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edajcheel · 4 months

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Yandere! Overlord! Leech Brothers take in Villainess! MC after she's been discarded by her family

(TAGS: yandere, manipulation, poison, 18th century, cheating, MC is kinda detached, mentions of blood, the leech twins are lowkey mean, Floyd is obsessed with you and Jade is entertained by you. But both love you dearly!)

(A/N) : been very occupied with college.. But on another note, hopefully my fanfic writing hasn't become dusty!

Imagine this,

The notorious wild hound of the Night Raven Empire. A very well known nickname, throughout the capital and underground, and even in the battlefield. An arrogant, ruthless, and fickle young woman. Anything that slights her ends up getting crushed in her grasp, torn apart and disposed.

Nothing could be unseen with her hawk-like eyes. Perceptive, and sharp.

One would never talk about her greed, an immense inability to let something go when shes shown interest in whatever it is. The result of having a diamond spoon shoved into your mouth after your born. The word, 'wild' describes it all, a stubborn wild hound, that has the capability of pulling the strings behind the curtain to get what she desires.

But just like a wild hound, she can't walk away from the urge to throw, shatter, and break whenever she's outplayed. The teacup that she treasured in her heart was left broken into meager pieces of glass, and the potted flowers that sat beside her bed was thrown across the room. The shattering and tearing upon the middle of her heart was as harmful as poison.

Ironic how the only word she can describe the ache- was 'poison'. The infuriating noise click, clack, and click of heels plays over and over like a broken record in your mind. The stunning light grey of the moon, somehow was brighter that night, gleamed on the forbidden lovers– twirling around on the terrace. So distracted by each other's company, they've yet to notice the girl– you –who was the main audience.

The scene distorted in your mind, and another scene was presented. Your eyes are casted upon the lowly girl on the ground– with her strings snapped. Blood crawling down the corner of her mouth– a result from the poison –and her barely alive eyes looking at you. The glass of red wine was but in mere pieces of shards on the ground, and the blood-like wine spilled. Your arrogant eyes look at her– blaming her– this happened because of your own actions.

"This was your plan all along-..!" The silvery and smooth voice of your fiancée was unrecognizable from all the heavy breathing of panic he was enduring. "Was it not obvious to your keen eyes?" You quirked your brow at him.

His light-grey eyes that you loved, never looked at you even at this moment, busy holding his other companion in his arms. You gritted your teeth, and clenched your fist in pure rage. The realization hit you instantly, his sincereness and gentleness was never real– at least never towards you. The tea both of you shared, the times both of you would unite hands at the entry way of multiple balls, the longing letters– nothing was real. It was just an illusion.

Like a tool, used and discarded.

Like a villainess, just an obstacle to their story.

Like an unfortunate soul, never truly wanted.

Like a criminal, awaiting to be beheaded.

The wild hound sat on her bed, the only thing neat in her trashed room. The portrait of you and Azul were scratched, but the most damage was upon Azul's face. The teacup set– given by Azul –was on the ground replicating the broken wine glass on the terrance. The Hydrangea flowers– given by Azul –was on the other side of your room, ridden of its petals. Chairs, couched, and tables were flipped over. Anything you could have taken hold of, was trashed beyond repair.

"Of all things, you decided to poison that lowly baron girl?" Your dad grumbled under his breath, disappointed. "Whatever penalty you receive, do not drag me or your mother along with your foolish mess." He concludes and finally turns away from your back, slamming your doorway shut.

Over and over, hundreds to thousands, you couldn't count how many times you've caused uproar around the capital. Your irritation at the shopkeeper who didn't satisfy your standards was a victim to your anger, and so was the maids who had the nerve to act clumsy in your presence. Not even the butler was spared from your wrath. But the public had never paid a mind to you, always chalking it up as the wild hound being the same as ever. How very humourous.

Not even your parents paid a mind, no, they couldn't careless. They were already so used to your antics. They'd rather pay attention to your high intelligence, and your accomplishments rather than you in general. Of course, with a society always looking for fresh and new inventions and evolutions– it's a must to be smart so as to guarantee you won't fall behind.

But under unfortunate circumstances, you've finally arrived at your ending line. You've pulled the last straw, and now you'll reap what you sowed. You've done something so unforgivable that your parents have also given up on someone like you.

You've exhausted all your worth, and soon, your life will be taken away from your hands too. Truly, nothing to hold onto in this wrench world.

Your eyes –barely sparking with the same confident and sharp glint –dead and glazed out. You shift your weight off your bed, and walked towards your personal terrace, not bothering to check for any glittering shards of glass. You stride towards your balcony, resembling a lifeless corpse holding onto it's last strings.

The rain was softly drizzling onto your windows, creeping down to the ground. The wind piked up to it's highest volume once in a while. And, the moon, bright, and shimmering over the pitter patter of the rain floated above. Serene, and pleasant just like the eyes of the man who cheated on you.

The perfect calming shade of gray over the turmoil.

You pushed the door open, and walked out under the rain. The very cold droplets of water instantly targeted you, and without a doubt, in a few minutes– you would be soaked head to toe. You stood in the middle of your terrace, with your eyes gazing at calming moon.

Soon the turmoil around you was accompanied by your very own. Your tears were unseen, disguised as just another raindrop. But the agony on your face was apparent. Shortly, your legs had lost all the strength to hold your weight and you toppled onto the ground. The puddles of cold water splashed underneath you, and the rain was the only thing that kept you company while you weep under the moon.

"Oya, planning to neglect your side of the contract isn't a very honorable thing to do." A voice spoke, through the deafening rain. Somehow reaching the other man who stood a few feet away from him. "Sorry shrimpy, you can't die just yet, you still haven't fulfilled the contract!"

The unrelenting words fail to garner your attention. The combination of the loud rumbling of thunder and rain with your occupied mind block them out effortlessly.

Two pair of footsteps were unheard behind you, and a pair of hands– bare and cold –wrapped around one of your tangled strands and playfully twirled it around their finger. "Is shrimpy sad that her little partner cheated?~" He jabbed.

You limply turned your head to the left where you felt the motion, and you were met with glowing heterochromia eyes.

"Ya'know you deserve way better than what that bastard did to you." He hummed, and crept even closer towards your face. "He was just a lame ol' sticky octopus that's been in the mud for far too long~ Neh, Jade?"

The mirrored twin chuckled along with his dear twin's statement. "Eh, Floyd. Apologies, but I was truly unable to see what you thought so special of Duke Ashengrotto."

You were helpless to their tomfoolery, and weren't able to retort back with a snarky comment.

Jade raised his brow to your unusual behavior, "You're not as resistant to our comments as you were before. Have you been downgraded so badly because of the lost of your dear fiancee's love?"

Floyd let out a giggle at his brother's witty jest. "No worries~ we're still an option if you want our help, lil shrimpy!" He uses your head as a hand rest as he waits for your response.

But just like before, they were met with silence. No peep out of your tightly closed mouth underneath the company of the rain. Jade frowned at this, and came just as close as his brother was. He swiftly grabbed your chin and directed your eyes towards his.

"Just one word, and we won't hesitate to help you, under the conditions that you come with us, my dearest."

You took a breath, readying yourself for the inevitable. "I don't understand your thinking. I have not completed my first contract, and yet you propose another deal?" You slur your words due to your weariness. This time, you are the one who is met with silence. And you take it as a chance to complete your thought, "I will be sentenced to my execution in just a few hours. I won't be able to finish our still in-action contract. I apologize."

