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mischiefmanaged2 · 1 month ago

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Wants and Needs

Look at the mess you’re in now, sweetheart, cryin’ on a cock that’s too fuckin’ big for you. What am I gonna do with ya?”

WARNINGS - Mean!joel, dom!joel, cock hungry!reader, impish!reader, one shot, size kink, Joel miller monster cock, ‘We shouldn’t be doing this’ vibes, cause Joel’s all guilt ridden and sexually frustrated, lots of dirty talk, guided masturbation (joel talks you through fucking yourself), mid-fuck pep talk from a man old enough to be your father, girthy legal but unspecified age gap, fingering, pain kink, brief mention of tummy bulge, dacryphilia, dubcon, unprotected PIV, cream pie, cum eating, aftercare in the form of oral sex (f!receiving) wedgie kink if you squint, horny brain took over when I wrote this, dingy motel sex.

FIC HELP - @tofics!!! Thank you for the thorough beta, sweetheart!!! you did so fucking much to help me with this fic and i'm really fucking grateful, more than words could say!! @beefrobeefcal @cum-a-calla and @/endlessthxxghts (rip i miss your presence on this shitshow of a website every day) thank you sweet babes for all of the encouragement and support!! I love you all!!

A/N - Long time no see! It’s been a while since I’ve posted a fic, even while since I’ve written for Joel. Gosh. I hope you’re all surviving the winter as best you can <3 it’s been a rough one, huh? Enjoy and have a safe rest of your week :)

The bed frame groans for the seventh time in a span of five minutes. Through his nose, Joel sighs in irritation at that sharp, grating creak, the sound of the bed hitting against the wood paneled walls to match. You’ve been at this for the last hour and a half - wriggling, flipping back and forth in the bed, tugging that old, scratchy, floral comforter off of Joel’s body to swaddle around yours, only to throw it off again seconds later. You’ve flipped your pillow more times than he can count, adjusting where you lay your head in search of that coveted cold spot.

It’s hard to sleep when you keep touching him. Mindlessly, you press up against Joel, and inch away again. His patience for this routine of yours wore thin long ago, sanded down by too many nights of this same ordeal.

Joel feels the mattress dip and shift a little, the subtle warning of you gearing up to toss your body again, but he’s had enough. He grabs you by the wrist before you can do so, holding you tight enough so that you feel the rough calluses of his palm on your skin. “Enough. Quit fuckin’ squirmin’,” he rasps, his voice tired but edged with warning. “I told you to go to sleep an hour ago.”

“I can’t,” you snap.

“Bullshit. Y’ain’t even tryin’.”

Joel’s heard this from you before. You’ve always been more restless, whereas Joel’s a heavier sleeper by nature, aided by the alcohol and the pills that lull him off into dreamless unconsciousness. But you’ll keep him up anyway, usually complaining that you’re too hot. Or too cold. Or you’re thirsty, and you need some of his water. No, you don’t have any. Yes, you know you’re a pain in his ass.

Joel will get you settled, only for you to start all over again. In the subsequent mornings, you’ll be crabby and snapping at him, and he’ll bite back just as hard, pissed off hours of his sleep were lost to you.

“So what’s your excuse this time?”

“It’s nothing,” you mumble, adjusting in bed again. You kick your feet, toeing at the tangled fabric of your pants bunched up around your legs. Joel squeezes your arm in warning, nails pressing into your skin a little. “Joel - stop. Just let me—”

Joel cuts you off, “Yeah, I know. Sit up.”

Obeying him, you sigh and sit up straight, playing with a loose thread in the comforter as Joel leans over your side of the bed, his body radiating warmth and his own scent of something you couldn’t name, something distinctly Joel - perhaps some sort of heavy soap or maybe whiskey. It radiates thick in the space between you and him. He fluffs your pillows a little, then places them back down. “Lay down,” he tells you, and you fall back onto the soft, warm mattress. “S’that comfortable?” he asks.

“Yeah.”

Joel nods quietly, then reaches for the comforter next. He shakes it a little to smooth out the bunches in the material, then lays the flannel sheet over your torso, following with the comforter itself.

“And you have to tuck the blanket in—”

“By your shoulders, I know,” Joel says, tucking the blanket under your chin and your shoulders. “Everything, huh?”

Joel settles himself next, situating his own pillows before lying on his stomach. “Now get some sleep. Do that slow breathin’ I told you ‘bout, remember?”

“I remember.”

“Good girl. G’night, then.”

“Night, Joel.”

Joel closes his eyes and nestles into the mattress, drifting off to something halfway between asleep and awake, but closer to the side of unconsciousness. You close your eyes too, counting your breaths. In for four seconds, just like Joel told you. Hold, out for four seconds.

Maybe it’d work if you weren’t trying to force your body into it. If you weren’t thinking about how very awake you are, when you should’ve been asleep hours ago. If you weren’t thinking about Joel.

He’s been on your mind lately, more than usual. You spent so much time alone with him, learning all the neat things about him. He was such a brute at first, and speaking honestly, he still is. But there’s a gentler side of Joel. Softer. Tender, in his own way.

