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kiwisbell · 7 months

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Red Light [landlord!joel miller]

The men you keep bringing home are no good for you. It's up to your landlord Joel to protect you from heartbreak.

my masterlist!

pairing: joel miller x f!reader

rating: 18+ (mdni)

tags and warnings: AU - no outbreak/modern day, obsessive!joel, dark!joel, but also soft!joel, landlord!joel, violence, death, murder, stalking, jealousy, truly creepy behaviour, unprotected sex (lead by example; just not mine), creampie, dubious consent, reader’s serious lack of self-preservation, sexual tension, abuse of power, spanking, spitting, squirting, praise kink, degradation kink, joel is a munch, somnophilia, possessive behaviour, dirty talk, a smidgen of gaslighting, the general filth you should expect from me by now, a spoonful of genuine intimate connection™️, implied age gap, submissive reader, dominant joel, daddy kink, knives, mild torture, light anal play, voyeurism, unreliable narration, inappropriate use of a necklace, panty sniffing, ambiguous(?) ending

word count: ~ 15.8k (uh, oops!)

read on ao3!

hello, all! this fic has been tossing and turning inside the proverbial sheets of my head for a while now. when i tell you it's darker than anything i've written, i mean it, so please, please mind the tags. this story does not depict a healthy relationship; joel is a total creep and both he and reader are heavily delusional. with that said, please enjoy this (super long) one-shot!! xoxo

PREFACE

Stars, hide your fires; Let not light see my black and deep desires. — Macbeth, I.IV

THE TENANT

You're beginning to think it’s a built-in bad luck charm. A microchip implanted in your skin or a flaw you have yet to pick out. Every single one of your prospective boyfriends has disappeared off the face of the Earth since you moved into town.

It isn't you. It's not. There is nothing wrong with you. It isn't your fault that either they decide after one date that you aren't worth seeing again, or they stand you up before the date can even begin. Your profile pictures are decent. You followed the rules meticulously: a shot of your face, a group picture to show you have friends, a selfie, a candid. You've examined them time and time again for flaws and find none that a man would care about. You're pretty. Sexy. Confident. They're just intimidated. Fuck, you're turning into your mother.

And yet—

Since moving into this apartment—this beautiful, once-in-a-lifetime deal of an apartment—your luck with dating has abruptly ended.

It's a lovely building. A stout brownstone with wrought-iron stairs and an old, but functional, elevator, it's traditional and charming. Perfect for a single woman.

Six months. This is your first second date in six months. David is just fine. He's handsome in a frat-initiate kind of way, with a nice smile and a good sense of dress. He doesn't ask many questions about you, and he's a little pretentious about films you don't give a shit about, but he likes you. You didn't have a horrible time on the first date: he wasn't afraid to spend his money on you at the nice restaurant. And he has a car.

Raised as an optimist, you learned to see the good parts of a situation. David can work out.

On the way out of the elevator, you spot your landlord Joel speaking to the concierge. You instinctively smooth down your hair and wave at him as you walk by, shrugging your purse onto your shoulder. “Hi, Joel. Hi, Sam.”

Sam the concierge waves back, but Joel puts his back to the conversation and gives you his full attention, bracing his hands on the edge of the desk. Your heart leaps and your head goes fuzzy with nerves. You barely manage to force a giddy giggle back down your throat. Relief coats your bones when Sam excuses himself to take a call.

Joel Miller’s an older guy, his tousled dark hair threaded with silver on his head and in his beard. One look at him and a person could know that he works with his hands for a living; he’s broad-shouldered, strong, with big arms and a capable air about him. He’s proven his mettle a hundred times over already with the miniscule repairs he’s made to the building. He turned it into a good place to live; he even trims the hedges outside and polishes the doorknobs when they get rusty.

He’s wearing a green T-shirt today, which is another member of the typical summertime circulation of blue and grey T-shirts, and a pair of jeans. “Evening,” he says, his rich brown eyes sparkling. Sometimes, you can see him smile when his mouth isn’t showing it. It’s charming. Enthralling. “How’s that new lock workin’ out for you?”

You grin. He remembered. Joel installed a new deadbolt on your door last week, since the chain on the last one broke. “It’s perfect,” you tell him. “Are you in a chocolate or lemon mood this time?”

His gaze flickers down your body, taking in your yellow dress, before meeting yours again. “Lemon,” he says.

You bite the inside of your cheek. Talking to a handsome man feels like tossing your heart in the air and trying to juggle. Flirting with a handsome man is like toeing a tightrope between two mountains and forcing yourself not to look down. Your stomach swoops with the path of his eyes over your body, and you cannot convince yourself that you imagined it. “Lemon squares it is. Thank you again, Joel.”

“Just my job to keep my tenants safe,” he says, lifting one shoulder in a shrug. You can see a pair of keys in his pocket along with his cell phone. The mere sight of his belt makes your cheeks hot. Why are you looking at his belt? You’re going on a date with another man, for God’s sake. Relax.

“Helps when I like my tenants so much,” adds Joel, and you forget why you were scolding yourself in the first place.

“Yeah?” You tilt your head to the side. “Maybe you should be baking for them, instead.”

Joel steps away from the desk, working his jaw as he seems to fight down a smile. “It’s for the best this way, believe me. Can’t cook for shit.”

“Big, strong man like you can’t work a stove?” you tease. Don’t look down.

“I only fix ‘em.” There’s a crooked smile on his face now, and your heart beats your ribs to shrapnel. “You look real nice. Goin’ somewhere?”

That simple validation calms your nerves more effectively than a half-hour of repeating affirmations into the mirror before leaving your apartment. You give the skirt of your sundress a little swish. “A date, actually,” you say, feeling sheepish. Your landlord certainly doesn’t need to hear about your track record as of late. “He’s taking me to Sunfest, in the park.”

A minute twitch of his brow is the only reaction he gives to the news. “That so?” he says. “Lucky man.”

“More like lucky me,” you say with a small laugh, tucking your hair behind your ear. Stop talking, you plead to yourself. Too much information. Shut up, kindly excuse yourself, and leave.

Joel shakes his head, and now is the first time you notice that his eyes haven’t once left you. It warms your body. “He’s the lucky one. Trust me.”

“Okay. I concede.” You chew on your lip for a moment and, sure enough, his gaze hones in on your mouth. The air in the lobby crackles white-hot. You clear your throat, turning your head to find David’s car parked on the street outside. “I should go. But I promise I’ll get started on those lemon squares soon.”

It’s a possibility that you only imagine Joel’s eyes flitting from the car outside back to you when you turn your head back to face him. “Do me a favour?” he says, a scrape to his deep drawl.

“Anything, Joel.”

A muscle in his jaw ticks. “Be safe,” he says. “You have my number if anything goes wrong.”

You give him a grateful smile. “I’ll be safe, Joel. And if I’m not, you’re the first person I’ll call.”

“Good. That’s…” He trails off, still watching you, his eyes trained in their path across your face. “You’re good. Smart, beautiful, good. You deserve to have somethin’ real.”

The simple, small praises melt your bone marrow and recast it in the shape of him. The old chandelier hanging from the ceiling casts him in a soft light, stark against the hard muscles and profound depths in his eyes. He's breathtaking. You've always known it, but…

He sees something in you, too.

David honks his horn and makes you jump out of your stupor. You walk backwards out of the lobby just to keep looking at Joel for as long as you can. “For the record,” you say, “you’re a good man, Joel.”

“Don’t be so sure, honey,” he replies, his tone playful.

You laugh, hurrying out to David’s car as the door closes behind you.

“This place is beautiful,” you said to Sam, the concierge working the front desk of your prospective apartment. The appropriate paperwork was in your arms, your eyes scanning every inch of the old building. Of all the places you'd seen in and around the neighbourhood, this was the most promising. You hoped to get a glimpse at a unit before you signed, though. Assuming the landlord even wanted you to live here.

Sam smiled at you. “Lots of people just see the cracks.”

“There's so much character,” you replied, admiring the crystal chandelier. The walls were a calming, aged white, the floors genuine hardwood. The lobby was decorated with plush chairs upholstered with burnt orange fabric, the corners filled with real potted plants.

The door opened behind you, and you turned to see a handsome stranger, dressed in a pair of dirty jeans and mud-caked shirt, wiping his forehead with his forearm. Behind you, Sam said, “This is Joel Miller. The landlord.”

“Oh!” You were flustered, floundering to stretch out your hand to shake as you introduced yourself. “I’m sorry to catch you at a bad time. This building is gorgeous. You've done a great job with it, Mr. Miller.”

The landlord did not once look at Sam, his eyes fixed solely on you as he wiped a hand on the cloth slung over his shoulder and shook your hand. His hand engulfed yours, warm and rough. The touch jolted you like an electric shock. Your hands must have been clammy and shaking with nerves, but the contact steeled you.

The intensity of his gaze, however, made you shift on your feet. He didn't waver, didn't stray, like a man set on a mission. Nothing about him was shy. He drank in the sight of you, indulging without shame, his eyes travelling to the next destination once they'd had their fill. It made you feel stripped to the bone.

“It's nice to meet you,” he said. “Sorry for the dirt. Just finished weeding.”

You shook your head in dismissal. “You really take care of this place.”

“It's good work,” he said plainly. “Serves me well. I like gettin’ my hands dirty, fixin’ things.”

“Where were you when my sink broke every week at my old place?”

“Fixing the sinks in this one.”

You laughed. “Well, for what it's worth, the outside is beautiful, too. Not a weed in sight.”

“Pleased to hear it,” said Joel, his dark eyes glittering under the chandelier.

“You're from Texas!” you said suddenly. Oh, God, kill me now. I sound like a stalker.

But Joel smiled, a raspy laugh leaving his mouth. You wondered if he laughed often. He looked like a serious man. “You familiar?”

“I was born there,” you supplied. “Left when I was young, but my dad lived there all his life.”

“Lookin’ good on you already,” he said. “It’ll be nice havin’ another one of us around.”

“Does that mean you're considering me?” you couldn't help but ask. Fuck, you wanted this apartment.

“I've already considered,” said Joel, his eyes sweeping your body. “You're the only applicant.”

Your hands were trembling and your heart thrummed with excitement. “Oh, God, thank you!” you gasped. “Joel, thank you.”

You could swear his chest swelled a bit at your graciousness. “I can show you the unit, if you’d like. It needs some TLC, but I’m happy to help with the process as best I can. Unless you have someone to…”

You realised what he was hinting at and shook your head. “Oh, no, it’s just me. I’d love to take a look.”

You noted the slight drop of his shoulders and followed him into the elevator. A part of you was surprised to see there was no gate that closed you in; they were plain, somewhat modern elevator doors. “Fixed it last month,” Joel said, looking sideways at you. “Just in time, apparently.”

You grinned at him, bouncing on the balls of your feet. “Nice to see there's no creepy operator in here.”

“Just me.” He punched the button for the third floor and rode with you to the top.

This was the start of your new life.

You shut the passenger’s side door and situate yourself inside David’s Lincoln. He’s dressed in a pair of black shorts and a clean Henley. “Hey, beautiful,” he says, leaning in to kiss you across the console.

You hum, smiling against his mouth. “You clean up nice, too.”

He places a hand on your thigh and pulls away from the curb. He's a touchy person, which is perfectly fine considering how long your latest dry spell has lasted, but at least he isn't inching his way up your dress to cop a feel while he drives.

The festival is bustling with people, tented stands, and the smell of fried dough and beer. It’s almost dinnertime, and your stomach growls. When was the last time you ate? You spent hours agonising over what to wear until you were sweating and had to shower all over again. You wish you’d snuck an apple into your purse.

David pulls you into him as you both walk through the winding paths between vendors. “It’s a beautiful night,” you say breezily.

David squeezes your waist. “Mmm. You’re beautiful.”

A bit too corny for your taste, but you let it slide. “Don't tell me you're allergic to powdered sugar, because I’ve been eyeing the elephant ears.”

“God, if I eat that shit, I think it’ll set me back a month at the gym,” he laughs. “Let’s get one for you, though.”

Great. Now you're the expensive date who eats while her date watches her stuff her mouth with an elephant ear. “Uh. Maybe later.”

You stop at a jewellery vendor and spend a good while eyeing up a beautiful gold necklace and the heart-shaped pendant dangling from it. David doesn’t notice your staring and breezes by with your hand firmly in his. “Let's check out the grand stand. My buddy’s band is playing before the fireworks display.”

“Sure,” you say, turning your head to watch the necklace disappear slowly from view.

The gigantic domed stage houses a group of musicians currently tuning up their instruments. David sidles right up to the front and releases your hand to execute an elaborate handshake with his friend, who’s fine-tuning his bass.

“Hey, man,” greets the bass player. “Good to see you. Who’s this?”

You open your mouth to introduce yourself, stretching your hand out, but David says, “My date for tonight. Baby, this is Ray, of Uncontrolled Bleeding fame.”

The bass player shakes your hand politely. “Very nice to meet you.”

Because it doesn’t seem to matter much to David, you decide it’s worth the time to tell Ray your name. “It’s nice to meet you, Ray. I’m excited to hear you play.”

Not that you've ever heard of a band called Uncontrolled Bleeding. Still, Ray seems nice enough, and you're on a date. You should give them a chance.

David squeezes your waist and kisses you lightly on the temple. “You mind if I go backstage for a bit to say hi to the other guys? Won’t be long.”

What?

“Oh!” you manage to eke out over the great swooping nosedive your heart has just performed. He’s here to see his friends. He’s not on a date. “Of course. Take your time. I’ll just… walk around.”

David departs with Ray for a personal backstage tour while you bite down on your tongue and turn back in the direction of the main strip. A few vendors catch your attention, and you take your time because God knows David is taking his. A little bit of you revels in your own petty victory when, a half-hour later, Uncontrolled Bleeding begins to blare their metallic, screaming anthems across the park and you haven’t returned to the grand stand.

You find your way back to the jewellery vendor to ponder over your favourite necklace some more, but your night gets worse when you find that it’s disappeared from the headless display mannequin. You solemnly slide your wallet back into your bag and pause when you hear your phone ringing.

“Hello?”

“Where are you?” It’s David’s voice, presumably, though it’s so loud on the other end of the line that you can barely make out his words. “I can’t… where… left?”

You plug one ear and look vaguely in the direction of the grand stand across the park. “I can’t hear you very well, David.”

“… afterparty… downtown… going… Uber home?”

You press your lips together and look down at the ground: at your pretty sandals, your new dress. Your entirely wasted potential on a guy who wanted you to find your own way home. “Yeah, David,” you say tightly. You don’t particularly care if he can hear you. “You have fun with your friends.”

“Can’t hear… talk later… okay?”

You hang up and wander back toward the vendor selling elephant ears.

“Miller.”

“Hi, Joel.”

“Honey, it’s loud. Can barely hear you. Are you safe?”

“I’m safe, Joel, I promise. It’s just—Uncontrolled Bleeding.”

“What?”

“No, I mean, the band. They’re really loud. I hate to ask, and I know it’s late, but—”

“What do you need?”

“I, uh… I need a ride home. I can’t get a cab, and all the Ubers around are taken, and the busses are rerouted all the way—”

“I’m comin’ to get you. You just wait for me at the entrance, okay, baby girl?”

“Thank you, Joel.”

“You know I said you could call me for anything. I meant it.”

“Okay. I’ll see you soon.”

“I’ll see you soon.”

“Oh! Wait—”

“What? What is it?”

“Do you want an elephant ear?”

Joel is white-knuckling the steering wheel when he arrives to pick you up. Despite the congestion around the festival grounds and the fact that your apartment is at least fifteen minutes away, Joel makes it to you in a mere five.

“Did you blow every red light to get here, Mr. Miller?” you ask with a playful smile as you secure your seatbelt and settle on the truck bench.

“I was in the area,” he says with a crooked smile, looking your way. “May have pushed forty a couple times, though.”

You sheepishly extend a cardboard takeout box filled with fried, powdered dough. “Will you take this as my sincere thanks, or will you expect a separate batch of lemon squares?”

Joel answers by dipping his head and taking a bite of the flattened, doughy bread. You watch every minute movement, his strong jaw working as he chews, indulging you even though he’s already done far too much to get you out of this rut. He doesn’t once break eye contact while he eats; you begin to chew subconsciously on your bottom lip.

“Ain’t bad,” he declares at last, and your shoulders deflate with a kind of relief, “but if you let me take you for some real dinner, I’ll forget about that extra batch.”

You tentatively reach for his mouth and swipe some powdered sugar from his moustache with the pad of your thumb. You feel his eyes scanning your face all the while. “Look at me, the lucky girl,” you say softly. “One date goes wrong, and there’s a strong, handsome man waiting to take me on another.”

From the very first day, Joel Miller has always taken his time when it comes to looking at you. It’s a penetrative stare that makes your skin heat up from the tips of your ears down to your chest. His eyes are so dark, pools of warm melted sugar, and you feel yourself leaning, trancelike, slow, into that cavernous gaze. Your body is not your own. It seeks the subtle warmth, the familiar scent—sawdust, coffee beans, rich, dark cologne—and the violent torrent of sensation that erupts from the contact point when he cups your cheek in one hand.

You’re in the throes of attention, warm as a candle weeping fat waxen tears.

“Told you before,” says Joel, his thumb sweeping fondly across your chin, “you deserve somethin’ real.”

“Yeah,” you sigh happily, feeling all-too complacent under the touch of his rough palm, “maybe I do.”

Behind you, a car honks its horn, and Joel curses, pulling away from the curb. He takes you to Turner’s, a bar by campus that would be crawling with students if it weren’t for the festival. Joel comes around to the passenger’s door and opens it for you, helping you hop out with your hand enclosed in his. His palm is a steady weight on your back as you both walk inside the dim, stuffy bar.

The back is bustling with activity—drunk folks playing pool or watching the Huskies’ football game or splitting their attention between both—but the bar itself has enough spaces open to fit the two of you. Here, the light is burnt orange, and it makes the strands of grey in his hair shimmer gold. His eyes observe his surroundings with a military precision before they flit back to you, magnetic.

“Shame to waste this dress on that asshole,” says Joel, sweeping his gaze down, back up, barely perceptible. “You’re too goddamn pretty for any of ‘em.”

You’re deliciously abuzz with the incisive way he compliments you. It feels like being punctured down to your very soul; you will never forget the shape of the stain his words leave. “Do you spy on all my dates, Joel?”

He smirks. “Don’t need to spy on ‘em, baby. They’re a bunch of obnoxious kids.”

You huff, resting your cheek against your palm. “I just don’t get it. I thought David was just fine. Then, he takes me on a date just to abandon me for his friends and tell me to find my own way home.”

Joel shakes his head, scoffing as he runs his fingers through his beard. He does that when he’s frustrated sometimes, and you wonder if his hair is soft or coarse. “Piece of shit doesn't know how good he got it.”

“You must know something I don’t,” you say mirthlessly, watching the bartender approach from the other end of the long honey-oak block. “I haven't been able to get a second date since I moved in.”

Joel is silent, eyes still firmly fixed to you, until the bartender arrives, a charming middle-aged woman with a particular Texan twang you could recognise from a mile away. “What’ll it be, Joel?” she asks, giving him a sweet dimpled smile. “Hi, honey. This old man botherin’ you?”

“Only in a nice way,” you reply, squeezing his shoulder.

Joel hides his grin with a swipe of his fingers over his bottom lip. “Coffee for me, Rina. Drivin’ home.”

Rina’s eyes slide to you, and you ask for the same. You don't want to drink alone. She reappears moments later with two small, chipped mugs of dark roast in her hands. Setting them in front of you, she takes your food orders: a BLT for Joel and a veggie burger for yourself. It’s almost ten o’clock now, too late to eat, but your eyes droop sleepily and your stomach growls for a taste of real food. The powdered dough, shockingly, did not suffice.

“You ever miss Texas?” Joel asks once you're halfway into your respective meals. You notice that he only digs into his sandwich when you aren't eating, and abstains briefly to watch while you take your bites. It's an exchange of energy, a steady vigil by your side, the hypnotic pull of his warm body. You cannot scoot any closer to him, but your leg brushes his where you rest your foot on his barstool.

“I wish I remembered more of it,” you tell him. “I grew up a big city girl. Even lost my accent a year into being away. My dad would tease me about it all the time. Said I’d been gentrified.” You fondly shake your head. “Miss him like hell.”

“I can still hear it sometimes,” says Joel, tilting his head to the side, “when you get all passionate about somethin’. Like the time I installed your deadbolt and you tried to explain away your Backstreet Boys CD.”

You put your head in your hands. “Oh, God. I thought you'd forgotten.”

“Nuh-uh, baby, you ain't easy to forget. And I like when you get excited. You get this look in your eye.”

“Yeah?” You slide your foot up his ankle and bring the leg of his jeans with it. Up, down, you keep going, letting the relative darkness embolden you, his sweet little pet names and his silent adequacy enabling what is most definitely inappropriate behaviour. “Tell me about this look, Joel.”

He rests his elbow up on the bar and squares his broad shoulders to you. They eclipse all the other patrons behind him. “You've got pretty eyes,” he tells you. “First thing I noticed when I met you all those months ago. Saw how they lit up when you smiled. Heard your happiness when you told me about Texas. It was nice to be the reason you smiled, ‘n’ I just wanted to make it happen again. I couldn't say no to you. Don't know how any man ever could.”

The revelation stuns you in your seat. His expression telegraphs little save for his attentiveness, his posture locked parallel with yours, singularly focused on the way you react to him.

You try for a joke. “And I was the only applicant.”

It crumbles, sand in your mouth. Something has shifted. Joel isn't the type to shy away from a conversation, but his gaze hasn't once shifted from your face. It feels like flames licking your cheeks, the heat of that look pushing in on both sides, inescapable. You find that you enjoy the way his attention makes you preen; you want him to look at you.

He thinks you have pretty eyes.

“You know that ain't the reason why,” he says, whisper-quiet and gruff amid the vague chatter in the bar.

“Why, Joel?” you ask, spine straightening, teeth sinking into your bottom lip. As you suspected, his eyes flick down your face, lashes obscuring the precise shade of his irises.

His Adam’s apple dips. “‘Cause I like you,” he says, the feeling of it like the slide of suede down your spine, “and I wanna keep you safe.”

You shrug slightly, giving him a smile. “I feel pretty safe.”

Joel’s hand drops to the bar top and his fingertips brush yours. The touch jolts your sleepy mind awake. “You're too good for every single one of those assholes you bring around. You know that, right?”

“I’m beginning to understand.”

“You deserve someone who's gonna be good to you. Give you all the attention you need. Make you… happy.”

You swallow thickly, the candle flame pressing in, sucking the oxygen from your lungs. “Thank you, Joel.”

His fingers begin to creep up every ridge of your knuckles, slowly turning over your palm so it faces the ceiling. The rough pad of his thumb traces the long lifeline inside.

“Repeat it.”

His eyes lift to yours, and for a moment, there’s something in them that ignites an instinct inside you to flee. There's danger in those eyes: the careful, measured restraint of a man who knows more anger than he lets show. A flicker, brief but incandescent, passes through your head, an electrical current.

He’s the reason you never had a second date.

It disappears the instant it comes, the Paterian glimpse of an idea in its entirety fleeing for the horizon, and the instinct recedes in favour of the warm, melting sensation his fingers disseminate through your bones.

“I deserve someone who will be good to me,” you repeat, like a mantra. “I deserve someone who’s going to make me happy, and keep me safe.”

“That's right,” says Joel, brushing his thumb along the veins in your wrist. You feel the shiver, but you're locked to him, your eyes unable to take in any information apart from the way he feels, looks, smells. “You're a good girl, baby.”

Your lashes flutter and a sweeping rush of pressure descends on your core at the way those words sound on his tongue. You picture him directing you to your knees and calling you a good girl while you take his big cock between your lips, imagine the way he would hiss through his teeth, good fuckin’ girl, that’s it, baby girl, while he fucks you from behind, merciless. Hands and tongues and limbs would mould into one another, amalgamate, becoming indistinguishable.

He would be good to you. You know it. He’s always been good to you.

“Joel?”

“Hmm.” Fingers still make idle patterns on your forearm.

“I think you should take a look at my sink when you get a chance. It might be broken.”

No amount of coy suggestion could make him ignorant to your desire for closeness. You can feel your body screaming for it, grasping at him with buffed claws. Joel smirks, looking down at your foot making a path up and down his ankle.

“I’ll take a look tomorrow.”

It’s two o’clock in the morning when a shuffling outside your bedroom door guides you out of a decent sleep. In total silence, the most minute noises can be deafening. But it sounds, to your sleep-addled brain, like the hasty retreat of footsteps.

You blink awake, shifting onto your other side to peer above the darkness of your doorway. Through the bleary haze in your eyes, you notice a tiny red light in the upper corner of the room.

You squint, rubbing your eyes furiously to pry them open wide, but your vision is the static grain of an old television, and your eyes refuse to adjust. Instead, you grumble, pulling your comforter over your head, and go back to sleep.

You’ll tell Joel tomorrow.

THE LANDLORD

He cannot wait until the morning.

The nighttime, he discovered long ago, is a friend. It’s the gentle descent of darkness, the horizontal fall of the golden-hour sunlight scanning the entirety of the apartment before it at last succumbs to silent, tar-black night. Occasionally, a car will pass below, or the honk of a horn will tear jaggedly through the quiet, but most times, Joel can sink comfortably into the dark and assume his post.

Six months ago, he showed some restraint.

Of course, the connection was instantaneous—the pretty girl standing in his foyer with a radiant smile on her face, drinking in the chipped paint and ancient railings and furniture imprinted with years of use, arrested all movement of his heart. You wore a white dress and a pair of strappy sandals, not suited whatsoever for walking the city but perfectly tailored to make an impression. You arrived punctually, all smiles and handshakes and Southern politeness despite your insistence that you'd left it all behind. You shone. And when Joel slid his rough, work-worn hand into yours, dipping his gaze to watch the way he dwarfed your fingers, he felt a tremor roll gently from your body to his, thunder over a mountain. He wanted to chase the next lightning strike.

It began leisurely, like a hobby, something he could go to when life got a little much. He watched you come home, examining the way your shoulders rounded slightly when you were upset and the way you wiggled your fingers in a wave to those passing by when you were happy. He watched, typically from the garden out front, as you pranced about your balcony on cool mornings to the electronic croonings of Britney Spears, curled up in a chair with a blanket over your legs and a coffee mug warming your hands, or watered your thriving plants from where they hung in the direct morning sunlight. Your day-to-day became his day-to-day.

And then, he was doing more than merely watching. He was following.

Your favourite coffee place by the apartment building, just a block away. He lingered far behind that first morning, his fingers twitching in your direction before the rest of his body steered him. The neighbourhood wasn't so great back then, prone to muggings and the like. He wanted to keep you safe. That was all.

You ordered something cold, too sweet for his tastes, and sat for a while as you worked. The barista spent the rest of your time there eyeing you up whenever he could. Joel scoffed. He wouldn't know what the fuck to do with you. Just a goddamn kid.

He followed you to work and back, on those rare days he wasn't occupied maintaining the grounds. You sat in a corner cubicle with a decent amount of sunlight and typed away on your laptop all day. Joel monitored the company’s publications just so he could have a glimpse of the way you wrote; he wasn't interested in makeup, but he bought a subscription to Viva because he wanted to trace his fingers over your name in those small italic letters. MANAGING EDITOR.

Your writing is clean, efficient, and smooth. It reads like velvet. He keeps a pile of magazines and newsletters tucked in the back of his bookshelf. For the August edition, they printed your interview with a local prizewinning novelist; you beamed in the picture, photographed in your favourite coffee shop, so happy and so generous, sharing your talent with others.

He was so fucking proud.

Five months ago, he watched you bring a date home for the first time.

It blindsided him. He could not prepare, plan, or sabotage. He could not do a thing as you guided the man—a fucking kid with a too-big ego, grinning smugly for his imminent conquest—inside the elevator. Joel could only watch helplessly, wiping his brow from his precarious place on the ladder, as you walked past him with no more than a soft, sweet smile. He never forgot the painful imprint of that smile on his eyelids. It still burns his eyes late at night, when he stays awake inside his office, monitoring his dual screens. He will pinch the bridge of his nose and close his eyes just to replay the memory of that look.

The kid left the next morning, before you woke. He never contacted you again. You trudged into the lobby that day, a weariness in your eyes that did not match the vibrant colour of your dress. You spoke idly to another woman in the elevator about your broken thermostat, hugging yourself to keep warm.

It was working perfectly a few hours later, and there was a bouquet of roses waiting for you at the concierge’s desk. Fiddling with the red ribbon, tears welling in your eyes, you asked who the admirer was. Sam shrugged his shoulders, but when you turned to look out the front windows, you saw Joel tending to the red roses in the garden bed.

It earned him the first taste of your baking. Biting into one of those moist, warm brownies felt like melting a little piece of you down and moulding it into the shape of his mouth. It felt like taking a piece of the girl he’d coveted for weeks and rolling it over his tongue, keeping it. Swallowing it down. There it rested inside his stomach until the next time he did you right.

He wanted to tell you no. To insist that he would do anything to make you feel good even if you wanted nothing to do with him. To make it clear that he did everything for you, not for some feeble professional relationship between a landlord and his tenant. He breathed you. He needed you.

So, four months ago, he began to watch you through the cameras.

They’re small, discreet, tucked into holes in the wall that have been spackled over, repainted, re-sanded. He ran the wiring while you were at work, listening to your CDs on loop to get a better sense of the earworms you hummed on your way out the door every morning. One in the living room, one by the entrance, and one in the bedroom.

He could keep you safe this way. This way, he would know if those men you brought you home were treating you right—fucking you like you deserved.

You were so goddamn pretty when you came. For months Joel had sat in his office, slicked-up cock in his hand, jerking himself hard and fast to the pictures of you in Viva. For months he’d spilled over his fingers, on his belly, on the glossy pages of the magazines. The heady, cloying scent of his own sweat and cum stuck to his nostrils. It wasn’t enough. He could imagine wrenching open your tight little pussy all he wanted—the slow, heavy drag of his cock between your hot, wet walls and the sweet noises he’d steal from your tongue—but it wasn’t the satisfaction he needed.

Joel needed you. Your body, your smile, your voice. He needed to wrap you tight around every vein, a tourniquet, squeezing until all feeling was lost.