You are fully aware of the consequences of not completing your side of the contract, which was to marry Duke Azul Ashengrotto. They were the ones to hand you the poison, and you were the one who completely ruined the plan just because you weren't able to hold back your emotions. This contract was an utter failure, and you cursed yourself for thinking you were able to win back Azul.

"That's plenty enough for us. Neh Floyd?"

"Yup. We got our answer."

Huh? In the middle of your self-deprecating thoughts, you were interrupted by two men who nodded along with each other's statements. They both turned to you with devious grins, and stared at you.

"Hehe, your face is really adorable when your confused shrimpy. You look constipated~" You quite literally choke on your own spit in surprise to Floyd's offhanded remark. "Eh? Don't worry, we'll let you into our secret! Enough with the long face." Floyd gripped your cheeks with his hands roughly and wiped it as if he was truly trying to wipe your ever-increasing frown off your face.

While you were distracted by Floyd, Jade sneaked up behind you. You flinch as you felt him nonchalantly rest his palm on your shoulder. He peeked over to your startled face, and smiled coyly at you.

"In all honesty, Ms. ______, we didn't want you wedded to that ruffian in the first place. We are quite pleased at how things are already. So you may rest with no concerns." He said as if he was doing you a big favor, and his dear brother and himself weren't so-called "ruffians" either.

"It's waaaayy better to have you all to ourselves!" Floyd chided in, and shockingly rubbed his right cheek on your left cheek.

"Excuse me?" You somehow mustered the strength to respond, and tried to struggle out of their grasps, but their combined strength made you look like a hamster trying to escape a cat's maws. "L-let go of me, now!"

"Oh? So soon? This warmth is quite enjoyable."

"Yah! Stop thrashing around!"

Floyd gripped your waist even tighter, and you felt like all the air you've kept inside was pushed out of your lungs by force, rendering you weak to their movement.

"Hence, we will propose another deal to you. My dearest." Jade teasingly said in your ear, entertained by your reactions. "I-I refuse the deal! Stop this at once!" You instantly decline his proposal, not even sparing him time to fully explain the full details of it.

"Hey, you love us don't you?" Floyd asked, and your dumbfounded look makes contact with Floyd's serious non-joking face. It was unusual to see him act so docile. "I have no idea what you're going on about, though I do know that if you don't let me go this instant I will call my guards."

"Hm? What makes ya think your guards would help you out?" Floyd tilts his head, "You're practically gone from this family. You don't exist here anymore, lil shrimpy." Your eyes become downcast, and you start to realize the depth of his words. All of what he said was true. You really were going to become a minor villainess who was executed, and the story would end with a "Happily Ever After."

It wasn't the prospect that you were going to die that made you so fearful. But the prospect of dying by your lonesome. All by yourself, with no one who fought or at your side. You grimaced. A villainess in the beginning and to the end.

"Oya, she seems to realize what her fate has been dragging her towards." Jade piped in, and twirled a strand of your hair with one of his long fingers. "See now, lil Shrimpy? You have no one." Floyd's voice fell into a deeper octave. He was done playing around with you since you weren't able to take a hint. "It shouldn't hit you too hard. You're the one with Ms. Yuu's blood on your hands, after all." Jade quietly murmured, loud enough for you to hear, but quiet enough so it seems he's talking about something simple like what kind of tea he should have for this gloomy day.

"But, you have us."

"We are the ones on your side, lil shrimpy ♡"

It was a mistake. You shouldn't have agreed to make a contract with two of the most dangerous, and savage people that prevailed over the underground.

How could I...?

It shouldn't surprise you. How obsessive, and dominating the Leech brothers are towards you was your own fault. They aren't normal human beings.

But who am I to talk about human beings as if I'm one?

The baron girl had blood slowly dripping out of her mouth. The glass you kindly offered to her was shattered on the pearly ground of the balcony. Her legs were unable to hold up, and clashed to the ground. You stood there, watching, as she struggled to breath as her terrified eyes locked onto yours. Your dress fluttered in the wind, and your eyes were distant. You turned your gaze towards the Moon. It was so beautiful, but for some reason, it wasn't as beautiful as it once was on this night.

"Today, a new contract will be put into action between the Leech twins and Ms. _____, with the canceling of the contract that was once in operation." You could barely comprehend Jade's soothing voice that spoke softly into your ear.

"In this contract, person A, better known as lil shrimpy, will be faithful and true to person B, better known as the Leech brothers. In return, person B will take care and will not let person A die." Floyd claps his hands, "How do those conditions sound, lil shrimpy?"

Both twins await your answer, and as you slowly raised your head up to meet their gazes once again. You hesitated, but nodded your head along to the conditions.

Floyd grinned with glee and shoved you towards Jade who held the pen and contract in his hands.

A signature to capture your compliance to these beasts.

"Do not be so full of stress, my dearest. We will care for you with all our hearts."

"You won't escape our grasp when you sign those papers, lil shrimpy! Prepare yourself."

A/N : Honestly kinda disappointed in this one. But I hope all of you enjoy it just a lil bit. Felt like I really rushed in my writing and it was pretty messy writing too. But I'm too lazy to rewrite this whole thing. So enjoy this mess 😋😋😋

#jade leech #floyd leech #floyd leech x reader #jade leech x reader #twisted wonderland #jade leech x reader x floyd leech #twisted wonderland x reader #yandere #yandere jade leech #yandere floyd leech #yandere jade leech x reader #yandere floyd leech x reader

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faguscarolinensis · 11 months

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Hydrangea arborescens / Smooth Hydrangea

#Hydrangea arborescens #Smooth Hydrangea #Wild hydrangea #Sevenbark #Sheep flower #Native plants #Native flowers #Nature photography #Home #Hydrangea #Hydrangeaceae

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jobean12-blog · 1 year

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You and Me and Us

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x reader

Word Count: 1,762

Summary: Bucky still carries the scars of his past and sometimes they haunt him in the present and in the process haunt you as well.

Author’s Note: This is for my lovely friend Lau’s @sweeterthanthis Bittersweet Symphony Writing Challenge! I picked prompt #25: “Show meyour scars and I won’t walk away.” - Beyonce, Sandcastles. I didn’t use the actualy prompt in the story but rather was inspired by the idea of how we all have scars and how we carry them and how our loved ones share the burden. Thank you for hosting this darling! Angst is always a challenge for me so it’s good to give it a go sometimes! Thank you all so much for reading! Much love always! ❤️❤️❤️Divider by the sweet @firefly-graphics thank you Daisy! 🥰

Warnings: angsty, lots of feels, tears, but it all works out bc it has to.

“Buckyyyy,” you giggle sleepily into the pillow, “that tickles.”

His strong arms wrap around you and he pulls you into his chest, smoothing his hands across your skin while his lips press to the crook of your neck.

“Mm, morning doll face,” he whispers as he nuzzles closer.

“Morning,” you sigh as your body goes pliant in his arms, your fingers curling into the sheets as he kisses more of your skin.

The early morning sun shines through the thin curtains and a warm ocean breeze blows in through the open window, carrying the scent of salt air and hydrangea.

“Let’s stay in bed today,” he murmurs before flipping you onto your back.