You really, really fucking like Joel. You’ve never liked anyone the way you like him. He makes you feel all sorts of sensations. Anger, annoyance, joy. He makes your heart pound and makes you breathe funny sometimes, but not always in a bad way. You spend a lot of time just looking at him, tucking away the parts of him you love deep inside your brain, saving it for moments alone. His body is softer with his age, but his arms stay strong, shoulders so vastly broad. And his face, the wrinkles in his skin, those neat scars. That look he gets in his eyes when he’s pissed at you, and his lips and his frown. You watch the way he eats sometimes, fixated on the way his lips move, wondering how they’d move against another’s. Maybe your own. His hands, as he traces maps, books, whatever. Veins and tendons twitching. His palms are so fucking big, so masculine.

Joel keeps his distance, always decent. It’s not lost on you. You know he knows how you stare at him, contemplating whatever it is you think about in that head of yours. He doesn’t want to know. Can’t know.

His breathing is evening out now. His lips are parted, and you feel his warm breath on your cheek, tickling your earlobe. He looks so handsome bathed in that milky, bluish moonlight that pours in through the window over his face.

There’s an ache throbbing between your thighs, the same thing that’s been keeping you up recently. Arousal. Joel seems to worsen the pain, just by existing, somehow. Even just thinking of him makes you throb a little harder.

Squeezing your thighs together alleviates that ache momentarily, so that’s what you do. You cross one leg over the other and squeeze tight, but it’s not enough. Of course it’s not. You know what you need, something more sustainable than this. Something real, something raw. Something…Joel.

You give your underwear a gentle tug while rocking your hips, just needing that extra bit of pressure. Gripping tight the waistband of your panties while wiggling your hips, shaking the creaky bed a little in the process, the motion rouses Joel from his sleep. He opens one eye to watch you wriggle and jerk, noting that look of concentration painted across your features.

“What’re you doin’?”

“Joel!” Your whole body jolts and you straighten your legs quickly, flattening your hands at your side. “Nothing.”

He sighs, “If you’re gonna lie to me, sweetheart, y’need to be better at it. Now what is the matter with you?”

You have to be sharp here. You could tell the truth and have Joel inevitably scold you, call you a fucking pervert and that you should be ashamed of yourself or…

…you could bend the truth some, not much. Just a little fib. You spin the story quickly in your head. Something something…you can’t come on your own - lie, and you just need Joel to do it for you - another lie. Far be it from him to leave a girl in distress, right? He’s got to be the hero, always. Has to save the day while bitching that you’d be dead without him. Because that’s Joel Miller, always carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders, and always by his own doing. How your heart bleeds for him as you proverbially rub your pointer finger and your thumb together, the world’s tiniest violin playing just for him.

“It’s - fuck,” you groan, shifting in bed as you play up the lie. “It’s nothing. Just - something kind of hurts, that’s all.”

“What hurts? Let me see.” Joel sits up quickly, reaching for the light. “Show me,” he says.

“No, Joel. You can’t - it’s like, I don’t know. It’s…embarrassing, I think.”

“I don’t care,” he grumbles. “Y’gotta tell me. So spit it out, kid.”

You exhale softly, closing your eyes. Joel’s lying on his side, sitting up a little as he carefully searches your face. You can’t look at him right now because fuck, you’re a bad liar. You turn away so you don’t break and smile or something. “I’m like, throbbing,” you murmur, “And wet, uh…down there, I guess. I don’t know–”

Joel holds up a hand, “Alright, enough. Jus’ - go deal with it. I’ll give ya some privacy,” he says, sitting fully upright and taking off the covers.

“Deal with it how?” you ask, feigning ignorance. You’ll take this as far as it needs to go, or until you’re caught red-handed.

“You know, like…” Joel waits for you to get the picture, but you just stare at him blankly.

“Won’t it just go away?” God, you are so full of shit, you almost make yourself sick.

Joel scoffs quietly, and you have to bite down on your smile. You’re playing him like a fucking fiddle. “It don’t work like that, sweetheart,” he says. “You have to handle it on your own.”

“Can you do it?”

“Fuck, no,” he answers quickly. But Joel looks down at you, contemplating. God, you’re fucking...this is the reason you keep him up so late? Part of him wants to leave you here, just like this, to figure it out and deal with it on your own. But Joel’s not confident that’ll happen, since you’ve gone this long without it, apparently. Feels like a lie.

“Or can you help me?”

“Help you how?”

“Just…make sure I’m doing it right. Like, how you’d do it to your lover or something.”

“You are fuckin’ ridiculous,” Joel sighs under his breath. “How I’d do it to my lover, huh?”

“Right.”

Joel thinks for a moment, then speaks, against his better judgement. “Alright.” He takes a deep breath in and out, taking in you on the bed, scanning the gorgeous outline of your body. “I’d spread her legs,” he says, watching the comforter move as you part your thighs. “Wider than that,” he adds.

“Like this?”

