacket. You felt him pause for a moment, but paid it no mind.

“…mhm…what time ‘s it?” You mumble groggily, eyes struggling to stay open.

“Half past five, we’re gonna wrap up here soon, okay?”

You merely hummed once more, letting your eyes close again. It had been 5 hours…you briefly wondered if they’d been working nonstop this whole time. It was extremely likely.

When you open your eyes again, the lab is dark, and Viktor is the one gently nudging you awake, encouraging you to sit up. You felt warm this time, head a bit foggy and tight. Blearily, you rasp out his name, discovering your throat is sore.

A day cold. Great.

“It’s time to get up now, can you do that?”

The tenderness in his voice makes you want to melt, but all you do is attempt to comply. You groan as you sit up from your comfy spot, the ache slowly starting to settle back in. The moment you attempt to stand, you buckle, promptly sliding back onto the couch. In an instant, Jayce is at your side worriedly looking you over.

“Are you alright? Do you need me to carry you?”

In any other circumstance you’d have refused, but now feeling iller and achier by the moment since waking up, you agreed readily; allowing him to scoop you up into strong, warm arms. It was as if you weighed nothing at all to him; his hold on you was gentle, but secure. You promptly wrapped your arms around his neck and dozed back off, only perking up at the occasional softly spoken “you okay?” From Jayce. You could feel his voice rumble in his chest like the purr of a big cat, and something about it made you want to hide your face in the crook of his neck. Instead, you merely grumbled and nodded each time.

At some point, you felt Viktor’s cool hand against your forehead- sliding down to your cheek as you leaned into it. It felt so refreshing against your warm skin, the contrast evidence of your rising temperature. His brows furrowed, noticing the slight sheen of sweat accumulating on your skin.

“She’s feverish.” He murmured, softly as if not to disturb you further. Though he was stating the obvious, the observation did not go unheard. You grumbled a sleepy rebuttal that sounded vaguely like, “I’ll be fine”, which was promptly ignored.

You were going to be taken care of whether you liked it or not.

“Do you remember if she has a thermometer at her place?” Jayce asked, hoping that they wouldn’t have to make another stop on the way. Viktor shrugged, adjusting his grip on his cane. 

“We can worry about that later, getting her into a proper bed to rest is the main priority at the moment” Viktor assured him. You nodded against Jayce’s chest.

Bed. Bed sounded nice…

It felt like an eternity before you reached your dorm, but eventually the telltale sound of your keys in Viktor’s deft hands, swiftly getting the door open so Jayce could lie you down.

With you safely tucked into bed, a cold towel draped over your forehead; the two men opted to stick around, hanging out in your living room after scrounging around your medicine cabinet for anything that might help.

Just in case you needed them of course.

No other reason.

Definitely not because they needed time to unpack several different feelings that welled up in that lab.

Jayce definitely had it the worst at the moment.

There was relief, of course, that you had come to them for help and allowed them to examine you. And then there was the dawning realization that he was a much weaker man than he initially thought he was when it came to you. He was always eager to help, truly! But the actual task at hand proved far more difficult to focus on when he actually had you on that table in front of him, clearly flustered with your skirt hiked up, with his hand on your soft thigh. He had done so well at holding it together before then, getting lost in the math and the banter with Viktor. But once he noticed how you suddenly tensed up he was flung headfirst into the soft, warm reality of your skin beneath his palm.

He had had dreams exactly like this. Dreams that ended very differently, and much more messily.

And that’s why he had to pull away. He felt guilty. You had come for help, and there he was trying not to get hard over a bit of exposed skin.

And then the corset. The damned corset.

He felt no better than a dog, but watching you shed your sweater to reveal your makeshift brace made his blood rush to a very unfortunate place considering the situation. He thanked whatever gods were out there that you were facing away from him, so that you couldn’t see his shame as he struggled to maintain his composure.

How could you be so beautiful? The overhead light illuminating your topless form, as you ever so slightly leaned into his touch any time his hands were on you. Viktor had teased him before; about his…fondness for corsetry. But this was far beyond anything he had seen on old posters or the dirty magazines he used to hide under his bed. 

You were real, you were warm, and he could hear how your breath hitched oh so sweetly whenever he touched you. 

The first few times he thought he was imagining it, that he was finally losing his mind over something seemingly very small. But he kept hearing it, kept seeing it, kept feeling you shiver under his fingertips. 

And it was testing his limits.

And he knew he wasn’t the only one.

Viktor considered himself a rational man. A focused man.

But that ration and focus went straight out of the window once looked up at you, with your calf in his hand, to be greeted with a tiny glimpse of your underwear.

He had been so focused, so practical up until that point- all to be shattered by the reality of what he so dearly desired being literally right in front of his face.

He fiercely wanted to help, after all; he had been down the same road you were currently on. A path littered with pain, apprehension, and isolation. He knew all too well what a difficult situation you were in: which is why he was so disgusted with himself for being unable to shake the mental image of that sliver of fabric between your legs from his mind.

At the very least, he could distract himself with the note taking, the numbers, the measurements- all of the things that required him to take his eyes off of you. But unfortunately, his reprieve was short lived when the time came for you to take your corset off. He had to step in; considering that by the look on Jayce’s face, the poor man might have short-circuited before he could even touch the first lace.

The quiet was deafening, and he focused on keeping his breath even behind you as he got to work. He didn't want to make you uncomfortable after all; so the quicker he got it off of you, the quicker he’d be able to ignore how uncomfortable his pants suddenly felt. 

When he laid his hand on your back, basking in the soft expanse of your warm skin, he could admit that it was partially self-indulgent. Not yet wanting to pull away, wanting to pull you closer-

Wanting to bend you over the desk.

But still, he backed away, taking his place beside Jayce as you discarded both the corset and your flimsy undershirt. 

In that moment, they briefly locked eyes- one understanding the other completely.

Their friendship was a strong one, one that had developed into something a bit… more.

And It had come up before, of course it had. Jayce was terrible at keeping secrets, and Viktor didn’t feel the need to. So both of them quickly realized that they both harbored a rather severe crush for you. But their mutual attraction to you was more of an abstract concept before; a passing thought, a daydream, a sleep deprived rant, or an unhinged dream. Something that came up late at night when neither of them could sleep, or when one of them had had a bit too much to drink.

 How they would take you, where they would do it-

How they would share.

But it was never anything seemingly possible. Not nearly as possible as it felt now.

And then you turned around.

And the spiral continued- at a rapid, unrelenting pace.

Viktor had the good sense to look away first, but not before getting a good eyeful of your bare breasts. He was not a child. He had seen breasts before. But it was you- And that was all the difference. He had to discreetly pinch Jayce to get him to quickly follow suit.

Your comfort came first, above all else, despite his foolish yearning.

Jayce felt much the same, in spite of how awestruck he was at the sight of you. He would replay that moment in his mind over and over again, eyes screwed closed as he covered his face with his hand. Once they had forced you to nap, it was easier. But only slightly.

They made good progress on the plans for your updated braces, throwing themselves into the work to escape the torment of their own overactive imaginations. But every so often, they would get distracted by a soft groan or a sigh coming from your sleeping form on the couch.

It was all too easy to mistake it for something more sensual, with their minds so deep in the gutter.

Once you finally woke up, the trip to your dorm was a quiet one. And now with the two of them sitting alone in your living room, they could digest it all.

Both of them sat on your couch, Viktor’s legs draped over Jayce’s lap as he gave his math a once over. “...it's hardly fair” Jayce grumbled quietly, thumbing over a slender calf through the fabric of Viktor’s pants.

“..what?” Viktor looked up from his notes, with a quizzical expression

“How cute she is.” the larger man sighed, putting his face in his hands and groaning.

“Don't start this. Not now.” Viktor warned, rolling his eyes as he returned to writing. “Thinking about it will only make it worse, and mind you, I won’t be able to help you considering we are at her place.” he stated matter of factly.

“I know you think so too” he pouted, reminiscent of a scolded puppy. Viktor sighed.

“It doesn't matter if I also think so. It’s irrelevant at the moment.” Viktor stated plainly “Are here to look after her. Nothing more. Our feelings don't matter.”

They both knew he was lying.

Silence fell between the two men for a few seconds.

Viktor closed his notebook with a frustrated exhale, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“...I think she might be interested in us. Like we are in her.” Viktor admitted, a pensive whisper breaking the silence.

It was Jayce's turn to be surprised. “What?” 

“It’s merely a theory. One that requires more…observation.” There was something lurking beneath his clinical terminology. Something playful. Something that nearly made Jayce shiver with anticipation.

“Somehow, I feel like this ‘theory’ of yours is an excuse for us to make the first move.” Jayce chuckled lowly. 

“Eh, not quite.” he corrected, setting the notebook aside. “Ideally, we would hear it from her directly. Through simple questions, perhaps over coffee, or dinner-” Viktor elaborated. A gap toothed grin spread across Jayce’s face, letting his hand snake further up Viktor’s leg.

 “-So a date? You want us to take her on a date?!” Viktor smiled at Jayce’s enthusiasm, before promptly swatting away the hand that was getting dangerously close to his crotch. 

“We will wait until she is no longer ill. And I already told you- Hands to yourself, and let me continue.” 

Jayce pouted, opting to let his hand rest over Viktor’s ankle.

 “You're cruel, you know that?”

“As if you’d have me any other way. Now, do you want to listen or not?”

“I do…”

“Good. There is much to consider.”

—

Whew! This one took a lot outta me! We’ll be getting to the juicy bits next time!

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[shycloudkitty]

Just one more minute...

Summary: Your husband has to leave for yet another mission but he's not quite ready to let you go yet… So he just savors…each… moment… 

Pairing: Death Island! Leon × Fem reader

Tags: a bit angsty but lots of comfort, Leon sleeping peacefully for once in his life, fluff, established relationship. Just overall a short comfy read <3

WC: 1.3K

Small droplets of rain splatter on the windows of your bedroom. The soft sound created a soothing lullaby for the ears for those who were sleeping to it. The cloudy weather and the chill air contributed in making it the most serene environment while you stay snuggled up peacefully in your husband's arms with a warm blanket over you. 

His arms stayed around your waist holding you gently in a warm embrace, face nuzzling your hair, gentle breathing warming your neck. This was always his favorite position to fall asleep to. Your smell, your soft touch, your weight beneath him, telling him that you were really here… You were real. 

Your arms were wrapped around his bare torso and face buried in his chest. Feeling his body warmth seep into your skin. Limbs trained to take life, now just protecting you from the chill air and comforting you in your sleep. 

It was such a simple moment, just a couple sleeping and relaxing in each other's comfort. But at the same time it was so rare between you two. Just having these simple moments with him felt like a blessing. It was heaven.

And why wasn't it normal for both of you? Right. He had a job of saving the world, do or die, special agent... You get the idea. Except his job wasn't exactly a James Bond one. That only happened in movies. No, this was more grim than what they show in the movies. But what can you do when these are the cards life dealt you with? 

But he always felt inspired by you, how you handled every situation thrown at you with grace. Obviously, he wasn't a fool, he could see it was tough but still tried your best. Even in this relationship, you handle everything with so much love and care…he never had someone who sticked with him more than a few months let alone actually get married to. 

He didn’t hold anything against his exes, like his life was basically swamped with work so he understood why they left. What was actually confusing? You staying in his life, despite everything. You stayed even when he missed some of the important moments of your life. Sadly, that was the reality of his job. You win some, you lose some.

He was obviously happy that you stayed with him despite everything but he never quite understood why? He couldn't help but ask you this question. He remembers seeing your cheeks get red, avoiding his gaze and softly saying ‘I love you’. He also recalls saying ‘thank you’ in response because of how flustered he got from the confession. 

That memory always makes him facepalm himself.

After the day of your confession it was like his world flipped. And even though he didn't understand it fully at the time he wanted to do everything in his power to keep you in his life, even if it meant catering to your every whim. He listened to everything you said, trying to remember the best he could. 