Your stomach grumbles in response and he laughs, his face lighting up and the corners of his eyes crinkled with his wide smile.

“Ok, I’ll feed you first,” he relents playfully, “but then you’re not getting out of this bed for the rest of the day,” he finishes as his kisses caress your shoulder.

“What about lunch?” you breathe out. “And…” you continue, the rest of your thoughts dying with your low moan.

“We can have all those in bed too,” he says, as he settles between your legs.

You drag your fingers through his hair, your nails scraping down his back before you wrap your legs around him.

“Bucky,” you gasp, your whole body warm and alive with his touch.

Like sand falling through a sieve the sensations start to dissipate and your skin grows cold, your own voice echoing loudly in the empty darkness.

“Bucky,” you say, urgent and more frantic.

Your hands and arms flail around, grasping the sheets in a desperate attempt to feel him.

Nothing but cold emptiness.

You wake with a startled scream, your hands tightened into fists and your throat dry.

“Bucky,” you whisper meekly, your voice cracking.

You’re met with silence other than the distant sound of the foaming waves breaking below and before you can stop yourself you fly off of the bed and out the back door.

Your lungs burn with exertion as you race toward the shoreline, your chest heaving with your large gulps of air and when you reach the edge you come to an abrupt stop, your momentum nearly toppling you over and into the cool water.

The sand seeps between your toes, gritty against your bare skin and the moonlight dances across the water, illuminating the foamy waves every time they kiss your feet.

Memories flood you like the rush of water, bringing you to your knees.

You can still recall every moment, every soft touch, every whispered word and you carry it all with you, a heavy veil that surrounds you in every waking moment.

Pressing your palms to your temples you clench your teeth before you scream into the night, the ocean swallowing up the sound.

Your hands fall to the sand, sinking deeper as the water gently buries them.

You replay those days, all those weeks ago, over and over in your head, wracking your brain to figure out what went wrong. There was no way he could just walk away from you, leaving you with nothing but the empty space, one that threatens to drown you with every breath you take.

You don’t know how long you lay in the sand, your clothes soaked and sandy and your cheeks stained salty from the tears.

With an effort that you can barely overcome you lift yourself up and crawl away from the waves, standing on shaky feet that eventually carry you back to the small bungalow hidden among the dunes.

Knowing that sleep will be pointless you drag yourself into the bathroom and run the hot water in the large tub. Stripping off your soiled clothes you climb in and sink down until your chin touches the surface bubbles, the soft scent of lavender drifting up to your nose and mixing with the salt air that blows warm through the open window.

You close your eyes and try to calm your breathing, sinking lower until you’re fully submerged under the water. You don’t come up until your lungs are burning and then you lean your head back, letting the tears roll freely down your cheeks.

Your skin is pruned and the water is cold by the time you leave the tub and wrap yourself in a towel. The moment you step out of the bathroom you know something is off, the hairs on the nape of your neck standing on end and your body growing tense and alert.

With silent movements you sneak toward the bedroom, stopping at the small table in the hallway to grab one of the many knives Bucky had purposefully and expertly hidden around the house.

Your heart hammers against your rib cage as you creep quietly along the wall, your steps meticulously placed so you miss every creak in the floor.

You can hear something but you can’t make out what it is so you wait just outside the door and listen. Your fingers are fisted into the towel, your other hand closed tightly around the hilt of the knife. You catch some movement out of the corner of your eye and gauge the location as best you can then you let out a slow breath, readying yourself before jumping forward and throwing the knife toward the intruder.

Without a sound the knife cuts through the air and you watch, stunned, as long and deft fingers close around the hilt before it reaches it’s target.

“Bucky,” you cry, your body going still and barely breathing before you crumple.

He’s on you before you hit the floor, the knife clattering to the hard wood as his arms wrap around you.

You sob into his chest, scratching your nails down the leather before you look up and into his eyes.

“You left me,” you cry. “You left….”

Your hands ball into fists and you hit him, beating on his chest and repeating the words over and over. He let’s you do it until you start to soften against him and he grabs your arms, dragging you closer and crashing his lips to yours.

“No,” you say against his lips and push on his chest, but he doesn’t release you and you quickly give in and melt into his arms.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers again and again, in between kisses. “I’m so sorry doll.”

When you finally pull away you’re breathless for more than one reason and you swallow hard, studying his face, his features drawn tight with remorse.

“I don’t understand,” you say softly as your fingertips trace his jaw and the dried blood that lines it stains your fingers.

“I had to leave. I did it to keep you safe. They found me, Hydra found me and…I had to go.”

He stops talking and hangs his head, leaning it against your shoulder, breathing in your scent. He sags into you and you can feel the slight shake of his shoulders before he sniffles.

“I thought about you every second of every day. It was all I could do to keep going. I had to get back to you.”

“Why didn’t you tell me you had to go?” you ask him, your eyes pleading as you tuck your fingers under his chin and lift his eyes to yours. “I had no idea what happened. One day I woke up and you were gone. No note, no trace…nothing. Like a ghost.”

Your pained words have him squeezing you tighter, his fingers digging into your skin in desperation.

“It was too risky. Keeping you safe is the only thing that matters. They would have come for you. I needed to get to them first.”

“You were gone for so long…I…I…” you start but break down again before you can finish the thought.

“Please,” he says.

You go still at that one simple word. “Please what?” you ask.

He lifts his fingers to your cheek, his knuckles brushing across your skin before he cradles your face in his hand and moves closer.

“You have to forgive me,” he chokes out. “Please.”

“Bucky.” His name is a sigh, pained and broken. “I can’t lose you. You have to trust me; you have to talk to me.”

His eyes flare and go bright with tears.

“I do trust you. I trust you more than anything,” he pleads. “It’s just. I hate it. Every part of me that…does these things. I need to protect you. From everything. Even from me.”

His confession brings fresh tears to your eyes and you take his face in your hands, brushing your thumb over his trembling lips before you kiss him softly.

“Bucky,” you whisper, resting your forehead to his. “You’re going to overcome this. All of it. You just have to be willing to embrace it and walk through it and come out on the other side of it.”

He meets your gaze, his eyes glimmering with pain…and love. “I don’t know how to get there.”

“I’ll be with you every step of the way,” you tell him with determination. “Just don’t lock me out. If there are things you need to do…do them but don’t lock me out. Talk to me. Trust me. And promise me you’ll never leave like his again…even if it is to protect me.”

He strokes his thumb across your cheek, marveling at your words, your beauty, and the love you so willingly give him.

“I promise,” he whispers. “I promise doll. I’ll do anything for you. Anything. I love you more than life itself. Thank you.”

He pulls you into his lap and the towel falls loose from your body, his hands ghosting over your skin, wrapping you in their warmth and strength and tightening when bury your face in his neck and place a soft kiss under his ear.

“It’s been a waking nightmare without you Bucky. I can’t bear it again.”

He grips your chin, his callouses scraping across your delicate skin, “you’ll never have to. I promise I’ll never leave you again.”

You wrap your arms around his neck and press closer as he lifts you in his arms and carries you to the bed.

“I promise,” he says again as he lays you down and covers your body with his.

His lips hover just above yours, the leather and rough material of his clothing harsh against your bare skin.

“I promise doll.”

It comes out as a whisper, a tease of his breath across your lips before he gently kisses you, pouring every ounce of love into it.