“Jus’ like that, s’good,” Joel nods. “And I’d take my hand,” he says, reaching for your wrist, “Put it right here, between her thighs,” laying your palm over your mound. “Under her pants.”

“Fuck, yeah,” you murmur, sliding your hand beneath your pants and panties. You press down a little, groaning softly at the pressure. Fuck, it feels good. Even better with Joel’s presence. “Feels good,” you sigh, pressing your fingers down harder against the sensitive bud. You can feel it throbbing beneath your fingertips.

“I’d rub her in circles.”

“Hard or soft?” you ask. “Fast or slow?”

“Whatever she wants,” Joel answers.

You spread your legs a little wider, your knee nudging against Joel’s tummy, and it takes everything he has not to touch you. It wouldn’t be right, he believes. This act alone is pushing the bounds of his morals.

“Like this, Joel?”

Joel watches the comforter move above your hand as you trace steady circles into your clit, and stifles a groan. As his cock thickens and twitches in his pants, he inches away from you so you don’t feel his arousal. “Yeah, darlin’. Like that.”

“And then what?”

“I’d keep goin’ til…well, you’ll figure that out.”

He takes a moment to watch, admire the show. Brows pinched together, a little bit of sweat sparkling on your temples. Joel can feel the heat radiating from your body as you work yourself, chest rising and falling, hips and legs twitching. “M’gonna leave you to it, then,” he mumbles finally, getting up to leave.

“No,” you gasp, reaching for his arm with the hand you used to fuck yourself. Joel feels your arousal on his skin, and notices how wide your pupils are. “Stay.” He does consider it for a moment. His fucking balls ache, desperate to find his own release too.

“It’s - it’s not enough, Joel.”

Clarity hits him then, and he shoots you a knowing glare. You’re such a bad fucking liar, laying it on way thicker than you need to be. “It’s plenty,” Joel snaps, “I’m leavin’. Hurry up an’ sort yourself out.”

“Don’t go,” you beg. “Can you try it?”

“What? No.”

“Why?”

“Because,” Joel says. “It’s not a good idea. C’mon, honey, I know you’re smarter than this.”

“But I can’t do it on my own,” you argue back. “I think - fuck - I think I need you to fuck me. I need to come on your cock.”

“Jesus Christ, sweetheart, you can’t say shit like that. M’old enough to be your fuckin’ daddy.” Joel rolls his eyes. This absolutely tracks for you, averse to doing any hard work at all. He pauses, then speaks, “You don’t need me to take care of this for you. Y’just want it. I know you, kid. You don’t like doin’ any hard work yourself. Am I right?”

“No,” you insist, “I really think I need it. Need you.”

You look at Joel, silently begging him to give you what you’re asking for. Joel’s eyes dart left and right as he searches your face, breath hitched in his throat. God, the way you look at him. Your eyes are all wide and innocent and pleading, he knows you’re giving him that look on purpose. “Don’t look at me like that, you fuckin’...Christ almighty,” Joel groans. “Fine,” he concedes.

“You’ll fuck me?”

“Absolutely not,” he snaps. “You can have my fingers. If I do this for you, will ya settle down an’ go to sleep?”

“Yes,” you agree, nodding quickly. “I’ll go right to sleep, Joel, I promise.”

Joel eyes you from the side. “You’re fuckin’ trouble,” he mumbles, scooting closer to you. His bulge presses against your hip, eliciting a gasp from you. “Jus’ ignore it,” he says. “Don’t get any ideas.”

He loops his fingers over the waistband of your pants and panties, then tugs them down your thighs until he can’t anymore. “Take ‘em off the rest of the way,” he tells you.

You wriggle off your pants, then pull off your shirt, now lying bare on the bed underneath the covers. Joel’s eyes widen, then he shakes his head. “Selective hearing,” he grumbles.

“What?”

“Just needed the bottoms gone, sweetheart.”

“Oh,” you whisper, sliding down the mattress a little more, covering your shoulders with the sheets. Joel props himself up on his elbow, the side of his head resting against his knuckles. His free hand travels over to you, fingers drumming against your hips.

“Y’ready?”

“Mhm,” you hum, anxiety and excitement permeating the air. Joel’s hand slides down to your inner thigh, and he can feel the heat from your pussy, the way you vibrate with desire.

Joel should tease your pussy. He should make you ache for it, more than you already are. Trace your lips, press his finger against your wet slit to gather your arousal. Like he would with his lover, right? But he shouldn’t even be here with you right now, god. He’s too fucking old, and you’re too fucking young. The age gap alone makes his head spin, but fills a dark part of him with an animalistic type of hunger. A hunger to ruin you, you pretty, young thing. He reminds himself that this is simply a means to an end, nothing more.

He slides his warm palm over your mound, nudging your thighs apart a little more. When his fingers touch your clit, you sigh in relief. That alone feels miles better than your own fingers, so much more concentrated.

“Jesus,” he murmurs, then rubs your clit. Not in circles, like he instructed you to do. He just rubs you there, fingers sliding back and forth over your clit as you relax into his touch. “Y’should be doin’ this yourself.”