He actually has a secret folder on his phone containing everything about your likes and dislikes just in case he needs a refresher. 

He didn’t even realize when it happened but he fell in love with you and wanted to keep you in his life forever. Thankfully, you felt the same way when he got down on one knee and asked if you wanted to marry him. He almost lost the ring with how nervous he was, fidgeting with the ring box in his pocket every 5 minutes.

It's been a few years since he tied down the knot with you and it was the best decision of his life. Sure, being married presents its own set of problems, sometimes things get rocky between you two, but there was nothing you both couldn't solve. Sometimes the problems needed talking, other times he could tell without you saying a word. But each time he makes it known that he loves you. Always. 

The soft rain slowly stirs Leon awake, he glances at his surroundings and then looks down at your sleeping face with his bleary eyes. He yawns and rubs his eyes, the digital clock on his nightstand read 6:30am. 

It was still half an hour early before he had to go to work today for some missing person assignment Hunnigan gave out. He didn’t wanna go but apparently it was top priority and needs his immediate attention. He told you about it last night, you weren't exactly happy since it was last minute but at this point you had grown used to it.

He tilts his head and looks at your serene face, caressing your cheek and sighing. His lips press a soft kiss on your forehead and gently threads his fingers through your hair. His voice comes as a soft whisper. “I don't wanna go either… you know that, right?” You probably knew how he felt about going too. You could read him like a book at this point. 

His eyes flit through your soft features, taking note of your breathing, slow and deep, fully relaxed. He smiles to himself and whispers in the same soft voice. “God, you’re so beautiful. You always are.” he lovingly brushes some hair out of your face. “I'm really lucky I get to see you like this, feels like I'm in heaven even if I probably won't ever go there. You do so much for us, I wish I could just stop this moment for us and never let go.”

He sighs softly and slowly pulls you closer to the warmth of his chest, trying not to jostle you too much. He closes his eyes briefly, focusing on your warmth. And starts mumbling to himself. “Honestly, if I was a poet I would have written dozens of poems about you. They probably would have been corny but you would have liked it.”

He gently starts brushing your hair again and continues. “But since I'm not… I don't have enough words to fully express how much you mean to me. The fact that we’re still together, makes me the luckiest fool ever lived. My heart hurts sometimes because of how happy I get cause of you.”

He sighs and mumbles. “I'm not normal…never have been. But with you…I feel that I finally became the man that I was supposed to be. And that I finally have a place called home."

He scoffs to himself, shaking his head. He didn't know what had possessed to become so sentimental this early. “I'm really cheesy aren't I?”

He felt soft teardrops on his chest where your face was resting. You had woken up from his rambling. 

His heart clenches from realization. He gulps, feeling the sudden lump rise up in his throat. He hugs you tighter and rubs your bare back. “I will come back, I promise.” Softly pressing a kiss on your shoulder. 

He glances at the time again. It was nearly 6:55am. He had to start getting ready for work. 

He slowly tilts your face, wiping away the tears from your shining eyes. His expression softens, cupping your face in his hands and softly kisses you. He feels you kiss him back, your grip on his arm tight. 

After a few moments you both slowly pull back from the kiss, eyes closed, foreheads resting against one another, soft breathing filling the quiet room. He softly mumbles. “I have to get ready now sweetheart.”

He feels you shake your head in response. Your soft voice fills the room. “No…wait for few more minutes. Just stay.”

He gulps and nods. He wasn't strong enough to deny that request. He pulls you close, covering both of you in the blanket. “Of course, darling.” And press soft kisses on your shoulder. 

Enjoying these quiet moments of solace with you. Even if he couldn't make this moment last forever, he knew he would come back to relish it again... 

Usually I wouldn't say this but I would very much appreciate it if you left comments, obviously if you want to. It helps me improve and encourages me to write more. 😊❤

-Bella

[slimybeth69]

Girl Dinner

@pedrospookie made the cutest fucking mood board for this fic, she also gave me so much inspiration for this! Let's all thank her for her perfect brain.

Part 1 of 4- Knocked Loose

Rating: explicit -

kidnapped!Joel x isolated&unhinged&potentially crazy!reader (no use of y/n, no physical descriptions besides having hair long enough to hold and fall into your face, the reader is actually crazy, talks to herself- hears little voices in her head. You gotta know this going into it)

thanks to @bonezone44 for this idea.

w/c : 9k (whoops)

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.

warnings/tags: non-con/dub-con/ altered mental state(?) throughout the entire thing. stockholm syndrome, violence (reader and Joel both get hurt) Joel is an unwilling participant... or is he? cockwarming, unprotected P in V, dirty talk- more to come.

authors note: Hey! I know a lot people get icked out by the idea of non-con or dub con, and that's fine, but I like it, so I'm gonna write this. I don't think any of this should be acted out ITRL. DON'T KIDNAP PEOPLE!! This is your last and final warning just so everyone is aware of what's going on. this is unbeta'd, poorly proofread and probably incoherent. I love you all so, so, so much.

The weather is finally starting to change, it's not as hot as a pigs asshole anymore, and you wake up feeling refreshed, rather than sticky and sour from sleeping in a pool of your own sweat all night long.

The first thought that comes to your head though isn't the changing weather, or how you'll eventually need to break out your warmer clothes soon, nope— you don't give a shit about any of that.

It's just Mister-man that you're thinking about.

He might be the most pretty thing you've ever seen. With his shoulder length, brown and gray curls, and his patchy facial hair that matches so nicely. The thought of how rough and scratchy it would feel against your tongue makes your spine tingle.

Mister-man is a big boy. Hefty, broad, and looked so strong whenever he came into the mall.

You've been watching him for a while. He comes around every three or four days snooping in all the stores for supplies.

It's like he doesn't even know you're here…or if he does, he doesn't care. Rude! You're a pretty girl!

He's just coming to take our stuff, just like the rest of the monster-men out there. If he finds us, he might wanna take-

"Stop, stop, stop, stop, stop!" You put your hands over your ears, even though those voices just get louder when you do that.

Mister-man wouldn't hurt'chya…

Yes, he would. He's a man.

"It's too early for this," You grumble, sitting up in your bed.

The mattress store is nice and clean, just how you left it last night before you crawled into bed. You think about how it would be alarming if it wasn't exactly how you left it before you went to bed. You did your nightly walk-through to make sure everything was where it was supposed to be, and that there weren't any extras hanging about.

As you get dressed, you think about what the dark voice was about to say. You know exactly what Mister-man would try and take from you if he found you. What all the other men in this fucking place want from you.

It's hard to make any of that matter as you skip to your hiding spot in the rafters above the food court. That's where he always enters from, even though the easier entrance with less glass and boards to climb through is on the other side of the mall.

It's a good thing you set up a trap there too, if he comes in through that entrance, at least you'll hear the snare go off and hopefully get to him in time to get his gun and knife.

Mister-man is a creature of habit, he doesn't like to switch things up, Sug. He'll come through this door.

He might. He might not. Mister-man might be playing your game better than you, kid.

"Well then, it's a good thing I thought of everything," you murmur, climbing up the discarded scaffolding to get into the rafters.

It's not scary up here, you like the thrill of knowing if you made one mistake—

Goner!

Splat!

"I've never fallen though!" You giggle, settling in to the perch just above the now blown out glass doors. It's a comfortable little spot, and you've arranged some blankets and pillows from the mattress store up here so you can nap if you want. There are some snacks, and bottles of water in case you have to stay up here for more than just a couple hours, keeping an eye out for Mister-man.

People must have stayed here in the mall during the outbreak, or right after because the doors are boarded up the best they can be, and the tables and chairs from the food court are set up all around like a barricade.

It was perfect, less work for you to have to do, and no one else bothers to come in here anymore— it's either too far, too hard to get too, or not worth the pay out.

Not for our lovely, handsome, soon to be perfect, Mister-man; the reason he comes every week is so sweet.

You wondered why he kept coming back when there really isn't much to scavenge anymore: every single store had been picked through before you got here, and you went and took the last of whatever anyone else didn't want or need and squirreled it away in a nice hiding spot.

Mister-man came every three or four days-- so that he could sit his ass in a comfortable recliner for a couple hours.

Remember that time he took a nap?

"Of course I do! How could I forget?!"

It's the cutest thing, and you love to watch him relax. Rest. Let his guard down for a little while.

"Slept like a lil baby that day," you mumble, feeling the heat spread up your neck and behind your cheeks. It's impossible to not smile at the memory of Mister sleeping in his chair, arms behind his head, snoring loudly.

His hair was real soft...'n he smelled so..

Why does he let us get so close? It's gotta be a trap.

Oh shut up, maybe he wants us to get close!

"I don't think he can hear me too good," you breathe out to the empty mall. The sun is starting to shine directly in your eyes— which means Mister-man will be here soon. "Always lookin' over his left shoulder. He never looks over his right, me thinks he can't hear outta that ear."

Mister has been coming for a couple months. He first started when the snow started to melt. And he kept coming through the spring when everything was wet and soggy, and he'd traipse mud through the mall like this wasn't your house!

That's how you knew he had been there though, so you waited to see if he'd come back-- and he did.

Mister-Man kept coming, even when the summer got so hot it was almost unbearable. Venturing outside was almost dangerous, but Mister always came.

Just to sit in his chair.

The air is filled with the sounds of birds singing, and insects buzzing in the lazy, summer heat. The mornings aren't too bad anymore, but the afternoon is still sweltering.

The late afternoon's are even worse when the heat finally settles, and everything gets sticky, and feeling all wet even though it's not wet outside! It's hot, but the air feels thick and damp somehow.

Awh, looks like he ain't coming today, Sug.

Good-fucking-riddance.

"He'll show up. If not today… tomorrow…or the next day. Or next week! He always comes, sillies. Gettin' me all nervous for nothin—"

Shhhhhh!!!! He's coming.

Mister-man is coming. You can hear him before he even crawls through the hole in one of the boards. He has to slide the table he sets up every time he comes and goes.

Once he's upright, brushing himself clean of any debris that he might have picked up on his crawl into the mall, he starts to walk.

It's not hard to stay quiet, you know exactly where the spots that creak are, and where things might break and fall apart if you were to put too much weight on them.

It's easier to follow him around as he slinks through the abandoned shopping center than you thought, as long as you stay on his right side. You've been watching and learning, and had a long time to figure him out.

Mister is so cute, walking real slow with his back to the wall, his head on a constant swivel. You wanna call out to him and tell him it's just the three of you in the mall.

He continues to sneak very quietly.

Can't hide from us.

"He sure can't," you giggle, almost silently.

Mister-man pauses, and looks over his left shoulder, as if something caught his attention. He looks all around, head twisting in either and all directions. At one point, he looks right up at where you're standing.

It's like he's looking right at you, like he can see you flitting through the rafters right above him.

Mister-man just shakes his head, as if he was hearing things, and continues onward towards the furniture store.

Fuck, he really can't hear for shit.

"He sure can't."

Mister doesn't make it inside the furniture store today, unfortunately for him.

When Joel wakes up, his head is fucking pounding and— he's upside down. Shit.

Not again.

"What the fuck?" Joel croaks, his hands feel like they weigh a thousand pounds as he tries to lift them from where they're dangling over his head. His shoulders hurt, and his back aches. His ankles feel like they're on fire.

There isn't much he can do but hang here, waiting for his vision to un-blur and for the throbbing in his head to go away.

Probably get gutted like a pig.

Finally, after blinking a million times, Joel can see things clearly.

You- a young woman- with a gun in your hand, another strapped to the outside of your thigh, and a fucking machete strapped across your back.

"What the fuck are you doing!?" Joel shouts, his hands now easily flying to the holster—It's empty. The pack he had been carrying on his back is gone too.

Joel watches as you look at him like he should already know what you're doing: a half smile plastered onto your pretty lips, the crinkle at the corners of your eyes, your head tilted to the side ever so slightly, couching in front of his pack.

"Lookin' through your stuff," you croon to him.

Joel's blood boils. What the fuck are you doing? Who the fuck are you? How did you manage to get him all strung up, hanging from the ceiling?