@book-dragon-13 @dreamlessinparis @goldylions @hiddles-rose @lookiamtrying @loki-laufeyson-1054 @randomfandompenguin @flordeamatista @manyfandomsfanvergent @peaches1958

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes imagine #beefy!bucky x reader #beefy!bucky #sebastian stan #sebastian stan x reader #bittersweet symphony writing challenge

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cherubispunk · 8 months

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THANK YOU, MR. MILLER - bfd!Joel Miller x Reader

summary: caught up in the devistation of you parents ever crumbling marriage, you seek help and comfort from your older neighbour.

a note from lucy: this is one my faves i've written so far. I hope you enjoy because I did.

playlist

wc: 7789 warnings: 18+ MDNI! no outbreak au! bfd!joel, angst, fluff, smut, p in v smut, fingering, oral - fem receiving, light choking, age gap (reader is twenty one, joel is in his forties), swearing, mentions of infidelity and divorce.

Most days you wished you could tie your fluctuant thoughts together in a neat little bunch with a ribbon, maybe yellow or blue, knot it into a bow. Like a bouquet of flowers. Except they were not flowers. They were brambles and stinging nettles and those weird little dandelions that only stay pretty until a gust of wind strips them bare to their stalks.

To spite this, you had an avarice for perfection. As a result of all the times life seemed to spiral out of control. Like ivy up the trunk of the oak tree in your back garden. You cried the day your father had to saw it down; Only being Eight and watching through the sliding glass doors of your living room. Your treehouse came down with it. All that was left was a stump now smothered by your mothers prize winning hydrangeas. Tonight seemed to be one of those moments. One of those life altering experiences that are jarring even if you see them coming.

Deep down, in the pit of your gut that formed first at the family dinner table through awkward conversation, you knew it was coming. Your brother who left home a year before you, yet to return even once from the army, knew it. Everyone else on the street did too. Heck, maybe the whole of Austin’s suburbia knew? Knew about the pathetic crumbling foundations your parents’ marriage sat on. It was tilted at an alarmingly steep angle as pillars of salt corroded, eroded, dissolved. It was jarring in a way that knocked air out your chest and winded you. A way that blew your eyes wide. Now, without you or your brother in the house, they had no reason to keep up appearances behind closed doors as well as in the open, and they slipped.

It's why you found yourself staring at the front door of the Miller household. Praying that the only friend you had in close vicinity, heck in Austin, full stop, could hear you rant about the shit you encountered barely mere moments ago. The same shit that was happening under the roof of your childhood home. In your parents’ marital bed.

Just like the decay of a loving vow, It was no secret you had changed over the time away. You filled out your clothes more, despite losing a little weight from how skint college made you. Long gone were the awkward blemishes to your skin, and growth spurts that made your jeans too short in the leg, and growing pains of puberty. You had a little skip in your step. One that was no longer weighed down from the dull life you lead when back home. Your first year of college was difficult to begin with. But you slipped into routine there. And you found your people. A few friends, some on your course, some not. But coming back after your third year…it was…new again.

And the way Joel’s eyes roved over you for a split second upon seeing you at his door— it made an invisible shiver of something jolt down your spine. A shiver that rattled each vertebrae. It had you smoothing over the hem of your shirt into your stupid little gym shorts. You chose to wear them because it was comfortable to travel in. But now you felt cold and small under his gaze, like an ant under a. His face softened when he saw the shimmering streaks of tears run down your pretty little face, eyes red while you reached up to wipe your nose and sniff. God, the ground should just open in a gaping hole and swallow you, bones and all.

“Uh, sorry to bother you so late, Mr. Miller.” You choked, closing your eyes and holding in breath, cursing how easy it was for you to cry. Your mother often chided you for it. Said ‘no one likes a crybaby’. And your father would butt in with ‘stop having a bubble’. Words that still sting as they yelled out in echoes in your mind while you stood on his doorstep. “Is…” another sniff, “is Sarah in?” Joel’s head tilted to the side slightly, only askew as he tutted slightly and offered a sympathetic smile of pity, “No. She’s with her boyfriend. Ain't been back yet.”

“Oh.” You nodded. How foolish you had been to think that your end of term dates aligned with hers. “Okay. Thank you anyway.” You turned to leave, only getting about ninety degrees in your turn on his doorstep before he stopped you.

“Do you want me to give her a message when she gets back tomorrow?” He watched as only your head turned back towards him, your feet staying firmly planted to the floor. Jesus Christ, you missed the sight of him. Missed seeing him in the mundane setting of suburbia. It made it so much more interesting. His shirt, it hugged his torso, the sleeves clinging to his large biceps like a second skin and stretching the dark fabric taut. A deranged part of you slipped back to your 18 year old self, peeking through the window to see him pushing the lawnmower across his front lawn in the dry heat, a dark patch of sweat collecting on the dip of his lower spine and across the wings of his shoulder blades.

“No. That, uh…it's not urgent.” You tried, the corners of your lips tugging a smile, a sad little one that made you look far worse. A lie smeared across your now pale face.

“You look tired, Sugar.” He said, the words seeping into the very marrow of your aching bones, wrapped up in that southern drawl you missed hearing through your open bedroom window. In the morning’s when he called out to his brother if he picked him up for work. Tommy, you remembered, was his name. “You got somethin’ weighing on your mind?” You willed yourself to shake your head, but you couldn’t bring it within yourself to lie right now. So instead you just nodded. “You wanna come in for a second?” He asked, glancing between you and the house across the street. The one unspeakable acts of infidelity were currently happening just beyond the white picket fence, and the manicured green lawn. It made your stomach twist into knots and your belly churn in a queasy mix of bile and the muffin you got at the airport that early morning. His eyes, however, stayed on you when you too glanced back, swallowing dryly when he saw the soft curve of your ass hang out the bottom of your bunched up shorts, the soft, malleable skin teasing him, making him hot beneath the collar. He had to adjust his jeans slightly as they got a little tighter, the nasty thoughts of how the swell of your rear would ripple with the dents of his fingertips if he was rough enough. Would they leave bruises on your skin?

Fuck. Joel cursed himself in the tangled confines of his mind. Damining for the sexual frustration that caught him off guard. He hadn’t had a good fuck in years, but the way your tear stained cheeks glowed in the dim light of his porch had him caught up; Wondering if you’d cry like that for him as he bent you over his kitchen counter, tits pressed to the linoleum, cheek smushed under his hands, your body jolting from erratic thrusts, his hips sapping into your behind. Would you cry out his name? Or would you resolve into whimpers and whines? Joel would admit, using the sight of you as a way to set his dick wet was the lowest of low, a depth he didn’t think he’d reach even in the throes of painful, biting sexual frustration. But it seemed to have boiled down and condensed together over the years. And being parched of the sight of you, your innocence over the time you were away — to then have you flung back at him? It had him growling in his own mind. Clawing at the yellow wallpaper. Just shy of a year since seeing you last over the street. That’s all it took for desire to light a fire in the pit of his belly and set up camp. And it wasn’t a traveller anymore. It was there to stay until satiated. The length in his jeans wanted him so gravely of that.

Pervert. He thought to himself bitterly, laced with a vehement venom. It neighboured his lust for you.

“Okay.” He found himself blinking once, twice, a sharp inhale of air waking him up as it shot through his nose. You replied with the affirmative!