“But it feels…it feels…”

“I know,” Joel says, slipping his fingers down the seam of your cunt to collect your arousal. You’re so fucking wet. He drags them back up, then rubs practiced, steady circles over your clit. It’s efficient and very bare bones, no bells and whistles or pulling out his usual stops. Joel has one goal, and that’s to get you off as quickly as possible, and that’s it. “Feels good,” he answers for you, then adds under his breath, “You’re playin with fuckin’ fire.”

You whimper, clutching Joel’s forearm as he guides you to orgasm. What he doesn’t realize is just how close you are, only from a little bit of his touching. You know you’re on the brink of orgasm, but you also know that when you reach that point, that’s it. You’re done. Joel’s made that much clear, that this is all you’re gonna get from him, and it has to be enough. But of course, it’s not. Not even close.

Joel dips his fingers lower, pushing his middle and ring fingers into your pussy. He keeps a palm pressed against your tummy, then curls his fingers rhythmically, bringing you to a place you’ve never been before. You moan loudly, writhing as he curls his fingers inside you, stroking that special little spot he loves so much on a woman. Silently, Joel moves his thumb to circle your clit, guiding you closer and closer to the edge.

Joel can tell you’re about there, and he’s correct in that assumption. You feel like you’re about to break, staving off release. Everything feels heightened, thrumming with something electric and almost sharp. Your moans come out all breathy, Joel’s name broken as it spills from your lips. Lost in your head, Joel pulls you back down to earth, speaking softly to you. “You gonna come for me, sweetheart?”

“N-no,” you whimper, shaking your head.

“Yes ya are. You’re right there, honey. Let go.” Joel rubs your clit a little harder to coax release along. He’s waiting for that golden moment, where you tense up and gasp before falling to pieces, a melting, shuddering mess in his hands. Only…it never comes. Joel studies you intently, watching the way your face moves. Finally, he realizes that you’re fighting it.

“What’re you doin’? I’m givin’ you what you want, sweetheart, just fuckin’ come.”

“No,” you repeat, squeezing Joel’s wrist. “I don’t want to yet.”

“Why not?” You squirm a little, and Joel stops fucking you on his fingers. “Hey - why the hell not?”

“Because I want you to fuck me,” you whisper quietly.

Joel scoffs. “Oh, you are workin’ my last goddamn nerve. I already told you, sweetheart. You come on my fingers or you don’t come at all. Choice is yours.” Joel continues circling your clit, but you still fight him.

“But I want you to fuck me,” you repeat, begging, balling your hands into tight fists as you stave off release. “I just - I told you already, but you’re not - you’re not fucking listening to me, Joel. I need–” Your desperation makes the mask slip. You have got to pull yourself together before you fuck this entirely.

“Hey - adjust the fuckin’ attitude. I already told you no, sweet pea. And I don’t have to listen to you. You listen to me,” he grits, his tone biting. “Get that through your skull, because m’sick of repeatin’ myself.”

“Why?” you complain. “Why won’t you do it?”

“Because,” he explains, “You can’t handle it, kid, I know you can’t. Too big f’ya. And it’s wrong,” he adds, “I shouldn’t even be doin’ this to you.”

You love the challenge his words incite. Oh, you’ll show him what you can handle, alright. Filled with a renewed sense of perseverance, you ground yourself and focus hard.

Joel focuses too, hellbent on not being a worse man. What he’d really like to do, really, is split you in two with his cock. He’s not unaware of his size, what he does to a woman. Especially one like you, who’s absolutely in over her head and has not the faintest notion of what he could do to her. He’d teach you a fucking lesson, maybe. Shove his cock down your throat to watch you choke on it, feel that delicious pulse as you gag. He could fuck your ass, too, watch your eyes roll back into your skull as he makes you take all of him. That’d teach you to listen to him for once, right? A little pain to put you into place, you fucking brat?

You’re right on the edge. You know it, and so does Joel. The way you soak his two thick fingers, your cunt pulsing around them erratically. Your brows are knit together as you twitch and shudder, trying your goddamn hardest to not come. Joel’s amazed at your will.

“C’mon, kid, just come for me. Be done with this,” Joel urges, frustration laced in his tone. “Don’t piss me off, sweetheart. You don’t want that.”

You shake your head, “Mm-mm - n - I wanna, I need your -”

Joel holds his palm over your mouth, cutting you off. “No. You’re not ready for it,” he tells you. “Y’don’t know at all what you’re askin’ for. Not a fuckin’ clue.”

Joel lifts his palm. “I do, too,” you argue. “Please, Joel, I can handle it.”

“Sure you can, sweetheart.”

“I’ll be good.”

Those three little words make Joel’s breath hitch in his throat. You have to know exactly what you do to him, with the looks you give him and the way you beg. You’ll be good. God, he’s gonna end up fucking giving it to you. He shouldn’t, he really fucking shouldn’t.

“Please?”

Joel sighs heavily, worn down by your incessant, sweet fucking begging. And honestly, what he wouldn’t give to ruin you. To fuck you in half, shatter you into pieces. So be it, he decides.