You would be his, in time. He just needed to make it so.

The first time he watched you pleasure yourself, rain pattered gently against the window panes and thunder echoed in the distance. A couple grids had already lost power, and Joel had a backup generator if the apartment was next, but you did not seem to mind one bit that the storm drew closer. You clicked off the television, retired to the confines of your bed and its soft white linens, and slipped your hand beneath your flimsy shorts. Joel sat upright, his back creaking in protest, his knuckles white around the edge of his desk as he watched, unblinking, the way your fingers gently circled your clit.

He didn't touch his cock once that night, no matter how deeply his own need tugged at him. He couldn't look away from the camera feed for fear that he may miss the moment you reached your orgasm.

When it arrived, it was delicious to watch. Your back arched, your lips parted, and your eyes fluttered shut, fingers rapidly rubbing your slick pussy as you seized under your own ministrations and slowly settled, melting into the mattress. He needed to see more. He needed to be there.

You were a chiaroscuro of savoury, sultry magnetism and the ichor of the morning sunlight. You were kind and thoughtful. You were gentle, patient, attentive. You were one hell of a baker. You were so fucking sexy it made his tongue prickle with the prospective taste, the anticipation of touching your soft skin engulfing any sense. Reason had no place in Joel Miller’s mind when it came to the sweet girl upstairs.

Three months ago, you had recovered from the evident betrayal inherent in expecting more from your date than a one-night stand. The next man was older, a partner at a law firm, and took you to dinner at a nice restaurant. He asked questions about you and reciprocated your enthusiasm for good cuisine. He was kind and treated you well. But an incendiary rage ignited in Joel at the sight of the bastard’s hand on your lower back. Another man was touching you. Another man was getting close to you, making you smile, whispering in your ear. Another man was attempting to claim what was rightfully his.

Joel followed your date home that night instead. He lived in a high-rise downtown, the sort of building that had a doorman and a valet.

Joel followed him down to the underground lot with a lead pipe in hand.

“‘scuse me.”

He shut his car door and turned around, giving Joel a polite smile. “What can I do for you?”

A calculated sheepish scratch on the back of his head. “Just… ah, shit, I don’t mean to bother, but my engine isn't turnin' over and my phone died. Mind if I used yours?”

He patted his pockets for his cell and gave it enthusiastically. Joel did not take the phone. He used the proximity to pull the man close and bring the pipe down across his head.

Blood bloomed, pretty and potent and rich as the roses he planted for you. The body made little noise, the skull shattered upon impact, the legs crumpling. It could never have been much of a man, going down so fucking quick. Should've put up a fight.

The man must not have liked you very much to let himself die. Joel, whose eyelids were tattooed with your radiant smile, would have crawled his way back out of a certain grave. Joel loved you. You belonged to him. This was a necessary consequence.

The pipe was dented by the time he was finished. Joel sank to his knees once the body fell, bringing it down again and again, the meticulous arc of the rusted metal uniquely stirring. It felt so fucking good, battering the skull to pieces, blood and brain and bone fragments accumulating on the ground and the pipe and his face. It felt good knowing he had kept another man from betraying you, hurting you, fucking you only to leave in a blur. He was being altruistic. He was becoming a good man for you.

Joel, kneeling in the pool of warm blood until his jeans were soaked crimson, rubbed his hand down his face and smeared the blood across it. Chest heaving, he let the grin stretch his face.

He had found his calling.

Two months ago, he slipped inside your apartment while you were asleep.

You had a rough day. Your boss insisted the company could not afford to give you a raise despite skyrocketing share prices and all the fucking work you’d done for them. The rain started just before you left the building, holding back tears, and a car splashed icy, muddy water on you during your walk home. Salt in the wound. You were sniffling as you let yourself into the apartment, your hands trembling with the effort of shouldering your bag and your misery. Joel approached you from behind and lifted the bag onto his shoulder.

“Hi, Joel.” Sad and soft and still so polite despite it all.

“Hey.” He opened every door for you on the way to the elevator and rode it up with you for good measure. “Wanna talk about it?”

You just shook your head and sidled up next to him, your cheek resting on his shoulder. He held his breath, overcome with the sensation that if he moved an inch, the spell would break, and the comfort you sought from him would slip between your fingers. Your arm brushed his, your dewy lashes fluttering as you finally let yourself relax. Joel inhaled, and the scent of you cleaved him down the middle: rain and perfume.

“Would you give me a raise?”

He looked down at you and smiled. “For a batch of those cupcakes, I’d give you whatever you like.”

It was a half-truth. He’d give you whatever you wanted, cupcakes or no. The sound of your laughter dripped into his bloodstream, saline. It cleansed him of the wrongs he'd committed. He was doing what needed to be done. The world had to realise it turned for you, and then all would be right.

Hours later, when the sun finally dipped below the horizon, shrouded by distant skyscrapers, he sneaked his way inside. His master key made easy work of the lock, but he had to pull the chain lock off with a pair of pliers because his hands could not reach between the gap. He made clinical work of it and stepped inside.

There was a chair in the corner of your bedroom for days you felt like reading by the window. Joel lowered himself into it and began his vigil.

It was a science to study the way you slept. He began to learn the patterns of your breathing, the minute movements of your limbs and how they translated to the moods of your dreaming. The amount of times you turned around, groaned, or hummed correlated directly to the sort of day you'd had. He began to map your tells in his head, drawing them out, formulating blueprints of the simple things that made you.

To Joel, it was like connecting a red string between thumb tacks, like pouring the varnish over a finished painting, sealing a promise, closing an envelope. He enjoyed the satisfactory slotting of each puzzle piece into place, creating your image, finally knowing you.

By then, he’d caught the virus. He’d let himself get close, and now he was infected with it—that insatiable need to be near, to watch, to admire from mere feet away.

He continued to acquaint himself over the weeks with your sleeping self to supplement the time he could not spend with you while you were awake. On more than one occasion, he got careless, letting himself succumb to sleep in that corner chair, joining you in the dream world. In those dreams, you were wrapped up in his body, warm and soft and tight, and he was taking. He was behind you, on top of you, beneath you, forcing you to look in the mirror as he spread you open on his cock and wrapped his fingers around your throat. In those dreams, your eyes rolled back and your lips moulded to the shape of Joel, yes, oh my God, and he'd whisper back to you—my sweet girl, my good fuckin’ girl, all mine.

And you were. You were his.

Tonight, he followed you to the festival.

He watched you make a beeline for the necklace you wanted only to pout when you saw it had disappeared. He watched your face fall as David’s rejection sank bone-deep. He reeled in his own gnawing rage, pushing deep down that urge to storm right in and rip out the asshole’s throat with his goddamn teeth, and waited until you called him.

He knew you would. You trusted him. You needed him. You needed a strong, capable man to take care of you the way you deserved. So he waited inside his truck by the phone, happy to at last hear your sweet voice on the other end of the line.

Thank you, Joel.

He tucked those words under his ribs, letting them flower and spread. Those words gave him purpose, made him buzz with erratic energy, validated all his actions. He was doing everything right.

Your dress was so fucking pretty. Jesus, he wanted to slip his hands under the hem, finger the waistband of those pink panties he knew you were wearing, and bunch the fabric up around your hips as he stuffed you full of his dick. Fuck, he would fill you up with his cum and tuck your panties back over your abused pussy, keeping all of him safe inside. You’d be so happy. You’d get drunk off his cock, begging for it, crying for it. He’d give you everything.

You do feel safe with him. You said it yourself.

Now, leaning against the doorway in your bedroom, Joel turns the heart-shaped pendant over and over in his palm, rubbing his thumb over the smooth gold surface. It’s cool and quaint and will kiss your skin beautifully. But he needs to wait for the right time. He needs to make sure you’re ready.

The sense memory of your fingers on his skin, gracious and gentle, the way you always are, is pushing at the edges of his control.

There's no one like you. He’s never been more certain of anything.

You're so goddamn sweet in those tiny silk pyjamas, your body curled up on the bed and your leg slung over a large pillow. You may feel cold and lonely at night, but that's only for now. He won't let you feel alone much longer; his body calls to you, singing your name. He has only so much restraint, and he's been waiting for six months.

Your lips are slightly parted, your face smooth and serene under the spell of sleep. You're the reason he fixes what's broken. The world needs to be better for you. It needs to be safe and bright and perfect.

He planted tulips today. You’ll appreciate them, he thinks. He wants you to wake up to vibrant colours every morning and go to sleep knowing that he thinks about you.

You shift slightly in your sleep, a soft moan leaving your mouth as you hug the pillow closer. Joel straightens in the doorway, wondering if your mind can sense him nearby. He doesn't know what he would do with himself if you were dreaming about him. His eyes move from your pretty face down your chest, barely concealed by the tiny top you're wearing, to find the apex of your thighs, temptingly spread on the mattress.

He won't. He can't. You’ll never trust him if he loses himself to desire. Joel grits his teeth, his cock achingly hard in his jeans, and unbuckles his belt as silently as he can. He pulls out his dick and squeezes himself at the base, staving off what he knows will be a too-fast orgasm. You move again, your body stretching out on the bed. Joel spits into his palm and begins to stroke his cock.

He can see a sliver of your waist where your shirt rides up, half of your ass where your leg is slung over the pillow, and your tits smushed together just over the hem of that scrap of a top. You're all of his fucking fantasies rolled into one. Joel breathes hard through his nostrils, his fist tight around the tip of his cock.

He wants to shuck down those little shorts and put his face in your pretty pussy. He wants to grab your hips and guide his cock inside you. He wants to slide into your addictive cunt until you forget your name. Until you forget every name but his. Your soul will be stained with him. His has never forgotten your shape.

God, your tight pussy would feel so fucking good around his cock. He jerks himself roughly, bracing his hand against the doorframe when a little whimper leaves your mouth. Fuck, he mouths, gritting his teeth so hard that his jaw begins to ache. He fucks his own fist, sloppy and unrefined, eyes fixed to your waiting pussy between creamy-soft thighs. His cock dwarfs your slit, eager to spread you open—he’ll fix so nicely once he gets you ready.

Joel feels his stomach tighten, his balls pulling up, his jaw taut as he brings himself to a high over your body the way he has so many times. He switches so he can jerk off into the hand around which his gift to you is coiled, spilling his cum all over his fingers and the necklace as he bites into the heel of his palm. His spine decompresses and his cock slowly softens in his hand, the tension briefly relieved. His fist gradually loosens around the cum-slick necklace; the heart has imprinted its shape into his palm.

You stir, turning over in your bed, and Joel hastily departs, tucking his cock back into his jeans. He has enjoyed this brief interlude, but he has work to do.

Besides, he’ll see you in a few hours. He knows damn well the sink works just fine, but he’ll take any excuse to see you again. And it seems you’ll do the same.

Joel keeps him in a spare apartment in the building, one whose walls have been padded for soundproofing.

Joel’s sleeves are rolled to his elbows and he's occupying the chair across from David, who's taking his sweet fuckin’ time waking up. Joel’s been pacing for a half-hour, rubbing his fingers over his bottom lip, contemplative, but the bastard won't move.

So Joel takes a seat, grabs a fistful of the kid’s hair, and yanks it forcefully so he’s staring him right in the face.

One eye is already blackened—Joel got a little carried away. The sedative worked perfectly, but David has a punchable face. It took all he had not to keep going.

“Mornin’, sunshine,” says Joel as the kid slowly blinks awake, bleary and unfocused. “Eyes on me, now. Don't want you slippin’ away again.”

David only stares for a moment, gears grinding gently to life in his brain Once that animal instinct kicks in, the kid starts writhing against his restraints, bucking hard in Joel’s unrelenting grip. It's useless, of course. He’s tied by the wrists and ankles. Helpless.

Good.

“What—why the fuck… let me fucking go, man, please,” groans the kid.

“You made a mistake, David,” says Joel. “Think I’m gonna forget about that?”

David whimpers, flexing his hands subconsciously as pain undoubtedly prickles his scalp. Joel hasn't let go of his hair. “Please just let me go, man. I swear I didn't do anything. If you want money, I’ve got money.”

Joel smirks, a scoff slipping out. This is rich. The delectable flame licks up his throat again, indistinguishable from the pleasure of a good meal, a good fuck. It's craving. It’s darkness. He sinks deeper.

“You think it's manly to leave your date for your friends and leave her to find a way home herself? You think it's funny to treat her like a little toy and then leave her when you're done?” Joel sneers. “You didn't even call her back, David.”

He whines out another please, his ankles ineffectually kicking out. “I don't know what the fuck you're talking about. Just let me go. Fuck, it hurts.”

“You don't know,” says Joel, repeating it, slow and savoury, rolling it around in his mouth. “You wanna know the most insulting part, David? You don't even care. You made her upset, and you didn't get on your goddamn knees to beg her forgiveness. You didn't do everything in your fuckin’ power to get her back.” Joel brings the knife from his pocket and idly pushes the tip into David’s cheek. “You think she ain't worth that, David? Tell me the truth, now.”

David shrieks, hysterical, the terror and pain so fucking delicious that Joel gulps it down and yet still wants.

“Are you fucking kidding me? No bitch is fucking worth it. She was cute, but that's it, I swear. I didn't know she had a boyfriend. I wouldn't have—”

The knife digs, gouges, splitting skin and prodding muscle. Joel can feel the edge of the blade slot between the kid’s teeth. He howls, screaming for help to nobody that can help, not quite gone enough yet to realise his utter hopelessness. Joel will have to rectify that.

“Oh, I ain't her boyfriend yet,” Joel says calmly. “But I am hers, way she's mine. And you hurt what's mine. I can’t forget that.”

The knife retreats to admire its handiwork. The cheek is split, the edges jagged, spitting blood. The kid’s tears slip down his face and dip into the wound, salty enough to hurt. He screams and he cries and it’s beginning to get on Joel’s nerves.

“Please stop,” he cries, watching his assailant rear back and grip the knife tight, like an ice pick. “Please… fuck, please—!”

He’s getting real sick of that word. Please. A mere please can’t excuse the look he put on your face last night. A please will not absolve him of the cardinal sin.

No one—no one—makes you frown.

Joel sinks the knife into David’s knee, using both hands to drive it to the hilt. The kid’s face is ashen, white and grey as clouds rolling in, and his frail screams begin to peter out; he’s losing consciousness. Joel won’t have that—not until he’s finished.

“Stop whinin’, David. A real man falls in front of his woman and makes things right. A real man fixes what's broken. And a real man”—he twists the knife, gorging, glutting on the feeling of making amends on your behalf—“does everything in his power to show her he loves her.”

“Please…” The final, feeble attempt of a doomed man to return from the cliff’s edge.

Joel stands, adjusting his grip on the kid’s hair, and brings his knife just beneath his chin. When he drives it upward, he can see the shimmer of the blade through David’s slack, open mouth.

“I told you to stop whinin’.”

He’s in your bedroom again.

He felt the need calling to him, vibrating with a particular intensity he could not ignore. He rarely comes to see you twice in one night, but now that he's here, he knows it was the only way to settle his nerves.

You're asleep, lips parted against your pillow and a piece of hair fluttering in front of your face with every exhale. Joel approaches your bedside and tucks it safely behind your ear. You don't wake, but you hum sleepily, hugging your pillow closer. Joel smiles, satisfaction sinking deep and assured into his core. He's done right by you. You’ll go happily to him. Moth to a gemlike flame.

He wanders around the edge of the bed, gaze lazily indulging in your body as he goes. His cock twitches again with a need he cannot yet meet, the desire to move your panties aside and fill you with him. He does not. He kneels at your bedside, closest to where your legs have scissored apart beneath your sheets. The temptingly sweet call of that warm place between your thighs has Joel shifting your comforter aside and ghosting his fingers across the soft skin of your calf.

Your breathing deepens slightly, like you're sucking in a long mouthful of air, and then you settle. It's the only indication you give that you can feel his presence. And then it’s gone, and he’s hooking his fingers in the waistband of your pretty panties and bestowing upon himself what he's only seen through screens for months.

You're spread open and glistening, an indication of some preceding dream or fantasy playing out in that keen, busy mind. Your body is wholly pliant, so soft and glowing in the faint silvery light streaming in from the window, and it would be so easy to—

No. He will not taste you. If he does, he won’t stop. You need to trust him. There is blood on his hands that hasn’t yet washed clean, and he will not imprint those rust-red fingerprints on your body. You’re his world—what kind of man willingly imparts such pain onto a world he loves?

Some infinitesimal fractal lodged in Joel’s head obliged him to return to you tonight, to cleanse himself of the events that transpired under the illicit cover of night. The very sight of you reminds him what he’s doing this for. He crushes his nose into the wet spot that darkens your panties and inhales deeply, acquiring some sense of what you will taste like. The smell makes his head go fuzzy, intoxicated, tang and sweetness and impending gratification. In your sleep, you sigh, melting against the mattress.

Joel brings your panties back up over your pussy and thinks, Tomorrow.

THE TENANT

You're miserable when Joel knocks on your door the next day.

“He hasn't called me,” you tell him, letting yourself stew, sulking from the feeling of yet another man deciding you weren’t worth a follow-up phone call. “Am I repulsive? Am I a total freak? Is it something in my perfume?”

Joel looks down at you, lips parted as if on the precipice of a response, sweeping his gaze up and down your body. You’re wearing a simple sweater and skirt, but fuck, he can make you feel naked. His gaze penetrates deeper than flesh. It’s only then you realise he’s holding coffee.

Two cups of coffee.

“Oh, Joel,” you sigh, licking your bottom lip. “How did you know?”

“Lucky guess,” he says with a crooked smile, his voice a bit raspy, as if caught off-guard. He hands you your favourite drink—caramel macchiato, double espresso—from your favourite place down the block, and you could kiss him with how good it feels to hold the cool, condensation-slick cup in your hands. Your entire body deflates with the first sip.

“You’re my hero,” you tell him. “I mean it.”

Joel shakes his head fondly. “You got a funny sense of heroics.”

“They taste exactly like this,” you say playfully, tracing the rim of the plastic cup. “Thank you, Joel.”

He swipes his thumb across your chin. “It’s only coffee, baby.”

Since last night, something is inexplicably different. A new, once-forbidden boundary has been crossed. It may be technically inappropriate for your landlord to bring you coffee, touch you so intimately, call you baby. But it makes you feel like warm melting honey, and who is to say a feeling like that is wrong?

He’s wearing a blue T-shirt today. His hair is tousled like he slept on it, and your fingers tingle with the anticipatory sensation of how it would feel to take fistfuls of his locks in your hands. He’s stunning. And you catch yourself staring too late, tearing your gaze away the way one retracts their hand after burning it on the stovetop. Your heart skittering, you direct Joel to the sink and plan some excuse in your head for why it has miraculously fixed itself overnight.

But he doesn’t even spare a glance toward any of your appliances. He’s only looking at you.

“I got somethin’ else,” he says, almost shy, reaching into his pocket for a tiny box.

He grimaces when your eyes, wide and obviously panicked, meet his. “Jesus, I didn’t really think about how this looks. I’m not… proposin’, I swear.”

You both release a nervous laugh, but you cannot deny that your nerves are still fluttering at the sight of that simple suede box in his big hands.

He opens the lid and you gasp. It’s your necklace—the very same heart-shaped pendant you had been eyeing up at the festival. It’s shiny and polished and precisely, undeniably, the same one. “Oh my God,” you whisper, gently sliding your finger over the cool golden pendant. “It’s beautiful. Joel, how did you…”

“Turn around,” he says softly, the gentle direction guiding you better than any hand could. You obey, and Joel steps forward until his hard chest is flush to your back. He’s warm and sure and smells so good—cologne and coffee and mint and something potent, like iron—and all your questions fizzle to sparks in the air. You can no longer grasp for them. You reach out and you only find him.

His touch is careful. The heart-shaped pendant settles against your breastbone and shimmers in the afternoon light. Your chest briefly shimmers with the thought that you were made to wear this necklace. His large, rough hands ghost across the back of your neck as he secures the clasp, and you shiver. A single knuckle trails slowly down your spine, bumping every vertebrae on the way.

“It ain't your perfume.” His deep, grumbling voice is equivalent to the scratch of his beard against your temple as his jaw moves with each word. “And you're nothin’ close to repulsive. Look in that mirror and tell me what you see.”

There is a mirror, a full-length one by the entrance to your apartment, and it's surreal to watch your own body turn to face it, to watch yourself defer entirely to the man behind you. It feels nice to just let him steer you every which way.

“I see you,” you tell him, your hand lifting to the pendant on your throat. “And this.”

Joel clicks his tongue, his nose sliding up your temple. “What else do you see?”

You watch your lashes flutter, your head listing slightly to the side. “I see myself.”

“Hmm.” It’s a sound of approval, his palm now sliding around your waist and his arm banding across your body. He presses his hand to your hip bone and pulls you back against him. “Such a beautiful girl in that mirror. Ain't that right?”

“Joel, I…” You can feel his swelling erection prodding your ass and your head feels hazy with a heady, lustful desire you can no longer ignore or dismiss. “I don't think we should be…”

“No?” His mouth curves against your temple and you shiver at the coarse scratch of his moustache on your skin. It feels deliberate, premeditated. “I won’t tell a soul,” he murmurs, his thumb stroking your hip right where the hem of your sweater begins to inch upward. You can see a strip of your own bare stomach in the mirror. He’s making your eyes droop, your lashes flutter, your body light up from one nerve ending to the next, a closed circuit.

Oh, God. His touch is measured, gentle yet barely restrained. It is dipping a finger into the water just as it nears its boiling point. Months of staring and dreaming and retreating to your bed to touch yourself to thoughts of someone you cannot touch have led you here: his necklace, his gift to you, sitting prettily on your throat, his capable hands moulding you slowly to the shape of him. He’s touching you.

“You like me?” His voice rubs hard on your ears, sanding you down, smoothing the rough edges. He lets you linger on the precipice, a firm grip on your hand, letting you make the choice: to let go, or to reel yourself in.

“I like you,” you whisper, snapping the tether and plummeting to the warm, wet earth below.

You watch Joel’s eyes close in the mirror, something like a prayer falling from his lips. It does not take the shape of words—it is gruff and yet soft, hardly loud enough to discern over the ringing in your ears—but it’s so reverent that you can picture yourself falling to your knees at the sound of it.

His hand skims up your waist until he finds your throat, gently pinching your jaw so he can direct the turn of your head. You go easily, tilting your gaze back to rest your temple on his shoulder, as his other hand slides up from your hip to your ribs, grazing the underside of your breast. “You like me enough to touch you like this?”

You gasp, finding an anchor in the deep brown—nearly black, now—of his eyes. They’re warm but they’re dangerous; once you look, the cage door slides shut, and you’re trapped.

This must be one of your many dreams.

“Yes, Joel.”

“Mmm.” He smirks, teasing his tongue across his plush bottom lip. You watch the movement and feel yourself tightening, want want want a chorus in your ears. “You wanna kiss me, baby girl?”

Silently, you nod, your fingers gently sliding through his silky locks while your other hand seeks the strong balancing force of his shoulder. His smile sobers to a deep, stunning severity, and you cannot think to let it frighten you when you’re already slanting your mouth over his.

It starts slowly. His mouth is soft, his hands deftly returning the fervour with which you hold him, cupping the back of your neck with his other hand warming your ribs. A small gasp escapes you, and a rumble of satisfaction passes from his chest through yours, and it flips an ineffable switch inside him.

Joel turns you in his arms, his chest pressed to yours, his hand shooting out to brace against the wall as he walks you back toward it. Sufficiently cornered, you let your body melt into him, his palm now warming your lower back, his tongue feverishly seeking the seam of your lips. You let him pry you open, tasting the coffee and mint on his breath and inhaling the rich scent of him, sticking it with greedy hands to the walls of your brain. You’ll never tire of him, of this.

He kisses you like a glutton seeking more fulfilment, like an aesthete seeking that exhilarating, fleeting moment in time, desperate and unwavering and famished. Tongues slide together, hands grope and wander, fabrics shift. You can feel your sweater lifting at the same time your fingers finally find the hem of his T-shirt, but he beats you to the chase. You’re dizzy by the time he breaks away to remove your shirt, but you dutifully lift your arms to help him.

You seek his mouth again to resume the kiss, but Joel is decidedly feeling pious. He kisses his way down your throat, the necklace dangling from it, your sternum, your belly, sinking to his knees as he goes along. His hands are firm on your hips, squeezing, keeping you in place, while his mouth draws a map of you, eliciting the honeyed sensation of warm water dripping down your body.

“Oh, God,” you whisper, your head knocking back against the wall. It's so much. You've never been the object of attention quite like this, the marble statue at which the devout kneel, obsessive in their worship. You've never had a man fall to his knees to put his mouth all over you.

Has he wanted you as long as you’ve pined for him?

Joel grunts, his lips dragging open-mouthed kisses from one hip to another, his fingers hooking in the waistband of your skirt and yanking it down. You yelp, grasping his shoulders.

Joel only growls into your skin, his hands dropping to your ass and kneading you while he continues down past your hips. “So fuckin’ beautiful,” he grumbles. “So goddamn pretty. Don’t know how I waited this fuckin’ long. Jesus, baby girl, you're perfect. Goddamn perfect.”

His ramblings are poison. Every word infects, squeezing out your healthy cells, replacing them with the delicious scrape of fire against the ceiling of a room. The scratch of his beard. The sweet nurturing sound of his voice. The cared-for sensation of being kissed and touched and spoken to like you're someone worth a second date. Like you're worth the price of all the world and a couple stars, too.

And so the words slip out, shy and whisper-quiet and your cheeks burning hot enough to blister.

“Please, Daddy…”

Joel’s hands tighten on your body, a fractional movement that kicks up the frantic beating of your heart. He tilts his head back to gaze up into your eyes and you feel more naked with that single stare than ever before.

“That what you need, sweet thing?” he says, pressing his lips to your inner thigh. “You need Daddy to make you feel good?”

“Mhm,” you whine, the pitch of your voice pathetic and needy. You watch him crush his nose into your inner thigh, nipping at your sensitive flesh, and his name leaves your mouth in a sob.

“‘m gonna need words,” he commands, biting you again in reproach. “Talk to me, baby girl. Tell me what you want.”

“I want you to make me come,” you plead, grasping his soft greying hair in your fingers. “Please.”

“You gonna call me what you wanna call me?” he prompts, smacking your thigh. “C’mon, baby, lemme hear it.”

“Daddy!” you cry out, your hand tightening in his locks. “Fuck, Daddy, please make me come.”

Joel growls, bringing your soaked panties down your legs. Your knees nearly knock together, but he’s shouldering his way between them, bringing one up onto his wide shoulder. You're spread open like this, bared plainly for your landlord to feast upon at his will. The sight of his lips parted, waiting and ready to take your pussy into his mouth, has you trembling.

He gives a slow, experimental lick, sliding the flat of his tongue through your wet slit. You shudder, your head lolling against the wall. One teasing drag of his tongue and you’re butter, humming and whimpering for more, Daddy, please as he takes his fucking time tasting what you have to offer.

“Goddamn sweet,” he grumbles, his blunt nails digging crescent moons into the flesh of your ass, pulling your body flush to him. “Waited so fuckin’ long for this.” You watch the fire ignite from red- to blue-hot in Joel’s eyes, his gaze shuttering as he loses himself, devoted entirely to the process of unravelling you.

The next time he dips his tongue between your folds, he does it deliberately, calculated, as if he has already memorised your shape and now seeks to pry you open. He parts your lips to make way for his mouth, hot and soft against your clit. Softly, you cry out, watching as he presses a featherlight kiss to your pearl. You try to grind against his face, needing more, but a resounding slap to your ass stops you dead.

“No takin’ what I don’t give,” he says. “You understand me?”

You pout, but you nod your head anyway.

He decides it isn’t good enough and abruptly takes your clit between his teeth in a scolding bite.

“Repeat. It.”

“I’ll only take what you give,” you tell him. “I’ll be good.”

Apparently satisfied, he hums, diving back in and finally—finally—sucks on your needy clit. “Oh!” He’s eager, sure, but he’s practised. He’s meticulous in the way he applies pressure to your clit, lapping at you greedily and pulling back to draw your pleasure into measured tidal waves. You crest only to recede from shore, and then his lips suction to you again, his hand snaking around to your front and pressing down on your lower belly.

“Fuck!” you squeak, your stomach tightening as the dizzying pleasure overcomes you. “Joel, I’m gonna—!”

The orgasm pulls you under, drowning you with a forceful hand, your lungs sucking in mouthfuls of air. You seize, your heel digging into Joel’s muscled back, your fingers fisting his hair, your cunt clenching desperately around nothing, begging to be filled. Joel keeps his mouth on you all the while, licking you through your high, and you think it’s a benevolent act until your orgasm gently fades and he continues to make out with your pussy as if it never happened.

“Ah! Joel, please—” It’s so much. Too much; your pussy contracts relentlessly at the endless attention from his tongue, happily licking your clit and relishing the faint throbbing underneath it. It’s like he’s starved. His eyes are closed, his beard glistening with your wetness, his fingers dimpling your flesh as he pulls you right along to another high.

Two thick fingers gather up the juices you’ve leaked onto your thighs and push them back into your hole, insistent in their desire to enter. You gasp, your heart in your fucking throat: “That’s only two?”

He chuckles, but the vibration only makes you jump, letting his fingers sink inside your cunt to the knuckle. “Oh, fuck, fuck, Daddy, that feels so good, please make me come again, I need it, please—!”

Joel groans into your pussy, curling his fingers toward him so they press against a spongy spot inside you that sends your head spinning, your mind folding in on itself. All you know is the next orgasm, the best way to get him to give it to you, the fastest way to reach that indelible place once more, just once more—

Joel’s hand applies more pressure to your belly, and you scream, clawing desperately at his shoulder as you give yourself over to something much, much stronger than an orgasm. It’s foreign, the creeping sensation of an invader taking up residence in your body. You cannot see, cannot hear. It assumes control, tearing a cry from your mouth and locking all your limbs tight and splashing your wetness all over Joel’s chin, beard, shirt.

You think he only stops because you begin to list; he catches you around the hips and presses a soft kiss to your used little clit. “Mmmmm,” is vaguely how you manage to thank him, your eyes peeling slowly open.