He says nothing as you stay picking through his backpack, taking out every single thing he has in there. His map, compass, the backup flashlight, the gas-mask— which you're putting on?

Why? There weren't any spores in here— were there?

"This thing is fuckin' cool!" Your voice is muffled, and you stand up straight. Then you hold your hands out at your sides, and spin in a circle.

"Hey!" Joel barks at you, flinching away from the revolving barrel of your pistol with each rotation you make. "Stop swinging that thing around, would ya'!?" Joel shouts as you continue to spin.

You stop suddenly, and stare at him through the big, dark lenses of his gas mask. "You know all about swinging around, don'tchya?" You giggle at him.

Joel literally swings back and forth as you say this, very slowly spinning around as he sways, and the throbbing in his head only makes him more angry.

"Cut me the fuck down, keep what'chya want— I don't got time for all this," Joel grumbles, lifting his head so he can look at the rope tied around his ankles. It's a good knot, and without a knife, Joel isn't going to get down on his own, not without his knife.

He reaches behind him to feel for it on his belt—

"Lookin' for this?" Your still muffled voice questions Joel as his fingers brush across the empty space on his waist where his knife would be.

He tips his head almost all the way back, and then to the side so he can see you— and is greeted by the sight of you, still in the gas mask, and now, holding his knife by the blade with your thumb and index finger. All he can do is sigh, close his eyes and wonder how a trip to sit in his favorite recliner led to this.

"Now, I ain't really wanna hurt'chya— I was hopin' you was gunna say knocked out long enough for me to cut'cya down and—"

Joel doesn't wanna hear anymore. "Just cut me the fuck down— people are gon' come lookin' for me if you—"

You apparently don't wanna hear what Joel has to say anymore either, because you start to talk over him. "—we're just gunna go—"

Joel doesn't care, doesn't want to listen to your muffled voice— he wishes you would take his stupid, fucking gas mask off and talk to him like a normal person. He's gotta be able to barter with you somehow. "—don't let me go. If it's food 'n water ya' want, I can get ya' some—"

The two of you are just talking louder, and louder, until the both of you are shouting over the other, neither one of you actually hearing what the other is saying.

"—let me go!"

"—stay forever!"

The two of you stop and stare at each other in silence for a moment. Joel can't really comprehend what you just said, "Stay forever?"

"Yep!" You exclaim happily.

Did he say that aloud?

"You 'n me, together forever, Mister-man," you sigh dreamily at him.

It's not what you say, it's how you say it— like you really believe what you've just said. Like…it was something you had been thinking about, for a while.

"Huh?" Is all he can say, still slowly swaying and spinning. He has to turn his head almost completely around before he whips it to the other side, he wants to keep his eyes on you at all times. You seem un-fucking-predictable.

"Ain't'chya so excited!?" You squeal, and it makes Joel's head ache.

"Gon' fuckin' strangle you once I get down from here," Joel half grumbles, half chuckles under his breath. He crosses his arms over his chest, watching you rummage around for something in his bag.

"That's why I gotta do this," your muffled voice sounds sad as you pull something out and whip it behind your back, hiding it, and that makes Joel nervous.

"Do what?" Joel tries to see what you pulled out of his backpack.

"Gotta close your eyes," you shrug your shoulders, and rock back and forth on the balls of your feet.

Joel blinks at you, just staring at him through the gas mask. He's not completely unsettled by the sight of you in a gas mask, he's seen women wearing them plenty— it's the fact that you have him completely at your mercy and he can barely see your fucking eyes.

He's so fucking stupid for coming out here alone all the time, Tommy and Ellie both warned him- both told him that something would happen to him out here. He'd hurt his back— or worse. And no one would know where to find him- because this was his secret hideaway. A place to escape the responsibilities of being a dad, a grandpa, and a big brother.

Joel loves Ellie, JJ and Tommy more than he ever thought possible— and loves that he got to be around them everyday— it was just starting to be a lot.

If Joel had the means to move that recliner into his house in Jackson, he would have— but it's too big, too heavy and way too fucking far.

Now look at him, upside down!

"Ya' ain't gunna wanna see it comin'." You give Joel a small warning. "Please just close them," you whine, starting to nervously dance on your tip toes.

"No." Joel growls, arms still crossed over his chest.

"'Kay!" You exclaim, running over to Joel. "Warned ya'!" You pull the brick Joel had put in his pack for emergencies.

"Wait! Wait—"

Cripes-all-mighty, Mister-Man is heavy as hell!

It takes everything you have inside of you to drag him to the mattress store. By the time you get there, your shirt is soaked through with sweat, your hair clings to your forehead and the side of your face. Every muscle aches and feels as if it's being torn from the bone it's clinging to.

Huffing and puffing, you drag him through the sea of mattresses until you get to the staircase that leads into the basement office.

"Sorry, Mister-Man," you grunt and push him down the stairs—

He's fine! You lined the stairs, and the bottom where he landed with mattresses a couple days ago-- after you brought his favorite recliner down here. All by yourself. Did it just for Mister-Man, because you want him to be comfortable! You want him to feel nice, and relaxed, and safe here with you.

Once you have him nice and secure to his chair— you wait.

He hit his head pretty hard when you snared him— you didn't think of that part. Then he had to go and wake up! Like a dumb idiot! He could have just stayed asleep, then you wouldn't have had to hit him again!

Thank goodness for that brick he keeps in his backpack, which, what the fuck is that about? It's a good weapon, but it's heavy, and made his backpack harder to carry than you would like to admit.

You were also lugging that giant of a man around, ya' did good, Sugar.

Yeah, ya' did good, kid.

You wrap your arms around yourself and sigh, "Thanks."

You wanna tell the voices in your head that you love them, but you don't really always love them. Sometimes you hate them, and wish they would shut up, and sometimes they don't talk when you need them to— finicky fuckers! And they almost never see eye to eye, and it's exhausting. So you just say thanks.

Mister-man is so pretty up close. Even more pretty than you could have ever thought or dreamed of. He doesn't look like he's shaved or cleaned up his beard in the last couple days, and his hair was combed back away from his face when he got here today— but now it's a mess, matted to his forehead in drying blood, falling into his eyes.

"Shit," you whisper, taking in the sight of him all beat up—

Sug, you gotta clean him up— make him pretty again.

The sweet voice is right!

Mister-man looks so sad all bloody and a mess.

"I'll be right back," you murmur and press a gentle kiss to his forehead through his blood stained hair, and then double check all of the ropes around his wrists and ankles. 

He's secure, time to go get him lookin' nice again. 

When you come back, your bag is filled to the brim with supplies from the the multiple stores that still have things inside them. You got him a comb, and a spray bottle that you already filled with clean water. You were able to find some clean clothes that look like they'll fit him. 

He's also awake. 

"Hi, Mist—"

"Let me go." 

"—er-man!" You finish through the interruption. "I'm gunna clean you up now, and then we can have dinner. 'Kay?"

Mister-man stares at you.

"Oh!" You rip the gas mask off and place it on his lap. "Sorry, I wasn't trying to steal it. I promise." You cross your heart with one index finger. 

"Let. Me. Go." 

You wince with each barked word. "I. Don't. Wanna." 

"If I ever get outta here, m'gon' fuckin' kill ya'," he growls. 

You frown, pinch your eyebrows together and mock his thick, country twang. "M'gon' fuckin' clean ya' up real good, 'n then me 'n ya' can have fuckin' dinner." You growl back at him. 

"Shut th'fuck up, untie me—"

"Why!? So you can kill me?" You shake your head at him, giving him a small smirk. "Not gunna happen, Mister." 

His eyes go wider than you've ever seen them, as if he might be nervous. "What th'fuck you gon' do to me then, huh?" 

"Clean. You. Up. Then. Have. Dinner. Did I say it too fast the first time, or can you really not hear too good?" You cock your head to one side, and look at him quizzically.

"Th'fuck did ya' just ask me?" Joel feels his chest going tight-- this hasn't happened in fucking years. It can't be happening right now.

"I talk real fast sometimes, and I don't realize it, and so sometimes all my words come out real jumbled to--"

"'Bout my hearin'?" Joel's working overtime to suck the air in, to bring precious oxygen to his brain. His head is still pounding, and now he can't fucking breathe, and he can't even imagine what kind of sick, twisted shit you're going to do to him.

Joel watches your eyes drop to the ground by his feet, and it's almost like you pull your body in on itself somehow, retreating into a place where you're trying to hide from him in plain sight. "I been watchin' you when you come in here... just act like you can't hear all that good outta your right ear," you say in a voice so small Joel can barely hear it.

"Watchin' me?" Joel scoffs.

Who the fuck are you? How long have you been watching him? How come he's never seen you before? Never even seen a trace of another person around here, just the stray raccoon or possum.

Joel's blood boils when you nod your head at him, still unable to look him in the eye. "Ya' should be ashamed. Whatever it is ya' wanna do to me is probably fucked--"

"I'm not ashamed," your voice snaps, and finally you lift your head to meet Joel's gaze. "Not even a little."

"Actin' like it," Joel's voice is snappier, and louder, and it makes you flinch.

"Maybe a little embarrassed--"

"Ashamed, fuckin' embarrassed, same fuckin' thing." Joel rolls his eyes at you.

"Not really," you shake your head from side to side and raise both of your eyebrows at him. "Not at all, actually."

"Would you shut th'fuck up?!"

"Would you shut th'fuck up..." You mock Joel. "I'm tryin' to do somethin' nice for you, and you keep telling me to shut the fuck up!"

"Do somethin' nice f'me?!" If this wasn't almost thirty years after the fucking apocalypse happened, Joel would think he was on some hidden camera show.

"Yeah!" You hold out the supplies you had brought back from wherever the fuck you had run off too while Joel was unconscious.

"Doin' somethin' nice would be lettin' me go, sweetheart." Joel switches his tone- does something he wouldn't normally do in a situation like this.

Your eyes light up. They crinkle in the corners a little, like they did the first time he saw you, but you're not upside down this time. The corners of your lips are trying to curl up, but you're actively trying to stop them.

"Don't call me that, 'less you mean it."

With the comb, water bottle and first-aid kit in hand, you take your place behind him and inspect the wound. 

It's a surface wound, but dirty from the brick and still very bloody. 

It's a painstaking process, because you don't want to be the cause of his pain anymore. Not ever again if you can help it.

Really, that's up to Mister, but he'll find out on his own soon enough! He just has to play nice, be sweet and kind— be the Mister you want him to be, and he'll be perfectly happy here with you. Life here with you in the mall could be perfect! He just needs to be perfect. He's almost there, he just has to keep his mouth shut. 

He's not quiet, not at all. He hoots and hollers at you to stop, to let him go, that he's gonna gut you like a fish if he ever gets free from here.

The way he talks, his voice feels like the deepest note on a piano, or the thickest string being plucked on a guitar. It vibrates in the spaces between your ribs, and forces all the air out of your lungs when he talks.

He's taking your breath away... how romantic.

The sweet and airy voice in your head is right, he is taking your breath away. You wish he would stop saying those mean and terrible things to you-- they're making you hurt inside, where your stomach is.

Guilt. You should just kill him right now--

"Hurt him?"

Mister stops shouting, and raises one eyebrow at you.

Look'it those big brown eyes. Like a baby cow. All wet 'n big, kinda scared lookin'.

Ugh, shoot him right between those beautiful brown eyes, kid. You can do it.

He ain't hurt you yet, Sug...

Because she tied him up--

As she should, she's gotta feel him out a little, make sure he's really not gonna hurt her.

How is he ever going to hurt her if he's tied up?

"Okay, enough!" You almost shout-- there they go! Never seeing eye to eye, making things harder than they needed to be!

"I'll yell all I fuckin' want," Joel does holler, loudly. So loud. He's going to draw attention.

"Do I need to get the brick again?"

Joel stops shouting.

He really can't hold back the pained sounds coming from his throat as you attend to his wound.

You're being so, so gentle!