“Fine,” Joel says. “But this didn’t fucking happen. Do you understand me?”

“I understand,” you answer sweetly. Christ, your fucking good girl act. You have to know what you do to him.

“A’int fuckin’ right,” Joel mumbles, rising and yanking the covers off the bed. He quickly takes off his shirt and shucks off his pants, gripping his cock tightly as he hovers over you. He never should have fucking indulged you, but here he is. Joel reaches between your thighs to collect your arousal on his fingertips, then coats his cock in your mess. He’s fucking huge. He’s generously thick as well as long, and you’re not sure if you’ll be able to handle it like you said you would. “No backin’ out now,” Joel says.

“I’m a little nervous,” you admit.

“I’ll bet you are,” Joel says, and your heart races. He lowers himself, then presses the thick tip of his cock against your pussy, dragging it through your folds before notching it inside your tight entrance. “Your pussy’s too pretty f’ya to let me do this to you,” he says. “Now take a deep breath.”

You take a deep breath in, and that’s when Joel begins working himself inside you. You whine in pain, scooting back towards the headboard to try to slow it down.

“Where d’ya think you’re goin’, huh? You stay right there, sweetheart.”

“Slow down, please—”

“What’s the matter? Thought you could handle it, tough girl,” Joel taunts, squeezing your hip while sliding further inside you. He’s not even a quarter of the way in yet, and you’re already reeling from the pain of his thick cock stretching you out. He draws out a little, admiring the tip of his cock coated in your arousal, then inches back in. “S’really hurtin’ ya, huh?”

You grab any part of him that you can, attempting to temper the way he enters you. Make it slower, gentler, less…less. He pulls out a little, then pushes in further than before, earning another high-pitched whine from you.

“Who tried to talk ya out of it, sweetheart? Hm? Who warned ya? You remember how to say my name? It's Joel, darlin’. Sound it out.”

Joel’s being so mean, and it makes you feel like crying. He draws in and out of you, still yet to bury himself all the way inside, watching your reactions as he holds a hand on your ribcage, making you take it all.

“Yeah, I know. S’a big stretch, huh? Hurtin’ pretty bad?”

“Yeah,” you whimper, looking down at where your bodies connect. You’re not even close to taking all of him in, and already it feels like he’s fucking you in two.

“Mhm. In over your head, aren’tcha, kid? You gonna listen to me next time?”

“Yes - fuck!” Joel pushes in another inch or so, and it makes you yelp in pain. “Yes, I’ll listen,” you say, voice thick with tears. Joel watches them begin to fall, and he quickly wipes them away with the back of his hand.

“Won’t hurt forever,” Joel grunts. “S’easier f’ya rip off the bandaid. Want my help with that, sweetheart? I’ll make it quick.”

“N-no,” you sniffle. “I need you to go slow.”

Joel nods silently, continuing working himself inside. A small movement of his hips out, then in, then out again, and in a little further. He could make you take it all right now, be done with this whole song and dance. It really would be easier on you. The proverbial mercy-kill. That dark part of Joel sort of likes the pain he gives to you, though. He tries not to think about that too hard, stuff that feeling down deep.

Oh, the tears you cry. The pretty face you make, features all contorted in pain. Joel gives your hip a soothing little rub before moving his hand to your clit, massaging the sensitive bud as he pushes into you, making you whimper even more.

“I know it hurts.” Joel presses his palm against your cheek, rubbing your lips with his thumb as your cunt pulses around his length. “Let it be a lesson to ya, huh? Stay out of a grown man’s business. He knows better’n you. ‘Cause look at the mess you’re in now, sweetheart, cryin’ on a cock that’s too fuckin’ big for you. What am I gonna do with ya?”

“I don’t know,” you sniffle.

“I know you don’t. Tried to tell ya this wasn’t a good idea, sweet pea,” Joel whispers. “Now buck up. You’re halfway there.”

Joel takes the liberty to speed the process up, to sheathe himself in you fully, and does so quickly. At least, quicker than you’d like him to, as evidenced by your high-pitched whines. “Shhhh,” Joel hushes, pushing his fingers into your mouth as if to pacify you, or distract you at the very least. “I know, I know, I know.” You bite into Joel’s palm, squeezing your eyes shut as you feel his cock splitting you in two.

“Quit your cryin’, and breathe. I got you, kid,” he says, “We’re finishin’ this,” then pushes in you the rest of the way, the blunt head of his cock kissing against your cervix. “There,” he grunts, “Worst is over.”

You open your eyes, first looking at Joel and then between your bodies, where his connects to yours. You don’t see any of his length left, only the long, wiry, bits of graying hair that surround his member. What you don’t see - what Joel does see - is that pretty, thick bulge his dick makes against your tummy.

He lifts his hand from your mouth, “I did it?” you ask.

“You did it,” Joel affirms. “Good job. Proud a’ ya, kiddo.”