“I know, baby girl,” he says, stroking your hip bone with his thumb. He litters kisses all over your thighs, coaxing you through the minute twitching of your muscles as they relax. “You did so good for me, pretty girl. So fuckin’ beautiful. My sweet girl.”

You shiver in his grasp, watching as he makes his way back up your body. He swipes his forearm across his wet beard and you moan a little at the sight. “Nobody’s ever…”

Joel crowds you, his hand cupping the back of your neck so he can guide your gaze up to him. “That's what you don't understand, sweetheart,” he says. “You can try to find another man to make you happy, but he won't be me. I’m the only one who’s gonna treat you right.”

“Joel…” Sense begins to push at the edges of your brain, but you only slump further into his touch, letting him secure your hair behind your ear. “This isn't right,” you whisper. “I pay you every month to live here. People will know. People will talk about me.”

“People have suffered worse for a hell of a lot less.”

You have no time to decode his words because he grabs your hand and presses your palm over his chest. Beneath the shirt and the warm, tanned skin, you feel a strong, rapid heartbeat, hammering away at his ribs. He maintains eye contact, the gaze incisive, peering right into the cluster of wiring inside your head that calls his name. “You feel my heart and you tell me this ain't real. You think this ain't love? You think it's obsession? Infatuation? Think I can’t see you lookin’ at me the way you do?”

His words pin you to the ground. They’re possessive, covetous—jealous. He wants you, and he knows you want him. All these months, he’s wanted you the way you’ve craved him; all the comforts and the roses and the baked goods in lieu of payment for substantial repair jobs; the times he’s let slide some late payments because I know it’s tough sometimes, the inexplicable kindnesses in your everyday.

Joel Miller dedicated himself to you the second you arrived to see the prospective apartment.

“You’re mine,” he says, his thumb stroking your jaw. “And I wanna hear you say it.”

People will call you a whore. They’ll think you’re pimping yourself out for cheaper rent. They’ll send you filthy looks. But the man in front of you makes you feel wanted. Desired. You’re better than all the dates that failed. You’re better than a shitty boss who won’t give you the raise you deserve. Joel is good to you. He’s always been.

“I’m yours, Joel Miller,” you say, resting your forehead against his. “Now please take me to bed.”

He grins, taking your hand and leading you to your bedroom. You get grabby straight away, fingering the hem of his shirt with a pleading look in your eye. You can still see the evidence of your orgasm staining the collar. “You can take it off, baby,” he says with that cocky smile, letting you lift the shirt over his head. In the sunlight, the grey in his hair shimmers, and his chest is bared to you. You lick your lips, placing your hands on his broad shoulders just to feel the way your palms contour to his dips and curves.

You lean in and put your lips to his neck, tracing the shape of him down to the hollow of his throat, He tastes faintly of fresh air and sweat, and he smells like you. Your hands admire the warmth and strength underneath them, his body so tangible when only yesterday it was a distant dream. He lets you indulge, though his hands flex at his sides, and your fingers fumble with his belt buckle.

“Help,” you mumble against his chest, bumping your nose into him. Joel chuckles, relieving you of your burden and shucking off his belt. It clinks along the floor somewhere nearby, and you can unbutton his jeans to bring them down, freeing his hard, throbbing cock.

Your mouth waters at the sight. He’s thick and slightly curved, the tip leaking precum onto his belly, his balls heavy with the need to come. During those long nights after long days of work, you would imagine, for hours on end, what lingered just below his belt; the little trail of hair leading down his soft belly to your destination; the way his wide shoulders would bracket your body, shelter you from all the tough shit you could possibly suffer. You would picture all the ways you could thank him. You bite your bottom lip and ready yourself to sink to your knees, but Joel is having none of it. He attacks your mouth, kissing you deeply, his hands sliding up your back as if he's trying to count every vertebrae. He doesn't relent even when your knees hit the edge of the bed and you collapse backward onto the mattress. He only crawls over you and pins you beneath his hard body.

“So pretty like this,” he says, lowering his head and nudging your chin upward with his nose to give himself better access to your throat. He sucks and nips at you all the way down, pausing at your heaving breasts. His fingers gently toy with one stiff nipple while his mouth occupies itself with the other, teasing it with his tongue and his teeth. You moan softly, content to watch him explore your body, squeezing your tits before he migrates downward.

“Daddy,” you whisper, stroking his hair away from his face, your head falling back onto the pillows as his fingers part your folds once more. “Fuck, please, touch me. I need you inside me.”

Joel settles in between your open legs and takes his cock in his hand. You mewl for him, determined in the face of his big cock to fit it nicely inside you. “Mmm, you ready for me, baby girl? You need Daddy to fill you up, use you like a pretty little toy?”

You’re nodding frantically, the words igniting you. “Please take me.”

Joel slaps the head of his cock against your clit, once, twice, watching your thighs twitch. Spreading the slick wetness from your pussy onto the tip, he finally guides himself to your hole and notches just inside.

“Jesus,” he utters. “Jesus, you're a fuckin’ dream.”

“It’s real,” you pant, “I’m real.”

He begins to disappear inside you, wrenching you open, your poor pussy disused from going so long without decent sex. You feel the pinching pain give way to a delicious pressure in your core as he eases into you, taking it slow despite his taut jaw, his gritted teeth. Your cunt forms a tight seal around his length, your arousal lubricating his entry, and you feel lightheaded. He’s so fucking big—and he’s still going.

“Oh, my… Joel—”

“I know, baby.” He brings his thumb to your clit and helps you relax with every circular swipe. “I know what y’like.”

You keen up against him, your thighs squeezing his hips. He's only halfway inside you and it feels like being filled up to your throat, choking on the air you breathe. Your head falls back, your hands flying up to your tits and squeezing.

“Daddy…”

One of Joel’s hands overlaps yours where it grasps your breast. “That’s my girl. You can take me. Always knew you could.” Still, he's panting with the exertion of holding back.

“You thought about me?” you say coyly, trying to pull him deeper inside you. He obliges, if only because you're being so petulant, and his hips finally knock into yours. You release a bone-deep sigh of relief.

“All I do”—his hips thrust shallowly, baring his teeth as he paws at your thighs—“is think about you.”

You cry out at the angle, the depth he reaches, how thick and heavy he sits inside you. Your pussy sucks him in, begging for more, and Joel obliges by hooking his hand in the back of your knee and pushing your thigh toward your chest.

Your vision whites, a ragged cry leaving your mouth. “Oh, fuck! Yes, yes, yes, that feels so good—”

“‘s right, baby girl. I’m the only one’s gonna fuck you this good,” Joel grits out, dragging his thick cock along your walls, spreading you open, forcing himself to fit. The head of his cock kisses your cervix with every thrust, measured in their intensity, just enough to drive you up the goddamn wall but never enough to sting. “I’m the only one you want.”

Your mouth is open and his pounding urges a steady rush of ah, ah, ahs up your throat. Joel leans over you and tilts your head back with a hand in your hair to slant his mouth over yours. He lets you pour your cries into his mouth and he swallows them down, fucking you so hard that your hips begin to ache.

He smatters your jaw with sloppy kisses. You lift your hand to his face and trace the patches in his beard, your brows drawn together in your perpetual haze.

“I dreamed about you,” you whisper, taking his earlobe between your teeth to make him growl against your skin. “Touched myself thinking about you.”

“I know,” he says, his hips grinding hard against yours, rubbing up against your used clit. He answers your gasp by nibbling your throat, and you keep him fixed to you with your hand at the back of his neck. His soft hair is matted with sweat and you want to bury yourself here, etch the shape of him into your stone. He's strong, capable, so present in this moment that your heart begins to throb to the beat of his.

Joel surges upward and takes you with him, forcing you to sit on his lap. At this angle, his cock reaches deeper, somehow, your mouth falling open and your forehead dropping to his shoulder. His palm is a soothing presence on your sweaty back as he tells you things that make you flush from your chest to your ears.

“Thought about takin’ you on the goddamn bar last night,” he grunts, guiding your ass in a rolling rhythm along his lap, his cock gliding slowly along your walls. You moan, your thighs shaking around his hips. “Thought about spreadin’ you over my desk and fuckin’ you dumb with my cock.”

You sob into the crook of his neck, grinding down on his cock, the pressure of his navel against your clit sparking hot in your lower belly. “What else?” you ask, nipping at the strong muscle where his shoulder meets his neck. Your tits are pressed up against his chest, his warmth engulfing you, your body slowly lowering over him as he guides you the way he likes.

His palm coasts down your spine until he finds your puckered asshole. His name is jagged and rubbed raw on your tongue.

“Shhh, baby girl.” The pad of his finger teases your hole with just enough pressure to ooze electric ecstasy down your spine. “Feels good, doesn't it?”

Fuck, his voice is so gentle, so knowing. You curl your fingers in his hair, your nose tickled by the locks that curl over his ears.

“Mmmhmm,” you mewl, lifting your hips as best you can despite the growing aches, telegraphing your desire to be touched by him—played with.

“Thaaat’s it,” he coos, his nose nudging your cheek as he turns his head. His finger continues to prod your asshole while his hips buck up into you. “Openin’ up for me like a good girl. You’d let me take you wherever I want, hmm? Whenever I want?”

“Yes, Daddy, yes,” you moan, your mouth perpetually open against the skin of his neck. You can’t think. You can't breathe. You can only drink down mouthfuls of him and let your body succumb to the delicious weight of his cock inside you. “Yes, I’ll be your little slut. I’ll be whatever you want. You make me feel so good.”

He seems pleased with your babbling, grinning into your cheek as he keeps you spread wide and pounds up into you. His finger continues to tease your tight hole until he feels your body contract around him and apparently decides that he isn't quite through with you.

“Turn around. Hands and knees.”

Who are you to refuse?

You lament the brief loss of his cock as you shift into your knees, resting your forearms on the bed and teasing him with a wiggle of your ass. Joel hums appreciatively, sidling up behind you and grinding his hard cock between your asscheeks. You jolt forward, but he catches you around the waist and warms his palm at your ribs.

Something warm and wet lands in a glob on your asshole, and you realise he fucking spit on you. Your head spins, dizzied by your own arousal, and soon, the warm, wet head of his cock slips back inside your hole, and you relish the refuge of being taken by him all over again.

“You wanna know what else?” He begins to fuck you hard and fast and almost angry in its intensity. His thrusts knock against your ribcage and rattle the bars, your heart floundering for a way back to the surface. “I thought about knockin’ on your door every goddamn day and putting my dick in this pretty fuckin’ pussy. Thought about your tight fuckin’ body every single time I saw you walk by and a long time after. I thought about the noises you'd make and Jesus, I was right. So goddamn sweet.”

You’re drooling onto the pillow, your eyes rolling back in your head, your fingers uselessly clasping handfuls of your white sheets. Joel is an animal, mounting you from behind and taking you hard, deep, the slick squelching noises of your coupling so crude and indecent that they burn through your ears like a lit fuse. It's wrong. You never should have kissed him. But wrong shouldn't feel like this.

Wrong shouldn’t taste like mint and coffee, shouldn't smell like roses and sawdust. Wrong shouldn’t feel like his cock sitting snug inside your pussy, some obscene jigsaw, seeping saplike pleasure down your spine.

This must be right.

His hands are rapacious, one wrapping around your hair and the other guiding the bend of your back, arching you perfectly to fit him while he takes you the way he likes. “Such a tease in those pretty dresses. Such a prim and proper girl ‘til she gets the right dick. You’ll get on your knees for this dick, baby girl, won't you? You’ll beg for it like a goddamn whore.”

“I will!” you moan, your cheek pressed into the mattress. The force of his thrusts have you travelling up the bed in minuscule movements, his thighs slapping hard against yours. “Fuck, I will, Daddy! Please, Daddy, I wanna make you feel good, I’ll do anything.”

“You're doin’ such a good job already, sweet thing,” he says, using his leverage on your hair and your waist to yank you upright, his chest pressed to your back, your ass now firmly sat in his lap. You moan long and low at the new angle, your back arching and your toes curling.

Joel groans against your jaw, his mouth travelling along the line of it in sloppy kisses that indicate he's about as close as you are. “Yeah, baby. Fuckin’ drunk on my cock. Fucked you good and dumb, hmm? Fucked you so good you can't even think.”

You can only manage a low whine, the sound of it a fleeting puff of air from your lips, the oxygen in your lungs depleting and replaced with the smell of him. You try to bounce on his dick—you really do try—but you cannot remember how to work the muscles in your thighs. You cannot remember what you had for breakfast nor the colour of the skirt you wore today. You can only vaguely understand the shape of the man behind you, the name that belongs to him, the way you curve and fit into him. You’re falling, the technicolour world outside your window fading to the sound of soft, beating wings—that may be your heart, fluttering in your ears—as you seize, yielding to the pleasure.

You will not recall the sounds you make when you come, grasping blindly at his thighs to keep yourself from falling over, your ears ringing. You feel his moustache scratching your jaw and his cock working you through your high, slowing his thrusts to help you land softly on solid ground. You may cry out his name, and you may call him something else entirely. But it's vibrant. It's radiant as the sunlight now dipping behind the distant buildings. It tastes just as sweet as the golden hour.

Joel does not stop fucking you when your body goes limp in his arms. No, he resumes his brutal pace, using you like a fucking toy to get himself off. You happily take it, your head lolling back against his shoulder and your eyes drooping.

“Nnh, fuck… I’m gonna… Jesus—oh, fuck—”

His hips press flush to your ass and he nuzzles his face into your throat, depositing kisses and love bites all over your skin as he pumps shallowly into you, his hot cum filling you up and leaking generously around the seal of your cunt. You gasp, your fingers threading through his already-tousled hair, keeping him glued to you as he flexes against your body and comes hard enough to double himself over.

He collapses on top of you, forcing you to bend at the hip, little puffs of air escaping his mouth and seeping into you. You whine, your sore hips battered and bruised, your pussy deliciously abused as you pulse continuously around his dick. “Joel, please…”

He comes slowly back into his body, his lips trailing down your spine as he lifts himself upright. “Shit. ‘m sorry, baby girl. You feel okay?”

You hum happily, letting yourself pant into the mattress. “Feels so good.”

Joel pulls out, savouring the tight drag of his cock out of your pussy, hissing through his teeth and watching his thick cum dribble slowly out of your hole. “Such a fuckin’ pretty sight. My sweet girl, all used up.”

You drop your face into your forearm and giggle. Joel smooths his hand over your lower back. “What's so funny?”

“Just…” You sound a bit hysterical as you continue to laugh. “I’m going to be late on rent this month. I put a down payment on a car.”

Joel lowers himself next to you and gently pulls you into him, his moustache tickling your cheek. “Planning on gettin’ the hell outta dodge?” he says playfully, nipping your earlobe.

Your eyes droop and you sink into him. “Think I’ll stay here for a while.”

“I know you will, baby,” he murmurs.

“Joel?”

“Hmm.”

“Thank you for the necklace.”

It’s night when you next wake, and Joel is next to you.

For someone so stern and strong, he looks utterly serene in his sleep. His lips are slightly parted, half his face pressed into the pillow, his hair curling around his ears and his arm lazily draped over you. You gently sweep a lock of hair away from his face.

Through the dark, the red light beams, and the arm around your waist tugs you closer.

THE END.

#kiwisbell's fics #pedro pascal #joel miller #the last of us #joel miller x female reader #joel miller fic #joel miller x reader #joel miller x f!reader #dark!joel x reader #dark!joel miller #joel miller smut #joel miller x you #tlou hbo

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yanderenightmare · 4 months

Text

Gojo Satoru

TW: forced relationship, murder of spouse

gn reader

Just thinking about how it would be the most yandere Gojo-thing to do to fight for your hand – knowing no one can beat him – even though you don’t even want him in return.

You’re happy with your man, but along comes Gojo, inviting the poor guy to fight for the right to have you.

At first, you tell Gojo to fuck off – obviously – but the more imposing and threatening Gojo becomes, the more you understand that he’s serious – that he’ll kill the guy.

And your man is all ready to die for you – so you’re stuck between begging Gojo to have mercy and begging your boyfriend to let you go – that you’d rather he live than lose him.

And Gojo’s just so petty and jealous and grossed out by the lovey-dovey scene that he ends up killing the guy anyway.

Claiming his win.

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cherienymphe · 3 months

Text

Teenage Dirtbag XI

JJ Maybank x Reader x Rafe Cameron

Warnings: NON-CON, DUB-CON, abusive relationship, domestic violence, violence (+ gun violence), gun kink, dacryphilia, attempted murder, mentions of blood, public sex, jealousy, manipulation, infidelity, underage drinking, drug use, canon ages, kook!reader

➥ banner by @vase-of-lilies | ➥ divider by @firefly-graphics

➥ series masterlist

summary: You’re charmingly spoiled. You’re too kind for your own good. You’re the princess of Figure 8 …and you’re way out of JJ Maybank’s league, but when he realizes that Rafe Cameron’s pride and joy is actually a bruised and battered damsel, he’s determined to save you.

Your rescue just comes with a price.

⭑

You gasped when Rafe tightly squeezed your wrist, pinning it down beside your head as his other hand trailed down your sweaty frame. It was only the evening, but after hitting a few balls at the country club, he came back in a mood that resulted in him reaching for you the moment he made it to his room. Any other day, and you would’ve gone played your role perfectly.

…but JJ was right downstairs.

All of Sarah’s friends were congregated in the living room, so you made yourself scarce no matter how much you actually wanted to stick around. It’d been hard to avoid JJ’s watchful eye every time you went downstairs, recalling the feel of him on top of you and his hands on you. It was something you hadn’t been able to stop thinking about for weeks—even while lying next to Rafe.

You were so conflicted…and not just because you were cheating on your boyfriend.

The whole situation with JJ felt…off. You hadn’t really wanted to go that far, and when JJ kept pushing, you were still unsure if you regretted giving in or not. Was he right when he said you were just scared because Rafe had mentally fucked you up so bad? Had you really just been afraid of the unknown? After all, up until that night, Rafe was the only guy you’d done practically anything with. Those things were very true…and yet you wondered if you should’ve forced yourself to go along with things you weren’t ready for like you had.

…because the truth was that you did enjoy lying underneath someone you felt safe with. When sleeping with Rafe and letting him touch you and returning the favor…you had never not been afraid. Your first time had been a drunk and bloody and violent mess. You didn’t know what it was like to be with someone you trusted and felt wholly comfortable with.

It was an entirely different experience.

Your conflicting feelings were too much, and it was something you wanted to talk to JJ about, but you could just never find the time. Rafe had been especially clingy as of late, and on the off chance he wasn’t, the rest of JJ’s friends happened to be around to where you couldn’t get him alone without arousing suspicion.

Like today.

Unable to get JJ alone, you were forced to basically do nothing but wait for Rafe.

Your boyfriend had been insatiable for almost an hour, twisting his hand into your hair and pulling your face closer the moment he walked into the room. Lying on his bed, you hadn’t had much choice but to slide your lips along the length of his cock, the only silver lining being when he returned the favor. You’d hoped that he would be quick…

“You’re so quiet,” he murmured into the crook of your neck, hips snapping against yours. “What’s wrong?”

When your boyfriend pulled back to look at you, you only shook your head.

“Nothing…”

There was a slight furrow between his brows, and you didn’t like the look that passed over his features.

“You know I like hearing you,” he said, pulling his lip between his teeth. “…and it’s not like we’re at Topper or Kelce’s.”

You swallowed, and his hand tightened on your wrist.

“Is this about Sarah’s dumbass friends downstairs?”

Your heart skipped a beat.

“No…I…” you licked your lips. “Not really.”

Rafe had stopped moving, holding himself inside of you as he looked over your face.

“Not really…?” he repeated, eyebrow raised.

Glancing around the ceiling, you sighed.

“I’d just feel embarrassed…”

It wasn’t a lie, but it wasn’t the whole truth either. You would feel embarrassed about Sarah’s friends hearing you, but you especially didn’t want to think about JJ hearing you. Obvious reasons aside, JJ was the only one to know about what your relationship with Rafe was actually like. You didn’t want to imagine what he’d think.

Rafe scoffed.

“Who gives a fuck about them? This is my house,” he said, tone cocky as he leaned in to kiss you. “Besides…”

He slowly pulled his hips back before thrusting back into you just as slow.

“Let them hear what I do to you.”

His tone was sinister, a mocking lilt to his voice as he started to snap his hips against yours again. When you bit your lip, his movements grew rough, and you sharply inhaled. His hair brushed your forehead as he leaned in, and you couldn’t avoid his eye.

“I’ll fuck you all night if I have to.”

The warning was clear, and when he pushed his cock into you again, you didn’t swallow down your moan this time. As embarrassing as it was, the shame eventually left you when Rafe started pounding into you, the sound of skin slapping against skin filling the room. At some point, you found yourself on your knees, fingers clutching the sheets and the pillows as he thrust into you from behind.

His hands were tight on your hips, and a mewl climbed out of your throat with every push of his hips.

When he leaned over you—chest pressing against your back—his hand snaked its way around your throat. His grip was tight, making you gasp and making your eyes roll. You reached up to cover his hand with your own, flinching when his teeth grazed your ear.

“You like that?” he wondered, and at your nod, he leaned down to nip at the skin of your neck. “Who’s making you feel this good?”

“You,” you gasped.

He hummed, a question in his tone, and he only seemed satisfied when you moaned his name. Pushing you down, he had you pinned, hips slapping against you as he repeated the question. Understanding what he wanted, you moaned his name again. And again. And again. Rafe only seemed satisfied when you were practically screaming his name, hand tight on your throat while the other dug into your hip and thigh.

When you came, you were shouting his name, and you heard him groan yours into your ear when he came too. You shuddered at the feel of him filling you up, shuddering at the stickiness between your thighs and the cum dripping around his cock and onto your folds. Laying you completely down, Rafe kissed down your back as he pulled out of you, telling you he was going to take a shower.

You wanted one too more than anything, but Rafe had a habit of commencing round two whenever you joined him under the water.

Instead, you took the time to roll onto your back, staring up at the ceiling as you pulled the sheet over your chest. As great as the sex was with Rafe—when it was consensual—you couldn’t help but to compare it to your time alone with JJ. Thinking back, you’d always thought your former friends were lying when they talked about other things being better than sex depending on the guy.

…but JJ’s fingers and his lips had sparked more excitement than anything Rafe did.

You knew why, and it made you sigh. Resigning yourself to everything with Rafe had been so much easier when you didn’t know what you were missing. You did now, though, and you weren’t sure how you were going to continue to pretend with no problem. Dealing with Rafe’s abuse didn’t seem like the worst thing in the world when you didn’t know how much better ‘better’ could be.

The fact that the ‘better’ was right downstairs had your heart skipping a beat, and as much as you wanted to go downstairs again just to see his face, you weren’t quite ready to face him after he’d so clearly heard Rafe fucking you.

“I’m sorry, okay?”

You wiped your face, crossing your arms over your chest as JJ pleadingly gazed at you. The pool house was quiet save for your occasional sniffle, and you were still when the blond reached for you—not quite rejecting him, but not quite accepting his advances either. There was still some dried blood under his nose, and the skin under his eye was already beginning to bruise.

All of it was evidence of his actions not even an hour ago.

Against your better judgement, you went along with Rafe to a small party on the beach. You’d texted JJ to see in advance if he was going to be there, seeing as the answer to that would determine your own actions, but you’d gotten no response. Hence, your own slight shock at seeing none other than a familiar blond talking to Kie.

You’d looked away the moment his eyes met yours.

Rafe—and you by extension—had kept his distance, but you hadn’t exactly anticipated JJ to be the one to start trouble tonight. Rafe had been talking to some friends that weren’t Kelce or Topper, his hand tight on your waist as he held you close. Per usual, you’d been quiet, just sipping on a beer you didn’t even like as your gaze roamed over the beach.

Your boyfriend had been shoved out of nowhere.

Before either of you had time to react, JJ was on him, throwing punches and taking you by surprise. No amount of yelling could get him to get off, and even when Rafe eventually got his bearings and started fighting back, blood was already smeared under his nose and on his lips. While Rafe’s friends tried to join in and make it unfair, John B. and Pope only tried to break it up.

You didn’t understand what happened, only able to look on in horror as your boyfriends fought.

When JJ slammed Rafe’s head into the sand, your heart jumped. There was a look on the younger blonde’s face like he could kill, and for a moment, you thought that he could. You hadn’t forgotten what he’d said to you in Rafe’s kitchen that day, and you didn’t want to acknowledge the way a brief bout of relief filled you at the thought of him actually killing Rafe. The feeling scared you, so much so that it made your stomach turn, and all relief was gone the moment you imagined JJ in jail.

You only wanted Pope and John B. to get him off of him.

When they did, they struggled to hold him back, and Rafe’s friends fared no better, your boyfriend determined to get his hands on JJ. You’d only been able to look between them, eyes lingering on JJ as he was pulled away. You hadn’t missed his brief glance towards you and the venom you saw there. You were only pulled from the trance by the feel of Sarah grabbing your arm.

“Are you okay? You didn’t get caught up in that, did you?”

You’d shaken your head, and she’d angrily tucked her hair behind her ear.

“Kie will drive you home,” she’d said. “I’m sure Rafe won’t take much convincing.”

She wasn’t wrong.

Your boyfriend was huffing and darting his eyes every which way when Sarah proposed she make sure you get straight home. Even if your boyfriend hadn’t said it, you knew what he was thinking. He still had a fight in his eyes, and you knew that whenever he made it to The Cut, if he didn’t find JJ, he would settle for either of his friends.

That was exactly what you told the blond the moment you walked through the pool house, positive as to where he’d found refuge.

“I’m sorry,” he repeated. “I don’t know why…”

JJ trailed off, running his hands through his already messy hair.

“No…”

He chuckled to himself, shaking his head.

“I know exactly why I did that.”

He moved closer to you, jaw clenched as he gazed at you.

“I hate that everyone thinks he’s such a great boyfriend,” he sneered. “I hate that he can just walk into a party with you on his arm like he doesn’t treat you like absolute shit!”

Your face fell, and your gaze found the floor.

“God, seeing you standing there…? Like his little accessory or something? Just hanging on his arm without even being acknowledged like you aren’t even a person?” he wondered. “It made me angrier than expected.”

You sighed at that, some of your own irritation dissipating.

“JJ,” you exhaled, sadly looking at him. “You can’t let that bother you.”

“…but it does!”

His voice bounced off of the walls.

“It’s not fucking fair,” his voice was quieter, now, hand coming up to rest on your arm. “It’s not fair that he gets to treat you like that…and have you too.”

You could see it then—there in his gaze—that this wasn’t just sparked by tonight.

Closing your eyes, you sighed again.

“I can’t exactly…refuse to have sex with him JJ,” you softly whispered, slowly meeting his gaze.

You could see that it bothered him, disgust and anger flitting over his features.

“The rest of them were making jokes and pretending to gag,” he gradually replied. “…but all I could think about was him giving you a black eye…and then having sex with you weeks later.”

You wrapped your arms around yourself.

“So you fought him?”

“What else can I do?” he seriously wondered, giving you a look. “…until I can figure out how to get you away from him…I have to settle for kicking his ass.”

You couldn’t even focus on everything JJ said, lips parting as you blinked at him.

“Get me away from him? JJ,” you lightly scoffed. “I…”

Of course, you wanted that, but Rafe was…Rafe. Rafe Cameron, son of Ward Cameron and equally as rich as you. You didn’t want to imagine the things he could get away with considering what he’d already gotten away with. You recalled Ward’s convincing tone that day you’d called the cops on your boyfriend, telling you everything that you already knew. You especially remembered Rafe’s hands on your throat one night, threatening to kill you if you ever left him.

You’d long accepted your fate of walking on eggshells around Rafe forever.

“Are you telling me you don’t want to get away from him?” the blond wondered, fingers grazing the skin of your cheek.

“I do,” you told him, shaking your head. “You know that I do, but… I have no way of…”

Your words trailed off as JJ shushed you, his other hand coming up to rest on the other side of your face. His nose brushed against yours as he leaned in, foreheads touching too. His thumbs traced circles into your cheeks as he closed his eyes.

“Don’t you worry about that,” he whispered, lips brushing yours as he spoke. “I’m going to get you out.”

He pressed his lips to yours, and you thought about Rafe on The Cut looking for JJ, none the wiser to the fact that he was with you.

“I promise you.”

Ward and Rose’s party was in full swing, and yet you found yourself on your fifth drink of the night on the back porch. Rafe was especially irritating, going on and on about JJ, and unable to take it anymore, you’d slipped away to find comfort in your solitude. Since Topper and Kelce weren’t privy to what went down the other night, Rafe had to let them in on all the sordid details, and you couldn’t stand it.

That same night JJ had kissed you for what felt like hours, eventually letting you go once you reminded him that Rafe wouldn’t be out looking for him forever. It was reluctant, but he eventually kissed you one last time. It was still on your mind when Rafe finally came back, still angry at JJ and choosing to take it out on you, kisses rough as he pulled at your clothes.

He’d only seemed satisfied when you came around him for a second time, exhausted and milking him dry.

This feud or whatever between Kooks and Pogues had always been ongoing, but your relationship with JJ only added another complicated layer to it all. While Rafe thought the other blond was just being an asshole, you knew better. You knew that JJ was angry with Rafe’s treatment of you and saw himself as defending your honor or something.

You would’ve found it flattering if it didn’t worry you so much.

You were pulled from your thoughts by a familiar hand on your elbow, and you hadn’t even heard Rafe come outside. When you looked at his face, you could see the boredom all over it, and so you weren’t shocked when he said:

“We’re heading to Top’s.”

It wasn’t a suggestion, and you didn’t have any choice but to follow along as he pulled you through his house. The two familiar guys were already in his truck when you made it outside, and you could only stare out the window when you slid in next to Topper. You tried to ignore the way Rafe’s words slurred as he got behind the wheel, sipping on your own drink.

You could faintly hear him complaining to the other two about Rose’s ‘awful party’ and needing to ‘hit a few lines’. You rolled your eyes, not enthusiastic to be with Rafe and his friends while they snorted whatever up their noses. Despite his inebriation and irritation, Rafe still helped you out of the truck once he arrived. However, you figured out why when his lips immediately covered yours.

“Maybe you can cheer me up, hmm?” he wondered against your lips before pulling you along.