“Okay.” He nodded back, jaw ticking, the muscle in his neck flexed under the pressure of his teeth biting together, making you want to mimic it with your thighs— to ease the ache just slightly.

He stepped to the side.

With an audible gulp, one that made you cringe, you tiptoed on a proverbial tripwire, a livewire, into the foyer of his house, past him. A breeze followed you through with gusto, making a mockery of your senses as it blew his scent into your face when you turned back round to face him. He closed the door and you felt a relief, one that was short lived because you were now surrounded by him. His smell, his sight. Everything about him, it was clinging to the walls, painted a white that you imagined glowed a warm, mellow yellow in the morning light. An oddly domestic thought to be having given you were thinking of all the ways he might just make you fall apart just two seconds ago, drooling over him his tight fucking t-shirt.

It did look so warm, though, a faded black from being washed so often, the Rolling Stones album cover printed on the front was cracked, like the canvas of an old oil painting. Specks of white fluff clung to the fabric, a normal sight. But it did nothing to help your want for him. It would smell so richly of him, so lavishly of Joel. You knew it.

‘God, this was so inappropriate!’ You scolded yourself in your head, letting him lead you into his kitchen. If you had a tail that little fucker would be folded shamefully between your legs, curled in sin.

The only sound in his kitchen came from a fan that hummed weakly as it oscillated on the counter. It reminded you of a thought you had when leaving university for the summer. Would I miss the cool rain of Colorado? You felt a lot like that fan. Pathetic. Swinging meekly between left and right. Never able to stick to one side due to the instability you grew up around. Smothered in.

“College good? People treatin’ you well?”Joel asked as he filled up a glass of water for you and slid it across the counter your way. You nodded tentatively, wetting your lips with your tongue before raising the glass to them. He watches with a secret hunger as the cool glass met your lips and you take a small sip to soothe your parched dry throat.

“Yeah.”

“Where'd you go again? Washington, right?” “Colorado.” You corrected him.

“Colorado. Right.”

He paused after nodding…and the air was once again stagnant due to the fall of conversation.

“What major?” He asked again, making you look up at him in a skittish movement. Like a fucking deer in headlights. You wanted to bolt like a rabbit at the sound of a shotgun instead. I’m your disgust, your feet stayed firmly planted into the linoleum tile of his floor.

“Uh, I'm studying education.” He nodded, pursing his lips as he mulled the thought over in his head with a nod.

“You wanna teach then?” He inquired. You nodded, “Sounds about right. You were always so giving. Very selfless of ya.” You set the glass down, swallowing down the sip you took just before. You can’t help but smile a little at that, eyes closing as you let yourself feel — for just a moment — that you were meant to be laced up in his words; Wrapped and held in place by a little bow. Like a birthday gift, or something under the decorated tree at Christmas.

This little second to yourself didn't go unnoticed by Joel. It made his heart thrum rapidly, pinch behind his lungs in the cage of his ribs. It had him up in arms again over his riling thoughts. They stuck to the walls of his mind, clinging to them like a rabid animal. If you’d let him, he'd sink his claws and teeth into the action upon those images. Spur it into play. Maybe sink his teeth into the plush of your skin too. Would you like that? To be carnally desired. Would you consent to that horror born of lust? He thanked the separation of the kitchen counter hiding his cock that pressed to his thigh under his jeans, blood flowing south as you held back tears again after a wave of short lived relief.

“What’s up, pretty girl?” He asked. Making your eyelids spring open again to meet the dark chestnut of his irises. The warm hue from the under cabinet strip lights illuminated the individual honey gold flecks in them. You swore your knees buckled, joined groaning. “You got a lot running round that head of yours.” He pointed out, noticing the tight scrunch of your brow. It would curl like that out of pleasure, give him half a chance. He was sure of it. Fucked out and overstimulated, limbs sprawled out beneath him like a wire in a snare trap.

Your silence was deafening and he sought out to fill it when giving you another once over. Her rounded the kitchen counter, praying your eyes stayed on his because the way your shirt swallowed you whole had him wishing he was the one doing that instead, covering you with himself. Holding your naked self to his chest. Feel.

“You wanna sit for a bit and talk about it?”

You gnawed at the tip of your thumb, a nervous habit that had Joel wrapping his large hand around your wrist and pulling it back. His digits engulfed your wrist completely. His size compared to yours was startling. His smile was kinda, masking the thoughts of what those tiny hands would look like, wrapped round his dick as he hissed at the friction your smooth plans would give him. Would it wrap round the girth perfectly? Would your thumb meet your middle finger as you took hold onto him? Probably not.

He swallowed, trying not to think the same for your lips as you once again darted your tongue out to draw the plush pink of your bottom lip between the whites of your teeth.

Instead, he settled for pulling you gently forward, cheating you round towards the living room with a steady palm to the small of your back. He felt the jolt you made, and then the way your muscles eased, the arch of your spine soothing and straightening out.

With a gentle touch, he led you to the sofa, sitting beside you. Waiting for you to speak.

“E-everyone saw it coming.” You croaked out, an annoyance and intolerable hate for yourself and your dumbfounded stupidity pinching at your sides. “Even I saw it coming! I just don’t understand why I had to find out in such a-“ Joel watched your eyes dart around the carpet of his living room, as if the answer would lay right there, nestled between the threads and fibres, “a messy way…” you continued with a small voice. He titled his head towards you, raising his brows with gentle ardence for what you had to say.

And so you spoke. Told him of the messy tangling of your fathers limbs with another woman’s. The sound of them. Disgusting. Gut wrenching. How they mingled with the bedspread in a frantic assembly of passion and appendages.

Joel’s face turned into a grimace. He knew. He saw the two of them enter your home together when washing the dishes of his meal for one. Drunk, cheeks flushed with the secret they carried. An infidelity. He’d seen your mother commit a similar sin earlier this very week. He cleared his throat, resting a careful hand on your thigh, one that would make him lose control had it not been for its place just above your knee. Any higher and he was in hot water. He knew it.

“Sweetheart,” he started in a soothing, sympathetic but also telling manner, “Adults don’t always get it right. We…we ain’t perfect either.” He tried. He felt like he was having a conversation with Sarah. A torture of de ja vu. Way back when. Years ago she asked what happened to her Mummy. And he had said the same line of truth. A bitter, harrowing truth. But one everybody discovered sooner or later. He wished you knew it before and he wasn’t the one to twist those pretty features into pain instead of pleasure. He was silently begging to whatever higher power that was watching, that he wasn’t being perverted. That you didn’t see this is some little trick to get you vulnerable, in a headspace where he could fuck you until you felt better. Or until you entirely forgot. Forgot all but the way to mouth out his name in a shrill cry.

If you even knew in first place all the things he wished to do with you. To you.

“Sometimes you just find someone who ain’t right. They might be at the time. And you feel so sure ‘bout it that you make promises.” You listened, relayed it in your mind while you bit the inside of your cheek in futility. It wasn’t easy. Not by any means a conversation you wanted to have. But it was needed. The two of you knew it. A twisted part of you was glad it meant you got a chance to talk to him. To have him touch you gently.

He reached forward, tucking a single lock of hair behind your ear to see the hues of your irises. The way they gleamed slightly with tears. It was the prettiest sight of total devastation he had seen. Joel was no man of hubris, but he’d be damned if he didn’t think that getting you on all fours, crying a little for him in pleasure would boost his ego.