Joel gives you a second to get used to the feeling of him buried inside you, to wrap your head around it. There’s not much thinking going on in that head of yours, though, that much he can tell. All cockdumb and he’s barely even fucked you.

It doesn’t feel good yet, like it should. It’s an intense pressure, an awful stretch, and it worsens with every throb and twitch of Joel’s massive cock. You squeeze his biceps as he lowers his head and bites your shoulder hard enough to leave a mark, and then you bury your face in his curls. He draws out of you and oh, there it is. “Attagirl, easy does it,” he groans, “You just lie there and take my cock, sweet girl. Take it good for me.”

Joel sets his pace then, steadily pushing in and out of you. It’s not violent or cruel, not even particularly harsh, but the hurt is still there. Joel rocks his hips, pulling out of you all the way and filling you right back up again with each and every stroke. Soon enough, you’re moaning.

“Yeah, that’s it. Goddamn, sweetheart. Don’t hurt so bad anymore does it?”

“No.” You shake your head. “Still hurts,” you murmur, voice tight with pain.

Joel chuckles. “Oh, it does, huh? Tsk. Well, you’re in it now, darlin’. Gotta see it through. Don’t try an’ quit on me.”

Joel increases the speed at which he fucks you, damp curls falling over his forehead as sweat glitters on his skin, a bead of it rolling down the length of his aquiline nose. He watches you intently, a stern sort of expression painted across his features. That dimple on his right cheek flashes as he purses his lips, a grunt escaping his throat.

“Joel,” you choke out.

“M’almost done, sweetheart. Gimme five more minutes. You can do five minutes, can’t ya?”

The pain is relentless, unwavering, until it starts to vanish, replaced by a dull pleasure. It builds in time as Joel pounds into you, increases with every brush of his pubic bone against your clit. He keeps a hand on your breast, squeezing the flesh there hard enough to bruise, pinching your nipple before soothing the ache with a practiced flick of his tongue. Jesus Christ, you feel good. Your soft body, all for him. The way your poor cunt hugs him so sweetly - he’s not lasting much longer now.

“Why don’t you try an’ come for me, pretty girl? Can you do that f’me?” Joel licks his fingers and starts to rub your clit in those same circles from earlier, coaxing along your release.

It’s no surprise you come as hard as you do, as quickly as you do. All pent up for god only knows how long, and the way you were hellbent on staving off your climax earlier. It’s enough to ruin anyone.

With a couple more good, hard thrusts, you’re clenching around Joel’s cock, his name spilling from your lips as you come undone. Poor girl. You look so overwhelmed, so fucking wrecked as you come so hard, and it’s no wonder to Joel why exactly that is. “There it is,” Joel coos, wiping away the tears you cry.�� “Ohh, yeah. That’s a good one.”

Joel guides you through your orgasm as he chases his own, fucking you harder and deeper. He pounds you in non-rhythm, his thrusts frenzied and frantic before he’s coming too, spilling load after hot load of his come inside you, filling you with the most soothing warmth. He pulls out of you quickly to watch his spend spill from between your thighs, and it’s so intimate, the way he watches you experience that private pleasure.

“Goddamn, baby. I fuckin’ ruined her,” Joel whispers, gathering a bit of his spend on his fingertips to push it back inside. “Why’d you want me do that to ya, huh?”

You only shrug. Words are hard for you right now.

“She still hurtin’ a little?”

“A little,” you answer quietly.

“Mhm, she’s all swollen. M’gonna kiss her all better, alright? I’ll be nice an’ gentle.”

Joel taps your hip and mumbles something you don’t hear, what with the ringing in your ears, then lifts your bottom half and slides a pillow beneath you. He parts your legs, and is so profoundly tender as he drags a thumb through your sensitive, slick flesh.

As promised, his lips replace his fingers. Joel begins with a quick kiss, then another, and another. His facial hair feels almost sharp against you, almost painful, but his tongue is so soft. So practiced as he licks up the seam of your cunt, tasting his own work - not that he minds, really. His lips quickly attach to your clit, and he suckles gently. You don’t need much, not right now. He keeps himself buried in that beautiful space between your thighs until you’re coming again, a little softer than before. Gentler. The quiet after the storm.

You’re crying, all overwhelmed still. Joel scoops you up into his arms and covers you with the comforter, quietly shushing you. “I know, sweet girl. It’s over now. Was a lot, wasn’t it?”

“Mhm,” you hum, sniffling still.

“S’why you gotta listen to me, hm?” Joel pushes some hair out of your face, then kisses your warm cheek as he lays you on your side. He fixes the blankets, lays them all out flat and even before taking his place next to you, curling his frame around you. “I gotcha, kiddo.”

As you settle into bed, Joel scratches up and down your side, and kisses your shoulder. “Two orgasms,” he mutters. “You made out like a fuckin’ bandit, sweet pea. You know that?”

Another shrug, and Joel chuckles. “You gonna be a good girl and go to sleep now?”

“Yes, Joel.”

“Alright. Sweet dreams, trouble.”