You almost tripped over the end of your dress, and you watched Rafe loosen his tie as he followed the other two inside. The atmosphere was immediately different, Kelce looking for something on his phone to play while Topper headed to the kitchen for more drinks. If you were going to halfway stomach the three of them at once, you’d need another.

While you went to the bathroom, you resisted the urge to text JJ.

Rafe was drunk—and was about to snort a line or two of coke—so his behavior was going to be extra unpredictable. The last thing you needed was for the blond to inquire about why you were on your phone so much and snatch it from you. You really didn’t want to imagine how that would go, shuddering at the thought, and you pressed your hands to your forehead.

Gazing into the mirror, you thought to yourself that you would’ve never thought this was your life a year ago—hell six months ago.

There was a time where you barely even knew JJ Maybank’s name, and now…now he was…what? Your second boyfriend? Your lover? Your guy on the side? Never mind the fact that you’d been too terrified of Rafe to even entertain the thought, but… There was a time where the thought of cheating on Rafe would’ve made you sick.

You felt your eyes burn, and you pressed your hand to your mouth.

You and Rafe were so far from how you’d started out, and while the abuse had certainly made you realize that, your recent actions only drove it home. You’d been sneaking around with someone that wasn’t your boyfriend. You’d been spending the night with him and kissing him and letting him touch you. The reality of just how far your relationship had fallen made you want to cry…

…and now JJ was talking about getting you out.

The thought was terrifying because…how? How was JJ—with his limited resources—going to do what you couldn’t? The thought of not being with Rafe anymore felt so relieving…but equally as scary. Rafe was all you’d ever known, although, you supposed that was no longer the case, and you reminded yourself that JJ told you not to worry about it.

It was easier said than done.

When you made it back downstairs, music reached your ears, and the sight of Rafe snorting a line off of the coffee table met your eyes. Ignoring him, you made your way to the kitchen, quickly finding yourself a drink. The night was going as it usually did, and for once you were happy to be ignored until Rafe remembered your presence.

You had too much on your mind.

You were on your third drink since coming to Topper’s when you finally found a seat on the couch. You tried to ignore how you stumbled, resisting the urge to roll your eyes as Rafe’s words reached your ears.

“…and the piece of shit just pushes me,” he scoffed. “For no reason.”

“What else can you expect from Pogues, man,” Kelce chimed in, shaking his head.

“The next time I see JJ, I swear to God, I’m going to make him swallow his fucking teeth.”

At that you did huff…and Rafe noticed.

The room grew quiet, but you figured that all the alcohol in your system made it hard to notice.

“Problem…?”

When you glanced up, Rafe’s familiar blue eyes were on you. Kelce and Topper were conveniently looking anywhere else, and you gave a humorless chuckle at their cowardice. You didn’t miss how blown your boyfriend’s pupils were.

“I just think it’s stupid…all of this fighting and back and forth,” you took another sip. “You find him and beat him up? Then what?”

You shrugged.

“He starts another fight the next time he sees you, and so on?”

“I wouldn’t expect you to get it.”

“You’re right, I don’t,” you agreed. “It’s stupid.”

At that, Rafe’s face twitched, and you watched him sit his drink down.

“You almost sound like you’re defending him…”

You were way more drunk than you’d intended, but his tone and the glint in his eye warned you off—your inebriation not making you lose your common sense.

“I’m not defending anyone,” you said after a tense pause. “It just seems unnecessarily violent.”

You thought about how angry JJ had been the other night, the look in his eyes, and you shuddered. You really didn’t want to see JJ and Rafe fight again—ever again if you had any say. Rafe only scoffed at your words before standing and making his way over to you. When he reached for your drink, you held it out of reach, and it was his turn to huff this time.

“You’re embarrassing yourself,” was all he murmured when he leaned in.

“…because I think it’s stupid to not just let this go?” you wondered with a frown. “God forbid you decide to act your age.”

His hand was circling your chin before you realized it, and you heard Topper lightly murmur his name. Your boyfriend stared you down, both of you just holding each other’s gazes as his fingers pressed into your skin. The room felt too quiet and too tense, and you searched his eyes, almost daring him to do something in front of his friends.

Listening to Top, Rafe let you go.

“Maybe I should take you home,” he sneered. “You’re ruining the mood, and nobody wants to hear your Kumbaya bullshit.”

His hand was on your arm, yanking you up, and he paid little attention to how you swayed. Rafe only cared about pulling you along, telling his friends he’d be back. You stumbled a few times in your heels, almost tripping over your dress, but Rafe just continued to force you outside. He practically shoved you into his truck, uncaring if you even pulled your dress inside of the vehicle all the way.

The moment he was next to you, you were unsurprised by the feel of his hand digging into your arm.

“What the hell is your problem? Huh?”

“I don’t have a-.”

“Bullshit!” he spat, shoving you away and starting the truck. “You’re practically defending JJ—telling me to let this go when he’s the one who snaked me.”

You knew that he wasn’t entirely wrong to want retaliation against what he believed to be an unprovoked act of violence, but you just couldn’t get that image out of your head. That glint in JJ’s eyes. If Rafe and JJ fought again, you were worried that someone was seriously going to get hurt, and if it was Rafe, there was no doubt in your mind he’d make JJ’s life hell.

Despite the alcohol and coke in his system, Rafe managed to safely pull into your driveway.

“You should probably drink some water when you get inside,” he mockingly said. “Sloppy drunk isn’t sexy.”

“Fuck you,” you sighed.

The slap was loud in the truck, and your cheek burned beneath your hand when you touched it. You didn’t know if the alcohol made the pain less or worse, and you blinked away tears. Some still escaped though, and you pulled your lip between your teeth as you sniffed.

“Hopefully you’ll have pulled yourself together by the morning,” Rafe murmured, unlocking the truck. “You know I hate when you get like this.”

Stumbling out of the vehicle, you made sure to slam the door behind you.

Rafe didn’t even wait around to watch you go inside, backing out of the driveway just as more tears fell. Your face stung more when the air hit it, and you sniffed, searching in your purse for your keys. Your parents were still at the Camerons’, and considering it was actually still pretty early in the night, you figured they would be for a few more hours. When you dropped the clutch, you cursed, and you were just about to bend down to get it when another hand beat you to it.

“Jesus!”

You might’ve fallen if he hadn’t reached out to grab you.

“No, JJ,” he teased, but his face fell as he really looked at you.

His hand tightened when you swayed, keeping you from falling, and his other hand reached out to hold you too.

“Hey…hey, are you okay?”

You touched your forehead.

“I’m fine,” you sighed. “Just the average night with Rafe Cameron.”

You wiped your face again, and JJ pulled you against him.

“Did he hurt you?”

The question made you laugh, and you reached for your purse again with a shrug.

“I don’t even know if a slap counts anymore,” you choked out with a bitter smile. “Ending the evening with only a slap is considered a good day.”

You could feel yourself crying again—you blamed the alcohol—and you didn’t protest when JJ took your keys. Rafe was long gone, so you let JJ guide you inside, a hand on your waist as he closed the door behind him. When you stumbled in your heels, it was a reminder that you were wearing them, and JJ bent down to help you take them off. You swayed when you put your foot down, and JJ steadied you as he rose.

“Let’s get you upstairs…”

You let him lean you on him, moving towards the staircase.

“It takes almost nothing to get him mad,” you murmured after a few moments, recalling his ire. “I don’t even know what I was thinking drinking so much tonight.”

You always had to be on high alert with Rafe—always had to be hyperaware and hyper focused on every single expression and word and change in body language. There was no relaxing around Rafe ever, and the thought made more tears fall. When you made it to your room, you immediately sat on the floor, dropping your face into your hands.

JJ softly called your name.

“You know that he grabbed me tonight…and Topper and Kelce barely did anything?”

You looked up at the blond as he sadly looked down at you, jaw clenching at that.

“…and I’d like to think that they would do something if he did much worse,” you slowly said. “…but the truth is…”

You shrugged at him.

“I don’t know,” you confessed. “They never speak out against him, so I don’t know why I’d ever expect that where I’m concerned.”

JJ moved to sit down next to you.

“Especially since they barely even acknowledge me on a regular basis.”

“Y/N…”

“I’m sorry,” you tearfully told him, shaking your head when he protested. “I don’t…”

“Don’t apologize for talking to me about this—any of this,” JJ firmly told you, taking your hands. “I wanna hate him for leaving you alone this drunk, but…”

JJ pressed his lips to your cheek.

“He’s probably the last person you should be with,” he whispered, pulling away slightly.

His blue eyes searched yours, and you blinked at him. You could see so many emotions pass over his features, anger being the most prominent, and JJ’s gaze hardened.

“I should kick his ass again-.”

“JJ,” you admonished.

“I should,” he said with a smile, kissing you. “I should do to him exactly what he does to you.”

Your drunk brain knew that JJ was in your bedroom and kissing you, but you couldn’t quite make sense of it. Your face still stung, and your chest still felt heavy, but all you could really focus on was the kiss. JJ kissed you like he missed you, and you supposed that you missed him too. When one of his hands rested on the back of your neck—the other on the zipper of your dress—you touched his chest.

“JJ…”

He gently shushed you, leaning in towards you more.

“It’ll be okay…”

“I don’t… I don’t think this is smart,” you told him, pulling away. “Rafe could easily decide to come back, and I…”

You bit your lip, eyeing him.

“I don’t want this going too far.”

JJ brushed his thumb along your bottom lip, pulling on it a bit.

“Trust me,” was all he said, kissing you again.

You did, but you knew that this wasn’t something you were prepared to handle yet. You wouldn’t be able to take anything back, and you weren’t mentally nor emotionally ready to walk around looking Rafe in the eye and pretending like you hadn’t had sex with someone else. You were already cheating on him, this was true, but sleeping with JJ just felt like the point of no return…and not just because of Rafe.

Rafe was unfortunately the only man you’d ever been with, and you weren’t able to get past that mental barrier.

“JJ,” you protested, words slurred. “Wait…”

Your back was pressed to the floor, JJ’s frame pinning yours down as he kissed you. Your movements were sluggish and weak, the alcohol in your system hindering them. It was hard to tell if you were actively trying to push him away and was just failing, or if you simply weren’t trying, at all because you didn’t want to.

Everything was so confusing.

The sound of the zipper on your dress was loud in the otherwise quiet room, and you shuddered when the air hit you. When JJ kissed you again, your thoughts halted momentarily, and you blinked up at the ceiling when his lips trailed down to your throat. The room was tilting, and you squeezed your eyes shut. The feeling of his lips on your chest and then your stomach made you shudder, and you pressed your hands to your forehead when you felt him yanking your underwear down.

Your next protest was forgotten when he tasted you.

Your chest arched, and you gasped, wide eyes on the ceiling. JJ’s tongue slid between your folds and across your clit while his hands gripped your thighs, holding you in place. His mouth on you was making your head spin, and too many thoughts were racing around in your head. You wanted to push him away…but you also wanted to pull him closer. You wanted to moan, but some part of you also wanted to swallow down every sound that threatened to come up.

Alcohol completely settled in your system, your vision went in and out, and the next time you blinked, JJ’s lips were touching yours. You could taste yourself on them, and you drunkenly hummed. The blond was saying something to you, but you could only halfway focus, slowly blinking at him.

“You’re okay,” he softly repeated.

You realized why when all of your senses came back into focus, and you felt yourself pushing against his chest. It was weak, anyway, positive that JJ could bat your hand away if he wanted to. Instead, he only kissed you again, deeply inhaling and reaching between you. When you felt the tip of him grazing your thigh, a shiver crawled up your spine.

You turned your head when he pressed open mouthed kisses along the expanse of your throat, shifting as he completely got rid of his pants, now. One hand kept himself hovering over you while the other reached behind his head to pull at his shirt. You shuddered again when his bare chest met yours. It was only just hitting you that you were about to have sex with someone that wasn’t Rafe…

…and there wasn’t anything you could do about it.

JJ was slow when he entered you. He took his time in pushing his cock into you inch by inch, and you didn’t know if he was giving you time to adjust or simply savoring the moment. Maybe both. You heard him sigh—you did too—and your nails pressed into his arm. When his hips firmly rested against yours, he held himself there, pausing and just basking in the feel of you wrapped around him.

You were also getting used to the feeling.

While he seemed to be just as long as Rafe, you weren’t prepared for the stretch, and you involuntarily moved your hips. The action made JJ hiss, and he pressed his forehead to yours. His breathing—like yours—was uneven, and he only started to move once he calmed himself down a bit. Pulling his hips back until only the tip of him remained, JJ swiftly thrust into you.

You softly yelped, hanging onto him, and JJ adopted a slow and steady pace. Your dress and the carpet beneath you were soft against your back, and JJ hummed as he sank into you. Your entire body felt abuzz with energy, and it fought with the alcohol in your system. Every push of his hips had you gasping, and when JJ lifted his head, his blue gaze held yours.

You were still really confused—the room tilting around you—but you trusted JJ way more than you ever trusted Rafe. Despite the fact that this was not what you wanted for your evening, your body slowly relaxed underneath his with every thrust. Despite everything, you weren’t scared, and those feelings heavily conflicted with your uncertainty surrounding this.

You hadn’t wanted this…but now all you could think about was JJ’s smooth thrusts and his efforts to push you both over the edge. You hadn’t wanted this, but you forgot why when JJ trailed his lips over your throat, sighing when you threw your head back. Your lips parted, a choked moan escaping as he curved his hips against yours.

JJ was being so gentle with you, and it was what stood out to you the most.

Then again, maybe everything felt good because you were drunk. You felt so light, like you were floating, and your lashes fluttered. JJ’s hand curved against your waist, holding you as he continued to fuck you, while the other ran up and down your side. He was saying something to you, and it took you a moment to focus.

“You’re so fucking beautiful,” he murmured against your lips, kissing you again. “Do you feel okay?”

When you gave him a nod, he smiled against your lips.

“I told you,” he whispered, cock stretching you out and sliding along your walls. “It’ll be okay.”

You moaned his name, chest arching up into his. He cursed as he held you tighter, and you wrapped your arms around him.

When you came around him, JJ kept moving against you, fucking you and plunging his cock into you. You clung to him as you shuddered, gasping and toes curling. When you squeezed your eyes shut, you saw stars, and JJ murmured soft praises into your ear. His movements prolonged your climax, the overstimulation making you shudder, and JJ only slid his hand under you to fist the hair at the nape of your neck.

When he forced your head back, his teeth grazed your neck, head drifting towards your collarbone.

“I want you to think about me every time you’re with him.”

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ellebakers · 1 year

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☆ Jealous boy | Part one (+18)

Ethan Landry x reader

PART TWO

Summary : if he can’t have you, no one else can, especially not chad.

Warnings : violence + mention of death + blood + mention of sex + voyeurism + y/n x chad + cheating.

Ethan had never wanted to kill chad so much as he did now. that asshole was in the next room fucking you. and you moaned louder and louder, but could he blame you ? no never. after all, you thought ethan was in class. and hearing you moan was the most melodious sound he'd ever heard. but it had to be him who had to make you scream. you should call out his name, not his roommate's.

after the woodsboro murders, you and chad got closer, after a while you became a couple, and since then, you have been living bliss.

"shit. chad i'm gonna cum."

"come on baby. cum for me."

ethan rolled his eyes. "baby" that guy didn't deserve to call you that, he's not good enough for you.

when ethan and chad became roommates, the meeks-martin’s son introduced you to each other. that day, ethan will remember it for the rest of his life, you wore a flowered dress that came above your knee, your hair fell in a cascade and you had blocked a pair of sunglasses in it. the brunette thought he was dead and in heaven you looked like an angel.

after that, the more the days passed and the more he fell in love with you. you were so nice to him, always a smile, always a kind word for him. for a while he thought he had a chance with you, until the day he saw chad kissing you. it was when he saw this that he went to his father's house and said "I want to do this, I want to avenge richie." his brother's revenge was just a pretext, he knew it himself, all he wanted was to watch that asshole chad bleed out. after that he could come and comfort you with his words and with his dick. you will be his forever.

one last moan louder than the others and he knew you had come. he never touched you, but he knew when you were done and when you were faking it. more than once he had heard you pretend. like when chad wanted to do it and you didn't dare say no to him, so you faked it to please him. but after chad left to take a shower, you finished the job yourself. ethan had heard you moan silently, and just imagining you touching yourself had made him hard.

that night, he had closed his eyes and then he had let his fantasies take over by jerking off. thinking of you.

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that's it. ghostface was back. your nightmare was beginning again. you had just gotten off work and were walking towards your car when samantha called you with the news. after hanging up with her, you got in and turned the key to start, but it seems that your car doesn't want to run.

you groaned and threw your head back against the headrest. you picked up your phone and dialed your boyfriend's number. it rang but no one picked up. you then looked in your contact list and called ethan.

on the first ring, he picked up.

"hi y/n."

you smiled without realizing it. you didn't want to admit it but his voice brought you comfort.

"hi ethan, i'm sorry to bother you, but my car broke down. i tried to call chad but he's not answering. i was wondering if you could pick me up."

"yes of course, are you at work ?" he asked you

"I'm in the parking lot in front of the building yes."

"I'm coming."

"thank you ethan."

"no need to thank me. wait for me in your car."

"ok."

he hung up and you put your phone on the passenger seat. it was about ten minutes by car from chad and ethan's apartment, you just had to wait ten short minutes, you'll be fine.

time passed and you started freaking out. at each outside noise you jumped. you took deep breaths but nothing helped your state. suddenly, a ding indicated a new message.

you took your phone and an unknown number appeared, followed by a photo and a message. "

Looks like chad has other things to do.

you pressed on the photo to enlarge it, but you quickly regretted your decision. chad, your chad was shirtless, his head between Tara's legs, on your bed in the Carpenter sisters' apartment.

you put down your phone and started crying. you had been stabbed a year ago, but it hurt even more.

again your phone rang, but to indicate an incoming call from an unknown number, without the slightest hesitation you picked it up.

you swallowed your saliva so as not to burst into tears.

"it's you, isn't it ?"

the deep voice that had traumatized you was heard.

"yes."

"If you want to kill me, then go ahead, I'll let it go. I'm sick of all this."

"you've had enough of what y/n ?"

you closed your eyes and let the tears flow. "amber and richie killed me a year ago, ever since i've been wandering around like a fucking ghost so i'm the one asking you. kill me."

there was a long silence, as if the person on the other side of the phone was thinking. "no. I'm not going to kill you. you're going to live, and live for yourself, not for those assholes you call your friends who don't deserve you, and especially not for that son of a bitch boyfriend."

then he hung up. It was the most honest exchange you've had in a year with anyone.

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that evening, ethan arrived, seeing your face streaming with tears, he asked you what was going on so you told him everything. putting aside your discussion with ghostface.

you were sitting in ethan's car when he asked you

"where are you going to sleep ?"

you hadn't thought about it, but now that he brought it up, you had nowhere to go. you couldn't come home and act like nothing was with tara. and you couldn't sleep at ethan's since his roommate was your boyfriend who cheated on you.

"I have no idea." You think for a while then an idea comes to you "Can you drop me off at the hotel ? I think it'll be fine."

The car came to a red light and he turned to you.

"Okay, but I stay with you."

You shook your head, smiling slightly "Ethan you don't have to, you should-"

He cut you off by raising his hand "Ghostface is outside and there's no way I'm leaving you alone."

you were silent and then nodded. Ethan, happy that his plan was working, drove off again when the light turned green.

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obviously the only hotel available only had one bed in the room, but that was better than nothing so you convinced ethan to share the bed.

you growled "I'm dying to take a shower, but I don't have clean clothes."

ethan took off his t-shirt and handed it to you. you couldn't help staring at his sculpted body. he hid a lot of things under his shy boyish air.

"here, take this." he brought you back to reality and you shook your head slightly to scare away the dirty ideas that were merging in your head. you thanked him and left for the bathroom. you undressed and put your laundry in your work bag. the hot water that attacked your skin relieved you, you passed the shower head of your whole body, having fun adjusting the water pressure, then your mind thought of ethan and his body of gods. you should have thought about your conversation with ghostface or chad and tara who were probably still having sex in your bed, but ethan was invading your thoughts and without realizing it you put the water pressure to maximum and slipped it between your legs. the feeling was so good that you let out a moan, you continued to pass the shower head between your legs and instinctively you pressed it against your core and rubbed yourself up and down against it, you closed your eyes, feeling the orgasm coming , you were on the verge of cumming when Ethan knocked on the door.

"um, yes, I'm done, I'm coming."

great, another ruined orgasm.

you rinsed off and got out of the shower. once dry and dressed you went back to the room where ethan was sitting on the edge of the bed. you approached him and you share an embarrassed smile, you sat next to him and let the silence settle between you two.

he cleared his throat "um, i'm so sorry about chad. i didn't believe him like that."

you exhaled loudly "me neither."

he half turned to you "but I'm pretty happy it's over between you guys."

you frown "what ?"

"he doesn't deserve you. honestly you're the nicest, smartest, prettiest girl I know. you deserve someone who treats you right, someone like." then he stopped realizing that you were watching him.

you put a hand on his thigh "go ahead, continue ethan."

the position of your hand on his thigh distracted him but he tried not to show anything. "someone like me." he whispered.

and that's all you needed, you took his face in your hands and kissed him, his hands come to rest on your hips automatically. he pulled you on him, you put your legs on each side of him and you sat on him, something hard was felt against your pussy completely naked since your underwear was in your bag, you continued to embrace. he passed his tongue against your lips as if to ask permission so you opened your mouth and he inserted his tongue inside in order to dance with yours.

his cock was getting harder and harder so you decided to test his urge and you rubbed against him, making you moan against him, he pushed himself off you and threw his head back while growling. "you're going to kill me y/n." you took advantage of this opportunity to suck and lightly bite his neck, which made him moan. hearing it sent an electric charge through you. chad wasn't vocal during the act, and that disappointed you a bit, so hearing ethan the being made you wet. "I rather hope that it is not you who will kill me after having fucked me." you tell him about the joke but his gaze darkens, he takes your face in his hands. "I will never let anyone hurt you, you and me are forever." you were going to answer but he passed his hand between your legs and started to play with your clitoris, the sensation made you moan loudly, you closed your eyes and put your head on his shoulder.

his breathing was getting faster and faster as he inserted one and then two fingers inside you. "You're so fucking wet. All this just for me ?"

you nodded against him but your answer did not suit him, with his other hand he slightly pulled your hair back to make you look at him. you never thought he could be so dominating, but you loved it.

"Are you wet for me ?"

"Yes Ethan."

He looked at your lips smiling "Perfect."

suddenly he withdrew his fingers and swapped positions pinning you to the mattress. he took both of your hands and brought them above your head.

"don’t move."

he got up slightly and took off his belt, which he wrapped around your wrists and squeezed tightly to tie them. you stared at him, surprised, like the shy ethan you knew was gone. he got up, while looking at you he knelt at the end of the bed, then he spread your thighs with both hands, he took one and put it on his shoulder, you gasped when his tongue came into contact with your pussy, you started to move your pelvis for a little more friction but he put a firm hand on your belly, preventing you from moving as he continued his attacks chaining: sucking and licking. you wanted to touch him but your bound hands prevented you, you writhed in pleasure and moaned louder and louder as he devoured you until your orgasm invaded you.

You were trying to catch your breath when he got up, you didn't see him but while he was devouring you, he opened his fly and lowered his pants and his boxers and he started jerking off, you were watching his cock hard and biting your lip "let me help you with that ethan." he chuckled lightly shaking his head "I want it inside you sweetie."

you smiled at him and spread your legs "so what are you waiting for"

he didn't wait any longer to sink into you, and that night you didn't sleep much, ethan took you, your back to the mattress, your legs around your waist. then from behind, a handful of your hair in your hands, or even sitting on him, her back turned to him. you stopped counting after your fourth orgasm.

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the next morning you were woken up by your phone vibrating, you opened your eyes, the daylight attacking you then you strove to find your phone, once in hand you picked up.

"Y/n!" Sam was screaming crying

"Sam, what’s going on ?" You got up and looked for ethan's t-shirt which had been taken off when in the middle of the night while in the bathroom he had taken you against the wall.

She continued to cry. "It's Chad and Tara, they're dead."

You froze and dropped your phone when you saw the ghostface costume hanging next to the bathroom mirror.

Ethan came up behind you and hugged you. "Now it's you and me my love."

#ethan landry #ethan landry x you #ethan landry x reader #ethan landry x y/n #jack champion #jack champion x reader #jack champion x y/n #scream #scream vi #scream x reader #ghostface x reader

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blushweddinggowns · 1 year

Text

I can't stop thinking about Eddie having a massive bitch fetish for mean girl Steve, especially after they get together.

Like before, sure, he was just as much in King Steve's thrall as every other high school girl was, even if it was a secret he had planned on taking to the grave. Every time he'd hear him make a snappy comment to one of his friends or say something particularly cutting when he talked back to the teachers was enough to make Eddie flush.

But now that they're together it's even worse than high school Eddie could imagine. Because Steve Harrington is protective as fuck and when you mix that with being gay in small-town Indiana with a boyfriend whose the town pariah for murders he didn't commit, you get a lot of opportunities for bitchy Steve.

The check-out lady at the grocery store scoffs when she sees them holding hands? Steve's jumping in, "Wow Linda, guess you're not a champion for love huh? Is that why your husband left you last year?"

An ex-jock and current gas station attendant makes a comment about how Eddie should be in prison? "Weren't you the guy who shit his pants at Carol's party freshman year? Honestly, I feel like that's a worse social crime than anything my Eddie ever did."

An old teacher comments on how he's not "surprised" that Eddie never graduated when they run into him? "I guess that just goes to show how shitty of a teacher you were doesn't it? He passed his GED test on the first try, maybe you should just think of a different career option?"

He has an arsenal of embarrassing stories and tidbits for almost every person in Hawkins, courtesy of his near-daily gossip sessions with his mom. Even when they move in together, those don't stop, they just switch to weekly three-hour phone conversations. (The apple really doesn't fall far from the tree, does it?)

And Eddie loved how willing Steve was to stand up for him, he did, really. But every time Eddie had to bear witness to Steve tearing someone down for his benefit, it felt like he was losing his mind.

He'd flush, go bright pink, get weak in the knees, everything you would expect from a love-struck sixteen-year-old girl, not a twenty-one-year-old drug dealer. Half the time he had to drag Steve to the nearest unoccupied space just to kiss him, and the other half he was too busy trying to hide a humiliating hard-on.

Eddie keeps that specific obsession to himself, but he knows he doesn't have much time left before he figures it out. There are only so many impromptu make-out sessions mixed with snide comments before Steve puts two and two together.

And Eddie just knows that he will never let him live it down, which will only add fuel to the fire if he starts doing it on purpose to tease him. Steve already had him wrapped around his finger enough as is, he didn't need another thing to make him realize just how gone for him Eddie was.

No, this one was going to stay with him, a secret that he'd actually manage to take to his grave.

Or so he thought.

#steddie ficlet #steddie fic #steddie headcanon #steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #bitchy steve #love him #good person mrs.harrington #who is also a gossipy little bitch #i have a less sfw version of this concept on here somewhere #stranger things

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shaisuki · 3 months

Note

hello! Your writing amuses me a lot. Could you write a story where gojo, nanami, toji or Geto find out that their partner was kidnapped and they find her with some blow and they get furious?

Thanks and greetings from Argentina 😘

BRUISES AND DEAD BODIES

ft. gojo satoru, nanami kento, fushiguro toji, geto suguru

content warnings ─── injuries, murder, gore, assault

ᝰ synopsis .ᐟ there's lines that cannot be crossed with them and involving you is a dumb way to die.

GOJO SATORU

enemies are easier to make than friends and since his birth, danger followed him everywhere. from bounty hunters to curse users and being related or being significantly special to the six eyes and limitless user, danger was just around the corner.

satoru is strong. unbelievably strong. he has the power to tip the balance of the world and thus, he have the power to protect especially to you.

but sometimes, fate would place a cruel situation to him. you disappeared out of the blue. it's not like for you to tease him with something serious knowing he can be dramatic at times and his instincts isn't he ignores and alas, he was right. you were a captive. some group bounty hunters had ganged up for the price of his head. if he kills himself you live. that's why they have said. a negotiation but there's no such things as a negotiation for him.

only an idiot would mess to gojo satoru and they are. they think using you as a hostage for someone like him would be an easy way to get what they want but gojo proves them wrong.

he sees you bound in a chair. sound asleep. soft breaths adding to your state while your chest heaves. you're alive and it's relief not until he sees the damage they had done to you. blue eyes shimmering. casting it's glow to the precipitants and it's too late to back now for underestimating him.

adding to his hidden rage was the visible bruises and the welts to your skin. they have chosen death. no room to think as his hands cups the head on one of them before twisting it off. the hard skull was no match for gojo's strength. the head pops like a can being crushed in his bare hands and at the blink of an eye. there was nobody breathing except for him and to his lover.

he gently scoops you in his arms. your soft, plump frame against his hard ones and gojo loved the position if only it was under normal circumstances.

footsteps echoes in the silent building where once rowdy bounty hunters had gathered. it's only a shell of the former building while their corpses filled the entire space.

fluttering your lashes open, you were instantly greeted by the soreness of your body. added by the bruises stinging in your skin and a tuft of white hair is the first thing you've noticed about him.

“satoru?” blinking your eyes to adjust in your surroundings and to confirm if it was him and you weren't wrong. it was him. “glad you're awake now.” he says cheerfully. “what happened to you? me, your amazing boyfriend had to save you from the bad guys.” puffing his chest and you weren't sure how you would take his boasting.

tired and defeated. you admitted your weakness. “i'm sorry. i let my guard down.” your face casting a solemn look and gojo ignores it. partly it was his fault and you got dragged into it. since the start of your relationship with him, you're already marked as a target. knowing you are gojo's achilles hell.

“don't worry about it. let's get you to shoko.” you shaked your head. “can it wait until later?” you ask him. “why?” he replied. “i'm hungry.” gojo chuckles at your predicament. bruised and tired and you wanted to eat and of course, gojo accepts it.

“okay, okay. let's get you something to eat and we're going to shoko.”

all the things he can do for you and there's no such thing as denying the things you want.