He's acting like a giant baby.

"M'hurtin' you?" You mumble as you drag the damp cloth along his forehead carefully, cleaning the moderately large gash you left there with the brick. It's swollen, and bruised now... you feel so terrible.

He'll forgive you, Sugar.

Mister-man doesn't say anything, he just flinches away from your touch for the millionth time.

"M'sorry, didn't mean t'hurt you this bad." You slowly start to work the comb through his hair, spraying it down with water when you needed to. You're careful to never pull on his hair too hard, and work the tangles out meticulously so you don't bring him any more discomfort.

"Got'chu some medicine." You reach into your pocket and pull out two white pills.

"I ain't takin' nothin' y'give me, fuckin' crazy bitch." He grumbles.

Mister watches you walk around to the front of him, and kneel between his legs.

"S'just regular," you hold your hand up to his face so he can inspect the pill on his own. "Nothin' strong like they had in the QZ's," it's a gentle explanation as he studies the medicine in your palm. "Can find some for ya' if you wanted me to, m'real good at findin' stuff."

"Find it in your heart t'let me outta here," Joel gives you the sweetest, crookedest smile that makes you stomach feel like it grows ten sizes, and your heart feels like it's racing something else inside of you.

There are sweet wrinkles in the corners of his eyes, and the lines on his forehead deepen, and he has the softest dimple on his left cheek.

Sug, he's so pretty.

Kill. Him. Before. He. Kills. You.

"So pretty," you catch your bottom lip between your teeth, and rest one of your elbows on his knee, propping your head up on the heel of your hand. The pills are still right in front of Joel's face, and his eyes flash between them, and your face.

"Not takin' them" he grumbles, twisting his head away from your hand.

"Suit yourself," you put the pills back into your pocket, dipping your head down to press a soft kiss to his knee. "M'gunna go get us dinner, I'll be back."

Joel stares at the tray of food you set down on the table you dragged over to be directly in front of him.

"Where's the protein?" Joel looks up at you from the plate of crackers with peanut butter, a small bowl of raspberries, two packets of expired pretzels you would get on an airplane, and a full bottle of labelless whiskey.

"S'in the peanut butter," you say through a mouthful of your own cracker.

Begrudgingly, Joel opens his mouth when you hold a cracker up to his lips. "Where's the meat?"

The crackers are dry, and kind of stale somehow? The peanut butter is still nice and creamy, just the way Joel remembered it before the outbreak.

"Where would I find meat?"

Joel pinches his brows together and blinks at you. "Ya' live in the woods, got a gun or two-- fuckin' know how to set a snare--"

You gasp softly, and rest one elbow on the table and point at him with a lazy index finger, "You 'spect me to go out there and kill an innocent lil friend? They ain't ever done nothin' t'me. Why would I go out 'n hurt 'em when I ain't got no reason to?"

Joel continues to blink, trying so hard to keep his eyes on you and not the ropes you have him tied down with so tightly they're starting to dig into the skin on his forearms-- painfully.

"Ya' kiddin', right?" He watches as you place a raspberry directly into the peanut butter on the cracker and hold it out for him.

"Issa good combo, try it." You nod your head at him, urging him to open his mouth.

Joel doesn't want to, doesn't want to give you the satisfaction of knowing he needs you, and is going to keep needing you until you decide to kill him, or set him free.

He opens his mouth though, because Joel hasn't had a raspberry in years and he loves them, and the sight of that plump, juicy berry sitting so comfortably in that pillow of delicious, creamy peanut butter is making his stomach rumble. Loudly.

"Want some?" You hold up the bottle of whiskey, screw off the cap and take a swig. "See, it's safe," you look at him through your lashes, and give him a one-corner-of-your-mouth-smile.

Joel nods his head, because what else was there to do if he was going to be a prisoner here? He tried so hard to free himself of the restraints while you were gone, but you know how to tie a knot, and Joel just ended up giving himself rope burn.

An hour later, Joel feels pretty good, but not good enough to forget the situation he's in, but the booze is making you very chatty, and he might actually be enjoying the conversation.

"'N I get power from the solar things up on the roof, I think."

"Ya' think?" Joel smirks at you, he can't help it.

"I dunno how the solar works," you exclaim, holding one hand towards the ceiling. "It's the sun and black screens," you give the ceiling the middle finger and groan. "Barely works when the sun is out-- I just wanna watch my movies--"

"What kinda movies ya' got?"

He wishes he never asked.

You're sitting between his legs on the floor-- reaching behind you to feed him raspberries, never taking your eyes off the screen.

Joel thing's about biting your fingers off, thinks about taking the tips right off with his front teeth.

What would you do if he did that? Joel is still tied up, and he would just have raspberries and bloodied fingertips in his mouth, and then possibly a crazy, unpredictable, angry woman who would try and kill him.

Joel has seen angry people every day for close to thirty years... he knows what they look like, what they sound and act like--- you don't sound or act angry.

"Love this part," you sigh, leaning back into him, and resting your head on his knee.

Joel looks up to the screen, watching Cinderella transform into her beautiful ball gown.

Joel wishes he could reach out and run his fingers through your hair.

No he fucking doesn't? What the actual fuck? What did you put in the food, or the whiskey to make him feel this way?

Joel clenches his hands to fists on the arms of the recliner, and tenses his jaw-- grinding his teeth in the process.

You continue to drink throughout the movie, and when the credits are rolling-- you stumble to your feet, and then into his lap.

"Get off'a me," Joel gripes as you nuzzle your nose against the side of his face.

"Just wanna cuddle," you murmur, curling yourself up into his chest, yawning sleepily. "F'just a lil bit."

"Get off'a me, ya' fuckin' nut!" Joel shouts, and regretfully, tries to headbutt you.

His cheekbone, the side of his nose and part of his forehead connect with the top of your skull in a dull, aching thud.

You scramble off his lap, and fall to the floor, one hand holding the top of your head where Joel had just whacked you. The right side of his face is throbbing, and he thinks his nose might be bleeding, or he's crying- he doesn't know- he doesn't care. He just wants to go home.

"What the fuck!?" You shout back at him. "Mister, I ain't been mean to you at all, minus the brick- okay? What the hell is your problem!?"

Joel can't help but laugh, it starts off as a chuckle, but quickly matures into full on guffawing. "Y'fuckin' insane, ya' know that?" Joel rumbles through his fit.

Through the tears in his eyes, Joel can see you glaring at him.

Okay, he hurt her, can she kill him now?

Sugar, he ain't mean it... not really... he just needs some time to adjust.

He could have really hurt her, are you serious?

He's just nervous! Give the man a break--

Tired of giving men breaks- tired of letting them get away-

"Both of you, knock it off." It's a stern warning to the voice as you glare at Mister.

He stops laughing and blinks at you. "Huh?" He cocks one eyebrow up high, "Both o' ya?"

His question doesn't register, all you can think about is how disappointed you are in him.

"I was gunna let'chya sleep in the big bed with me," you huff, climbing to your feet. "Ain't gonna do that no more."

"I ain't wanna sleep in the big bed with y'crazy fuckin' ass, anyway!" He screams at you.

"What're ya' bein' so fuckin' mean for? I cleaned ya' up, made ya' pretty again-- fed you dinner 'n shared my drink with you!"

Do not cry! What're you doing!? Don't let him see you cry! Get out of here, right now!

The dark voice is right, the burn in your nose and the sting in your eyes are tell tale signs of tears- and you hate them. Hate the way they make your face wet and sticky, hate how they make your heart hurt, hate how your head feels like it's ten pounds heavier when you get done crying.

He'll come around, Sug. Gotta give him some time. If ya' stay nice-- it'll happen sooner than you think.

"I like bein' nice," you murmur, not taking your eyes off Mister.

"Th'fuck are you talkin' about!?" He exclaims, eyes wide, almost obsidian with rage and confusion.

"G'night, Mister. We'll try again t'morow."

Mister doesn't rest, doesn't relax, doesn't settle down at all.

When you open the door to his room, he's still screaming his head off.

"Hey!" You shout back at him, grabbing his attention. "We got raiders 'round here. We got infected movin' in and outta here all the time-- you know how fuckin' loud you are?"

"Hopefully they all hear 'n come runnin'. I'd love to see you get torn to shred-"

"'Kay, m'real sorry ya' feel that way. Even sorrier that I gotta do this."

Mister doesn't stop fighting you the entire time you shove the bandanna into his mouth. He even bites down on your index and middle finger as you stuff the last corner of fabric between his teeth.

Hit him.

It happens so fast, you don't have time to stop yourself from the back of your hand connecting with his cheek.

"Now, you gunna play that game? I can play, too," you inspect your finger and the deep indentation he left that's already starting to bruise.

The duct tape is hard to rip, and you need to use your teeth to cut a strip to go over his mouth.

Mister is mumbling something around the bandanna, but you can't understand him, and honestly are still mad about your fingers-- they hurt! Really bad!

"Glad I still got that medicine... I'm gunna fuckin' need it!" You dig around in your pockets and look for the two white pills. Your fingers throb while you look, the sensitive skin; tender to the touch as it brushes against the fabric inside your pockets.

Mister glares at you with his almost black eyes.

"I'm sorry!" You find the pills, throw them into your mouth and swallow dry. "I'm sorry for hurtin' you. I do not like doin' it, I mean it." You take a couple steps towards him, and drop to your knees between his legs again.

Mister watches, his whole body still as you rest your head on his knee again.

"Just want ya' 'round. M'sorry," you close your eyes, not wanting him to see them fill with those traitorous tears. "Jus' real lonely out here. Miss havin' someone t'talk with...'n snuggle up to at night."

The fuckin' duct tape makes it impossible for Mister to say anything--which is the worst. You wanted someone to talk with, not at.

"I'll take the tape off in the mornin', and we can try again over breakfast, 'kay?"

Mister doesn't make a single sound for the rest of the night.

Joel is drunk again. Fuck, this is never good.

You're in his lap, knees on either side of his thighs with one arm around his neck, your head resting on his shoulder. There is something about the way your fingers twirl around in his hair at the nape of his neck that feels good. Too good.

"C'mon, get off'a me," Joel groans, but there's no passion in his voice. It's been almost three weeks of just this, and he doesn't hate it. Not when he's drunk.

Honestly, he barely dislikes it when he's sober, but he's better at acting like he doesn't want you on his lap when he hasn't had a drink that night.

How can he not like it just a little bit? You're soft, and warm, and fit so perfectly on his lap it's like you were made to be there.

"Couple more minutes, Mister. Please?" You fucking whimper,

The sound floating through Joel's ear canal sends a shiver down his spine, and directly into his cock. It twitches in his jeans. He's got to start thinking about baseball, and carpentry work, and how he's probably going to die soon.

Nothing works. Joel can feel the heat from your cunt through the thin fabric of your shorts, and his hands have been tied down to this chair every time you're not around. The only time you let him up is to use the bathroom-- and you have a gun while you wait for him the entire time, so he's never horny then!

And, as thankful as Joel is for this- you've never even looked at him like that. You look at him like you're in love with him all the time, but you've never once looked at him like you wanna touch him.

Joel tries to push his hips further into the chair, away from the perfect, searing heat of your middle.

"Where'ya goin?" Your voice purrs in his ear, your fingernails ghost across the skin on his neck and he shivers again, his cock feels it tenfold.

You feel it now, too.

"What're ya'--" you pause to look between your bodies, and then your eyes flash up to his. "That f'me?" You're whispering, and your glassy eyes are wide, and look so flattered.

"Ain't for nobody, stop lookin' at 'em," Joel grumbles, again, not really meaning any of it even though he should mean every single word.

"'Em?" you question him with your big, wet eyes and his cock twitches again.

Joel swallows hard, his eyes falling to your bottom lip clutched between your teeth, and nods. "Him, yeah, whatever you wanna call it-- ain't for you." He sighs softly.

"Why not?" you sink down further into his lap. The thin shorts you have on to wear to bed do nothing to keep your warmth contained. It's almost like Joel can feel what it would be like if you just whipped him out and sat-

He's never drinking with you again. Never again.