If you enjoyed, please please please reblog with some sweet thoughts or hop in my inbox 🩷🩷 your kind words go farther than you know in keeping me motivated to write. It’s been a while. I’ve missed my Joelie perverts 🫂💕

Kitty tax for my sweet readers 🩵

#Joel miller x reader #joel miller smut #joel miller x reader smut #Joel miller #Joel smut #joel miller fanfic #joel miller fanfiction #joel x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller/reader #tlou joel #Joel tlou

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mischiefmanaged2 · 2 months ago

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AMOR VINCIT OMNIA

Your hopes and dreams are crushed when you find yourself trapped in a loveless marriage to General Marcus Acacius, you feel betrayed by the people you loved the most, including your mother Lucilla, and when all hope seemed lost, you'd realize... Love conquers all, even if sometimes takes its time, even if its messy and complicated, even if it was thrusted upon you, even if you loved him first when he didn't yet

Warnings: The triad: Fluff, ANGST, and Future Smut, Ancient Rome accuracies and inaccuracies, animal slaughter for ritualistic purposes, arranged marriages, age difference (Marcus is late forties reader is 20), cursing, use of historic characters that don’t belong on this timeline, and other sort of inaccuracies (i'm not an historian), slow-burn, other warnings might be added by chapter

*Happy ending (you know me)

Notes: Alright, this... is a fic inspired by the greatest, @stylesispunk's "The soldier in the armour", one of the greatest fics I ever read! I hope you like this love! Thank you for writing that masterpiece so I was inspired to write this one! jijiji

Prologue

I. Antithesis

II. Floating Jasmines

III. Starving

IV. Bicephalous Eagle

V. (soming soon)

#misguidedamor #general acacius #marcus acacius #marcus acacius x reader #general marcus acacius #gladiator ii #gladiator 2 #gladiator ii fanfiction

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mischiefmanaged2 · 2 months ago

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in plain sight: masterlist

In Plain Sight

All you wanted was some light summer fun. You never expected to fall for your boyfriend's big brother.

Main Story

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

BTS

Inspo tag: some ✨vibes✨ and some spoilers

#joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller #tommy miller x reader #tommy miller x you #tommy miller #pedro pascal #the last of us fanfiction #the last of us #pedro pascal character fanfiction #in plain sight

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mischiefmanaged2 · 3 months ago

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part of what i like about "queer" as a label is that it is inherently hostile to definition. this part of myself is alien and unknowable to outsiders and I like it that way. no boxes for you to check and guess like you're playing cluedo. just queer.

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mischiefmanaged2 · 4 months ago

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what do you mean elon musk did a nazi salute on live tv at the united states presidential inauguration twice and is now erasing the evidence off the internet by replacing the footage with the crowd cheering instead?

would be a shame if people reblogged this, wouldn’t it?

#elon musk #donald trump #current events #news #politics #america #usa #american #americans #inauguration #hey so fuck elon

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mischiefmanaged2 · 4 months ago

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We always be here but still sad af to not watch edits of my fav characters 😔

#hellsite wins again #tiktok refugees #tiktok #tumblr #tiktok ban #we hope you enjoy your brief stay with us

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mischiefmanaged2 · 4 months ago

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Holy shittttt 🥵

𝑰 𝑵𝑬𝑬𝑫 𝒀𝑶𝑼 𝑻𝑶 𝑻𝑬𝑳𝑳 𝑴𝑬 𝑻𝑯𝑨𝑻 𝑰'𝑴 𝑮𝑶𝑶𝑫

pairing: tommy miller x fem!reader

genre: smut, soft enemies to lovers, minors dni

word count: 3.4k

summary: when you met him the first time him and his brother was your captor, months later he becomes yours, and quickly after that he become a resident of Jackson. You've already forgiven him for his past, but he's not happy with how eager you are to excuse what he's done.

warnings: tommy having a hero complex, tommy lashing out, piv sex, time skips, oral (giving & receiving)

a/n: the format I've written this in is inspired by @littlemisspascal 's getting lost is being found joel fic, which I highly recommend by the way it was amazing, one of my favorite things ever 💜

The world went to shit, well joke on the world, your life was already shit long before outbreak day.

It wasn’t for a lack of trying. Nothing just seemed to work out for you. But then all hell broke loose and suddenly it felt like you were off the hook, that you could be someone else, someone you always wanted to be. Someone that you knew you were. Before all this, you were just hurt, felt broken, but still smiled and went about your day. You tried to be good. Tried to be nice. For the most part, you like to think that you succeeded.

You became a guide. Somewhat similar to Charon, if you spared yourself the thought but instead of guiding the dead to Hades, you guided the living away from it. Things went smooth for the most part, you helped people where they needed to go, killed infected, shot down those who shot first. It was the oddest type of freedom that you felt.

But life had other plans, and life loved to point its middle finger right into your face.

It’s a dad and his two kids this time, you were helping them get to the nearest QZ. You cut the fence, helped them through, you knew hunters were lurking nearby, people who survived on killing and stealing—vultures.

You feel a tight grip on your neck and you’re being violently pulled back. The kids look back at you with horror lingering in their eyes, the dad eager to pull them away. With a deep breath, you manage to force out a smile.