NANAMI KENTO

veins desperately clawed to the surface of his skin. they look like kernels of corn ready to burst at any moment and it isn't the only thing that is ready to burst.

he's calm and composed. he always is. this is how he handles his profession as a sorcerer. merely a bit of being teetered to the edge isn't enough to break him. of course there are times where he loses composure but it is nothing when it comes to you.

there's drips of bloods staining your face and you're unconscious body is sprawled to the floor and nanami isn't a saint to forgive for such animosity and he breaks.

his muscles bulge while wrapping that necktie in his palms. the perpetrator stumbles out of panic and in fear. nanami's raging from inside and outside.

his fist collided in the cheek. there's a crack can be heard as the one who assaulted you was planted on the wall. coughing up blood and skull was dented like a can being crushed in a hand. it wasn't enough and nanami punches again until only a bloody pulp of a body is only way someone can recognize it as a former body. if it is what is it

“mmm... kento. 'm sorry.” you weakly mustered to speak to him. “no. don't apologize for it darling.” his once face that was clouded with rage clears up. his features softening while he tended to the wounds he can heal.

inside nanami was scared. he didn't show it. how close you are for being parted to him and he can't accept if something happens to you again. it looks like nanami have to make sure this won't happen again even if it's the last thing he will do.

FUSHIGURO TOJI

“oi, oi.” toji began to get irritated. inspecting your face in his hands. moving it left and right to assess the injuries that you had taken from your captors. “a pretty face is all she had and you come destroying it.” even with that heightened senses of his, could he not tell you can hear him.

the sorcerer assassin's eye came twitching in irritation as he looks at your state. toji wouldn't care if someone would get beat up for his fault but it is different when it comes to you. “now which one of you assholes would go first?” the cursed spirit worm vomits one of the weapons in his arsenal and toji stretches his limbs. waving his weapon like a fan and hell broke loose.

“i just wished you didn't come and get me if you're just going to insult me.” rolling your eyes at him and you winged as he pulled your arm. “i did you a favor and you need to repay me.” he casually tells you. ignoring the remarks from you.

fuck. he's toji fucking fushiguro and you know how stubborn this man is when it comes to his selfish needs. you already forgot that it was his fault that you got dragged into his dirty business. “and i'm right princess. you're face is only the redeeming quality of yours.” good heavens. you just wished you were already dead. you can't fucking stand him and yet, you're here.

“come on now.” toji grabs you. not minding your injuries and how you squirmed against him. licking the shell of your ear. “you know what i want.” he whispers. taking the reward in his own hands.

GETO SUGURU

his expression unreadable. staring at your figure that is bound and bruised. how did it resulted to this when he got you locked and guarded all the time and some bloody monkeys took their revenge on him by using you.

geto's fuming inside and he smiles. although it doesn't reach his eyes and a wall appeared out in the thin air. humongous and hideous creatures began to pry the walls to open. with a flick of his finger, they began to attack whoever their owner desired to kill.

the screams. they were loud. screeching as they begged for their lives. it was like fork being rubbed in a surface and only to produce the most irritating sound but for him. that is what he calls a music to his ears. if they have chosen to leave you alone, this wouldn't happen. anyways it was bound to. considering how he was a threat for them in a long time and it would come soon for them to target you and he hated himself for that. getting dragged by the filthy hands of the scums.

all is fine, now. he have you in his arms now and those who dared to harm you again will face him and the hell he is about to unleash him. no one would be safe from him.

he kisses your forehead. you were sound asleep from all of that. gently patting your head to soothe you was comforting enough for him.

geto walks away with you in his arms and the pile of corpses behind him.

#♱ ⋮ shai's works⸝⸝#chubby reader #jujutsu kaisen #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x chubby reader #plus size reader #gojo x reader #nanami x reader #toji x reader #geto x reader #gojo satoru #nanami kento #toji fushiguro #geto suguru #jjk scenarios

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froggibus · 11 months

Text

Mask Off - Stu Macher! Ghostface

Pairing: Stu Macher! Ghostface x f! reader

Genre: smut/NSFW (w a sprinkle of hurt/comfort cause, cmon guys, it’s me)

Word Count: 2k

Summary: at a party at Stu’s, the last thing you’re expecting is for the masked killer to save you from the man who tried to assault you, or for him to take his turn right after

CW: SA, murder, blood, knives, violence, standard Ghostface stuff, breath play, knife play, unprotected sex (make good choices), creampie, blood kink?, hints of a mask kink, degradation, lots of dirty talk, reader is referred to as a slut/whore, they fuck next to a dead body, established relationship, soft! Stu, Ghostface reveal

guys I just watched Scream 6 and I am so soft for Stu rn idek why. i usually don’t write stuff like this but the Scream movies are some of my favorites (def not cause me and the final girl have the same name…definitely not) and I’ve had HARD ghostface brain rot lately so…here’s this lol

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Sitting on the living room floor of your boyfriend’s house, half drunk and watching movies, everything feels right. Sure, there’s a psycho killer on the loose, and everyone in the house is technically breaking curfew, but you couldn’t care less. Even with Randy geeking out over the Jamie Lee horror movie playing on the tv, you can’t complain.

The guy next to you on the floor, a couple more beers in than you are, shuffles closer. You side eye him, but don’t say anything. You find yourself looking for Stu—you know how jealous he can get. But your boyfriend is nowhere to be found.

You take a deep breath and another chug of your beer, hoping to calm the nerves that have found their way into your stomach. You don’t like the idea of your boyfriend being MIA when there’s a killer around.

Your nerves are shoved away when you feel a warm hand on your thigh. You turn to the guy next to you, who gives you a nod and a smirk.

He must be an idiot, or not well versed in the politics of Woodsboro Seniors, or else he would know that he’s in your boyfriend's house, trying to feel you up. You roll your eyes, finish chugging your drink, and head upstairs to try to find your boyfriend.

You don’t even hear the guy get up behind you.

You duck into Stu’s room, but he’s nowhere to be seen. Not wanting to go back downstairs, you fall backwards onto his bed and relax into the sheets. They smell like him, and the scent is so comforting, it’s almost enough to put you to sleep.

Almost.

The door opens and you sit up instantly, expecting to find your boyfriend but disappointed to see the guy from earlier.

“What do you want?” You squint at him.

“You disappeared on me, baby.”

“Look, I don’t even know who you are, and clearly you don’t know me, or else you would know that this is my boyfriend’s house. And believe me when I say he’s the jealous type.”

He sits down on the bed, and you shuffle to the other side, drawing your knees to your chest. He seems to take that as a challenge, smirking even wider.

“Your boyfriend never needs to know.”

“Get lost, dude.”

He’s on you in an instant, lips pressing against yours, body on top of yours. You shove him hard, but that only makes him lean in more. He’s so much bigger than you, so much stronger. The reality of your situation starts to set in, and you drive a knee into his groin.

He groans, pulling back and slapping you hard. He squeezes your face, eyes angry. “Listen, slut, hit me again and the killer on the loose is the last thing you have to worry about. Do you understand?”

You go to bite his finger but he clamped his hand over your mouth. “Don’t you fucking dare.”

He presses his hand down hard enough to keep you quiet, trailing his hand up your stomach. You squirm as his hand gets to your chest, still trying to deter him.

Just as he slips his hand up your shirt, you see the cloaked figure behind him. You let out a gasp that he takes as you enjoying what he’s doing.

You think it’s a prank, that someone is just trying to scare the people hooking up at the party. But the mask…the cloak…it’s all too real. And then you see the glint of silver and your blood runs cold.

You want to scream and run away, but at the same time, you want the man on top of you to suffer. You want to hear the knife sink into him and you want to see his blood come pouring out. And with the way he’s touching you, you would rather die than have to tell Stu what happened.

Not that he wouldn’t understand, but because you’re sure things would never be the same.

The guy doesn’t even notice the figure approaching, doesn’t even notice the way you’re almost crying into his palm. The figure, that the news has dubbed Ghostface, tilts his head at you.

You should be scared, you should be running, but you aren’t. Something about him, something about the way he’s looking at you, makes you feel almost safe. At least, safer than the guy currently forcing himself on you.

He pulls his arm back, revealing the sharpened knife once more, before driving it into the back of the man on top of you. He spasms, blood dripping out of his mouth and down your neck.

Ghostface doesn’t let up, though. He drives the knife in and out of him, penetrating his skin over and over and over. The sound of sharp metal against soft skin fills your ears, and warm blood covers you.

Finally, the man goes limp, and Ghostface practically throws him off of the bed. He crawls on top of you, replacing the dead man. His body is warm on yours, and he smells like blood and an almost familiar cologne.

He slides the flat end of the blade across your cheek, down your jaw and onto your throat. You suck in a breath, trying not to let your fear show. You can hear his breathing through the mask, and the feeling of the cold metal on your skin sends waves of arousal through you.

You should probably consult a therapist on that, given you survive.

He pulls the knife away from you, tucking it into his waistband. You squint. Isn’t he going to kill you?

He lifts up his hands, and for a second you think he’s going to strangle you. But no, he does something that surprises you even more. He removes the mask.

You gasp, covering your mouth in shock. You’re not sure who you were expecting, but it wasn’t your boyfriend.

He tilts his head at you, giving you a lopsided grin. “Sorry, baby. I lost my temper.”

You nod slowly, the idea that Stu is the Ghostface killer not quite registering in your mind. He wipes blood off of your face, licking it off of his fingers. Something about the action is so erotic that it has you clenching your thighs.

“I-I’m sorry,” your voice comes out strained. You’re not even sure what you’re apologizing for—for the guy who assaulted you or for your shock or for seeing him without his mask.

He pushes the hair out of your face. “Are you hurt?”

You shake your head. You take a shaky breath, your heart pounding and your clit throbbing.

His hand moves from your hair to your neck, squeezing gently. Stu was always fascinated with stuff like that—pain and breath play and knives. You’d be lying if you said it didn’t fascinate you, too.

He kisses you, lips hungrily devouring yours. You can taste blood, but you’re not sure if it’s from his face or yours. His hand slides down your waist, bunching up the fabric of your t-shirt and sliding his hand under it.

“Are you scared?” There’s a smirk on his lips, something dark in his eyes.

“A little,” you admit.

“Of me?”

“Not of you. Never of you.”

He just killed a man in front of you—on top of you—but you’ve never felt more safe. And that’s what scares you. Your own desires, your own fucked up thoughts and feelings.

“You know I’d never let anything hurt you,” he taps his fingers on your throat. “I would never hurt you. You’re mine, and mine alone.”

You tug him to you by the collar of his cloak, shoving your lips against his. He smiles against you, tightening his grip on your throat. Not enough to hurt, just enough so that you can feel the pressure.

He slides his hand into your pants, laughing at how wet your panties are. He rubs your clit through the fabric, moving his lips to suck and bite at your neck.

“D’you want me, baby?”

You bite your lip and nod, wrapping your legs around his waist. “Please.”

He’s ripping your panties off and tugging his boxers down in an instant, pulling up his cloak just enough so that he has easy access. He rubs the head of his cock through your folds, gathering up your slick. He kisses you deeply just as he sinks his cock inside of you.

You never get used to the stretch, the delicious feeling of him moulding your walls to the shape of his cock.

He pulls out and thrusts back in, his cock going even deeper. You whine, throwing your head back. He laughs at your moans and keeps going, shoving into you at a brutal pace. You cry out in response, the moans falling out before you can stop them.

His hand clamps over your mouth. “Shh, be quiet. Do you really want everyone to know how much of a slut you are for me? Do you want someone to walk in on you fucking the killer like a whore?”

His words only make you wetter, pussy clenching tighter around him. It only eggs him on more, his thrusts becoming harder and more forceful as he nears his high.

“Mm, I forgot you like being my slut,” he laughs in your ear, gasping whenever you clench around him. “Fucking me in the bed of the guy I just killed for you?”

You hate how much his words turn you on, hate how they only push you further towards your climax. You dig your nails into his shoulders, bunching up the black fabric.

He slams harder into you and you know he’s close. You wrap your arms around him, tugging him in closer. He thrust a few more times, movements sloppier, before his cock twitches and you’re filled with hot cum.

The feeling of his cum pooling inside of you is enough to send you over the edge, leaving you a whimpering, shaking mess beneath him.

He kisses your forehead, holding you closer to him. “As sexy as you look covered in blood, you should probably change.”

“What are you gonna do?”

He plants a sloppy kiss on your lips. “Don’t worry your pretty little head about it, ‘kay?”

You nod, rolling out of his arms and standing up on shaky legs. You’re covered in bed, your clothes absolutely soaked through. You head straight for the bathroom, soaking a cloth to wipe the blood from your skin.

“Y/n,” he knocks gently, “I left some of my clothes out here for you to change into. Go through the window and head through the basement door—I don’t want you getting caught up in this.”

You change into his clothes, trying to ignore the light bruises on your throat and thighs. You love how his clothes fit on you, though. You love being claimed by him.

You do as he says, sneaking through the basement door and pretending like you were just bringing up another case of beer.

Randy turns his head to look at you, and for a minute you think that you’re caught. He’s going to say something about your disappearance and change of clothes.

Instead, he just shakes his head at you. “Where’ve you been? You missed Basic Instinct!”

An arm wraps around your shoulder, the familiar cream coloured sweater draping over you. “She was just helping me get more beer,” Stu shrugs.

Randy makes a face, but says nothing. He turns back to the tv, and Stu takes that as an opportunity to kiss your neck. “Just so you know,” his voice is barely a whisper in your ear, “I’m keeping the mask on next time.”

2K notes · View notes

wholoveseggs · 4 months

Note

Hey, happy new year! Love your Elijah fics. Maybe you could do one where he turns off his humanity and the reader gets him to turn it back on again. :)

Cold Truth

{Masterlist}

You and Klaus are on a mission to turn Elijah's humanity switch back on. The only problem is that you are the reason he turned it off in the first place.

~♡♡ Thanks for the request @originals23 - this one hurt! ♡♡~

4.3k words - Warnings: no smut, but so much angst, dramatic as fuck, violence, kidnapping, Klaus being Klaus, slightly spicy right at the end.

The air was thick with tension as you struggled in your restraints, glancing at Klaus as he drove down an empty street. He was humming to himself, looking very relaxed despite the fact that he was holding you hostage.

"I still don't understand what this has to do with me," you muttered, tugging on the cuffs that were binding your hands together. "We broke up, it's not a big deal," you added.

"Well, it seems to be a big deal to him," Klaus said, shooting you a knowing smirk. "And it's been affecting my life, so now it's a big deal to me."

You sighed and stared out the window, watching the scenery blur as you moved through the town. You didn't want to tell Klaus the details of your break up with Elijah, it was all too painful. But here you were, getting kidnapped by him, on your way to see Elijah, probably about to get murdered by the man you still loved. Great.

"It won't work you know," you said, staring blankly out the windshield, feeling that little bit of hope in your chest die out.

"I get that he doesn't have emotions anymore," you continued, "so he definitely doesn't care about you. Whatever little plan you have going, won't work." You sounded desperate to even your own ears, and you hated it, but at least Elijah's lack of feelings gave you an excuse not to be a complete mess when you were in his presence again. He wouldn't care, he was devoid of compassion and guilt. The thought filled your heart with an emptiness that spread to the rest of your body. You let the feeling encompass you, numbing yourself against the pain, because once this ordeal was over, you would be forced to finally accept that Elijah was really, truly, lost forever.

Klaus laughed and turned, shooting you a smirk. "I've done my fair share of terrible things," he began.

"But," he sighed and stopped laughing, "even I can see what a complete shit show this is. You broke up with him a week ago, and he flipped the switch immediately. This whole thing has been dramatic, even for my tastes."

"Oh please," you sneered, turning to glare at him. "You live for drama," you said, rolling your eyes.

Klaus snickered, shaking his head as if it were the most ridiculous thing he'd ever heard. "Yes, well, as fun as this has been, there's only so much of it I can take."

You huffed and sighed, slumping in your seat as the light turned green. You turned away from him and tried not to let your anxiety show.

"Look," Klaus began, tapping his fingers on the steering wheel. "I'm going to be straight with you, love. Your break up with Elijah has been, inconvenient, to put it simply. He no longer cares about my well-being or the things I do. All he wants to do is feed, kill, drink and maim. I thought I would enjoy this side of him, but it turns out, the guy's a bloody asshole. And since you might have the ability to bring him out of this mess, it's in my best interest to try and help you."

You turned your head slowly, glaring at him with narrowed eyes. "You sure do have a way of showing it. Kidnapping is pretty terrible Klaus. Do you have any idea how scared I am right now? Not only have you kidnapped me, you are forcing me to confront my ex-boyfriend after I dumped him."

"I've done plenty to upset Elijah, but he's never flipped the switch over it. What exactly did you do to him?" Klaus demanded. He leaned closer to you, and his grip on the steering wheel tightened as he parked the car. "I'd suggest you start talking, sweetheart," he drawled, giving you a pointed look.

You bit your lip nervously, breaking under his intense gaze. Your shoulders dropped in defeat and you looked at your lap, chewing the inside of your cheek. You told him the truth, finally letting someone in on the secret you had kept from everyone.

"I told him that I didn't love him anymore, okay? I don't know," you trailed off, tears threatening to escape your eyes. "Look, I just, I needed to tell him something and that seemed easier than telling him the truth."

"So what's the truth?" Klaus asked gently. You couldn't bear to look him in the eye, so you stayed still and stayed quiet, trying to ignore the sound of blood rushing in your ears as you fought the urge to cry. After a few seconds, Klaus said your name softly, and when you looked up at him, there was genuine sympathy in his eyes.

You swallowed, trying to get ahold of yourself before you fell apart completely. "I want children, Klaus," you admitted. "And he can't give them to me. But it's okay, we broke up, and I'm fine." You were most definitely not fine, but that was beside the point. You finally confessed the truth, and felt a small bit of relief.

"Oh," he said. "Do you not want to adopt? Wouldn't surrogacy be an option? I can make a phone call and have a baby delivered to your door by tomorrow," he offered. You laughed, appreciating his attempts to make you feel better.

"No, Klaus. I'm sorry. I appreciate you trying, really I do," you said, giving him a sincere smile. "I want to have his child, and that is... well... impossible," you sighed.

There was a moment of silence, and you wondered what he was thinking. Klaus could be a lot of things, but you could tell he truly loved his siblings, no matter how much he claimed otherwise. His devotion was almost as intense as Elijah's and fear bubbled up in your stomach, knowing you were now in the crossfire of his affections for his older brother.

"You aren't still in love with him, are you?" Klaus asked. You felt your insides tremble at the mere mention of Elijah, but it wasn't enough to make your heart skip a beat or your head swirl. All you could feel was sorrow, because you knew how painful it would be to see him again. To be near him, but unable to touch him.

Klaus tilted his head, waiting for your answer. When he didn't get one, he asked again. "Answer the question, love," he said.

"Of course I still love him," you mumbled. "How could I not? I will always love him." You chuckled sadly, shaking your head and shrugging.

"Good, that will make this easier," Klaus said cheerfully, not sure how to react as he began fiddling with the radio station.

"He's going to kill me Klaus," you said, your voice flat and emotionless. "You're dragging me to him, and he's going to torture me or compel me into doing something bad and then when he's finished, he's going to kill me."

"Yes, possibly," Klaus agreed. "However, you could also bring him back and thus make my life a bit easier."

"We can only hope," you sighed. Klaus started driving towards the docks and you squeezed your eyes shut, trying to control the terror building within you.

"Klaus, where are we going?" you asked warily, looking around.

"Well, my dear brother isn't answering his phone, so I'm tracking it instead," he said, gritting his teeth as he continued driving.

"Can we please just leave him alone?" you begged, but he didn't seem to hear you.

"Please," you added. "I'm begging you, Klaus. Don't torture me like this, I'm not strong enough to lose him twice."

"I really don't care how you feel about this, darling," he said, reaching a hand up and patting your head, before returning it to the steering wheel. "But don't worry, I promise I won't let him kill you."

You would have responded, but Klaus took the last turn and parked in front of one of the ships on the docks. He removed the handcuffs, his eyes darting about your surroundings in paranoia as he grabbed your wrists and dragged you out of the car. You didn't put up a fight and let him pull you along, too frightened and confused to even think about struggling. This wasn't what you had been expecting when Klaus took you, and now you didn't know what to say, so you remained silent and obedient. Klaus released his grip and took a step back, heading up the ramp to the ship.

You took a shaky breath and followed him, shivering a bit as you stepped on board. There was music playing, and while the exterior of the boat looked fairly plain, the inside was quite posh and immaculately decorated. You hesitated, glancing at Klaus, but he nodded his head and you followed him into a room. You could sense that Elijah was close. You slowly breathed in and your nose twitched when you caught the strong scent of bourbon.

"I see you have already begun celebrating, brother," Klaus drawled, glancing around the room.

"That depends on how you define celebration," came a quiet response, and you shuddered at the sound of his voice. It was Elijah, your Elijah, his words ringing with a lack of inflection that wasn't entirely evident in his tone. It had a falsely polite, and strangely charming touch, like the cold indifference and arrogance that comes from experiencing and achieving total freedom.

You watched as he poured himself another glass, sitting back in a chair. He stared straight ahead, not meeting your eyes as he lifted the glass to his lips, swirling the alcohol, tipping it slightly, and watching it roll around, before putting it down again, not even having taken a sip. You sniffed, doing your best to control your emotions and expression as you watched him, but your mask was slipping, and you couldn't hide the raw pain in your voice when you spoke.

"Are you okay?" you asked, sounding raspy and hoarse, even to your own ears. Normally, it would have made him feel guilty to hear you like this. Maybe he would have replied in his usual soft, intimate tone, grabbing your chin and kissing your lips gently, holding you close. But your Elijah was dead, and there was nothing left but the monster the switch had transformed him into. You glanced at his face and looked away immediately, the coldness in his dark eyes sinking into your soul. They were beautiful, and deadly, gazing at you in cold assessment, and his expression did not change as he gave you a humorless smile.

"I have never been better," he replied, not moving from his relaxed position on the chair, though you noticed a slight tightening in his jaw when you opened your mouth to speak again. You quickly snapped it shut and watched as he tapped the glass with his finger, gazing around the room and sighing. You didn't know if his admission was a good or a bad thing, but the way he carried himself, all arrogant grace and calculated casualness, had alarm bells ringing in your head, telling you that you were in great danger.

It was worse than you had expected. The man you loved, the one who had treated you with such gentleness and tenderness, the man whose heart was filled with love, loyalty and affection for you, was not present at all.

"We shouldn't have come here," you blurted out, your throat constricting at the sudden fear gripping you. His eyes flicked up to look at you, his brow furrowed as he stared. You cleared your throat, casting a worried glance at Klaus, who was standing by the bar, sipping his own drink and watching the whole scene play out.

"Why? What is the problem?" Elijah asked, and you couldn't tell if he was acting cavalier or genuinely didn't care. "You said you wanted to break up, and I obliged you. So tell me," he said, his dark eyes meeting yours, "why are you here?"

"Because," you began, but quickly lost your train of thought, shaking your head and trying to shake the overwhelming urge to cry. You sucked in a deep breath, tilting your chin up as you spoke. "Because we still have stuff we need to talk about, and we can't when you are like this."

"Like what?" he asked, sounding bored. Your jaw clenched as he casually poured himself more alcohol, draining the contents of his glass quickly and sighing.

"Well," Klaus interrupted, walking over and leaning forward on his knees, "You could start by being a tad less cocky, and try actually listening."

Elijah smirked at him, arching an eyebrow. "Niklaus, I suggest you shut your mouth before I rip your tongue out."

"That would be amusing," Klaus shot back, rolling his eyes. "I'd like to see you try, or have you forgotten I am stronger than you? You can't hurt me."

"Hmm," Elijah hummed thoughtfully, staring intently at his younger brother. "Let's test that."

Before either of you could react, Elijah reached out and grabbed the back of Klaus' head, yanking him forward and bringing his face inches from his own. He glared at him, snarling as Klaus groaned in pain.

"Don't be ridiculous," Klaus growled, his fingers flexing. Klaus easily pried his hands off of him and forced him to release him. He shoved Elijah back into the chair, a vicious smirk on his face as he crossed his arms.

"Eli," you said, tears welling up in your eyes. You moved to touch his arm, but he snatched it out of your reach and pushed it back, baring his fangs at you, his eyes completely black.

"Do not call me that," he responded coldly, shaking his head.

"You shouldn't have brought her," Elijah said to his brother, and you felt the sadness you had been suppressing all day come rushing back full force. You would not be strong enough to get through this.

"Oh don't blame me, dear brother," Klaus retorted, clasping his hands together and glaring at him in frustration. "It's very much her fault that you turned your humanity off, so I brought her here to fix her mistake."

"A mistake I care not to rectify," Elijah said, lifting his chin up haughtily.

"Oh," Klaus scoffed, fixing him with a nasty glare, "I bet you don't."

"Shut up," you mumbled, blinking furiously. Your legs were shaking, your knees about to give out as you wrapped your arms around yourself. Klaus stepped closer to you and you leaned against him, trembling, clinging to his shirt.

"Get a grip," Klaus hissed, glaring down at you in annoyance. He wrapped a hand around your throat and turned you around to face Elijah. His grip tightened, and you gasped in surprise and pain, your eyes wide as they met Elijah's intense gaze. He couldn't take his eyes off of you, something within him stirred at the sight of your fear, but it was buried beneath the ice of his indifference. Elijah narrowed his eyes as he stood up, smoothing down his tie as he approached.

"Niklaus, you are so painfully transparent," he began, an edge of amusement coloring his tone, "I do not care if you hurt her," he added, and his words cut deeper than any physical blow could.

"Eli," you pleaded, a soft whisper of pure agony coming from your lips, "How could you possibly say that? You swore you would always take care of me, protect me." He lowered his eyes, studying your features carefully. He looked down at you, stroking his chin.

"Hmm, you know, now that you say that, I'm feeling a little thirsty," he said, chuckling and stepping closer.

You shut your eyes, stifling a sob and trying to hide the fact that his words had broken your heart, shattering it into pieces. You couldn't bear his mockery, it was almost worse than not having him at all. It made the excruciating pain much more unbearable. Elijah stared at you, leaning closer and brushing a stray hair off of your cheek.

His lips hovered over yours for a split second, causing your lips to part in surprise and confusion, wanting his mouth to capture yours, knowing that the press of his lips was something you would always miss. Even when he was a monster, you felt yourself reacting to him instinctively, wanting nothing more than to be with him. But the kiss did not come, and he pulled away before you could rise to meet him.

"Do you think she knows how many ways she can die?" Elijah asked his brother, and Klaus sighed heavily, rubbing his temples in frustration. "I mean, with enough patience and creativity, even the simplest forms of death, can be quite extraordinary," he drawled.

Klaus pulled you back from Elijah, his grip on you tightening, you weren't sure who you feared more in that moment. "Elijah, I made a promise that I would not let you kill her," Klaus said, and Elijah rolled his eyes, his jaw clenching and his eyes narrowing.

"That promise can easily be broken," he said, as if talking about the weather.

"Actually, I thought I would take a page out of your book, find a loophole in the promise I made," Klaus said, his voice taunting as he smiled cruelly. You stopped breathing at his words, your body going rigid, Klaus was going to kill you.

"Elijah?" you whispered desperately, praying that he would protect you from Klaus. You were so cold, and you couldn't move, rooted in place with fear. He turned around abruptly, shrugging his shoulders as he walked across the room to make a new drink.

"You can go ahead and drain her if you so wish. It makes no difference to me," he said.

"Sorry love, I have to call his bluff," Klaus said, patting your head and then running a hand through your hair as his fangs grazed your neck. His voice was dark and malicious. "Say your goodbyes," he smirked.

"Klaus, please," you cried, panic coursing through you, but before he could do anything more, Elijah lunged at him, tearing him away from you. Your back hit the floor hard, your head snapping against the wood, causing you to see stars. You cradled your head, tasting blood in your mouth as you rolled on the floor. Elijah tackled Klaus, growling and snarling viciously, his fingers clenched around his brother's neck as he pinned him to the ground.

"Don't you dare lay a finger on her," Elijah warned, but Klaus only smirked, using all his strength to shove Elijah off of him. Elijah's back connected with a pillar, falling to the floor as he clutched his head. He just sat there, head in his hands, his shoulders slumped, taking quick, shuddering breaths, attempting to regain some sort of composure. You crawled your way over to him, too dazed to stand up.

"Eli," you gasped, lifting his face up and forcing him to look at you. He didn't try to pull away, letting you caress his jaw. You slowly stroked his hair, shushing him gently as your fingers trailed over his cheekbones.

"Get away from me," he groaned, grabbing your wrist to keep you from touching him. His mind was reeling from the violent overload of emotions coursing through him. Having you here, so close to him, wanting him, loving him, it overwhelmed him, bringing back every single moment he had spent with you, every beautiful, painful, joyous moment of his entire existence.

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry," you sobbed, reaching out to touch him. He wasn't pushing you away, he was just sitting there, hunched over, breathing heavily. Your mind was too foggy to think about the consequences of your actions. There was an excruciating ache in your chest, and you needed Elijah to hold you.

You threw your arms around his shoulders and pressed your lips to the back of his neck, nuzzling him and letting tears stream down your face. He stilled, not fighting you, but not holding you.

"I lied to you Elijah, I'm sorry," you whispered, pressing your face into the crook of his neck as you hugged him tighter. "I love you, I never stopped. I'm sorry, please forgive me."

He didn't move, keeping his expression guarded as he put an arm around you, turning his body slightly to pull you in closer. He tilted his chin down and pressed his lips to the side of your head in a gentle kiss. His eyes were closed, your scent invading his nose, your hair tickling his neck. He sighed, your words, your presence, it was like a spark lighting up a flame of emotions in his chest as the switch in his head turned back on.

"I could never stop loving you," he murmured, opening his eyes and sitting up a bit, keeping you close to him.

"Well, looks like my work is done. Do give her a ride home when you are done, Elijah," Klaus drawled, smirking in triumph as he stood watching you, before swiftly making his way out of the room.

Elijah gripped your chin gently and forced you to turn to face him. You were horrified by the sadness in his dark eyes, but the relief you felt at seeing the love there tore you apart, and you burst into tears, gripping his face and pulling him towards you, kissing his lips, his jaw, his forehead, wrapping your arms tightly around his waist.

"Darling," he sighed, looking down at your tear stained face. He gently ran his thumb over your cheekbone, bringing your forehead to his as he just held you.