You glanced up at him, grinding your teeth together nervously while the ghosting of a calloused fingertip skimmed the top of your right cheekbone. If it weren’t for your thighs sticking uncomfortably to the leather of the sofa in this heat, you would have decayed to submission and slipped to the floor.

Joel let his knuckles that he cracked together to feel the grounding of physical pain, feel a comfort instead as they skimmed down your jawline. Physicality was so much tamer to him than emotion. There was the promise of knowing when you’d feel better that came with the ache to his joints and lower spine.

'`Thank you, Mr. Miller. It’s okay.” You sniffed, “I- I’ll be okay. I think.” Joel let a kind smile spread over his face.

“I know you will. You're a strong little lady. But please, call me Joel” Your eyes closed again and you swallowed. But opening them – that was the damning part. Because the moment they did, you saw how he flickered between each of your eyes. It must have been the intimacy of having the permission to use his first name, because it had you inhaling deeply in need of him.

You were surely frozen to the spot, his hand moving slightly higher up your thigh in a gentle caress before dragging back down to squeeze your knee. You let yourself have the pleasure of gazing at his lips. A mistake because it made you yearn to kiss him more. How would rough hairs of his upper lip feel against your cupid's bow?

It seemed your body moved of its own accord, for your lips met his. It was unlike anything you could have imagined when in bed, two fingers buried in your pussy, imagining they were his. His hot breath fanned over your lips, making you want more. But it was cut short when he pulled away with a groan.

Your skittish nature took hold of the reins and you jumped back, springing to your feet, hands tugging in your hair. “Oh, god- Joel- I…” You stammered, tears once again welling in your bloodshot eyes, “I’m so sorry. I thought…”

What? What did you think? That something would come of kissing your older, very age inappropriate neighbour? Fuck.

He stood up quickly after you, fists balled as if he was holding something back. Joel watched as you paced the floor once, twice, stopping at the far end of the room by the wall, distance yourself from the magnetic pull you had to him. “Hey, it's okay.’ He assured, taking a tentative step closer, hands now flat, fingers spread slightly as he tried to calm you down. “I’m not mad, sweetheart, okay?’ You took a breath in through your nose. Let it out again in a tremble of breath.

Another step closer. He was closer than needed, but you weren't the one making that call. He was. So you took it as a good sign, still pleading for his forgiveness though.

“Sorry.”

“You don't have to apologise for nothin’, Sugar.” He assured with that slow southern drawl again. It stretched out his syllables and smoothed out his vowels with it. God, it was a beautiful sound. One you wanted to muffle with your lips, with your legs over his ears. He was now an inch away from your chest, leaning closer to whisper in your ear. “I’d be lyin’ if i said I hadn’t wanted it.”

The sentence sent a jolt throughout you.

“Look at you.” He mumbled into the crook of your neck, the junction of your throat. A swallow passed through it, the cartilage of your windpipe flexing under his lips. “Too beautiful not to be touched.”

Those words struck a certain chord on your heartstrings. Plucked away at them like a harp. Made the beating of that very organ thrum in song. A tuneful symphony he felt through your pulse.

Too beautiful not to be touched.

No one had said that to you before. No one. And it was like a life altering experience. A mere ‘thank you’ didn’t feel like enough to respond with. It felt pathetic to say in comparison. And silence was so much more pathetic. But you couldn’t really articulate anything to say back. You just…stood there in awe of him as he continued to place careful, open mouthed kisses to your neck.

“How would you do it?’ You asked breathlessly, eyes closing, lashes fanning out over the tops of your cheekbones, “T-touch me?” You stuttered through fragmented, beating breaths. His kisses, they grew messier by the second now, and he hummed in amusement into your skin. Into the heat of it that crept up your throat. This was so wrong. So perverse it hurts is what he thought. But the pleasure from just his lips — it stung at the backs of your eyes like a prickling of tears; Oh god, it felt right. Right. Real. So, so…real- it was real. Repeating the word in your mind had it losing its meaning for a second, a jumbled up sound in the voice of your inner ear, your articulatory process working overtime just to feel into him. Feed the need for him.

“First.” He started, pushing you gently by the slope of your shoulders, until your back collided softly to the painted plaster of his living room wall, “I’d push you up against the wall.” He paused, pressing an open mouthed kiss to your collarbone, the shallow skin that was teased into view for him as he hooked a finger into the crewneck of your large t-shirt. “And then, I’d pin you down.” The thought made you whimper, a pulse of pleasure aching between your legs. Unquenchable, not able to be soothed by anything that wasn’t the touch of his rough fingers, the calloused pads of his digits. Middle and forefinger.

“You want that?” You nodded frantically in reply, breath catching your throat as he tugged at your shirt more. “Words. Use that pretty mouth of yours for words, sweet thing.”

“Y-Yes, Joel.” You stammered. Pathetic. Embarrassing. But it was impossible when his whole weight, his broad frame, toned with years of manual labour, pressed you into the wall. “Yes.” He let out another amused hum, except it tailed off into more of a growl now. A guttural one that rumbled in the back of his throat and reverberated in your ears. Rattled your ribs until they ached. It pinched them. The skin over them too and the lungs under them as well. Lungs that shivered from his touch.

“You wanna feel pretty.” It was not a question. A statement of understanding. One that made you think he once cracked open your skull and read each thought. The pages of your diary, even. Back to front. Cover to cover. Scour each word, ravage it of meaning the same way you wanted him to do with you. To your cunt that pulsed and soaked the fabric of your underwear. It made the skin of your inner thighs sticky as it dripped down gluttonously. “You want me to make you feel pretty, hm?”

“Please.”

He pulled back, a gleam in his eyes, and an almost evil smirk to match curled at the corner of his chapped lips. “I can do that, sweet thing.” He cooed, lulling you into a false sense of security. “I can make you feel pretty. Matter of fact, doll. I can make you feel fuckin’ beautiful.” You were now waving a white flag over your head to him. In that battle between your morality and lust, the turmoil of your needy, disgusting thoughts that echoed in your bones. It filled the hollow space between them. He stole away into it. He would make you feel pretty. Beautiful. He said so himself into the skin of your neck that now prickled violently with goosebumps. They made his words physical, scribing them out. A beautiful collision. And a stunning one it would be if he defiled you with the thrust of his hips. He’d make space for himself anywhere and you'd let him. Let him make roots in your mind. And not just the thought of him that you conjured up. No. He’d anchor himself there. Without your help. He’d make them himself. Without your involvement or investment.

It was no longer a question of how much you were willing to let up to him. How much of yourself you’d give up to him and set in his possession. It was now the complete certainty of how much he wanted. Or needed. You saw in his eyes he needed it. A comfort, a release of clashing teeth and viced limbs to his waist and back. It frightened you how easy it was to give that to him. To let him take that pleasure and make it his. His. His, his, his. Carve out a chunk of yourself from your arms that you hoped would surround him in the throes of messy heat. Give it to the man on a silver platter, surrounded by pomegranate, cherry and apple. Sweet fruits of you. Your fruits of your labours to him.

“We should stop—” Joel said into the skin of your neck, hands grasping at your hips, upper thighs. His fingers sank and embedded into flesh. He kept changing his mind, you kept changing your mind. But the actions he bought on, pressed to your skin by crafted lips, a little too far away in his own head — they went against his inhibition. Perfectly encapsulated the erotic stimulation as his hand slipped down your side to tangle messily with the hem of your shirt.