"Get off'a me," Joel leans forward gently as you lean into him, the tips of your noses touch softly.

"Gunna bite me if I kiss ya'?"

Joel is a goner, your breath smells sweet like raspberries and whiskey and every single thing about you is warm and soft-- Joel knows that if he wasn't fucking drunk he'd be fighting you tooth and nail, but he cannot right now.

He can't think about anything but what you'd feel like wrapped around him, milking him.

"Take'em out," Joel is the one to lean into the kiss, his lips aren't hesitant, or tentative at all when they meet yours. He is going to try and bite you- and he does, he nips at your bottom lip, but gently. He pulls back with it still bitten, and listens to you moan softly.

The quickness of your fingers isn't your friend, you struggle with his belt for what feels like an eternity as you push back against his kiss, eagerly slipping your tongue into Joel's waiting mouth.

Joel groans low in his throat when you wrap your hands around his girth, and then chuckles at your shocked gasp when you pull away to get a good look at him.

"He ain't gon' bite'chya," Joel teases, leaning forward, searching for your lips again.

"Might split me in half," you moan, presumably at the thought of Joel stretching you open.

Joel can't contain his own moan as you put the image in his head. "Fuuck, sit on him-- lemme feel ya'."

The sound that leaves you makes Joel throb in your hand, "Ya' want me t'put 'em inside?" You whisper, the silky smoothness of your hands on him, stroking him so slowly is making his head spin.

"Jeeesus, yes-- fuckin' c'mon- do it," Joel lets his head fall back against the recliner, and watches as you pull your shorts to the side, and lift yourself to hover over him. "C'mon..." Joel eggs you on in a whisper. "Y'can do it, crazy girl."

"Don't call--" you pause when you notch the head of him at your entrance. "--me crazy."

Joel groans loudly as you sink down and let every wet, soft part of you engulf him. He throbs again when you whimper and whine, eyes clenched shut, your hands grasping at his shoulders as you inch your way down his length.

"Ow, ow, ow," you whine, leaning forward to rest your head on Joel's.

He could headbutt the shit out of you right now, but fuck, the way you're looking at him, with real tears in your eyes, not just from drinking.

"Hey, ya' doin' real good, sweetheart, keep goin'-- nice 'n slow," Joel encourages you, because he doesn't want it to stop either. "Jus' like that, crazy girl."

God damn, is crazy pussy always this good? He wouldn't fucking know, he wouldn't ever get involved with you if he knew you back in Jackson- but out here, after almost three weeks with you... it's hard to deny the physical needs of a man. And you're so fucking soft and wet.

The two of you groan in unison when you fully seated. The velvet walls of your pussy are fluttering, and clenching around him as you adjust to his length.

"You're so big," you hum, leaning in to press a gentle kiss to his lips. "Didn't think ya'd wanna do this," you whisper into his mouth. "Wasn't gon' take it from ya-- don't like that."

"Take what'chya need from me, whenever ya want it, shit," Joel tries to buck his hips up into yours to give you what you want but you whine in protest.

"Still hurts."

Joel settles his hips and leans into the best he can being tied down, his fingers grip the armrests of the chair tightly, groping it like he would be groping you if he could.

"Untie me," he murmurs while grinding up against you, not pulling out of you at all, just letting you feel him, letting you open up around him so it'll start to feel good.

"No," you nip at his bottom lip now, but you suck it into your mouth and tease him with your tongue as your walls start to rhythmically clench around him.

"Fuck, ya' doin' that on -ur-ose?" Joel groans with his bottom lip still being lapped at, The feeling of your tight, wet sucking him in deeper somehow- like it's fucking bottomless almost makes him come right then.

You pull back, his lip slips from between your with a wet pop "Mhm, ya' like it?" You clench harder around him and then release, and then do that over, and over again.

"Fuckin' untie me, wanna touch you- gotta feel how soft ya' are all over, c'mon," he's begging, he needs to feel the swell of your ass in his palm, or one of your tits spilling between his fingers as he grips you.

"No, you'll just try 'n leave me-"

"No, no, no-- I'll stay 'n... uh.. I'll... um- uh--oh, I'll play nice wit'chya" Joel racks his brain with anything that he could say that would possibly give him a chance at being able to really touch you.

"Lyin' t'me," you moan, and Joel throbs inside of you.

"Not lyin'-"

You pull back from his face at an alarming rate, and you scan his face slowly, as if you were drinking in every feature, savoring the flavor-- Joel watches you swallow hard and imagines that it's his load you just took down--

"Untie me, let me touch ya' a lil bit," Joel whispers, keeping his eyes locked on to yours. "Make ya' feel real good, promise." Joel licks his lips as he watches you struggle internally with the decision. "C'mon... gotta feel how soft ya' are, crazy girl. Just one hand."

"Fine."

You stay seated in his lap, his cock still throbbing inside of you as you work on the knot that will free his right hand. He's trembling in the anticipation of it all.

As soon as the pressure is gone off his wrist, Joel reels his arm back as far as he can, and sends it flying forward with as much force as he can muster after not eating meat for almost an entire month.

You scream as his fist connects with your right eye, and go flying to the floor.

Joel might be completely sober right now, and he knows he needs to move fast before you get up and probably shoot him for lying to you, and then punching you.

Yep. Shoot him. Shoot him right between his perfect, brow, baby-cow eyes. End it.

The dark voice in your head is right, but it's almost impossible to think about anything else but the pain shooting into your brain from your right eye socket.

"You motherfucker," you sob. The pain is electrifying- and you can't even see out of your right eye anymore!

That was your least favorite eye!

Kill. Him.

When you sit up, Joel is working on the knot around his left wrist.

You stumble to your feet, holding your hand over your eye trying to keep the actual ball in, in case it falls out, and walk over to the table with his book bag on it. You rummage around until your fingers wrap around the item you're looking for.

When Joel sees what you're carrying, not even attempting to hide it behind your back, he quickens his efforts on the knot.

Your left hand isn't your dominant one, but your right is busy keeping your eyeball in your head because it most surely got knocked loose or something.

You have to whack Joel twice before he goes unconcious.

"S'what ya' get for almost takin' my eye out!"

While he's still asleep, you take this opportunity to cut the jeans he's wearing off of him. You carefully unbutton the green and red flannel he was wearing and slip that off of him fully intact.

Once he's fully secure, with a new restraint around his chest to keep him fully pinned down to the chair, and the bandanna and tape back around his mouth-- you shut all the lights off, every single one, and leave him down there to think about what he did.

He's gonna learn to play nice, and if he wants to play rough first... so can you.

The air is thick with tension and stench of his sweat and fear.

The big-guy should be kind of scared- you didn't want it to come to this, but he just cannot participate nicely!

You circle your Mister-man slowly, drinking in every detail of him. His broad chest heaves with ragged breaths, muscles taut and straining as he fights against the restraints for the thousandth time.

No matter how hard he struggles, he cannot break free. Oh boy. Mister-man has some big feelings about it, and he's trying to let you know.

He is struggling— like, so fucking hard, against his bonds that tether him to the chair, that are cutting deep into the skin on his wrists. It's unfortunate, but he keeps wriggling around! If he just stopped, it'd all be fine!

You lean in close, pointing to your right eye, which is still black and blue, but thankfully not as swollen anymore, and frown at him. "This hurt!" You exclaim. "It hurt so bad, and you said you were gunna play nice. Why'd ya' lie t'me?"

His eyes are blown wide with fury and desperation. But he cannot respond, not really, his voice is saying things, but it's muffled by the duct tape stretched tight across his mouth.

He's still clad in only boxer shorts, a thin gray t-shirt, and socks, he looks vulnerable and exposed.

It really shouldn't be so hot-- but it is. You can't stop thinking about what he said the other night.

"Take what'cya want from me, sweetheart. Whenever you want it."

You wonder if he really meant that, because he punched you in the face right after.

But... he got excited! He wanted it, Mister-man kissed you first.

Oh Sug, he's down bad.

Please kill him. Shoot him right now, then you can just move to a different part of the mall. It's very simple.

He's really mad; which makes no sense! He punched you right in the eye! What is he mad for!?

"I thought after three weeks you'd be begging me to take you upstairs, Mister," you purr seductively, taking a step behind him, out of his line of sight. "Instead you hit me!?" You give Joel a good thwack against the side of his head with your open hand.

Not enough to really hurt him— that's coming soon— but enough to let him know to cut the shit. It's getting old, and now you want a fun, willing participant to play with you… and not someone who is going to act like they don't like… all this.

The perfect basement office of an old mattress store in an abandoned mall about a two hour hike outside of what used to be Jackson, Wyoming?

There's no spores, there's no mildew or stink! It's clean, you make sure to keep everything so clean for him.

Despite his insessant pestering about meat for some reason, he's well fed! He gets to drink whenever he wants!

Why is he so upset!?

Joel grumbles something from behind the duct tape and it's honestly lost of deaf ears because you don't care for what he has to say right now, it's never nice or sweet. It's always mean— that's why he's got the duct tape on.

Soon.

Soon the big-dumb-idiot will be singing your name, happily, and without restraints.

He's just gotta wear something else first.

You slip the shock collar around his thick neck while you're still behind him.

He doesn't like it, at all. He thrashes and writhes, and makes a desperate, pleading groan from behind deep in his throat.

"Well, you wanna act like all them other dogs out there, you're gon' get treated like one," you press a kiss to the top of his skull, and pull back before he can rear his head forward and smash it against your nose.

He's going to try-- he always does.

Slowly, you wind your way around him, trailing a finger along his sweat-slick forehead and crawl into his lap. He struggles at first, until he sees the remote in your hand.

"Gonna zap all the bad outta you… make you perfect for me." You sigh, wrapping your arms around his neck. "Have an idea...for how you can hug me-- and not hit me."

Joel mumbles something else, muffled through the duct tape. It doesn't really matter what he's saying, all that matters is how warm he is. How he makes you feel so safe and comfortable.

It's easy now, with the threat of being zapped, to rest your forehead against his, and nuzzle the tips of your noses together.

"You gunna be good for me, Mister-man?" It's a purr as you press a kiss to the duct tape covering his mouth. "Or am I gunna have to train you how to be good?"

omg this might be the longest tag list i've ever done let me know if you want me to take you off, add you, if I forgot you-- I'm SORRY!!!

TAG LIST: @pedrospookie @gothcsz @joelmillerisapunk @sp00kymulderr @paleidiot @goodvampykitten @rosebuds-and-moonlight @diabaroxa @zhazy-blog2 @almostempty @xdaddysprincessxx @tobethlehem @lilac-boo @xkyxkyxxlylcylulucuflfluclu @rav3n-pascal22

[eternal-evergreens]

｡⁠*ﾟ⁠+*⁠.⁠✧"Into the looking glass - VI"｡⁠*ﾟ⁠+*⁠.⁠✧

Part I Part II Part III Part IV Part V Part VI Part VII

Post format: Multipart series

Pairing: Yandere!Male!DoL x Fem!Isekai!Reader

Word count: 4.6k

Synopsis: You gain the chance to wake up in the world of one of your favorite games. Unfortunately, the 'favorite game' happens to be one about rape, violence, and stalking. Not only that, but the game seems to be rigged against you. All you want is to find a way home and put this all behind you, but is that even possible...?

Warnings: Non/Con, Gore, Physical Abuse, Victim Blaming, Mental Breaks, Bondage, Abduction, Drugging, Murder/Death, Dissociation, Dissociative Amnesia/Lost Time,

Excellent Good Decent Okay Poor Bad Terrible

You’ve been trying to loosen your bonds for a while—the drugs long out of your system—but it’s hard when one of your wrists is injured. You can hardly move it without pain shooting up your entire arm. You can hardly even feel your fingers, and you’re sure that if you could look, they’d be white as a sheet���or, worse, purple. You stop your shuffling when you hear footsteps approaching the door. Kylar walks in, holding a sketchbook. He probably wants to draw you. 