"Forgive me, I-I-was so scared," you managed to get out, but he hushed you, your breathing synchronizing as he hugged you tightly, running a hand through your hair.

"Why did you lie to me?" he asked, pulling away and stroking your neck, your pulse fluttering beneath his touch.

"I was afraid," you replied, sniffing and wiping your tears. "I didn't want to hurt you, I thought it would be easier to let you go if I pushed you away instead."

"What were you afraid of?" he questioned, guiding your face up, needing to see your beautiful, tear filled eyes.

"I was terrified at the prospect of getting old, growing old, and putting you through that. You'd have to watch as you lived a lifetime with me, and eventually I would be gone and you would be left alone," you gasped out, the words flowing out unbidden, unable to control yourself now that the gates had been opened. "and.. I want children of my own, and a family, I can't have all of that with you. This past week I've been so torn, I thought leaving you was the best thing to do, because I knew my choice would hurt you, and you didn't deserve that, and I didn't know how else to do this."

Elijah smiled sadly, shaking his head and cupping your cheeks. "None of that matters, my darling, and it never will. Don't you understand that? You are worth the heartache, the pain, the loss. You are worth being human for."

He kissed you gently, brushing your hair out of your face, causing more tears to slip down your cheeks as you fisted your hands in his shirt, allowing him to pour all of his love and heartache into the kiss. You were left breathless, staring into his eyes, seeing the sadness there that matched yours.

"As for children, I know a few witches that could help us solve that issue," he said. You blinked rapidly, stunned that his answer was so easy, simple. The corners of his lips quirked up, and you felt your heart thundering in your chest, desperate to have him, keep him forever.

"Do you want that? To have children with me?" you asked, your hands in his, hoping, praying, that he truly understood what he was getting himself into.

"With you, yes, anything you wish for, I will give you," he replied, resting his head on your shoulder, and nuzzling your neck. You drew in a deep breath, so relieved and overcome with a surge of emotions that you grabbed his head and planted another firm, passionate kiss on his lips.

He chuckled, a deep, soothing sound that had you smiling despite all the tears you were shedding. Your fingers were clutching at his shirt, dragging him closer to you as you continued to kiss him, memorizing everything, his taste, the curves of his lips, the way his tongue felt against yours. He put his arm around your waist, and shifted, scooping you up into his lap, and into his arms.

"When was the last time we made love?" he whispered against your lips, pulling away and looking into your eyes, his gaze caressing your features softly.

"Three months," you whispered, stroking his stubbled jaw, running your fingers over his lips, marveling at the feel of his warm, soft skin, thinking that you almost never had the chance to be with him again.

"That's much too long," he murmured, sliding his hands up your thighs and grinning seductively. You chuckled, feeling a heated blush creep up your neck and spread across your cheeks. His fingers traced the edge of your thighs, leaving goosebumps in their wake.

"I love you, Elijah Mikaelson," you said, grinning broadly as your fingers threaded through his hair, savoring the feel of it. He just sat, staring at you with warmth and adoration, unspoken love shining in his deep brown eyes.

"For eternity, I will love you, my y/n," he whispered, pressing his lips gently against yours, and you melted into him, gripping the back of his neck as you felt a piece of your soul slide back into place, wrapped tightly around his heart.

#elijah mikaelson #klaus mikaelson #the originals #the vampire diaries #tvdu #vampire diaries #elijah mikaelson imagine #elijah mikealson imagine #elijah mikealson #elijah mikaelson x reader #elijah mikealson x reader #tvd #the vampire diaries x you #the vampire diaries x reader #the vampire diares imagine #the vampire diaries imagine #the originals imagine #klaus mikaelson imagine #klelijah

629 notes · View notes

chrisevansonly · 6 months

Note

Smau for Oscar about the tweet that thought he murdered his gf with reader being like??? I’m alive my bf did not murder me

okay i actually wanted to kinda blurb this a bit 😂

“oscar!!!”

a thud could be heard from upstairs before the sound of footsteps pounded down the stairs and a very flushed and red faced oscar appeared in the living room

“what, what are you okay? are you hurt?”

“how could you!”

he frowned his eyes filling with confusion

“baby what have I done..?”

“i never thought you’d ever do this to me”

you scoffed, slightly feeling bad when you watched oscar’s eyes fill with panic and sadness

“honey please tell me what i’ve done…”

“you murdered me!”

biting your lip to stop from laughing you watched as your boyfriends face turned from panic to confusion before he groaned falling back against the couch

“what the fuck are you talking about?”

“someone on twitter started a rumour saying you murdered me so i just wanted to mess with you”

he stayed quiet letting out a sigh as you climbed over to him, leaning down and pressing your lips to his and then scattering kisses across his face

“i’m sorry my love..i was just messing around”

“i almost had a heart attack baby…i thought you were hurt or that i’d done something wrong”

after a few seconds he opened his eyes, looking at you, making you pout a bit as you looked at him, eventually he cracked a small smile

“i’m sorry…no more joking around i promise…”

“alright fine…because the next time you do, i might just murder you”

letting out a laugh you hit his shoulder lightly before he pulled you back down to him, bringing you in for a kiss. oscar could never murdered you, what would he do without all your love and millions of kisses?

yninstagram

liked by oscarpiastri, alexandrasaintmleux, landonorris and 643,000 others

don’t worry everyone, i’m very much still alive and still in love with my murderer boyfriend 🥰❤️

tagged oscarpiastri

see 67,000 comments

username HAHAHAH SHE SAW THE TWEETS

username our queen lives to see another day!!

>username for now!!

>yninstagram YOU GUYS😭

oscarpiastri i love you baby

oscarpiastri even if you tricked me…

>yninstagram i love youuuuuu

landonorris aww shucks too bad it wasn’t real

>yninstagram i have a key to your house, remember that😁

username please😭😭😭

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muzansfangs · 4 months

Text

You tell them you got a brazilian wax by a guy.

Starring: Aizen Sosuke x f!reader; Urahara Kisuke x f!reader; Shunsui Kyoraku x f!reader; Byakuya Kuchiki x f!reader;

Format: short imagines;

Warnings: nsfw, fluff, human/modern au, mention to female nudity, jealousy, vaginal fingering, dirty talk, language, creampie, oral sex (Aizen!receiving), vaginal sex, spanking, choking, spying on a partner, mention to murderous intents, wax play.

Plot: A trend on Tik Tok made you plot a devious plan to make your beloved boyfriend going mad. He knew you had an appointment for a brazilian wax. He obviously assumed you were going to be assisted by a woman. How will he react, when you tell him it was a man? Will his jealousy go too far? Will your prank get you in a bad situation?

﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏

Sosuke Aizen.

You knew better than messing with him. Your boyfriend and his god complex, along with his mania for having everything under his control could truly be lethal. Quite literally. Yet, you were bored that Friday night. Sosuke was not around and you ended up slumping onto your couch, phone in hand, scrolling through Tik Tok in search for a way to entertain yourself.

You did not really do much, beside chuckling every now and then. Well, that was until you came across a specific trend regarding a thing you were not unfamiliar with. As you watched the way a poor boyfriend freaked out at the thought of his girlfriend getting a brazilian wax from a guy, you could not restrain yourself from testing the waters. Aizen Sosuke, the cold-blooded mastermind you shared a roof with, was going to experience a man’s personal living hell.

It was a monday evening, when he came back from work just to find you laying on your stomach on your shared bed, in a set of black lingerie he had bought for you a few months ago, chuckling to yourself. He furrowed his brows, settling his briefcase onto the armchair beside the window, as he slowly removed his jacket.

His predatory eyes roamed over your curves. He knew you had gone to your monthly wax appointment. He could see your smooth legs and the way your lingerie already showed shaved portions of your nether regions supposed to be covered. If you had opted for such a provocative attire, it could only mean that you wanted to show off your body to him.

“Hello, darling” he greeted you, his trademark grin crossing his lips as he tugged at his black tie to loosen it.

It was hard to keep your play on, as you watched him slowly get ready to devour you. He always took his time, confident that his cold and charming demeanor worked magic on you even before his hands started to trace the curves of your body. It was true, unfortunately. But you had to resist. It was your time to torture him, after all.

“Hey” you whispered, lifting yourself up on your knees as he approached the bed.

He swept his tongue over his bottom lip, his hand cupping your cheek as he stood at the edge of the bed, leaning down to let his mouth collide with yours in a demanding kiss. You could not deny yourself such a treat and you returned it with equal passion, earning a guttural grunt from him.

He did not say much, he sat down next to you and it was a silent signal for you to climb over his lap and straddle him as you always did. He had somehow trained you to have some reactions and do specific things in response to his gestures. Sosuke Aizen surely had his own way to make you bend the knee effortlessly at his silent requests.

As you straddled him, his hand reached up to grasp his glasses and he hastily took them off, discarding them somewhere beside him on the bed without bothering to fold them. It was so atypical of him. He seemed eager to have you that night and you could not help yourself but tease him about it. After all, pouring gasoline on a wild fire was the right thing to do to get him even more eager.

“Damn, are you that eager to see me naked?” you taunted him, as he darted his brown chocolate hues on your again. There it was, his lustful glare that made your knees buckle.

“Actually, I’m eager to fuck you” he deadpanned, his hand landing on your neck and squeezing it enough to keep you in place, as his other hand tugged your thong to the side and he glided the pads of his fingers down your slit.

You gasped, arching your back as he smirked down at you “You’re already dripping… If it’s so easy to get you wet, I wonder how you don’t make a mess on your beautician’s couch while texting me” he joked, drawing figures eight on your bundle of nerves.

There you were, ready to drop the bomb.

As he delved his fingers into your aching core, a strained moan falling from your lips, you glanced at him with an innocent smile on your face, as you made the ground shake under his feet “Oh, I guess I have been lucky today. Can you imagine Robert’s face, if I stained the couch?”.

Congrats, Aizen.exe stopped working.

He froze solid, his fingers were still buried deep into you, but he was not thrusting them in his usual smooth movements that made you squirm. His eyes were locked with yours, a small frown on his face. You genuinely thought you had just given him an heart attack.

“Robert” he repeated flatly, clearly unamused.

It was in moments like this, when he was serious, seraphic, that you feared him the most. Aizen could be dangerous, truly dangerous. The hint of wrath sparkling into his eyes gave you chills and you uncomfortably darted your eyes away from him. The carpet underneath his shoes suddenly seemed particularly interesting.

“Yeah, Robert. The new guy who works for my beautician. You know, he helps her” you stated, you mouth feeling like chalk all of a sudden.

The dry laughter leaving Sosuke’s lips made you shiver and it took you a few seconds to realize you had royally screwed up, because he was so nimble to wrap his hand around your throat again, and pin you to the bed underneath him, that you had not realized your position had switched so suddenly.

“I don’t doubt it. He must have enjoyed the view of your legs spread wide in front of his stupid face. — he chimed, a devious smile curling his lips as he paused to clench his teeth — A stupid face I’ll gladly fuck up tonight. Would you love to see it, love? I could take his heart to you, offering his pulsing, wretched organ to you. I’ll gauge his eyes out of his skull. I’ll squeeze the life out of him—” he hissed, each time the threat becoming similar to the ones the slashers whispered through the phones to their victims in the stupid movies he loved to watch with you, only to feel you curl up next to him on your sofa.

They were hilarious, according to him.

“Aizen, I was fucking joking! Stop! It was a trend I ran into on Tik Tok!” you quipped, eyes rounded as you cut him off.

Your boyfriend arched his dark eyebrows up, tilting his head to the side and slowly releasing his grip on your neck. He looked almost disappointed. Not towards you. Maybe, he truly wished to kill someone. Because he would kill whoever dared to even glance at you.

His jealousy was skyrocketing.

“I see. — he stated then, before hopping back on his feet and slowly unbuckling his black leather belt — Since you love to use this pretty mouth of yours for talking bullshit, open it to make amend. I’ll obviously come into your mouth, darling. I expect you to swallow” he hissed, gripping your hair and dropping his pants down to his ankles.

Maybe, just maybe, he took a day off from work every month to accompany you to the beauty point. Perhaps, he stalked you down, when you went on your own, because the idea of a random Robert staring and touching your pubes truly made him want to commit a mass murder.

Shunsui Kyoraku.

Shunsui was the perfect victim for this trend. As soon as you ran into that video, you could picture the look of horror on his face as you told him another man had touched you in such an intimate spot. You were simply his. No man could enjoy the sight of you with your legs opened wide to show off your intimacy, no man but him. Eveything was settled and your plan took place two days after you had visited your beautician.

Shunsui had just returned home after a business trip and you had decided to welcome him not only by cooking his favorite dish and buying some extra saké, but by being his personal dessert.

As he ran his hands down your smooth thighs and practically folded you in half, your legs pressed against your chest, you knew that teasing him in the aftermath of such a passionate encounter was going to do numbers on him. His little usual nap was going to wait, after all, because his mind was just about to get pested with horrendous scenarios of a non-existing man exploring his little nest.

“There it is… Look at you, baby, you got such a perfect little hole to fill with my cum” Shunsui panted, his fingers gently spreading your labia as he watched in pride and awe his seed oozing out from you.

You were absolutely drained, your thighs still trembling and your breath irregular as you tried to get a grip of yourself and calm down. Yet, how could you, when the man who had just fucked you to oblivion was Shunsui Kyoraku? He had such a fine way to unravel you that you almost felt guilty for what you were about to say.

Lazily pushing yourself up on your elbows, you hummed and watched Shunsui slump down next to you “Oh, I know. You are definitely not the first man who has ever told me that” you casually commented, sitting up properly and running your fingers through your hair in a futile attempt to fix them.

Shunsui knew about your ex. Even though he was jealous about anyone that was not him, he still did not think of your ex as a ghost from the past threatening your relationship and he actually had no issues in listening to you talking about him. After all, you were his. That man had lost you forever.

“Well, your ex then had his way with words too” your boyfriend stated, a playful smile crossing his lips.

“My ex? Nah, I’m talking about Murata” you replied, laying back down and rolling on your side to face him.

Shunsui Kyoraku, your loving man, was now definitely interested in what you were saying.

Arching his eyebrows up and resting his head on the palm of his hand, he curiously inquired “Who’s Murata? Your gynecologist?”.

You chuckled and shook your head “My what? No, babe, I’m talking about my new beautician’s co-worker. Murata is such an amazing guy, you know? His fingers are so delicate and he applies the wax in a tender way” you lied, sounding as serious as you possibly could.

You swore you had seen his eye twitch, as he grasped your hip drew you closer to him. Your eyes widened as Shunsui’s hand slided down the small of your back and cupped your rear, giving it a firm squeeze.

“Where did this Murata boy put his fingers?” he huskily asked you, his lips brushing against the shell of your ear as you swallowed thickly. Oh, you knew exactly what was going to happen.

Were you regretting that little stunt you had pulled? Oh, you were for sure.

At your lack of answers, Shunsui sighed and rolled you onto your stomach. His hands gripped your hips and he raised your waist up, until it was at the perfect level with his pelvis. But no, he was not going to claim his domain on your inner walls again. A little punishment was in store fore you.

“Poor little baby, she tries to prank me but cannot even play the part until the very end. Good, that’s good, though” he chuckled, before you parted your lips to let a soft whimper leave them and turn your stomach upside down.

“Shunsui! Babe, I’m sorry! It was a prank! I promise” you piped out, blushing as you hid your face down onto the pillow.

“I’m not having it”.

Spanks it was. But he surely made it up to you later on.

Urahara Kisuke.

Your pervert boyfriend and this trend were a perfect combination for a disaster. It was like throwing powder into a fire. But it sounded like a good idea for you, therefore you persuaded yourself nothing would have gone wrong. Kisuke was not a jealous man. Of course he was protective and a bit territorial, but he never actually made a scene or freaked out, when a man tried to hit on you. He believed you could handle the situation perfectly on your own and, on top of that, if he had to step up and chase the stranger away, he surely avoided violent conflicts.

You two were laying onto your shared bed, Kisuke on top of you, as his mouth was latched onto your throat and his hand was currently between your thighs.

Whimpers and heavy breaths filled the air, while his fingers deftly plunged into you, making your lips part to chant a lewd melody he loved. He knew so many ways of making your knees buck and drag orgasms out of you that it was not a surprise that simply fingering you could make you scream out his name.

“Do you even realize how wet you are? You’ve soaked my whole hand and wrist, you dirty kitten” he cooed in your ear, slowing down the pace he had set a tad bit to enjoy the way your walls clenched onto his slender fingers so tightly.

As he did that, decided to slip his fingers out of you, only to glide them down your folds and enjoying how soft, smooth and slippery they were after the wax appointment you had gone to yesterday.

“So soft, you are so soft, you know?” he teased you, grinning as he took his hat off with his free hand.

Now or never. It was time to drop your bomb.

“Yeah, I know. — you breathed out, glancing up at him and resting the back of your hand over your forehead before letting out a dramatic sigh —I expected you to use some original terms to describe my pussy, though. I mean, Jason used those exact words yesterday. Tsk, I expected you to do better than him” you gingerly said, averting your eyes from him.

Urahara Kisuke went silent. The pads of his fingers glued to your folds, he tried to process what you had just said. A man? Did you mention a man? Additionally, not even a native one, judging by his name, therefore he surely did not know him.

“I’m sorry, who in the holy Soul Society is Jason?” he quizzically asked, tilting his head to the side as he stared at you in utter shock.

“Who?”.

“Jason. Who is this J-A-S-O-N man?” he replied, his eyes dangerously darting onto the lit candle on the night stand.

If his kitten was up for playing with fire, he was going to let you play with it.

“Oh, Jason, right… Well, he waxed me yesterday. He praised my flesh in such a basic way it was hard not to laugh at his face” you replied, pushing yourself up onto your elbows as Kisuke simply hummed and reached for the candle.

At first you got confused, eyebrows knitted together while your eyes followed his moves and the way he began to look at your thighs while licking his lips. It was only then that you remembered how he had wished to try some wax play with you. Eyes widening in shock, you gawked and sat up.

“Kisuke! Baby, wait, wait! I was kidding! It was a trend I ran into on Tik Tok! I promise, I’ll cut the crap!” you fretted, cupping his cheek in your hand and peppering his face in kisses. You were evidently begging for mercy.

The shop-keeper, however, shrugged and delicately pushed you back down as he smiled at you “Oh, I see! But you now owe me some sex therapy, kitten. Now, let me try some wax play and I’ll eat you up. I’ll make you scream so loud Aizen will hear from Muken!” he taunted you, winning you over with his last joke.

“You are a dork…” you chuckled, slapping his shoulder.

Byakuya Kuchiki.

If someone wanted to get a reaction out of this stolid man it was by messing with you. How did they even think about touching his delicate flower, the woman who had successfully made him smile again after so long? A mad Byakuya was not a problem people wished to deal with and, naturally, you did not want to make blood run down the streets. But it was so tempting, so fun. You could not restrain yourself, right? Your boyfriend needed to experience that little trauma too.

It was a lovely summer night, your boyfriend was still locked up in his office and you decided to pay him a visit. Along with buying some take-away in his favorite restaurant, you were going to deliver him a rather spicy dessert. No one was around anymore. The only sound eachoing down the corridor was the sound of your heels clicking onto the marble floor.

When Byakuya saw you walking past the threshold of his office, he faintly smiled. You were surley a sight to behold, especially in that flowery dress he adored. Running up to him, you threw your arms around your neck and pecked his lips gently.

“I was missing you” you said softly, as he made you sit comfortable onto his lap.

Byakuya hummed and kissed your nape, his arms hugging your waist as he redirected his gaze back on the laptop on his desk. He worked way too much, but how could he not? The Family Company constantly required his attention and assistance. But now you were there, ready to catch his attention with some salty prank.

“How was your day, love?” he asked you softly, typing something on the keyboard.

“Quite good. — you stated, smiling softly — And I got some news. My beautician had called in sick today, I was assisted by her colleague” you absent-mindedly said, not getting much of a reaction out of him. You had been vague, indeed. He had no reason to suspect anything, after all.

“Really? And was his colleague good?” he asked.

“Oh, yes! Really good. I got to say I was put in a rather unusual position, but overall he was professional” you chimed, closing your eyes as you mentally prepared for hellfire to break out.

And it did.

Byakuya cleared his throat, his grip on your waist tightening even so slightly as he nosed your cheek gently “He?”.

“Yep. I’m talking about Santiago” you casually said, smiling softly.

“Santiago. Mh, I see. — he replied, prompting you stand up, much to your dismay and confusion, but as he grasped the back of your neck and pushed you down onto the empty side of the deak, you squirmed — And was the position he asked you to strike that uncomfortable?” he said calmly, unbuckling his belt with one hand, meanwhile he allowed the other one to hike the skirt of your dress up.

“Y-Yes… You could say so” you meekly replied.

The smack on your rear you received afterwards making you squeak out softly, your foreteeth sinking onto your bottom lip.

Byakuya sighed, lowering his mouth to your ear “You know, baby, when you want to prank someone, you should be careful in not messing up the plan. How was I supposed to fall for that, when you have sent me the link of the video?” he purred, as you gaped in shock.

Your jaw went slack, as reality dawned onto you: so that was why Rangiku had not replied to your video and text ‘check this out, Byakuya is gonna be so mad’.

You had sent it to Byakuya.

“Baby, I’m so, so sorry! It was a cute idea!” you protested, but he had already slipped your panties down your thighs, a soft groan leaving his lips as his fingers glided down your smooth slit, earning a little squirm from you.

“I know. I have a cute idea too. Spread your legs and let me show what I am talking about” he practically commanded.

Gosh, did that make you wet.

AUTHOR NOTE.

Hello there! An old draft and promise to some of you that I have finally finished! Thank you so much for having been so patient, I genuinely appreciate your feedback and enthusiasm at times. This was pretty fun to write and definitely a breath of fresh air from all of my other requests. Let me know what you think about it! Likes, comments and re-posts are greatly appreacited!

Until then,

X O X O

TAGS: @electronicwitchcollection @aizenwifey @cyberdazetragedy @hearrrtfillia @eeeextttt @luccis-coochie @niya12 @juleenbety @moris666 @virette @sillylittlefellas @elijangwifey @han11dh

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bbyleiah · 5 months

Text

'Miss Me?'- Geto Suguru

| The reader encounters mafia boss Geto who takes her into his home after an altercation. Despite Geto being a busy man, The two slowly fall in love as Geto develops a soft spot for her. |

Cw: Mafia Boss!Geto, black reader, heavy ddlg themes, a brief murder scene, pet names (princess, bun, bubs, sweetheart), praise, degradation, dirty talk, dry humping, scratching, hair pulling, fingering, oral sex (f receiving), missionary position, size difference, lots of fluids, !omorashi! (reader pees on Geto accidentally during sex 🫣), spitting (he spits in her mouth), begging, crying, pussy drunk Geto, Geto whining and whimpering a few times, reader calls him daddy a lot, Geto is filthy, etc.

word count : shorter than my usual fics 😭

sn : I wrote this fic for fun bc I was inspired and decided to post 🥹 there’s lots of cute moments and plot in this fic despite the wild smut 😭 read at ur own discretion 🤲🏾

Days became weeks as you waited for your boyfriend to come back home. You knew he was a busy man though and you always tried to be a good girl and be patient but you were growing restless. You were so attached to him and him being gone was starting to get to you. It also didn’t help that he lived a dangerous lifestyle so whenever you hadn’t heard from him in awhile you always assumed the worst.

Geto Suguru; your daddy, was the top mafia boss in central Japan. He was feared by all and everyone knew his name. Those who knew of him also knew of you and they knew to tread lightly around you unless they had a death wish. Geto was a very scary man, killing people without a second thought. He terrified you when the two of you first encountered but you somehow ended up being his biggest soft spot. His sweet girl that he’d die for in a heartbeat.

It all started when he stormed into your workplace a few years back. You were working at a small restaurant at that time, a mere server. You were just like any other employee, working for money to get by. The restaurant you worked at was a little off putting and it appeared that your manager was suspicious but you never thought much of it until Geto and his men barged in and got into a shootout with your boss.

“Fucking prick. You thought you could take money from me?. Now I’m going to take your pathetic life.” Geto said before he shot your manager right in the head. You screamed as the blood splattered on you from where you hid under one of the tables with a co-worker of yours. In that moment you thought you were gonna die too. All because you decided to work at some shitty restaurant.

“Yo boss, what should we do with the mutts?” A blonde haired guy asked as he grabbed you roughly. His hand gripped your face in a bruising grip as he held you up off the floor like you weighed nothing. You cried in pain and fear as you clawed at his hands for him to release you. Your co-worker was being held by her hair by an intimidating woman with brown hair.

The guy referred to as ‘boss’ observed you with a tilt of his head. You shivered under his deadly gaze, fear taking over you completely. He had the kind of aura that instantly made you want to submit to him in fear of what he’d do to you if he didn’t. He was dressed in a black button up with his sleeves rolled up to his elbows and some black slacks. His raven colored hair was tied up in a bun with a few strands left out.

“Speak.” was all the man said to you and you were dumbfounded. Your doe eyes stared at him as you processed what he was asking of you. He was giving you a chance to plead your case. “I-I..please don’t kill me! I haven’t done anything wrong, I’ll forget about all of this! Just please let me go..” you begged as you cried. Geto rubbed the butt of his gun against his chin as he contemplated your pleas.

He then told your co-worker to speak as well but you guess they had the wrong response because he told the woman to kill her before your co-worker could even finish speaking. You flinched at the loud gunshot and sobbed as you closed your eyes. “Clean her up and let her go.” The man stated, pointing at you before walking away. The blonde groaned in annoyance and dropped you.

“Why do I always have to babysit?” He muttered as he led you out of the restaurant. He brought you to a secluded very expensive beautiful home that you later found out the ‘boss’ man owned. The maid servants there got you cleaned up and even fed you which you were grateful for. “Alright mutt, where do you live so I can get rid of you now?” The blonde questioned you once you were settled.

You stayed silent, just staring at him. You decided not to speak because you were afraid but also because you truly had no place to go to. The place you slept at was the little apartment that resided above the restaurant and was given to you by your manager. Now that the restaurant building had been torn apart though, you were essentially homeless. “Silent treatment, huh?” He chuckled. “Well you can be quiet all you want but boss won’t spare you again if you don’t comply.” He warned you.

You chewed on your bottom lip as you debated your response, “I have nowhere to go..” you told him honestly. He sighed hearing that, running a hand down his face in irritation. “You should’ve just died then instead of begging to live.” He tsked while shaking his head. Those words hit you hard, bringing tears to your eyes. “Boss will figure out what to do with you.” He said and left you be.

Gojo talked with Geto about you and your circumstance and it was oddly decided that you’d stay in Geto’s house until you found your own place. This arrangement only worked because Geto was never home. It took you awhile to realize that. In the beginnings of living with him, you avoided the scary man like he was the plague. But when you began to notice his frequent disappearances or his late arrivals in the middle of the night it piqued your curiosity.

You found out through the maids what his name was. “The boss is the most dangerous man in Japan. You’re lucky he let you survive sweetie because he doesn’t do that unless he sees something in a person.” Your favorite maid; Maya, told you as you ate breakfast. “What’s his name? I’ve never had a conversation with him to ask..” you asked once you realized you truly had never conversed with the man. “Geto Suguru. Mr.Suguru. Don’t refer to him by his name though or you might end up dead.” She informed you.

You nodded in understanding as you memorized his name but not too much so you wouldn’t say it even on accident. The first real interaction you had with Geto was when he came home one night to find you fast asleep on his couch. You woke up to him standing over you and you screamed as you sat up. He was completely unphased and not startled at all by your scream which was even more unsettling. “They just left you here? No one took you to your bedroom?” He asked you.

You shook your head, “no..i chose to sleep here so it’s not their responsibility..” you replied softly. “Why did you choose to sleep here though? Aren’t you uncomfy?” He continued. You didn’t understand why he was so concerned with you sleeping on the couch. “I’m not uncomfy, I fell asleep because I got really cozy earlier. Do you want me to not sleep here? I’m sorry if I wasn’t allowed to.” You began to ramble as you stood up, tripping over your feet a little.

“No no, you can do whatever you want.” He told you, and even he seemed a little surprised by his words. “Oh!..okay.” You were surprised at him being so lenient and nice since you’d only heard the bad things about him but you appreciated his kindness. “Have you eaten?” He asked. You nodded, “mhm! Maya made my favorite pancakes earlier, the ones with strawberries and whipped cream on top!” You told him excitedly as you smiled at the memory.

Despite Geto thinking you looked adorable as fuck at the moment, he frowned. “Pancakes for dinner?. That’s not good. You shouldn’t eat sweets so late. I’ll tell Maya to not make them any time after 3pm.” He said and your eyes widened. “B-But they’re my favorite!” You pouted. “and I said no sweets for dinner. Understood?.” The tone he used now sent a shiver down your spine. “Yes sir..” you complied, knowing that he meant what he said.

“Good girl.” The words slipped out before he could even think. You blushed hearing them, not used to such praise. He cleared his throat, “Its late. Go sleep some more, in your bed this time.” He told you. You had no complaints since you were still sleepy. “Okay, goodnight sugu- I mean! sir!” You quickly corrected yourself before you rushed off to your bedroom. Geto heard you about to say his name and oddly enough he didn’t mind it. He found your little panic cute though.

That was the last time you and Geto had spoken for awhile since he had gotten busy again after that interaction. Little did you know though, Geto constantly kept tabs on you. He was always asking gojo and his house staff about you and how you were doing. He didn’t appear to care much on the outside but he did have a little concern over you. The next time the two of you spoke was a lot less casual.

You had gotten hurt because you fell off a chair while trying to stand on it to reach something. Surprisingly to everyone; Geto rushed home to check on you after hearing the news of your sprained ankle. “Are you okay? Does it hurt a lot?” He asked you as he sat down with you and grabbed your leg to inspect your ankle. You nodded, still sniffling and teary eyed from the fall. “It hurts a lot.” You hiccuped.

Geto frowned, “You need to be more careful. Don’t ever climb something like that again. Understood?” He told you. “Y-Yes sir” you sniffled with a pout. “Boss she’s just being dramatic, it’s just sore. She’ll walk it off in a few days.” Gojo dismissed the whole thing. You were getting tired of him and his harsh comments. You glared at him which didn’t phase him at all because your glare looked more like puppy dog eyes. You then took it upon yourself to throw a pillow at his face which caught him off guard.