“We should.” You agreed breathlessly, immediately, chest in tandem with his, it’s rise and fall as they beat ceaselessly together, touching up to one and other.

“—But I can’t.” He continued.

“Neither can I. So please don’t.”

Being wanted. Wanting too much. It fed the idea of him but left you starving as you found those roots you made of him in your head being overgrown and overtaken by his own now. It was happening. In his own living room. Behind the closed curtains as he drew closer, closer, the windows seemingly fogged up to the outside. The suburbia that held its messy and primitive life, guarded by picket fences. Greying and peeling picket fences. Not white. Not pure. Not anything but decaying. Oh, you’d decay into him in a heartbeat. Give it all to him. Let him take it. Going through to the beating of your heart and crashing through your ribs. Rip it out your aching, pinching chest. A gaping hole left behind.

He didn’t stop. And thank god he didn’t. Because the way his hand smoothed between your thighs, between the seam of your shorts. Maybe it was something that was so taboo no one spoke of it? Maybe you too wouldn’t even speak of it after this. But it was too addictive to bother you. It seemed to flare your synapses, send shockwaves of rolling pleasure, cascading from your slouched shoulders as you slumped slightly more into him and off the wall. Your head spinning in circles loosened your chemicals. An endorphin rush. Pulled out your centrefold, staples bent and mauled as your pages fell from the book and onto the floor in front of him. Letting him tear you apart column by column.

“Lean back, pretty girl.” He commanded softly. Deftly. It made you feel like fine art, sculpted veins of his hands that flexed as they palmed your cunt through the two thin layers of fabric, slick clinging to them. You obeyed so well.

Joel’s curved, rigid nose ran along your carotid artery. The one that thumped with your quickening pulse. This anticipation and forbidden pleasure made him realise he was always more comfortable in chaos. In something a little out of the ordinary and unstable. Unhealthy. Joel gave into the temptation of low hanging fruit because it was there. And you got so little from anyone that what small intricacies you were handed, you let him. Let him as he snatched it up and bit a hunking chunk out of your soul. A souvenir for himself. Pulled the apple from the tree in the garden of Eden, sank his teeth into it, let the sweetness seep out of the core onto his tongue as it unravelled into addiction.

You were his apple now, and your teeth were bared to him, like his were to the delicate, shallow skin of your neck, the ridges one slopes of your collarbones. While his fingers, long and thick, slipped past the hem of your shorts, deeper past the little bow in the centre of the hem of your underwear. The crown of your head fell back gently to plaster, and mouth fell open with a small high gasp as he finally made contact with your clit. He hummed again. The slick you offered him made it so easy to give an experimental circle of his fingers.

Middle and forefinger pinching it slightly, circling it the way you felt you circled each other before now.

“Don’t wanna break you, sugar. Gotta be careful.” He said as his fingers coaxed you into bliss. Toes curling in your socks and high top converse.

“Please- I don’t care if you do- just—“ More. You needed more. Nothing, no matter how much you dreamed of this, seemed to be enough yet. “More. Please let me have more.”

“How much more?” He growled, rolling his hips into your thigh as he lost a little composure. It was just as he thought. Your begging was so sweet. Did God feel this way when he heard prayers?

“Inside. I want to feel you inside.”

His breath hissed in his throat as it caught between the walls of his windpipe and the strings of his vocal cords. With a slow, dragging pace of rough fingertips, he moved further down your slit, spreading your lips apart and holding a single pad of his digit to your hole, teasing you at your entrance. He growled again, teeth and mouth parting as he sank them into your shoulder. It made you cry out in a sharp wail when he slipped a single finger into your fluttering heat, cunt suffocating his digits. He was up to his middle knuckle deep in you, pulling out to do the same with two now. Middle and forefinger, curling them. Physically be king you towards a release. Your legs tensed and relaxed as each wave of pleasure rumbled through you. Hips bucked slightly into him and his free hand grapes at the flesh of your hip once more to slam your ass back into the wall.

“Good girl. Such a pretty little lady. Beautiful little cunt for me.” He cooed after unlatching his mouth from the purple bruise of a bite mark on your shoulder. His hot breath kissed the shell of your ear and made the ache settle into pleasure deep in your walls. Right at the end. Right there. “Is it all for me?”

“Yes!” You whimpered, “Yes— all for you, Joel.”

“Mhm. Good girl. Beautiful little lady.”

His fingers seemed to pick up a pace, but it was hindered by the tight material of your clothing. So he opted to shove it over the swell of your ass, down to your mid thigh. Not bothering for want and need of pressing his fingers back into you. Plunging them back into your tight heat. The warmth and wetness lead to lewd sounds squelching between your quivering thighs, the meat of your flesh.

“Good girl.” He whispered again, grasping your chin in a vice grip and pulling you closer, crashing his lips to yours in a clashing of teeth and mingling of moans. “So fuckin’ needy. So fuckin’ Love it.” Joel growled, “And it’s all for me. Makin this old man feel so special, doll.”

Tears burned your eyes with the white hot pleasure that coarser through you like a racehorse. They slipped from the threshold of your waterline, and the moment he tasted them against your lips, he pulled from them, licking a hit stripe up your cheek. He lapped them up, inhaling deeply through his nose, caught up in everything your body gave him. “Gonna make you feel so fuckin’ beautiful. Make you forget about it all. Only want you to remember my name.” You nodded, his fingers now up to the hilt in your tight little hole that clamped around him, threatening to spasm as you lost control.

It burned in your lower belly. The crying, shrill screaming promise of climaxing.

“You’re so close. Can feel it.”

“Yes, Joel.”

“Want you to come for me. Let that pretty little cunt of yours come on my fingers.” It was purely debaucherous, disgusting how fucking good it felt. It made you angry for some reason unknown to your mind. But your orgasm was so tangible at the time you couldn’t bring yourself to care.

You cried out, your slim fingers gripping at his hair, fisting the curls between your nails and palms. It burned you up inside. Or was that from his fingers? Fuck, the thought of his cock and what pleasure it would unfold inside your anatomy had your mouth watering.

“Good fuckin’ girl.” He growled obscenely into your ear as the most animalistic howl you had made yet tore through your bronchioles and rattled in his ears; Bounced from the walls.

The moment your walls stopped squeezing him he pulled his fingers from your messy heat and shoved them past your lips, teeth scraping at his knuckles. “Taste it. Ain’t it beautiful? Ain’t you just the prettiest little gift to me?” You nodded, eyes locking zealously with his while you cleaned his fingers of your release. The tang of your juices had your eyes rolling back in your head. And Joel wanted more. So he pressed them further into the cavern of your mouth. His blunt nails passed the hard palate of your mouth, pressing into your soft palate nod. And the gag you gave out had his already angry cock twitch viciously in protest behind his zipper.

“Gonna get you naked now, Sugar. Gonna see what pretty little body you’ve been hidin’ away from me all this time.”

You nodded frantically, these moments of oblivion being all that you needed now. The infidelity of your parents’ now a thing of the past, cast to the attic of your mind palace. The walls are now painted in colours of him. Lifting your arms to aid your own undressing, he yanked the hem of your shirt up, tossing it aside, large hands now hooking into your bottoms and pulling from your still quivering legs. Those same hands, ones that you were convinced were crafted and out into this very earth for your pleasure, hooked under your thighs, lifting you up into him. Legs wrapped around his waist without hesitation while he carried you to his stairs, ascending them with haste burning in his stomach. Your hands tugging at his hair and your lips to his neck made his strides larger, taking the steps two at a time.