“Kylar, can you take a look at my hands? I think the ropes might be cutting off circulation.” Please don’t be into gangrene, please don’t be into gangrene, please don’t be into gangrene. Kylar puts the food down and walks behind you. 

He touches your hand. “C-can you feel that?” 

“Feel what?” You say, trying to feign ignorance in hopes you’ll be taken more seriously. Kylar doesn’t say anything, but you feel him undo your restraints before retying them more lightly. Despite the pain, or perhaps because of it, you have to suppress a sigh in relief as you feel pins and needles begin to prick at your skin. 

“Better?” Kylar stands in front of you now.

“Could you just undo them instead? I’ll be good, I promise.” You bat your eyes and try to put on your best cutesy voice, but Kylar just shakes his head. You aren’t going to convince him this way. He wants you helpless. 

You’re going to have to try something else. 

Bile threatens to rise up your throat, but you suppress it as you allow your eyes to droop in a more seductive manner. “Really? That’s a shame…I was going to surprise you with something if you did, but if you don’t want to…” Kylar’s eyes go wide. 

“W-wait! I’ll do it!” He rushes behind you, scrambling to get your binds off with such haste that it actually takes longer than if he had taken his time. When you’re finally free, you don’t hesitate to rush to Kylar, pushing him against the wall with your uninjured hand. He doesn’t resist, and you can tell from his flushed face and his erratic breathing that his guard is nonexistent right now. You kiss him, pinning his hands above his head. When he closes his eyes, you knee him in the balls as hard as you can. +Control

Kylar crumples to the floor, but you doubt he’ll stay there long. You rush towards the door and swing it open, following the flickering and entering the room it leads to. You grab the flashlight and run out the door, fumbling to turn it on in the dark as you focus on running. 

You don’t make it in time. You run into Kylar, knocking both him and yourself over. You scramble to get up, but Kylar has already grabbed your arm. He’s not very strong, but your panic doesn’t allow you to recognize that, and you freeze. Only for a second, but a second is all it takes. You feel a sharp pain in your arm, and everything fades to black.

—————————

It is Sunday, the 13th of September, 2022.  It has been 9 days since the game started. The game started in autumn.  It is autumn. School term finishes on Friday the 2nd of December. Current Funds: £1,259 Pain: Tears well in your eyes Arousal: You are cold Fatigue: You feel refreshed Stress: You are strained Trauma: You are tormented Control: You are terrified Allure: You look like you need to be ravaged You have 6 days to escape.

When you wake up this time, you feel much less under the weather than the first time you were hit. Probably due to the fact it had been several hours since you were shot. You feel capable of basic movement, and you’re confident that if you can just fight through the pain, you’ll be able to get out of these bonds. 

And you do. You rub against your restraints until you feel something warm and wet trickle down from your wrists onto the floor. Then you keep going. +++Pain +++Willpower

Your ropes are looser than they were. But it could easily take another day or even two until you’re able to get out of them. After your first attempt, Kylar double-wrapped you, and he added ropes to connect your legs to the chair. 

You hear footsteps approaching the door, so you stop struggling and wait. The next thing you know, the room is dark, and Kylar is on the floor with his head in your naked lap, seemingly sleeping. You feel slime on your bare skin between your thighs and fresh bruises all over your body. There are bandages on your wrists. He probably noticed your attempt to escape and hit you for it. You don’t know. You have no way of knowing. All you know is that you’re hurt and scared, your ropes are just as tight as they were this morning, and now even your waist is tied to the chair.

You can’t do anything about it without waking up Kylar, so you’ll have to wait until morning before trying anything else.

—————————

It is Monday, the 14th of September, 2022.  It has been 10 days since the game started. The game started in autumn.  It is autumn. School term finishes on Friday the 2nd of December. Current Funds: £1,259 Pain: Tears run down your face Arousal: You are cold Fatigue: You are wearied Stress: You are strained Trauma: You feel numb Control: You are terrified Allure: You look like you need to be ravaged You have 5 days to escape.

“Good morning, my little tease,” Kylar says, smiling and without a hint of embarrassment. 

Do you wish to view Kylar’s stats? Y/N

You blink twice at “Yes,” and a blue textbook appears beside him. 

Kylar The Loner Kylar is manic       Fascination: 100% Love: 10% Devotion: 10% Jealousy: 95% Lust: 55%

Before you have time to process the new changes in his devotion and love stats, Kylar begins to sob. 

“W-what are you looking at? I’m right here!” He waves an arm in front of the textbox, effectively blocking your view. +++Jealousy

You turn your gaze back to him, and he visibly relaxes, though he still looks on edge. 

“Sorry. I thought I saw a bug.” -Jealousy. Your voice is so dead that if it weren’t for the feeling of your vocal cords moving, you never would have recognized it as your own at all. Kylar tenses and quickly whips around, frantically searching for a bug that doesn’t exist. You use the opportunity to check his stats again, and see that in just the span of a few seconds, you’ve managed to up his jealousy from 96% to 99%. 

You should be feeling dread right now, but all that washes over you is ice-cold indifference. 

“I don’t see it,” Kylar says, voice low. “Were you lying to me?” You tilt your head but don’t answer. Kylar seems to be spurned on by this, though you know he would have found a way to get upset even with your input. “I don’t understand. Who are you thinking about?! I’m right here!” He grabs you by the shoulders and shakes you as much as your restraints will allow. You steal a glance towards the status window.

Jealousy: 100%

“Is…is it him? Were you thinking about him?” Kylar’s voice begins to take on a tone of insanity. “Wh-when we were together…were you pretending it was him?” His grip on you tightens, but you feel disconnected from the pain. He pushes your chair over again, leaving you to land painfully on your arms. Again. He starts hitting you, screaming incomprehensibly. You can make out a few words. 

“Cheater”

“Love”

“Hate”

“Bailey”

You stop listening.

He’s still hitting you, straddling your waist to get a better angle. You wonder if he even realizes he’s hard right now. You hope not.

Kylar pulls a knife to your neck, pressing it against the skin until you feel something warm and wet start to dribble down and pool onto your collarbone. You stay like that for a few seconds, with Kylar methodically applying pressure at a rate too consistent for him to not be at least partially clear-headed.

You swallow. It was involuntary, and you hadn’t meant anything by it, but the movement seemed to be enough to break Kylar out of his daze as he quickly repulses, dropping the knife and staggering backward. It takes him a moment to realize he should probably set you upright again, too. 

He doesn’t say anything, seemingly unable to do anything but meet your blank stare. You don’t say anything, either. You have nothing to say. Kylar hangs his head, muttering apologies to himself. You see tears dripping down onto the floor. 

An idea strikes you. 

“Do you want forgiveness?” You ask, trying (failing) to make your voice sound anything but flat. Kylar whips up, nodding his head vigorously. You see snot and tears running down his face, which is covered in blotches. Of course, he’s an ugly crier. You focus your vision away from his face. “Earn it.” 

“H-how?” His voice indicates a clogged or tight throat. You guess he feels terrible. Good. 

“Being cooped up at home isn’t good for anyone. Let’s go somewhere. Together.” 

It takes a bit of convincing to get him to agree, but as soon as you mention the word “date,” he’s all but putty in your hands. He wanted to tie you to him, but you managed to talk him down to just holding your wrist like a slightly less madman. Your clothes have been irreparably destroyed; you’ll have to borrow from Kylar. —Jealousy (Kylar’s current jealousy: 45%)

After getting changed and cleaning up your cut, Kylar and you leave the manor. As expected, this brief outing doesn’t automatically complete your quest. You’ll have to make it permanent. His grip is tight, but you can’t find it in yourself to care. You just need to escape this place. Things will get better. 

They have to.

“You’re going to do whatever I want today, right?” Kylar nods with vigor. You try to smile. Your muscles don’t move. “Good.” 

You take Kylar to the shopping center. It’s school, so you don’t need to worry about running into anyone. You glance at the hairdressers. He’d probably go bald if you asked him to. You almost feel the urge to giggle. Almost. -Trauma

You take him to the clothing store, picking out everything that looks expensive, ugly, or extremely diffucult to get on and off. Kylar doesn’t say anything as you browse, but a few stolen glances indicate he’s extremely nervous. -Trauma

He let go of your wrist so you could look around, opting to switch his hold to a dart gun instead. You wouldn’t make it very far if you ran now. 

You hand him a pair of heeled boots to try on. He seems hesitant, so you offer to help him lace them up. He won’t be used to walking in heels, so running after you will be extremely diffucult. You’ll be sure to triple-knot the laces so he can’t undo them easily. -Stress

Kylar watches you as you kneel by his feet, a slight hunger in his eyes. +Lust +Stress

You suppress the urge to shiver. You finish getting him in the shoes and stand up quickly. Kylar struggles to remain balanced and has to hold onto you for support. His dart gun has been put back in his bag so he can better cling to you. 

You help him into a corset next, making sure to lace it much, much, much tighter than it needs to be. Kylar looks back at you pleadingly a couple of times, but you just show him your neck in response, and his gaze returns to the ground. +Lust

Running will be even harder. -Stress

You bring him an open-shoulder lolita dress next, simply because it looks difficult to get on and off. 

“I don’t need to help you get this one on,” you say, pushing Kylar into the changing room before he can protest, watching blankly as he lands on his butt. You close the curtain and wait until you hear the rustling of clothes before sneaking away, planning to switch to running as soon as you’re out the door. Unfortunately, Kylar seems to have been watching your feet, as he speaks up as soon as you move away from the curtain. 

“M-My love? Where are you going?” 

“Just pacing,” you say. +Jealousy

“St-stay where I can see you.” 

You run. +++Jealousy

You hear scrambling and falling from the curtain, as well as the sound of the curtain rod crashing to the ground. You don’t look back, but it wouldn’t have mattered if you did. 

A sharp pain hits you right in the back of your thigh. —Control

—————————

You missed 5 lessons yesterday. ++Deliquency —Status It is Tuesday, the 14th of September, 2022.  It has been 11 days since the game started. The game started in autumn.  It is autumn. School term finishes on Friday the 2nd of December. Current Funds: £1,259 Pain:  You feel okay Arousal: You are cold Fatigue: You feel refreshed Stress: You are tense Trauma: You are tormented Control: You are terrified Allure: You look like you need to be ravaged You have 4 days to escape.

Kylar is already sitting across from you by the time you wake up, sketching something in his notepad.

…You should try to get on his good side again, though you can barely bring yourself to care. Right now, you’re operating out of sheer will alone.

“Can I see?” Kylar glances up at you but doesn’t say anything. He goes back to sketching. You try to smile. You feel your lips quirk, but you’re not sure if its upwards. “Do you have a favorite color to use while drawing?” You ask, sneaking a glance towards the status floating next to him. (Jealousy: 99%) Kylar glances at you but continues his silence.

“Maybe you can use something with my favorite color sometime. Do they call those monochromatics? When are there different shades of one color? Or does it have to be the same shade?” You thought asking about his interests might make him pipe up and let his guard down, but he seems hellbent on wasting your breath. 

“I don’t know if you know my favorite color, actually. I’m not sure if anyone does, actually. It changed a while ago, and I don’t think it’s ever come up since.” Kylar pauses, just for a second. The idea of exclusivity always gets people, especially if it’s about something they like. “Do you want me to tell you?” Kylar nods. 

“Promise to make me a picture in that color, and I will.” A look of hesitation flickers across Kylar’s face, probably wondering how you could use a piece of paper to escape him—you’ve really broken his trust, haven’t you? You may need to lay low for a few days, as much as the idea makes your skin crawl. 

At last, Kylar nods, and you tell him your favorite shade of the rainbow. He gets to work on your picture right after, tearing off what he was previously working on and leaving it unfinished on the floor. You sneak a peek at it. It’s a picture of you getting strangled. +Trauma

—————————

You missed 5 lessons yesterday. ++Deliquency –Status It is Wednesday, the 15th of September, 2022.  It has been 12 days since the game started. The game started in autumn.  It is autumn. School term finishes on Friday the 2nd of December. Current Funds: £1,259 Pain: You feel okay Arousal: You are cold Fatigue: You are fatigued Stress: You are tense Trauma: You are tormented Control: You are terrified Allure: You look like you need to be ravaged You have 3 days to escape.