“Meanie” you huffed as you crossed your arms. Everyone in the staff witnessed this and couldn’t help but laugh, stifling their laughter behind their hands. Even Geto was holding back a laugh as he bit down on his lip. Geto rarely ever smiled or laughed so that left Gojo flabbergasted seeing his boss so amused. “This is some bullshit. I’m tired of this little girl boss.” Gojo expressed, irritated. “I’m tired of you too! ugly face! You should cover all of it, not just your eyes!” You spat back.

“You’re childish and a waste of time. Pesky little girl.” Gojo insulted you back. “and you’re a big meanie! Mean people are ugly! You should be fired” You huffed. Geto chuckled at the two of you, “You think I should fire him, sweet girl?” Geto hummed with amusement as he gently caressed your ankle. You nodded, “mhm! he isn’t good at his job.” You stated. Gojo was dumbfounded that his boss was even entertaining you. “Hm, well since you say so I might just consider it.” Geto chuckled.

Gojo’s eyes widened, “Boss..” he trailed off. “Go somewhere and make yourself useful. Now.” Geto told Gojo as he looked at him with a deadly stare. “Yes sir!” He quickly complied before rushing off. Geto wasn’t actually going to fire Gojo, he could never get rid of his best man. But, he knew Gojo was being unkind to you and he wasn’t going to let that slide. “Come on, let’s get you in bed. No more walking for you, okay?. If I find out you got up on this foot, you’re gonna be in big trouble. Understood?” Geto said to you as he picked you up.

You squeaked in surprise when he suddenly picked you up. “Yes s-“ you started but he cut you off. “Don’t call me sir. You’re not one of my staff so you don’t have to call me that.” He said as he carried you upstairs. “Oh..what should I call you then..?” You asked shyly as your fingers played with the collar of Geto’s shirt. “You can call me by my name if you’d like.” He hummed. “I heard it was bad to say your name though..” you uttered.

“Yeah? Well I’m the boss and I said you can. Everyone in this house obeys me and me only. So what I say stands.” He said as he looked into your eyes. “O-Okay..Suguru~” You mumbled shyly. He grinned, “Good girl.” He praised as he gave your thighs a light squeeze. You blushed deeply, completely flustered as you hid your face in his neck. From then on, you and Geto developed a close relationship.

Everyone couldn’t believe that Geto allowed you to freely say his name. They also were stunned at seeing their cruel boss being sweet to someone for once. The moment the relationship between the two of you turned into something more intimate was when you caught a cold and got sick. Geto was away when he heard the news and he ordered that you’d stay in his bedroom and sleep there until he got back.

The staff took great care of you as they awaited Geto’s arrival. “Sweetheart~” Geto called out softly once he finally got back home after a long day. You were curled up in the center of his bed looking so adorable and also really sick. “Geto..” you whined as your eyes slowly opened to see him approaching you. “Awh, baby got sick. Do you feel a little better now? I told my staff to give you the best care.” He cooed as he placed his hand on your forehead to check your temperature.

You nodded slowly, “mhm, I feel a little better. The staff are really nice to me, even gojo was nice this time.” You told him with a small smile. He chuckled, “That’s good to hear, bun.” He hummed as he admired you fondly. “Missed you..” you muttered out as your small hand moved to hold his. Geto felt his heart swell hearing that. “You did?. I missed you too sweet girl. More than you know.” He said honestly as he caressed your hand with his thumb.

“Come on, let’s give you a bath so we can get rid of those germs.” He said as he picked you up and began carrying you to his bathroom. You snuggled into his hold, curious eyes looking around since this was your first time in Geto’s bedroom. It was told to you that no one was ever allowed in Geto’s room so you felt special at the moment. Reality hit you once Geto had the bath all set and he began to look at you expectedly. “I-I..urm..” you stuttered out shyly as you grew flustered.

“Want me to cover my eyes?” He asked you. “Yes please!” You didn’t hesitate to say. Geto was amused at how adorably shy you were but he understood your wishes so he covered his eyes. You then took your clothes off before slipping into the warm bubble bath. You let out a sigh of contentment as you relaxed fully. “You can uncover them now.” You told him. Geto hadn’t had anyone tell him what to do in awhile and the fact that it was a cute thing like you of all people made him feel soft, but in the best way possible.

Geto was deeply unprepared for the sight of you naked in his bathtub. He couldn’t see much due to all the bubbles covering you up, but it sure did have his imagination running rampant. Geto stood there just staring at you for longer than he intended to until you snapped him out of his filthy thoughts. “Geto?” You called out. “Sorry bubs. Got lost in thought.” He cleared his throat. Geto then rolled up his sleeves and began washing you up. You melted into his soothing touch as he gently cleaned you up with care.

Geto tried to keep his thoughts as pure as possible as his hands felt all of your curves and dips. He let you dry yourself off once the bath finished and told you to go wear something from his closet while he drained the tub. You were in awe as you looked around his big fancy walk in closet. Everything in it was so ‘manly’ and you loved it. You settled for one of his white button up shirts and climbed back into his bed once you were dressed.

You put a show on Geto’s tv as you waited for him to get out of the shower. He had his hair down when he came out dressed in a t-shirt and some sweatpants. You gawked at the sight of him and his pretty hair, “Your hair is really pretty.” You complimented him honestly. “Aw, thanks bun.” He chuckled as he tied his hair up in a half up half down style. “Why don’t you wear it down more often?” You asked him as you watched him climb into bed beside you. “Too much of a hassle. It gets in the way, you know?” He explained.

You nodded in understanding. “Well I think I like it most when your hair is down” you declared with a smile. “Is that so?” He chuckled. “I should wear down more often then, just for you.” He mused and you giggled. “I’d like that~” you grinned. The two of you got comfy in bed and talked until you fell asleep. You somehow ended up falling asleep on top of Geto, not that he minded at all. He wrapped his strong arms around you and placed a kiss on your forehead.

Geto constantly felt the urge to kiss those pretty plump lips of yours but he fought against it. He didn’t want to make you uncomfortable. You felt so warm and safe in Geto’s hold, it was the best sleep you’d had in awhile. You woke up the next morning to some rustling around. “Sugu?” You called out sleepily as you rubbed your eyes. “Go back to sleep bubs, it’s early and you need to rest.” He told you softly. “But where are you going?” You asked as your eyes finally cleared up to see him getting dressed.

You let out a soft gasp seeing that he was shirtless. He had on dress pants that were unbuttoned still, allowing you to see his briefs and a glimpse of his dick imprint. His hair was also down, falling over his shoulders as he got ready. You peeked shamelessly at him from above the blankets. You quickly hid your eager eyes once he directed his attention on you though. “Why are you hiding bun? You can stare at me if you want.” Geto chuckled as he walked over to the bed.

Geto then climbed over top of you, hovering over you as he pulled the blankets away from your eyes. “You feeling better?” He asked you. “mhm, are you leaving again?” You asked him. “Got some business I need to handle sweetheart.” He told you as he cupped the side of your face. You pouted, “You’re always leaving. Do you really have to go?” Your precious doe eyes almost made him fold. “I do really have to go but I’ll be back soon, I promise” he hummed.

“You’re gonna be good for me until I get back, right?” He said as his thumb swiped over your bottom lip, his eyes seemingly fixed on your mouth. You were flustered, “Y-Yes..I’ll be good.” You reassured. “Good girl, always so sweet for me.” He cooed. “Geto..” you whined. “What did I say to call me when we’re alone?” He questioned you. You knew your ears had to be red by now. “D-Daddy~” you muttered shyly, completely embarrassed.

It was a few weeks ago when Geto told you to address him as ‘daddy’ but he never gave you an explicit reason why. “Good girl” he said before he kissed you, making your eyes widen. The last thing you expected was for him to kiss you. You whined and tried to push him away, “Daddy no, ‘m sick.” You reminded him. “It’s okay bubs, daddy is strong. I won’t get sick.” He hummed and continued to kiss you. He kept alternating between full on eating your face and then pecking your lips repeatedly.

It seemed he really enjoyed kissing you. You enjoyed it just as much, wrapping your arms around his neck as you kissed him back. You let out cute little whines and mewls into the kisses that drove Geto crazy. “Fuck..you’re gonna make daddy late princess.” Geto sighed as his trailed kisses down your neck. “Daddy should stay home with me” You tried to persuade him as you ran your fingers through his hair. “I want to baby..trust me I do. But daddy’s work is very serious and I’m the boss so I have to be there.” He explained.

His actions were betraying his words though because he moved to get underneath the covers with you, gripping your thighs as he positioned himself between your legs. “b-but ah—“ your words got cut off due to a moan you let out once you felt Geto start to grind his hard cock against your cunt. “no buts. Daddy has to work in order to keep his princess safe.” He grunted as he rutted against you. He could feel how your cunt progressively got wetter, creating a wet spot on his briefs.

“shit..I wanna fuck your cute little cunt so bad, sweet girl.” He panted into your neck. You whined, back arching slightly as your hips pushed back against his. You attempted to match his pace but you were failing miserably. “n-nasty daddy.” You whimpered. The moment got terribly interrupted by an obnoxious knock at Geto’s bedroom door. “Yo boss! Hurry up, we don’t have time to waste! I know you didn’t oversleep.” Gojo yelled from outside the door. Geto groaned in annoyance.

“I’m coming! shithead..” Geto yelled back. “sorry bun, daddy’s gotta go now.” He sighed and kissed your pouty lips. “When are you gonna be back?” You asked him as you watched him get up and finish getting dressed. “Don’t know baby..but I’ll try to come back as soon as possible.” He said as he tied his hair up in its signature bun and tucked in his shirt. Geto didn’t bother changing his pants and briefs despite your slick that was still seeped into them.

“Bye sweetie.” He said as he kissed you one last time. “Bye bye daddy~” you waved as you watched him leave. From that moment on you became Geto’s girl and he made sure everyone knew it too. The staff was unsurprised though because they noticed their boss grow a soft spot for you. Geto having to ‘take care of business’ is what had you sulking now in present time. He’d been gone for almost a month now. It’s the longest he’d been away in years.

You were lounging on the couch when you heard the door open and you rushed to see if it was Geto, only to see Gojo. “Well don’t look so disappointed. Aren’t I your second favorite person?” He teased as he laughed. “Shut up. You could’ve stayed gone forever.” You huffed. “Aw, hurts to hear you be so mean cutie. I taught you that?” He chuckled as he patted your head. You slapped his hand away since he was touching your fresh box braids.

“How come you’re here and he isn’t? Aren’t you two attached by the hip?” You pouted. Gojo shrugged, “Boss said he had some other stuff to take care of, he should be here by tonight though.” He said. “Really?” You perked up excitedly. “Yes really.” He chuckled. “You’ve been crying over him haven’t you?” He teased. “No I didn’t..” you attempted to lie but it was obvious. “Crybaby. Geto isn’t even that great.” He laughed. “Yes he is!” You defended as you stomped your small foot.

Gojo cooed, “Everyday I realize more and more why boss likes you so much, you’re just so darn cute.” He smiled honestly as he pinched your cheeks. You squirmed and giggled, you were flattered since it was rare that Gojo complimented you. “Sugu is gonna kill you for touching me.” You teased. “Shh, don’t tell him.” Gojo entertained your antics, though he knew those words somewhat rung true. Geto was serious about no one touching his princess.

“Wanna know a secret?” He whispered suddenly and you eagerly nodded. You leaned in close, gojo leaning down to your height to tell you the discreet information. “Geto has been missing you a lot, I’ve never seen him so mushy and sappy before. He brought you up allll the time. He said he was gonna die if he didn’t come back home to you soon.” Gojo whispered. Your eyes widened at the information, it made you happy to know that Geto missed you just as much as you missed him.

“Sugu can’t die though, I’ll be really sad.” You pouted. “Don’t worry, boss is literally immortal somehow.” He laughed honestly. “Oh! and he’s also been kinda a perv. he’d definitely kill me for telling you this..but he was super stressed you know? and then he kept going on about wanting to fuck you and feel your cunt squeezing him..it was hard to listen to.” He told you, seemingly cringing as he remembered his boss’s rambling. You blushed hearing the additional secret, getting shy as you hid your face in your hands.

“Sugu likes to say icky stuff sometimes..” you muttered, flustered. “Oh please don’t act like you don’t enjoy it.” He cackled as he teased you. You whined and pushed him away, “I do not!” you huffed in embarrassment. “Mhm whatever you say princess.” He chuckled. “Now go make yourself busy, I have important things to do as well.” He hummed. “I didn’t want to stay and talk to you anyways.” You giggled as you skipped away. “Ouch, that one hurt.” He said as he dramatically placed his hand over his heart.

Since you knew your daddy was actually coming home tonight, you wanted to make yourself look pretty for him. You started off with doing your makeup. You decided to keep it simple so you did a simple eye look with cute pink hearts for decoration. You contemplated what to wear for awhile until you settled on a white silk dress with a bow in the back. You paired the dress with lacy thigh high socks. You were happy with your look as you twirled while looking at yourself in the mirror.

You sprayed on your favorite perfume and then kept yourself busy as you waited for Geto to get home. You did your usual hobbies of reading, drawing, and watching tv but you couldn’t help the way your eyes constantly checked the clock. Your energy depleted the later the day got and by the time it was 10pm you were getting teary eyed. You got lost in how sad you were, fully prepared to sob that you didn’t hear the door opening behind you. “Miss me?”

You suddenly heard Geto’s voice and you immediately perked up and looked to see him standing there with flowers and a box of chocolates in his hand. “Sugu!” You cried as you ran and jumped into his arms. “oof, I don’t remember you being this heavy baby” he teased as he held you and kissed your forehead. “Why are you crying bun?” He asked you softly as he carried you back to the couch. “I missed you, thought you weren’t comin’ home today.” You sniffled.

“Awh, princess I couldn’t wait to come back home to see you. I just got a little busy.” He hummed as he sat down on the couch with you on his lap. “I got you some treats though” he smiled as he handed you the chocolates. You excitedly opened them up and began eating them immediately. He chuckled, “you and that damn sweet tooth. It’s too late to be eating sweets but since you’ve been good you deserve it.” He cooed as he wiped the tears from your soft cheeks.

“You look pretty bubs” he complimented once he got a really good look at your whole ensemble. “wanted to look pretty f’r daddy.” You muffled around a piece of chocolate. “You always look pretty, my pretty girl. So beautiful and all mine” he flattered you and you giggled. “thank you daddy” you said softly with a grin. A comfortable silence took over as Geto just admired you, content and happy to just be in your presence again. His hands caressing your thighs in a soothing motion.

You just sat there happy as ever, eating your chocolates without a single thought in your head. “I missed you so so much baby..” Geto suddenly sighed as he buried his face in your neck. “mm, you smell good sweetheart” he breathed you in. You giggled, “that tickles” you told him as you squirmed a little. He breathed out a small laugh, “sorry baby. Daddy just needs to feel you against him right now.” He muttered into your skin as he closed his eyes.

Your hands moved to play in Geto’s hair, running your fingers through it and scratching at his nape. He let out a faint moan in content at the feeling. You were happy to be pleasing him so much, feeling him completely relaxed against you. You took his hair tie out so his hair could be fully down just the way you liked it. “feels so good baby..” he mumbled into your neck. You giggled, “I like making daddy feel good” you said honestly with pride.

You felt geto squeeze lightly at your hips after you said that. You began to tug at his hair as you played with it and you felt him tense up a bit. “do you like it more when I pull it or when I scratch?” you asked him, completely innocent. You were truly just genuinely curious but you were oblivious to how you were affecting Geto. “both feels great baby..” he sighed. “Okay~” you giggled. You then continued to do both happily until you felt Geto’s dick poking against your thigh.

“daddy…you’re hard..” you muttered out as you froze. “mm, daddy’s cock missed you and your sweet cunt bubs.” He said as he pulled you even closer so that you sat directly on top of his throbbing cock. You whined and squirmed. “you gonna be a good princess for daddy and let him stuff your cute hole?” He hummed as he looked at you. “because daddy needs it..needs it really bad. You wanna make me feel good, don’t you bun?” He continued as he began to kiss up your neck.

You nodded, “m-mhm, I wanna make you feel good” you breathed out softly. “Good girl” He praised before he suddenly flipped you over onto your back on the couch. You gasped and didn’t have much time to process before Geto was ripping your panties off. “so pretty” he groaned as he spread your lips with his fingers to get a good look at your cunt. He then spit on your cunt and dragged his fingers through your slit. You whined, “f-filthy daddy” you stuttered out as you tried to close your legs.

Geto was quick to slap your thigh, causing you to let out a sob. “Don’t fucking close them or else you’re gonna get punished. Understood?” He threatened. This Geto reminded you a lot of his terrifying demeanor when you first met him and it had you spooked. But this time it had you scared in a good way. “Y-Yes daddy” you responded obediently, just like Geto liked. “Good, because daddy has zero patience right now and you’re gonna take whatever is given to you like a good slut.” He said as he lowered his face down in between your legs.

Geto rubbed circles into your clit, mixing his saliva in with your slick as he watched you squirm and kick your legs. You were always so sensitive and Geto loved it. He groaned at the taste of you as he ran his tongue along your pussy, your juices coating his tongue and driving him crazy. After that he was eating you out like a man starved. He gripped your thighs so tight to the point it hurt as his tongue lapped at your cunt repeatedly.

Usually Geto was more precise and took his time when he ate you out but he was too greedy for you to do that this time. Drool pooling from the corners of his mouth and onto your wet cunt as he ate you out sloppily. “s’ too much! d-daddy!” you squealed as you cried out and tugged at his hair. Your incessant tugging at his hair only fueled him on more as he sucked harshly at your clit. “taste so fucking good baby, ugh daddy could eat you up all day.” He moaned as he swirled his tongue around your clit.

“love this sweet pussy so much” he muttered against your cunt as he kissed it with his drool and cum slicked lips. Geto slid his two fingers into you, spreading them and curling them inside you until you sobbed and scratched at his shoulders. “there you go, falling apart so prettily for me sweetheart” he cooed as he thrusted his fingers into you while his thumb played with your clit. “s-sugu! I-I’m gonna-“ you wailed before you squirted all over Geto’s hand and his face, soaking the couch underneath you.

Geto moaned at the sight, “making such a fucking mess, sensitive bitch always coming so damn quick” he degraded and you whimpered. His fingers never ceased their movements, continuously fucking into you as gushed nonstop around his thick fingers. “Tell daddy that you’re sorry for making a mess.” He demanded as he slapped your pussy three times. The wet smacks sounding throughout the living room as you cried and your back arched.

“I-I’m sorry daddy” you sniffled. “For?” He prodded with a sadistic grin. “F-For making a big mess..” you continued as you looked at him with your big teary eyes. “Good girl” he praised as he slurped up your juices filthily. He didn’t want to waste a drop as he lapped up your mess while his fingers continued thrusting into your fluttering hole. “so fucking wet for me” he sighed in satisfaction as he listened to the squelching of your cunt. “Daddy’s cock is gonna slide right in, hm?” He said and you instantly shook your head.

“s’ too big” you moaned out honestly. Geto chuckled, “you can take it though. Your daddy’s big girl, right? made just for my cock.” He encouraged as he suckled at your clit before biting down on it. You cried out at the feeling, your hands attempting to push Geto’s head away. “hurts’ daddy” you whined. “stop that shit.” He tutted as he pushed your hands away. “you’re acting like a spoiled whiny bitch. take what’s given to you like a good whore or you won’t get to cum again.” He stated as his dark eyes looked up at you with that stern expression.

You pouted, lip quivering as tears fell down your cheeks. You nodded in response to him and he tsked in disapproval, his fingers stilling as they pressed against your sweet spot that had your legs trembling. “use your words or I’ll stop right here.” He said as he looked at you expectantly. The next whine you let out sounded carnal, all high pitched and pathetic as you tried to move against his stilled fingers to feel any friction against that spot that craved it so desperately. “y-yes daddy! -ah please! please!” You sobbed.

“My good girl” he grinned, pleased with your begging as he began to move his fingers again. He gave you exactly what you wanted, his fingers abusing that sensitive spot that had your cunt spasming and dripping all over his hand. “Want you to cum again for daddy, you can do that right sweetie?” He requested as his fingers continued their assault on your fluttering pussy. You nodded, “m-mhm! baby can do that!” you moaned.

Your hips pressed back against Geto’s fingers, matching his pace as you desperately chased your second orgasm. “fuck..you’re filthy. So eager and willing to please. Just a cock hungry slut.” He groaned as he watched you fuck yourself on his fingers, your fluids seeping through the cracks of his fingers and running down his wrist. “O-Only for daddy” you whined as you felt that knot build up in your stomach again. Your back arching and your nails digging into the couch cushions for dear life.

Once that seam burst Geto was quick to drink you up, tongue laid out and ready to taste your juices. He never got tired of tasting you, moaning into your pussy as he slurped up your new mess. You just laid there whining and twitching, already spent and stimulated. Geto was far from done with you though. “Tapping out baby?” He chuckled as he saw your fucked out face, eyes already fluttered closed. You nodded slowly, “‘m too sensitive daddy” you whined softly.

“Awh, that’s cute. I just got you all ready for my cock though sweet girl.” He cooed as he unbuckled his belt. That sound sent shivers down your spine. You whimpered and tried weakly to crawl away only for Geto to grab your legs and pull you right back. “Aht aht, can’t have that baby. Daddy waited too long to feel your pretty pussy around his cock.” He hummed as he finished undressing. His cock was throbbing and red at the tip, precum dripping down the sides of it.

You whined at the sight of it, your pussy clenching in need despite how overly stimulated you already were. A gasp left your throat when Geto began to rub his swollen tip through your slit. Your eyes rolling back and Geto groaning into your ear. “Fucks sake..this pussy is gonna be the death of me..” he muttered as he panted against your dewy skin. He took off your dress so he could see you fully. You looked unreal underneath him, almost too beautiful for his eyes. “What did I ever do to deserve a beautiful woman like you..”

You blushed at his genuine words, “I love you daddy” you told him with a smile. “I love you too little bun” he smiled back and kissed you softly. That was the extent of softness you were gonna get for awhile because now that Geto had you all relaxed he started pushing his cock head into you, stretching out your tight cunt as you cried out and whimpered. Your nails dragged down Geto’s back leaving red trails as you felt his thick cock pushing into your poor sensitive cunt. Geto gritted his teeth, groaning carnally as he felt your sloppy soft walls mold around his dick.

Geto paused once he fully bottomed out, being kind enough to allow you to adjust. “Tell me when..” he grunted out. He was like a wild animal waiting to be set loose and you had full control over him at the moment. Watching the heavy rise and fall of his chest as he breathed but also seeming as if he was holding his breath, the way his hands gripped your thighs so painfully tight to leave prints of his hands, the way his hair fell in his face as he stared down at you with a gaze that seemed as if he wanted to eat you alive.

It only took a minute or so for you to adjust and you could see Geto getting antsy. Biting down on his lower lip and trying to stop himself from rutting and grinding into you, failing miserably at times. You let out a shaky breath and opened your mouth to tell him to start and as soon as you uttered the first syllable, he started to pound into you. He didn’t waste a single second, not even letting you say the full word. You turned into a moaning screaming mess as Geto pounded into you mercilessly.

“my fucking pussy, feel so fucking good wrapped around my cock princess.” He growled as he thrusted into you hard and fast, fucking you like it was the last time he’d ever get to. He started kissing and sucking on your tits as he fucked into you, leaving pretty red and purple marks as he panted and drooled against your brown skin. The head of his cock was beating your cervix up, hitting it hard each time he slammed into you. It hurt so bad in the best way possible. You were wailing, hiccuping and creaming around Geto’s dick.

“Little pussy’s just eating my dick up -shit ngh—feel me all deep in your guts princess? pressing up against your womb?” He gritted as he watched the way his cock slammed in and out of your abused pussy over and over again. The little sputters of fluids your cunt released, forming a creamy ring around his dick and dripping down to his balls that were clapping against the cusp of your cute ass. “fuckk such a pretty fucktoy all for me..ugh ngh uh” he moaned as his eyes rolled back slightly. He was getting lost in the feeling of your gummy walls squeezing his cock.

“Daddy’s gonna fill you up so much bun, have this cute tummy all full of my cum” he moaned as he pressed his hand down on your lower abdomen making you squeal and your legs shake. You tried to push his hand away feebly because something didn’t feel right. “w-wait! daddy!” You babbled out, sobbing as you shook your head. Geto didn’t listen to any of it, grabbing your hands and using his free hand to pin them over top of your head. “I told you to stop that shit” he growled as he continued to pound into you animalistically with his hand pressing harder against your abdomen.

“b-but Sugu!” You screamed but it was too late and you were crying and pissing all over Geto’s cock. “Oh fuck..” he trailed off, watching in shock as he felt the warm liquid pour out and soak the coach and his cock. You were completely embarrassed, face flushed as you sniffed and sobbed. “shh shh, it’s okay baby -ah shit..” he tried to comfort you, moaning still because despite the piss his hips never ceased their movements. He was still fucking into you as if nothing happened. In his mind all it did was make his dick slide into you easier.

“n-nasty daddy..daddy’s -mfph nasty..” you whimpered with a hiccup. “love this sweet cunt too much to stop…fuck you really pissed all over me..fucking filthy -uh mm filthy fucking little girl” he groaned into your mouth as he kissed you and continued fucking your wet sloppy cunt. It was so wet now that his dick slipped out, making him lose his momentum but he didn’t waste a second to slide right back in. “It slides in so easy now bun, you should piss on me every time” he joked, chuckling breathily against your lips.

He slid his tongue into your mouth, kissing you messily as the two of you fucked like rabbits. “Open..” he muttered and you instantly obeyed, opening your mouth wide for him to spit onto your waiting tongue. You moaned at the lewd gesture, Geto licking into your mouth afterwards. “Good fucking girl.” He praised as he raised your legs up higher until you were completely folded up. Now fucking into you at deeper angle that had you seeing stars. You were so far gone now, just babbling and making pathetic noises with your eyes rolled back.

Geto was just as gone as you were. His hair damp and sticking to his sweaty form, cock throbbing and spurting precum into you, moaning and groaning nonstop as he used your cunt like his personal flesh toy, drool leaking from the corners of his mouth, scratches and bite marks from you marking his skin. “That’s right, just lay there and fucking take it. Just like you’re supposed to. Made just for my cock. Who owns you?” He was rambling now, completely pussy drunk as he obliterated your cunt with his thick cock.

“‘m daddy’s girl..g-geto owns me..” you managed to stutter out, the words choked up in moans and sobs. “mhm, all fucking mine.” He huffed as his hand wrapped around your throat. “shittt daddy’s gonna cum baby —ngh mfph..” he moaned, his pace somehow quickening as he felt his orgasm approaching. “Gonna milk daddy’s cock? hm?” He panted and you nodded. “n-need it -ah uhn wan’ it daddy” you whined out as you tried to fuck back against Geto’s cock. You couldn’t match his pace at all but it drove Geto crazy to see you trying to fuck yourself on him.

“fucking hell..if you keep doing that I’m gonna bust baby..” he mumbled, his words ending off in almost a whimper as his eyes fixated on the sight of you desperately trying to fuck him back. He even slowed his pace down just to accommodate yours. The two of you perfectly in sync while fucking each other. The position and the pacing made it so the head of his cock perfectly grinded up against your g-spot, making your toes curl as you whined out Geto’s name. “d-deeper daddy~” you begged and geto gladly obliged, shoving his cock deeper into your greedy hole.

“mm s’ feels so g-good daddy..” you whined breathily. Geto was the fucked out one now, groaning and whimpering as he let you fuck yourself on him. Cunt clenching around him just right and making him lose his mind. “cum’n me -heh uhn please daddy..” you babbled as you rutted against Geto, twitching as your clit bumped against his abdomen. That was all it took for Geto to snap, moaning out as he came deep inside you. Rope after rope of his thick warm semen filling up your cunt that milked it all up.

“s-shit…” geto whined pathetically into your neck as he came nonstop, his cum seeping out the sides of where his cock plugged you up. Your body trembled at the feeling, cumming soon after and adding to the huge mess of fluids as you creamed on Geto’s dick. The both of you were breathing heavily as you came down from your climaxes. Geto’s heavy body laid on top of you, practically crushing you but you didn’t mind it because he was so warm. You were trying your best not to fall unconscious, eyelids heavy and fighting to close.

“You okay baby bun?” Geto asked you after awhile of comfortable silence. “mhm..” was all you could muster out. Geto was satisfied with the reply though, climbing off of you and pulling his cock out with a small hiss. He was just as sensitive as you now. He whistled once he got a good look of the mess that was made on the couch, “well shit..I’ll just get the maids to clean it..” he muttered. Geto then got in between your legs and began to clean you up, eating the mixture of fluids out of your pussy.

He truly was filthy and you secretly loved it. You squirmed as he did it but you didn’t have any more energy to stop him. Once he was satisfied with it he stopped and then moved to kiss you, spitting the frothy fluids into your mouth as the two of you kissed sloppily. You swallowed it and Geto smiled. “Missed you so much bubs” he reminded once again before he began to affectionately peck all over your face.

#jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu geto #geto suguru #jjk x reader #jjk x you #jjk geto #geto x reader #getou suguru x reader #geto x you #geto x black reader #geto x black y/n #pwp fics #jujutsu kaisen fic #black reader #omorashi #gojo satoru

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heartsforhavik · 5 months

Text

possession (yandere bi-han/sub-zero x reader)

warnings: mentions of blood and murder, bi-han is possessive

summary: yandere bi-han takes care of your shitty ex boyfriend. reader is gender neutral.

a/n: i haven’t written a yandere character in sooo long. i chose bi-han just bc he’s easy to write as a yandere :3 anyways next one i write will be a yandere smoke x reader so stay tuned

bi-han was always possessive over you. the moment he laid eyes on you, he knew you were his. he carefully pretended to be your friend and then court you like a normal person, hiding his true colors.

he knew he would most likely scare you away if he showed his true colors too soon. he had to wait until he knew you’d never leave him. he had to be patient. but he couldn’t hold back anymore after he saw you crying.

“love.. why are you crying?” bi-han asked, gently holding you in his arms.