You were well into the belly of the beast now. Consumed and swallowed, wallowing in a haze of postcotial bliss.

His foot kicked open the door of his bedroom, and you felt the spring of the mattress under your back, pushed down from the rebound as he found himself once again on top of you. His hips now met yours, still clothed and he could feel your wetness seep through the waters of clothing.

“Please, Joel, wanna feel you.” He was slowly going at you with a stitch picker, pulling you apart from the seams of your fabric. And he relished in it. You both relished in it. “Wanna see you. All of you. Please?”

A hand of his hooked behind your calf, pulling each of your shoes from your feet, followed by your socks and he smirked devilishly down upon you. “Oh, yeah?” He asked, chuckling evilly to himself. A sound that made you writhe atop his bedspread; Made you want to creek into his skin and barks yourself between his spine and ribs. Any free space of him.

“Yes! Please.” You begged, reaching out to grasp the hem of that shirt he wore. It’s faded fabric bunching in your meagre handfuls. He growled, dragging you closer by the swell of your thighs, pressing the hard and defined line of his dick through his jeans into your wanting slit. Pink and puffy cunt swiping against denim. The friction made you jolt.

“Sure thing, Beautiful.” – ‘I’ll make you feel fuckin’ beautiful.’ It echoed again in his words and wanting, hungry actions. – “As soon as I taste that gorgeous pussy of yours.”

He sank to his knees, joints not clicking because he felt young. Fucking Alive. A hot stripe made by the flat of his tongue made you mewl, a hand in his hair once again. The other splayed out on the covers, propping you up to get a view of him buried so deeply between your thighs, nestled into their apex, tongue fucking into your fluttering hole and the tip of his nose pressed to you clit. Your brow scrunched, jaw unhinged. Like him. With every slight roll of his head, the defined curl of his nose brushed your clit deliciously, each nerve ending of the bud was alive, live a livewire. It rattled in your bones, steam through your blood. Tingling as the sensation spread through your limbs, almost like pins and needles.

The angle was altered ever so slightly as he hooked both of your knees over his shoulders, inhaling the sweet musk of your cunt. He growled into it, lips smothered in your juices that gushed onto his tongue.”Come on, little lady. Wanna taste you gushing over my tongue.” Joel mumbled drunkenly between your parted thighs, his eyes boring deeper holes into your already blown pupils. Dilated and wide.

It was all the coil needed to burn brighter and tighten in its twisted knot, snapping clean in half as you reeled. You shoulder blades crashed back down to the mattress, back arching, strung tight in a deep curve while you writhed. He tugged you closer, moaning lowly into the seam between your thighs, slurping needily at what your body gave him. He hummed, addicted now. That taste was fatal. He had his forbidden fruit and he’d jump to far higher branches to get another taste if it came to it.

“Taste so good. So fuckin’ good, doll. Like sugar.” He cooed again, pulling back once he had his fill for the time being. A good thing because the way the scruff of his chin rubbed at your thighs was starting to become harder to ignore.

You watched through heavy, half lidded eyes as he pulled off his shirt to reveal sweet skin, the slight pudge of his stomach. You followed the smattering of hair in his happy trail down to his jeans, just as he popped the button.

“Gonna fuck you real good, now, Sugar. Gonna make you feel so beautiful.” You believed him. Every word as it became gospel to the pair of you sinners. “Gonna me you want it even after this.”

“Always wanted it, Joel.” You mumbled, hypnotised by his fingers as they hooked into his jeans. He tugged them down over his hips, dragging down his adonis belt, softer, less harsh compared to the contours of the rest of him, such as his arms. He pulled them down in one swift motion with his boxers, his heavy cock slapping onto his lower abdomen, thich, red, the tip swallowed and leaking, drooling gluttonously with a rivulet of precum down the underside of his length.

His hand wrapped around it, the large splay of his palm did nothing to dwarf its size with he jacked himself once, twice, three times to the sight of you. Fucked out from merely his tongue and fingers. He squeezed the base of his cock with hiss, pulling his bottom lip between his teeth after cursing under his bated breath.

“Promise it’ll only hurt for a bit, Sugar.” He swore sweetly at the sight of your anxiety. How you shifted slightly atop his covers. He was able to read you so well, like a book he had scoured the ages of every night before bed. It made you feel special. Sacred. The way he did it so easily. It was everything you wanted. Someone to tell you and assure you of your safety even when you didnt voice a single concern. “I’ll make you feel so good.”

He ran the tip up and down your slit, having to hold back from slamming into you when the bulbous head notched at your entrance.

“You on birth control, beautiful?” He asked as he leaned over you, bent at the waist, wrapping your legs around him securely.

“Y-yeah.”

Joel took that as a go ahead to push into you, pressing his hips flush to yours as you swallowed him inch by deliciously thick inch.

“Good girl.” He crooned, spelling both of his psalm over your hairline sweeping the hair that stuck to your forehead in the sheen of sweat atop your skin. His large hands dragged over the top of your skull to the crown of your head, down the back of your neck. The delicate dragged of roughened skin made a trail of goosebumps rise over your skin, blazing in his touch’s wake. He trod a path with his hands down to your breasts, kneading each one between his palms, still buried to the hilt inside you. How he had so much restraint, he didn't know. And neither did you. But the needy roll of your hips into his showed just how desperate you were. He groaned at the start of the friction between you, and slowly dragged back out of you, moving just as slowly back inside.

The motion turned into a needy clash of his hips to yours. Again. Again. Again. Somewhere along the sting of passion and heat, his hand wrapped around your throat, feeling the flex of it as you swallowed under his palms. He bit down into your neck, reaching out from you as his hips slammed erratically. His heavy balls slapping against your ass.

Your cunt drooled down his shaft, down to the base, down the sensitive skin of his cock. He growled and ground and hissed in your ear, grip tightening in your neck. You felt it tighten. And tighten. Right in the pit of your stomach, deep in your sopping wet cunt. Suckong him back in as the angle of his hips snapped up into the spot that had you seeing entire constellations. They darted to and fro across your vision. It blurred the edge, spotted slinging over the back of your eyes that now burned with tears of pleasure.

His fingers gripped tightly at your hip, thin brushing over your hip bone down your mouth to toy with your clit. And action that sent you spiralling, babbling his name nonsensically among a string of curse words. So pretty and fucked out beneath him. Joel couldn't help but stare in awe as your eyes rolled back into your head when your orgasm hit like a freight train.

He came undone coon after, his climax hitting a crescendo with a growl bitten into your shoulder, leaving another beautiful purple mark on your flawless skin. His thumb still rolled over your clit gently, helping you ride that experience out for all that it was worth.

And then he scooped you, took care of you, let you stay the night. And when you were asleep, wrapped up in his sheets, clean, loved. He stole away downstairs, gathering your clothes, bunching up your panties in his fist, hiding them away in his nightstand.

Not that you would have cared.

You didn’t have to gather your thoughts anymore. Joel replaced them and the stinging nettles and the brambles and the dandelion stems with pretty sunflowers, lavender and sweet peas. And he tied them up with a sweet little ribbon of pure gold. Just for you.

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