Kylar didn’t bring you any food yesterday. You didn’t bring it up either, but now it’s hours past midnight, and your stomach is keeping you from sleep. Not having anything else to do, you use the opportunity to check on things. Primarily, you never did take a look at what Eden, Alex, or the two beastmen’s statuses ended up being. Hopefully you’ll never see them again and it won’t matter, but you’d be lying if you said you weren’t at least curious.

First is Eden.

Eden The Hunter Eden is in town     Fascination: 80% Love: 0% Devotion: 0% Jealousy: 40%     Dominance: 0% Lust: 100%

Fuck. Fuck this. Seriously? This game isn’t going to give you even a moment of rest, is it? You don’t know how his jealousy got so high, but you suppose it doesn’t matter right now. You have to deal with Kylar first, and…as much as the idea makes you feel like vomiting, you’re going to need to contact Bailey. 

…You move on. No need to linger.

Black Wolf The Alpha Black Wolf wants to see you again

There's not much to see on this one. You feel relieved.

Great Hawk The Terror  Great Hawk wants you as his wife Fascination: 100% Love: 0% Devotion: 50% Jealousy: 0%  Dominance: 0% Lust: 90%

There isn’t much to this one, either. Honestly, it doesn’t even look that different from his usual status.

Alex The Farmhand Alex wants to start over Fascination: 80% Love: 7% Devotion: 100%* Jealousy: 0% Dominance: 0% Lust: 70% *Alex owes you an apology! You may request one favor to which he can not refuse. Devotion will return to normal after the favor has been spent.

…Huh. That’s weird. Really weird, actually. What’s his goal? Is he actually sorry?

No, if he were sorry, he wouldn’t have done it in the first place. He probably wants to use this as an excuse to get closer to you, now that his first plan has failed. Still, you might be able to leverage something useful out of this, if you play your cards right, that is. At the very least, he’s probably too busy with the farm to come hunt you down in town. 

Kylar enters the room, and the textboxes fade from your attention. 

You have a lot to think about, but for now, you have to play along.

—————————

You missed 5 lessons yesterday. ++Deliquency –Status You haven't eaten. Your physique has deteriorated slightly as a result. It is Thursday, the 16th of September, 2022.  It has been 13 days since the game started. The game started in autumn.  It is autumn. School term finishes on Friday the 2nd of December. Current Funds: £1,259 Pain: You feel okay Arousal: You are cold Fatigue: You are wide awake Stress: You are tense Trauma: You are tormented Control: You are terrified Allure: You look like you need to be ravaged You have 2 days to escape.

Kylar finally brings in food today after two days of starvation. 

“I-I’m sorry for not feeding you earlier,” he says, but doesn't offer anything in the way of excuses or explanations. You think you prefer it that way, honestly. At least he's not pretending to be anything he isn't.

At least you're the only one who has to pretend.

On second thought, maybe it would be better if he was lying to you. Maybe it'd be easier to play along, if he helped you out. 

Maybe, maybe, maybe. You have the cards you've been dealt. No use in complaining. 

You plaster on the biggest smile you can muster. Your lips barely curl upwards. 

“It's okay,” you say. “I was bad.” Kylar seems to light up at your understanding of what he was saying implicitly. But his face then morphs into one of suspicion.

“Y-you’re lying,” he says. “You're manipulating me. You just want me to lower my guard so you can run back to him again.” You barely manage to suppress a flinch.

Kylar grasps you by the shoulders, shaking you. You don't even think, you can't think. You kiss him. ++Lust —Control –Jealousy 

Kylar's eyes go wide but quickly flutter closed as his grip on you loosens into something more affectionate than constricting. He straddles you, and you pull away gently, pushing your forehead against his so he knows you aren’t rejecting him. 

You feel sick. You almost can’t bring yourself to speak. But you know what you have to say, so you shove those feelings so far down that not even the devil would be able to find them. -Control

“I’m sorry for running away,” you say. “But I realized something.” You try to steady your heartbeat as Kylar seems to salivate in anticipation. -Control

“He can’t fuck me the way you can,” you say, voice shaking and almost a whisper. ”No one can.” -Control

Kylar all but jumps you.

-Control

—————————

You missed 5 lessons yesterday. ++Deliquency –Status It is Friday, the 17th of September, 2022.  It has been 14 days since the game started. The game started in autumn.  It is autumn. School term finishes on Friday the 2nd of December. Current Funds: £1,259 Pain:  You feel okay Arousal: You are cold Fatigue: You are wide awake Stress: You are calm Trauma: You feel numb Control: You are terrified Allure: You look like you need to be ravaged You must escape by today.

“G-good evening, my love!” Kylar is dressed in a full gothic suit. His makeup is sloppy. You don’t remember how yesterday ended. You don’t want to remember. 

You’re tied to a wheelchair this time, and dressed in an elaborate gothic gown lined with cloves of garlic. You wouldn’t have noticed if you hadn’t looked down. Your whole body feels numb. You won't be able to escape today. You went through all of that for nothing. Sold your pride for false hope.

“I wanted to introduce you to my parents. You have to be awake for that. You’ll be good for them, right?” 

Oh, so this is how you die. You try to nod, but your neck won’t move. 

“I gave you a bit of a sedative to calm you down,” Kylar explains. “I know how nervous you can get. I've been working on it for the past few days—that’s why I couldn't see you as often as I'd like.” You have no way of knowing how often he visited you. The idea of him talking to you in your sleep is something you'd rather not think about. 

Kylar wheels you out the door. You wonder if it'll hurt when they rip your throat out with their teeth. 

You'll find out soon enough. 

Kylar’s parents look about how you expected—looming androgynous figures with milk-white skin and sharp teeth. Their baldness and smooth faces make it difficult to tell them apart, but you think one of them has a slightly thinner face. You could be imagining it, though. 

“Mom, Dad, this is my fiancee,” Kylar starts. You think he might be skipping a few steps, but it’s hard to expect reason from someone who just sedated you in front of vampires. Kylar is still speaking, going on about how you met and how you fell in love (If you were recording this, it’d be some pretty damning evidence) while Kylar’s parents watch on in silence. They’re still, gaze transfixed upon you. It would be unnerving if you had the energy to care. 

Without warning, one of Kylar’s parents is upon you, nearly knocking down the wheelchair but just managing to avoid it. With a claw of silver, they tear through your bonds and lift you up, running through the house to the garden, then out the garden into the forest. They don’t stop until you reach the altar, setting you down and running away.

Well, it was nice of them to let you go, but with the drugs still in your system, you’re kinda stranded. Additionally, you notice that your quest for escaping the manor hasn’t been completed yet, meaning you’re still on their property. You stare up at the sky. It’s nighttime now. You’re running out of time.

Kylar emerges from the bushes sometime later, looking disheveled. 

“I-I’m sorry,” he says, approaching you. “I didn't know they would do that. You aren't hurt, are you?” You blink at him, unable to do much else. Kylar seems relieved despite your lack of response. You think you can talk now, but you don’t feel any need to. 

“Let's get you back home,” he says, attempting to lift you off the altar. He fails. He tries get you to lean on him, but despite the growing feeling in your legs, you still can't walk. “I-I’ll be right back,” he says. “I'll get your chair.” You watch him go from your place on the altar. As soon as he turns his back to you, you start flexing your fingers and toes. 

It’s not over until it’s over. 

Your movements seem to help, as within the next few agonizing minutes, you’re able to just barely drag yourself off of the altar, crawling with your arms and legs through the forest underbrush. It’s hard going, but you’re making progress. Still, you hope your legs will regain their strength sooner rather than later. 

You shimmy along the path, propelling yourself forward by your elbows and the movements of your hips. You feel sticks and leaves poke through and tear your gothic gown, trying to reach the soft skin underneath. You ignore the pain and press onwards, slowly inching towards freedom, though having no idea what direction it ought to be in.

It occurs to you as you’re crawling that you very well may be making a snail trail in your path, but you have no choice but to press onwards. You won’t find another chance. 

So, you keep going. You crawl and crawl until the moon is resting just shy of the center of the sky, and you hear rustling in the distance. You still, hoping it’s just a stray wolf or fox. Hoping that it’s not looking for you. Hoping that even if it is, it’s not Kylar that’s looking.

The rustling stops, and you think you have enough strength in your legs to sit on your knees, so you peek up from behind a bush, just barely above eye level to avoid being seen. 

Green eyes meet yours. 

In a moment, Kylar is on top of you, screaming unintelligibly. You can make out some of the contents, but it’s hard to focus on anything other than the feeling of his knife plunging into your stomach, dragging blood and viscera with it as he rips metal from flesh and plunges it down once again. 

You think you’re screaming, too, but it’s hard to tell. Hard to even see anything through the blur of blood and tears running down your face, your sides. You think most of the tears aren’t even yours. You think Kylar is crying harder than you are, that his tears are painting your face as yet another sign of ownership. 

You think you might be bleeding out. He must have stabbed you at least a dozen times. You can barely feel it anymore. All you feel is your blood pressure dropping into hell, that unique lightheaded sensation you only get when you’re on the verge of death. Your head is light, all earthly sensations feeling so far away, so disconnected to you. 

You feel calm. Peaceful, even. It’s not how you wanted to go, but maybe you can find peace in the fact that it’s over.

Kylar has stopped stabbing you, his knife held over his head in both hands, a look of horror on his face. You smile at him softly. There’s a ribbon tied to the handle of his knife—your favorite color.

It’s the last thing you see.

Feat unlocked—The end is never the end.

—————————

<Prev Next>

[jaggedamethyst]

circuit breaker 🔬🌌 (part four)

tutor!jayce talis x reader, ekko x reader college au

content: jayce ghosts you when you need him most...so you have no choice but to lean on your best friend, ekko

pining, mental health mentions, neurodivergence, lmk if i missed any!

notes: ekko pic...omg... (you may think this series is going slow but i hate a slow burn ass fic that has them fucking chapter three don't pmo...also this evolved way past just jayce and i need to do ekko justice...bc some of yall don't, clocked it)

word count: 2.9k

series masterlist

⭑·ﾟﾟ·*:༅。.。༅:*ﾟ:*:✼✿　　✿✼:*ﾟ:༅。.。༅:*·ﾟﾟ·⭑

“Do you know that girl Jayce is always with?” 

You arrived to class, ready to learn—but not about physics truthfully. You expected to cut corners, create friendly conversation about nothing, humor Viktor. When you got there, though, you had to ask him immediately. 

“Mel Medara?” Viktor looked to you with intrigue. “I know of her…but not much about her.” He leaned to his left, toward you, “Why?” 

“She’s just always…around? And we spoke to each other once but I was in a hurry…didn’t get much chance for a formal introduction.” 

“Are you certain that your intrigue is rooted purely in your inquisitive nature…or is there another reason you want to share?” 

“No-“ 

The sound of the door towards the front of the class opening interrupted you—it was perfect timing, actually. You would rather not have to unpack why Mel’s presence bothered you so much; truthfully it was an inexplicable feeling. Someone walked in, and you sat up straighter. 

“Hi, everyone! My name is Caitlyn, some of you may know me if you’ve ever been to the student resource center.” She smiled at you, exchanging a look of recognition. “I wanted to formally introduce myself… I will be joining as a TA. If you need anything and can’t get ahold of the professor, you can ask me your course related questions.” She moved to plug a laptop into the projector, “Here is my email for future reference.” She allowed some time for people to copy and take photos of her email down. “Unfortunately, today’s class will be canceled for an emergency…but I was instructed to relay to you that the quiz will still be held next week. It’ll be on vectors and calculating their angles. Be sure to refresh yourselves over the weekend and reach out to me should you have any questions.” People started to shuffle around her, getting up to leave class. “I’m sorry for the inconvenience, guys. Feel free to use the space to get some other work done, or leave early.” 