“it’s just..” you hesitated to tell him, knowing that he doesn’t know about your ex-boyfriend. you haven’t told him yet.

your boyfriend held you, waiting patiently for your answer, and getting ready to comfort you. if someone said something to make you cry, bi-han would rip out their spine and bring it to you. if it was anything else, he would just hold you for hours and not let go.

“my ex. i can’t stop thinking about all the shit he did to me.” you admitted, wiping your tears.

bi-han’s gaze turned cold. “your ex? who is he? what did he do to you?”

his grip on you tightened. he needed to know who it was. so he can teach the bastard a lesson.

he was also jealous of your ex. he got to hold you first, he got to kiss you first, and he got to call you his. but he fucked up by hurting you. bi-han will not let him live with those sins.

you told him all about your ex and what he did to you. you opened up to bi-han about all the trauma you endured because of your ex. and how he was the reason you were hesitant to get in another relationship.

bi-han struggled to stay calm. how dare he hurt you...

he had the audacity to hurt you? you’re so precious. so delicate, like a flower. you were so lucky to have bi-han as a boyfriend. he can protect you. he can hold you and keep you safe from harm.

“where is he?” bi-han asked, but it sounded more like a demand.

“i don’t know? he’s most likely at his house right now. why?” you questioned.

“give me his home location.” bi-han commanded.

you looked up at him in confusion. “huh?”

“don’t make me repeat myself.” bi-han sneered.

startled by his sudden anger, you blurted out your ex’s location. bi-han immediately got up and left to find the bastard and make him pay for what he did.

you couldn't sleep that night. bi-han left and still hadn't came back yet. did something happen to him?

you were worried sick, until you heard rustling and grunting outside. that had to be him, right? nobody else is awake at this time.

you walked outside, barely being able to see anything, but you saw your boyfriend slowly dragging something behind him.

"bi-han? what is that?" you whispered. your boyfriend stopped in his tracks when he heard your voice.

you took a closer look at what he was dragging. it was a dead body... but it was unrecognizable, almost as if it was beat to death. you assumed it was just some random guy the lin kuei killed, until you noticed the clothes. that dead body had your ex-boyfriend's clothes.

"by the gods.. did you kill-"

"he cannot hurt you anymore. he was a fool to put you through pain. i simply taught him a lesson. and now, you can live in peace. with me." bi-han interrupted, as he dropped the body and held you in his bloody arms.

you looked up at him, and he had a terrifying look in his eyes. this man enjoyed beating your ex to death.

"you know i will do anything for you," bi-han continued. "if i must get my hands dirty in your honor, then so be it. you need me, don’t you? without me, more people will target you and damage you. you're welcome, my flower."

he was trying to convince you not to leave him. how could you leave, when he just demonstrated what he is capable of when he is angry?

"i don't know about this, bi-han..." you whispered.

his eyebrows furrowed. "what do you mean? you know i can protect you, so why can't you trust me? if anything were to happen to you... i would tear the world apart. if you dare defy me, then i must teach you a lesson."

you panicked. you didn't want to end up like your ex. "no! i'm not defying you, love."

"good. it pleases me that you and i can live happily together now. nobody can hurt you while i am around. i will not let that happen." bi-han mumbled.

he meant every word he said. he will keep you safe from harm. he would never hurt you, so you must stay with him.

#mortal kombat 1 x reader #mk x reader #mk1 x reader #bi han #bi han sub zero #bi han x reader #bi han x you #sub zero #sub zero x reader #yandere bi han #yandere x reader #possessive yandere #yandere mortal kombat

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cherienymphe · 3 months

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Teenage Dirtbag VII (JJ Maybank x Reader x Rafe Cameron)

➥ banner by @vase-of-lilies | ➥ divider by @firefly-graphics

➥ series masterlist

Your rescue just comes with a price.

{Happy MLK weekend! He would've wanted this!}

Your back rested against your headboard with your gaze fixed on your mirror on the other side of the room. You were staring at yourself, but not really. Your mind was somewhere else entirely, and you chewed on your lip as Rafe’s even breathing filled your ears. You glanced at him, taking in his sleeping form before meeting your own gaze in the reflection again.

You’d done many things to bring on Rafe’s wrath, most of them harmless. It happened so often that you now lived your life completely differently, hyperaware of every thought and every action from both you and him. After all, you had to learn from your mistakes, right? You had to guess the best course of action to avoid a violent outcome. It was always something harmless…

…but almost kissing JJ Maybank was not harmless.

Sneaking off to The Cut with Sarah and her friends was bad enough. There was no telling how Rafe would react if he knew…but almost kissing JJ? The thought of Rafe finding out about that was so nerve-wracking that it actually made you shudder. It didn’t even feel like something that actually happened at times because…you knew better. It was something so incredibly stupid that you couldn’t have done it…and yet…

You still thought about how close he’d been. You thought about that calming natural scent of him that was just so different from what you were used to being around. You thought about his nose touching yours, his chest grazing yours, and it wasn’t shocking that JJ wanted to kiss you. It wasn’t even shocking that he tried. What was shocking was that you wanted to kiss him too, that some part of you wanted to let it happen.

You frowned, sliding out of bed with a racing heart.

Was it that shocking though? Rafe was horrible to you…and JJ wasn’t. The other blond was nice and funny and his own history with abuse drew you to him. It didn’t help matters that JJ wasn’t afraid of Rafe in the slightest. You didn’t want to linger on just how dangerous that could prove to be, thinking to yourself that it had been so long since a guy talked to you and treated you like your own person capable of your own decisions.

It felt good…and you felt guilty for that.

Rafe was still your boyfriend…even if he wasn’t a very good one, and JJ made it clear that he didn’t respect that. Even more so now that he suspected something was very very off about your relationship. The look in his eyes that day was something you still thought about—the determination. It bothered you that you couldn’t tell if it was determination to find out the truth or determination for something else entirely.

Maybe both.

You leaned against your window, staring out into your yard with a heavy chest. Never in a million years did you think you’d find your mind caught between Rafe and JJ Maybank. You’d long written the other guy off as dangerous, but maybe you had a hand in this too. In some ways, you had encouraged him, even without realizing it, and maybe this was you paying the price.

Both your thoughts and your gaze drifted to the pool house.

You knew JJ had finally taken you up on your offer. You had seen a faint light on one night while everyone was asleep, and you remembered the way your heart stuttered at the realization. You had stared out of your window for hours—even long after the inside went completely dark—just frozen with the knowledge that JJ was only so many feet away. You hadn’t talked to him since that day at the Camerons’, but you definitely saw him in passing a few times, and you always pretended not to know.

You’d done so to be nice, to offer him a safe haven away from his father, but you couldn’t deny the temptation you felt to go to him. Just to talk. Just to be around someone who reminded you of what your life was like before that fateful nineteenth birthday. Just talking to JJ felt so natural and relaxing, and your heart ached when you remembered how happy you felt with him and his friends…but then you remembered his nose touching yours and his lips being so close to yours, and you’d feel…nauseous.

Rafe would snap your neck if he knew.

…and with that thought you turned away from the window.

You could not let yourself get caught up with JJ Maybank. He liked trouble and he hated Rafe and you were the perfect opportunity to take part in both. You weren’t stupid. You knew that some of your appeal had to come from your proximity to Rafe. You were “Rafe’s girl”, you had been for two years, and JJ wasn’t as mysterious as he probably liked to believe. You knew that he would absolutely relish taking you from him, even if only for a night, and you refused to be that stupid.

No matter how much the thought made your stomach flip.

You had only ever been with Rafe, and you’d long accepted that he was only who you’d ever be with, everyone on this God forsaken island fearing him and his influence too much to even try it. However, with the new presence of JJ Maybank in your life, you couldn’t help but to wonder what it would be like to sleep with someone who didn’t terrify you.

Even your first time with Rafe—when you’d still been in love with him—had been wrought with fear and pain and confusion. It was a hard truth to swallow, but you realized that you’d never experienced sex without fear. That made you incredibly sad, and you blinked back tears as you slid back into bed. It was wrong, and you could never act on it, but for a split second—as you laid down next to your boyfriend—you briefly entertained the thought of lying down underneath JJ Maybank.

You swallowed down a sigh as you watched Rafe snort another line, Kelce’s laugh reaching your ears as your boyfriend mumbled something that was evidently hilarious. The music from the party was muffled, and you brought your cup up to take another sip of some beer you didn’t even like. When Rafe said you both were going to some party, you’d actually expected to be at the party.

However, with one sweep around the room, Rafe realized that the party wasn’t as exclusive as he’d like, and he’d holed you both up in a room with Topper and Kelce ever since. Topper was scrolling on his phone while Kelce and Rafe played hot potato with the drugs in their possession. Truthfully, you didn’t see why Rafe refused to party downstairs all because a few Pogues were in attendance. Especially since if you’d figured this was how your night was going to go, you would have just stayed home.

Ever since Rafe got back from Charleston, he’d been on you like white on rice, but of course, your presence didn’t matter much once a few white lines were placed on a mirror. Swallowing down yet another sigh, you pushed yourself off of the wall and made your way to the window. There were far too many people in the yard and pool for you to be comfortable with, but anything seemed better than this.

You were downing the rest of your beer when someone caught your eye.

Your hand lowered, and your lips parted, thinking to yourself that this party was far less exclusive than Rafe knew. You supposed it wasn’t that weird to see JJ strolling into the yard, especially since he was with Sarah, but the sight of the familiar blond had you swallowing. Knowing that he was at the same party as you made you feel anxious for so many reasons.

“I have to use the bathroom.”

The words came out before you could stop them, silently wondering to yourself what you were doing. When you turned around, Rafe’s gaze was on you, and you didn’t think you liked the look you saw there. Your boyfriend’s lips were pressed together as he eyed you, and you didn’t miss his snort.

“Yeah, the last time you ‘went to the bathroom’ I had to track you down on the streets of Kildare County…all because you wanted some ‘air’.”

You rolled your eyes at both his tone and his words.

“I’ve been drinking beer for an hour. You want me to pull my pants down and pee in front of your friends? My bladder’s too full to be as embarrassed about that as you would be,” you threw at him, jutting your hip out.

The flare of Rafe’s nostrils didn’t escape you, and after a stretched silence, he merely jerked his head. You pretended not to feel the heat of his gaze as he watched you leave, and once the door was shut, you headed for the stairs instead. While you did need to throw your cup away, it wasn’t like there wasn’t a trash can in the bathroom. However, you wouldn’t admit to yourself the real reason you came downstairs.

On your way to and from the kitchen, you craned your neck, eyes scanning over familiar face after familiar face…but just not the one you wanted to see. You refused to acknowledge the disappointment that ate at you, and telling yourself that you didn’t want to push your luck with Rafe, you quickly hurried up the stairs because you did actually have to pee.

Despite how much you wanted to hide out in the bathroom, you made your visit quick, telling yourself it’d be just your luck for Rafe to give the drugs a break to time your absence instead. There was no telling what time Rafe would decide to leave, and you grimaced at the thought of what the night had in store for you. You’d just opened the door and turned out the bathroom light when a grip on your arm was pulling you down the hall.

It happened so fast that you didn’t have time to process what was going on until your eyes passed over the back of a familiar head of blond hair. Your lips parted, too many conflicting emotions bubbling up inside of you for you to focus on just one. However, once JJ had you around the corner, fear quickly trumped the others.

“Are you drunk?”

Your question came out harsher than you meant, and—true to what you were learning was JJ fashion—the guy before you ignored it.

“I saw you downstairs.”

Your heart skipped a beat at that, and you straightened. His blond hair was messier than usual, something you noted you kind of liked, and the long-sleeved shirt he wore was kind of big on him. You glanced at the way it just barely hung on his shoulder.

“You looked like you were looking for someone.”

His next words pulled you from your thoughts, and your gaze met his. That small smirk on his lips annoyed you, and you took a deep breath.

“I wasn’t. Is that what you followed me up here for?” you wondered.

JJ didn’t look like he believed you, but he clearly opted to let it go.

“When’s the next time you’re coming to the other side of the island?” he asked. “They kind of like you…even Kie.”

You felt your face fall at that, almost wishing that they didn’t. It would certainly make things easier, but knowing that his friends enjoyed having you around just as much as you enjoyed being around them… You honestly didn’t know if you’d ever hang out with them again, and that was what you told JJ.

“Why?” he scoffed. “…because of Rafe?”

You both knew your verbal answer wasn’t required.

“I get it, okay? I’m JJ. I’m a guy who also happens to hate him, but you can’t even have friends? You’re telling me he’d really lose his shit if you dared to tell him you’re going to hang out Sarah and whoever?”

“Those are your friends…not mine,” you weakly replied. “Just because I hung out with you guys for one day-.”

“Don’t give me that,” JJ cut you off with a frown. “Until that day I didn’t even know you could smile that wide.”

You crossed your arms over your chest, clenching your jaw. JJ wasn’t wrong, and that was why the whole situation sucked. You didn’t have it in you to tell him that you loved being around him and his friends and his environment only to immediately admit that Rafe would choke the shit out of you for even daring to talk to him.

“I should get back,” was all you said, ignoring his words.

“For what? It’s not like you don’t have time. I doubt Rafe is going to pull himself away from the drugs long enough to notice how long you’ve been gone,” JJ said with a shrug, judgement coloring his tone. “…besides I…”

JJ trailed off, a peculiar look on his face as he eyed you.

“That’s not only why I followed you up here.”

You struggled to hold his gaze, the sound of some cheers reaching your ears from downstairs. You had a feeling as to what JJ was going to say, and you desperately hoped that he wouldn’t. Some part of you was even tempted to just walk away and avoid this conversation forever if you could. However, another part of you desperately wanted to stay right where you were, remaining still even when JJ moved closer.

“The last time we talked,” he quietly started, eyes searching yours. “I was a little harsh…and I’m sorry.”

You swallowed.

“…but I don’t regret anything I said, just how I said it, I guess.”

You glanced away, eyeing the wallpaper in the hallway.

“I don’t regret anything I did either.”

Your eyes snapped to his at that, and you felt your heart racing. You could see it on his face that JJ was telling the truth, and you didn’t know how you felt about that.

“I would’ve kissed you…if you hadn’t run away,” JJ whispered in the dark hallway, and you exhaled. “Right in his house.”

“You…can’t do that,” was all you could bring yourself to say.

When JJ stepped towards you, you were finally forced to step back, shoulder grazing the wall. He tilted his head at you, eyes never leaving yours.

“Says who?” he wondered, tone serious. “Your boyfriend?”

He swiped his tongue between his lips, crowding your space, and the mention of Rafe reminded you that you’d been gone a long while, now.

“…because we both know it won’t be you.”

Those words had your nostrils flaring, and you narrowed your eyes at him.

“You ran away because you’re scared of Rafe…not because you didn’t want to kiss me.”

You hated how right JJ was, and you couldn’t even find the words to argue that.

“So what?” was all you could say, not even denying it. “Rafe’s my boyfriend, and you…are not. Sue me for being loyal.”

“I don’t think it counts if you’re loyal for the wrong reasons,” he threw back, and you scoffed.

“Are there wrong reasons for being faithful?” you incredulously asked.

“Well, being scared into it for one.”

You didn’t appreciate his tone, and you moved to turn away when he grabbed your arm again. When JJ pulled you against him, you sharply inhaled, and you reminded yourself that you really needed to get back to Rafe…your boyfriend. The heat of JJ’s hand bled through the sleeves of your dress, and against what your brain advised, you found your gaze drifting to his lips.

“I know you don’t want to be with him,” he breathed, and you blinked, eyes meeting his again. “Does he have something on you? Is it…some…Kook appearance thing I just don’t understand?”

Hating how many questions he was asking, you twisted out of his hold, stumbling away.

“Stay out of my relationship, JJ. I’m serious,” you threw over your shoulder.

You said it for both of your sakes, and you left the blond in the hall as you hurried back to the bedroom. Kelce and Rafe were playing their own music, the full effects of the coke hitting them, and you were beyond grateful. It seemed Rafe had been too high to notice just how long you were gone, and so all you could do was smile at him when he welcomed you with a sloppy kiss.

Topper was finally joining in when you glanced over, bent over the desk and snorting half a line.

“Bro, when I went downstairs to get a drink, you know who I saw?” the younger blond chuckled, wiping his nose. “Fucking Pope and your sister, man.”

Your heart had skipped a beat, only to relax when he continued. However, his next words shortened your relief as well as caused Rafe to pull away from you.

“How much you want to bet that piece of shit JJ is here too?”

You pressed your lips together at the mention of the guy who you’d literally just been in the hallway with, and you hated the way Rafe’s hands briefly tightened on yours. Your boyfriend let out a laugh that held no trace of humor, sadly shaking his head.

“Yeah, lets get out of here,” he scoffed. “Unbelievable.”

You hated the way Rafe pulled you along like being in the same house as people from the other side of the island was the worst thing imaginable. Doubly so ever since you’d gotten to know Sarah’s friends. You thought about what JJ said, about how they’d grown to like you, and this moment only reminded you that you would probably never experience that again.

As if to make you feel worse, you watched Rafe briefly pause once he was downstairs, and one glance around him clued you in on just what he was looking at. Perhaps ‘who’ was a more appropriate term, and your heart sank as Rafe strode along, pulling you with him. You were unsurprised—but no less disappointed and annoyed—when Rafe harshly bumped into JJ’s shoulder. Your eyes were wide when they glanced at JJ just as Rafe spoke.

“My bad, man,” your boyfriend drawled. “It’s a bit crowded in here.”

Nothing about Rafe’s tone was apologetic, and you pressed your lips together at the sight of a half-smile on his pink lips. Your eyes briefly met JJ’s, pleading as you could see the desire for a fight on his face. You knew that it wasn’t solely because Rafe had bumped into him, and when he glanced at you, he only scoffed.

“Very Rafe of you, Rafe,” JJ commented.

It was a harmless comment, but the coke in Rafe’s system wouldn’t allow him to let it go. Dropping your hand, he moved closer to the other blond, head tilted to the side.

“What did you say to me, Pogue? Huh?”

“Rafe…” you called reaching for him, but he shook your hand off.

His face was so close to JJ’s, and through the crowd, you could see Pope and Sarah hurrying over. When you looked over your shoulder, Kelce and Topper were only now coming down the stairs, unaware of the disaster about to happen. Wanting to prevent this fight for so many reasons, you grabbed Rafe’s arm again, pleading with him.

“Rafe, let’s just go.”

You didn’t know if it was the coke or Rafe’s second nature of putting his hands on you, but he didn’t even spare you a glance when he shoved you away, his hand on your chest forcing you to stumble back.

“Stay out of this,” he said, finally looking at you.

It was something he’d come to regret because JJ’s fist had connected with his face before he could even turn back around. You stumbled back some more in shock, recalling the last time they fought and just how violent and bloody it became. The party inside came to a temporary halt as everyone took notice, and by the time Kelce and Topper came over, Pope had joined in too.

Some part of you wanted to leave. After all, Rafe had gotten himself into this mess, but another part of you forced you to remain rooted to the spot. You wanted to make sure everyone would be okay, one above the rest, and oddly it wasn’t the blond that was your boyfriend.

You jumped when Sarah made her way to you, her hand on your arm as she pulled you close.

“Are you okay?” she asked as you watched some guys try to break up the fight.

You knew what she was referring to, and you nodded.

“Rafe’s high and…more agitated than usual,” you defended.

You only realized how it sounded when Sarah gave you a look.

“So? He shouldn’t shove you like that,” she spat, throwing her brother a nasty look as Kelce helped him to his feet.

You blanched at the blood on his face, recalling that both JJ and Pope had been fighting him, and it was clear your boyfriend was very angry about that fact. He barely spared Sarah a glance as he roughly told you to come on. Assuring Sarah that you’d be fine—even with coke in his system—you reluctantly followed after your boyfriend.

However, not without a glance over your shoulder. Your eyes met familiar blue ones, and your face fell at the anger still visible on JJ’s face. Telling yourself that was something you couldn’t concern yourself with, now, you hurried outside. Rafe was obnoxiously honking his horn as you hurried to his truck, and you were barely inside before he was speeding off.

You tuned Kelce and Topper out as they placated Rafe from the backseat, somehow convincing themselves that this wasn’t his own fault. Your gaze was fixed on the window as you crossed your arms over your chest, hating yourself for only being concerned about JJ and Pope in this moment. You hadn’t gotten the best look at either of them and even though it was two against one, you knew your boyfriend well.

He was never one to go down without a fight.

“…and what the hell was that about, huh?”

It took you too long to realize that the focus had shifted to you, and when you glanced over, Rafe’s blown out pupils were fixated on you.

“What?”

“You know what,” he spat between clenched teeth, glancing at the road. “What was with you and trying to stop me from kicking that Pogue’s ass?”

You blinked at him, unable to hide your feelings at his audacity.

“We were at a party, Rafe, and you were trying to start a fight. Was I just supposed to let that happen?” you wondered.

The other two in the backseat had grown quiet, either from nosiness or no desire to get in between Rafe and his girlfriend.

“It was JJ,” he slowly said to you. “Who gives a fuck if I give JJ a well-deserved beating?”

“Well, how did that turn out? Did you get what you wanted?”

The words slipped from your mouth so easily, and the look that Rafe gave you cut deep. He glanced at you again before a slow smile spread along his bloody lips, a chuckle escaping. When he reached over to rest his hand on the back of your neck, you swallowed. A shudder passed through you at the feel of his fingers tracing patterns into your skin.

“You better be glad that all I want to do tonight is find those Pogues and knock their teeth out,” he mumbled.

His words sounded so loud to you in the vehicle though, and despite how much you wanted to argue against that, you knew that you could never tell Rafe what to do. When he parked in your driveway, you didn’t spare him a glance as you hopped out, but you were sort of forced to when you heard him follow behind you.

His truck was still running, so you could only hope to guess what he wanted as he followed you to your door. Once there, he roughly grabbed your arm—so tight that you winced—and you leaned away when he got very close to your face. You eyed the blood on his own face, the messiness of his dark blond hair, and you prepared yourself for anything as he sneered at you.

“The next time you try to get between me like that, the next time you try to protect some Pogue, I’ll break your fucking fingers,” he hissed, nose pressed to yours. “Do you understand me?”

With the pain of Rafe’s fingers digging into your arm, you gave him a shaky nod. He roughly let you go, and you reached up to rub the sore spot, watching your boyfriend make his way back to his truck. Considering how high and angry he was, you didn’t expect him back for hours. You doubted that Pope and JJ were even still at that party, almost positive they’d left when you guys did, but knowing Rafe…

He'd drive around Outer Banks for hours just to find them and get them back.

With a shaky sigh, you turned and reached for your keys, but your movements were halted by a faint noise. You merely glanced up, not giving it much thought, but pausing in surprise when you saw none other than JJ standing in the doorway of the pool house on the other side of the yard. You almost dropped your small purse, gathering your thoughts before worriedly looking out into the road. With no sign of Rafe’s truck, you hurriedly stomped across the grass.

“You don’t know how many fences I hopped over and backyards I trespassed on to beat you here.”

That was his greeting to you, and you could tell by the look in his eyes that he was simply trying to lighten the tense atmosphere. You didn’t have the patience.

“Why did you hit him?” you demanded, and you watched JJ’s face cloud over. “I was going to get him to leave, to leave you alone.”

All traces of humor were gone from the blonde’s face, and you hated the way he looked down his nose at you.

“Was that supposed to be before or after he shoved you again?”

You snapped your mouth shut, frowning at the younger man. His blue eyes didn’t look so blue in this moment, and you didn’t miss the tick in his jaw as he stared you down. You blinked at JJ, your frown dissipating some as the realization slowly came to you.

“That’s why you hit him?” you slowly wondered.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” he breathed. “Did I need any other reason?”

You opened and closed your mouth a few times before letting out a sigh. You glanced away, shoulders dropping, and you gently shook your head.

“JJ…” you looked at him. “Rafe was high…agitated… That was nothing, and especially nothing to start a fight over.”

“He shoved you!”

“…but I’m fine. He didn’t hurt me,” you tried to make him understand. “Just pissed me off more than anything.”

“…and at your door?”

Your heart sank with the knowledge that he saw that, and you let out a long sigh. You could feel the blonde’s gaze on you as your own found the ground.

“So, he grabbed me,” you said, shrugging at him. “You’re making this more important than it is.”

JJ looked at you like you were crazy, pulling his lip between his teeth.

“…because it is important, Y/N…” you were sure that the only other time you’d heard JJ say your name was the night of that first fight on the beach. “Your boyfriend isn’t supposed to shove you and grab you like that…”

How could you tell JJ that Rafe had already done so much worse? That in the grand scheme of things, a little shove and a tight grip really didn’t mean all that much to you? All things considered, today was a relatively good day when taking into account how things could’ve ended. How they still could end…

As if JJ read your mind…

“He doesn’t have to smack you around and put you in the hospital to be an abusive piece of shit,” he softly continued. “He shouldn’t be touching you like that…no matter how minor you think it is.”

It felt…odd to be standing in your yard having this conversation with JJ Maybank of all people. Even more odd, his concern for you left an unfamiliar feeling in your chest. You could only describe it as warm, and you knew that he was right, that no matter how minor, none of it was okay. However, your relationship with Rafe had left ‘not okay’ territory so long ago that what happened today just didn’t faze you.

When you glanced up, JJ was staring at you, and despite the fact that your house was just on the other side of the yard…it felt like just the two of you.

“I would never…touch you like that,” he told you, stepping towards you. “No matter how angry at you I am…there’s just some things you don’t do.”

You struggled to swallow.

“You’re not my boyfriend, JJ…he is.”

“I know,” he quietly said. “…and you know I think you deserve a better boyfriend.”

“Of course, you think that,” you bitterly laughed. “You… Don’t try and make it seem like your intentions are pure.”

You tilted your head.

“You like the idea of fucking with Rafe.”

JJ raised an eyebrow at you.

“I could think of a thousand more ways to fuck with Rafe that don’t involve fucking his girlfriend.”

Your eyes widened sharply at that, and you blinked, fighting to ignore the heat in your face at his honesty. You felt paralyzed as JJ took another step towards you, and you were struggling to respond. JJ’s hand gently touched your cheek, and you shuddered at the feel. This didn’t go unnoticed, and you didn’t know why you didn’t stop him when his hand slid to brush along your neck too.

“You’re right,” JJ whispered, looking between your eyes. “I do like the idea of fucking with Rafe.”

Your chest felt so heavy, heart threatening to leap from it.

“…but I like the idea of being with you just a little bit more.”

“JJ,” you warned, reaching up to grab his hand.

His other found a home on the small of your back, and you reached back to grab that one too. You were sure it made an interesting sight—JJ trying to embrace you, and you with a half assed attempt to stop him. You ducked your head, but that didn’t prevent him from brushing his lips over your cheek, and you sucked in a sharp breath.

“I don’t respect your relationship, and I especially don’t care about your boyfriend,” he murmured against your skin. “…and you not wanting to kiss me solely because you’re afraid of him just isn’t good enough for me.”

You lifted your head at that, eyes stricken as you looked at him. His hand on your back twisted, clasping your own and holding it tight. Your nerves grew at that, and JJ’s face was serious as he gave you his undivided attention.

“Would you feel better if I just took it?” he wondered, making you frown. “I mean…”

He moved back, taking you with him.

“If I make you kiss me…then you’re not cheating, right?”

You furiously blinked at him at that, and despite how much you wanted to shake your head, you found yourself glancing at his lips instead. JJ spun you, and your back met the wall of the pool house. With nowhere to go, JJ pressed himself against you, and your breathing grew shallow. A voice in the back of your mind told you that he was right.

Some part of you didn’t want to be a willing participant in this, at all while another part desperately wondered what it would be like to kiss him. With you pinned against the wall, you could appeal to both parts, and you surmised that it was evident in your eyes because after swiftly pinning your wrists at your side…

JJ brushed his lips against yours.

It could barely be called a kiss at first, just the faintest touch of his lips to yours, but then you closed your eyes…and let out a sigh you didn’t know you’d been holding…and JJ completely swallowed it. His mouth completely covered yours as he deepened the kiss, one of his hands letting yours go to reach up and rest on your neck. You moaned at the action, and your head spun.

Kissing JJ felt like something you hadn’t felt in years. It reminded you of the beginning of your relationship with Rafe, when you weren’t afraid and apprehensive to lean up and press your lips to your boyfriend’s. Back when kissing him didn’t feel like a chore, an exchange, a plea from you to remain unharmed and an unsteady promise from Rafe that he’d no doubt break.

The feel of JJ’s lips moving against yours made heat swirl deep in your gut, and it twisted and twisted until you squirmed between him and the wall of the pool house. JJ’s other hand was on your waist, now, holding you in place, and it felt like everywhere he touched burned. You honestly could’ve let him kiss you all night, not sparing a second thought to Rafe.

…but unfortunately, that never lasted long, and your hands met JJ’s chest the moment cold blue eyes appeared behind your own. Your breathing was heavy, JJ’s too, and you stared at your fingers on his chest for a long time. You almost didn’t believe what had just happened, but the heat clinging to your skin helped ground you to reality and the fact that it very much had.

When you finally met JJ’s gaze again, you wished that you hadn’t.

The blond looked like the last thing he wanted to do was stop, and you started to wonder what was worse—JJ yearning for something he didn’t even know…or JJ yearning for something he did? Your pink lip-gloss was all over his lips, and you just stared at the sight for a few seconds before swallowing, very aware of the tightness in your throat. You slowly slid from between him and the wall, and he let you, hand grazing your waist as you moved by him.

You felt like you were in a daze, walking on something unsteady like air or water. All you could manage to tell JJ was ‘goodnight’, stumbling back towards your house. You only looked over your shoulder once when you made it to your door, unsurprised to find JJ still standing there and watching you. You were quiet going into the house, and several parts of you were fighting.

On one hand, you were beyond terrified of what you’d just allowed to happen, and what that meant for you if you couldn’t hide it. The possibility of Rafe’s wrath had you shaking as you undressed the moment you made it to your room. On the other hand, some part of you was too focused on the memory of JJ’s lips to care. You couldn’t cool off no matter how much you tried, lying in bed for hours and staring at the wall.

When Rafe finally returned, you welcomed his apologies, actually receptive to his advances for once. It felt wrong to let him kiss you and touch you and fuck you all the while with an entirely different blond in mind.

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