“What the fuck, this was such a waste of my time.” You glanced back towards the board, making sure you got the email address right. “I have been so tired I could be sleeping right now.” 

“I’m sorry, I know you have a lot to deal with right now.” Viktor moved to the end of the aisle, grabbing his cane while slinging his bag over one shoulder. “At least you’ve been in tutoring. The quiz this week should be easier, right?” 

“That’s the thing,” you reached for your phone, “We’ve only just got to vectors so far. That was hard enough.” You hovered your finger over Jayce’s contact, never actually having messaged him. Before you could talk yourself out of it, you started texting him. 

hi jayce 

im sorry to bother you but i have my quiz next week and its gonna be on more stuff than we got to in our sessions

do you have any time to meet with me this weekend? if not thats ok, i can ask my friend

You paused, walking behind Viktor without looking up from the phone screen. 

i just need you

No, you shook your head, continuing the text. 

i just need your help

lmk

ty 

You grimaced at the text bubbles, hating how you split all of that up. You imagined his annoyed face, seeing all of these desperate messages. You wouldn’t blame him if he didn’t answer. You wouldn’t answer you. 

Viktor turned to you, “Are you alright?” 

“Yes, just frustrated and irritated and angry…thats all.” 

“That’s not a great combination.” 

You shook your head. Without trying, Viktor could always cheer you up. “Unrelated, but did Jayce ask you about what snacks I eat?” 

“He did,” he looked over at you, “It was odd. He said something about ‘reinforcements’ for your guys’ tutoring session.” 

“Oh...okay.” 

Viktor would call himself a lot of things, including perceptive. He didn’t say much, but he noticed the way your eyes lingered on one another when you first met. He was aware of the way you spoke about each other, especially when it was just Viktor around. He simply arched a brow at you, observing your concerned look at the phone screen. 

“Maybe you should take the weekend to rest and recuperate.” 

“I would…but the quiz-“ 

“Just for today. Wait for Jayce to get back to you. Then you can focus solely on next week.” He nodded reassuringly. 

He returned the nod, liking the sound of the plan. 

If only Jayce had bothered to answer. 

——————

“Hi.” 

“Come on in.” Ekko stepped back, letting you into his dorm. 

“I know it’s so last minute, but I know nothing about angles …figured you could help.” 

“I absolutely can help and would love to.” 

You sat your stuff down, getting comfortable as you’d done dozens of times before. You turned a corner, washing your hands at the sink before heading to grab a throw blanket from Ekko's bed. 

He knew your habits, calling from the living room area. “I have the heated blanket out here, too, if you wanna use that one. Know you get cold.” 

You exited his room, wearing the slippers you left under his bed. “Once again, you are the best…because I am, in fact, freezing my ass off right now.” 

“Want something to drink?” 

“Always.” 

The two of you were so in sync—it had to be that way after Powder. It became worse when Vi blamed you, suspecting one of you said something to her to make her disappear. Even though you know you did nothing wrong, there was still a self-hate there. That you couldn’t be there for a friend who needed you—so much so that she left entirely. You couldn’t do that to Ekko, he felt the same. 

“So,” you pulled out the folder Jayce had given you, a slight frown on your face at the thought of him completely ignoring you. “I have this paper, its like a cheat sheet for vectors…but besides what Jayce told me I don’t know what to do. The TA said we also have to calculate the angles…that makes no sense.” 

Ekko grabbed his notebook, flipping to a blank sheet of paper. He sketched a makeshift drawing—surprisingly good for how quick he’d done it. You were always in awe of his artistic talent. 

“Okay, so here…is a light pole.” He moved his finger to the other side of the paper, motioning toward a little drawing of you, smiling on the sidewalk. “This is you.” 

“Wait I’m so adorable here!”

Ekko chuckled, side eyeing you a bit, “Yeah…” 

You snatched the pencil—quickly drawing in a stick figure of him. “This is you!” 

“Is it really? Couldn’t tell.” 

“Hey-“ You swatted his arm, “You’re identical in my opinion.” 

“If having lines for a body is identical…then sure. But anyways…not the point of my sketch.” He grabbed the pencil back, “Thank you very much.” He flipped the pencil, using the eraser side to show you the details. “Okay…light pole…you.” He smirked, knowing you wanted to interject. Ekko raised his hand before you could, “This is the distance between you and the pole.” He made up and wrote a random number in feet under the bottom, the same for the pole. “This is the height of the pole. This is all you need to find every angle and distance measurement.” 

The look on your face was one of pure confusion. “How does that make any sense whatsoever, Ekko?” You moved to close the book. “Actually, lets just watch a movie instead. I’m prepared to fail at this point.” 

Ekko grabbed the book from you, reopening it. “Well, I’m not, so let’s get to work.” 

He continued, explaining as best he could. It was no use, though, it just wasn’t making sense to you. You nodded, trying to get him to move on to something else. 

“Does that make sense?” 

“Yeah.” You reached to hug Ekko, “You’re the best.” Pulling back, you plastered on a smile, hiding the discomfort. You didn’t feel ready whatsoever. Suddenly, Ekko grabbed your hands, pulling your attention to him. 

“You’re gonna do great.” He lingered on you for a while, “Promise.” 

The doubt you felt made you want to hole up and skip class altogether. Eventually, it developed into a disdain for Jayce. When you thought about it, he was the reason you were going to fail…again. 

——————

You decided against skipping class on Monday, but you were definitely opting out of that damn tutoring session. If Jayce can’t answer a simple few texts, how were you to know you even had a standing appointment anymore. It made you feel less than worthy of a proper notice. Above all, it just felt plain unprofessional…he’s an employee after all. 

Walking into class and into this quiz felt like a walk to your execution. Midterms were quickly approaching, which meant you only had so many quizzes you could fail before the majority of your final grade was tainted by bad ones. 

Viktor greeted you as normal, moving over to give you a seat. “Are you prepared?”

“As best as I can be.” 

The beauty of college was that you did assessments in class and got the results as soon as you submitted. Knowing you would get your score back in the next few minutes had your stomach churning. An image of Jayce, carefree and nonchalant, popped into your head. Nothing was making sense. Reluctantly, you started choosing random answers—disregarding the calculator altogether. Before you knew it, your grade, a 56%, reflected back to you. 

“Fuck,” you whispered to yourself. You closed your laptop, getting up to leave class early. “I’ll see you later, Viktor.” 

Before he could reply, you were gone. Pushing through the door. You grabbed your phone from your pocket, texting Ekko. 

im done early, wanna meet rn?

He replied a few seconds later.

omw 

You picked up the pace, not out of urgency, but in pure frustration. Everything you’d been working towards wasn’t paying off. The time you spent not being with Ekko—with Jayce—was a waste. 

When you arrived to the dining hall, Ekko wasn’t there yet. You took the time to grab both you and him something to eat for lunch. Within minutes, Ekko showed up, that warm smile on his face as usual. He leaned into you, giving you a side hug while simultaneously grabbing the food from you. 

“How was the quiz?” You didnt reply, simply giving him a side eye. “Damn…I’m sorry.” 

“Not your fault…but thanks for helping.” 

He’d seamlessly changed the subject—allowing the two of you to talk without the reminder of your failure that day. You didn’t acknowledge how fast the time had passed and truthfully, didn’t care. You hadn’t planned to show up to tutoring…much less give Jayce any notice. 

To your right, you suddenly heard a voice, interrupting you and Ekko. 

“Hey.” You looked over, seeing Jayce standing there. “I figured you’d be here.” He looks between you and Ekko, hands now on his hips. “You missed our session.” 

You raised a brow and crossed your arms over your chest. “Wow, really? Didn’t know we were still having those.” 

“Of course we are, you have those quizzes-“ 

“Had.” You interrupted, “There was one today. You’d know if you checked your phone.” 

He looked down, embarrassed at his phone sitting in his front pant pocket. 

“I’m sorry- I know this is important for you but something came up.” 

“What? What came up?” Ekko spoke up. 

Jayce turned to look at him, finally acknowledging his presence again. “Something personal,” he looked away, focusing back on you. “Can we talk alone?” 

Ekko spoke again, “Say what you need to say.” 

“I would, but I’m not talking to you.” 

A screech of Ekko’s chair resounded in the dining hall. You reached a hand out, gesturing toward them. “Ekko, please.” 

Ekko looked over to you and inhaled a deep breath. He was looking at Jayce again, but kept talking to you. “I’ll see you later, okay? Call if you need anything.” 

“Wait- Ekko-” 

Jayce gulped, sitting down across from you. You watched Ekko leave as Jayce took his seat, hands resting on the table. 

“What the hell is your problem? You ghost me then show up here with an attitude? I should be pissed…I am pissed! I failed because of you!” 

He nodded, knowing the weight of his being inaccessible. “I’m sorry.” 

“You said that.” 

“There was a personal thing, a family emergency-“

“And yet, your phone is still in working condition.”

You didn’t want to be insensitive, but it takes seconds to reply. A simple message would’ve sufficed. 

“My mom’s sick.” You froze—remembering that it’s just him and his mom. “She was in the hospital all weekend…it still hasn’t gotten better.” He paused, looking at you now, “I thought I owed you to at least show up today.” 

“Well…now I feel like shit.” 

“Don’t. Not your fault I didn’t tell you what was happening.” 

“Is there anything I can do?” 

“Hope she gets better?” 

You reached over, placing a comforting hand on his, “I can do that.” 

He let you linger there, before pulling back. “How about this week, since I messed up so bad with scheduling…we meet as much as you’d like just so you can be ready. Shit, it can be every day if you want.” He nodded, “We’re gonna make sure you pass this class if it’s the last thing I do.” 

“Are you sure? I can be pretty high maintenance…” 

He leaned back in his chair, a nonchalant yet playful look on his face, “Not worried about it.” 

“Okay.” You shrugged, “If you say so.” 

The pair of you exchanged smiles, not at all prepared for how tumultuous this week would be. 

taglist

@juskonutoh @sseleniaa @aerina127 @sleepysoldier @angelicmisty @1800latenitecreep @venus-in-roses

[front-facing-pokemon]

[koka-mi]

najdbdhdjeh I wanna be held while I sleep so badly tbh it sounds so much more relaxing :'D

[abby420]

never underestimate the effect a refresh clean of your room, clean sheets, opening your blinds to let the sun in, starting a new hobby, and a good comfort meal can have on your mental health

[timothyslucy]

"dylanconrique" → "leslieseveride"

i genuinely don't have a clue as to who to tag in this really to get the word around, so if any of you would reblog this that'd be very much appreciated. 🫶

[doctorscoobywho]

Blue Beetle (2023) reminded me why I love DC and the superhero genre

[homoeroticvillain]

i need to switch vpns cause turns out express is owned by some shit people but now i have to go through the hell that is finding a new one

[kaidabakugou]

my brain needs a break from working on three different collab pieces so i decided to pick back up my hellhounds kiribaku fic but i’m horrible with titles so help me decide

a little context on the fic - it is set in a world where chthonic creatures roam freely on earth and your job is to rescue the ones used in illegal activities which is how you meet two hellhounds but first you must earn their trust before you can save them after years of mistreatment

[tendebill]

JUST FINISHED CHAPTER 14 OF TPATA!!! THIS IS NOT A DRILL!!! ANOTHER WIN FOR THE LGBT COMMUNITY!!!

i just have to edit the last bit that i just wrote and maybe i could post it??? like tomorrow or in two days??? i dont feel like editing it rn, but i will try tomorrow????

13k words btw :3

[favroitecrime]

just finished 12 season of bob’s burgers and i’m not ready for the movie not season 13

[stormlit]

lads i found d.ark e.yes transcripts i can finally actually remember what happens in molly's canon (and then choose to disregard most of it)

[jupiter-reimagined]

spending the last evening of 2024 alone, sick and with 2 cats. and i couldnt be happier about this