“Go!” you shout. “You’re almost there!”

And they run, they run as fast as they can.

“Fuck!” you hear one of them say, a deep souther drawl heavy in your ear. “Shit, they got away. They had good weapons on them too.”

“At least we got the one,” the man that holds you answers. “Let’s go back, see what this one has.”

“Let me the fuck go!” you struggle, attempting to elbow him in the stomach. “You fucking assholes. They were fucking kids.”

Finally one comes into view, he’s broad—broad enough to stun you into silence. The fear of death lurks around your heart, sucking you into a black pit of realizing that this might be it. He has a glare that could kill, a hooked nose, and, most importantly, a gun. This man, you notice, this man would kill you in a heartbeat. He gives you one last once-over before tilting his head to the other holding you down.

“Knock her out, Tommy.”

ii.

It’s late. Far too late for anyone to be awake. The embers of the crackling fire had died down, only specks of golden orange shimmering between the ash. You’ve learned the names of your captors; Tommy and Joel. Brothers, you assumed, they didn’t really have to spell it out for it to be obvious.

You’re not sure why you’re still alive. You remember Joel muttering something about using you as bait, or to learn more about the routes that you seemed to know. Tommy had agreed.

In another life, another time, you would’ve deemed the men attractive. Especially Tommy. He had a boyish charm to him, longer hair compared to his brother (those poor dark locks had definitely seen better days), and mussed unkempt facial hair indicating that they’d been at this for a long time. You understand, to a degree, why someone might choose this to survive. Some people just didn’t know what else to do. Some people simply enjoyed it; the power, the freedom, the giddiness of not having a system to say no.

From what you understand, these two just had no idea what else to do. Too far off to reach a QZ, or they simply don’t trust FEDRA, whatever it is they seem to have made a life for themselves neither of them looked happy to be in.

Your eyes fall to where Joel is sleeping, Tommy’s on watch, which makes you somewhat hopeful, you don’t have the strength to piss off Joel—Tommy you can take a chance with, he seemed softer. Softer like a rose, pricking you if you’re too lax and not careful enough.

You’ve been captured before, and due to that, it doesn’t take long for you to free yourself from the hard ropes they tied you in. You hold your breath as you move away from the camp, careful not to step on any branches or rubble. You see Tommy ahead, he’s looking at you, the moonlight reflecting in his eyes. You expect him to shoot, to chase after you.

He continues to stare as you disappear into the night.

ii.

You see a lot of dead bodies by the riverbed. Some infected, some not. You think about turning around, walking back to where you came from but before you can make a decision you’re surrounded. Your hands rise instantly, not wanting to cause trouble. Multiple rifles are pointed directly at you, and you notice a cute black dog but you have an inkling you won’t be feeling the same in a couple of minutes.

“I’m not here to cause trouble,” you say, the cold seeping through your jacket. “Just lost. I’m not infected.”

“Naive for you to think we’ll believe you,” one of the horsemen answers. “You mind if we test that out?”

You didn’t mind, but even if you did, you doubt you have any say in the matter. The dog comes forward, ears pressed against his skull, and you instinctively reach out your hand. You can’t really feel the wetness of his nose, but you can imagine it as he presses into your gloved palm. A moment later he starts wagging his tail.

A horse, along with its rider, steps up and everyone looks nervously at the equestrian. You straighten yourself and notice that even the dog pulls away, the energy she has demands respect, and oozes power. You swallow, looking up at her with both amusement and fear.

"You can come with us," she says, and without hesitation, one of the men helps you up onto the horse they're riding. Your hands fumble nervously as you grab onto the horse's shoulders, trying to steady yourself.

You’re not dead yet so you must be doing something right.

iv.

You trudge through the biting snow, your skin prickles with cold and the relentless flakes melt as soon as they touch your skin. You shudder. The cold is almost unbearable, but everyone has to pull their weight, no exceptions. Narrowing your eyes,, you spot a lone figure struggling in the snow. The way he moves is sluggish and ungainly, like a snail inching its way along a path.

With a sharp whistle, you signal to your companions to follow. They circle around the body with hesitation; it’s a man, a man that is somewhat familiar to you. The stranger groans and turns to his back, chest heaving heavily, you notice the tremble of his lips, the redness of his nose. You even notice the build-up of snow in his hair.

You know him. You have no idea how he ended up all the way here, but you know him. Getting off the horse, you shake your head. You don't know him, not really. You only know his name and what he represents.

Ian approaches, his eyes questioning as he asks, "What should we do? Should we leave him?"

“I know him,” you say, a hint of amusement in your voice due to the irony. “Let’s take him in. I’ll talk to Maria.”

His eyes flutter open, a brief expression of confusion appearing on his features. You can’t help but lean over a bit, hands placed on your hips.

“You’re not dead yet. Don’t worry.”

But as soon as the words leave your lips, Tommy loses consciousness.

He’s alone at the bar. He’s always alone.

Initially, Maria was reluctant to let Tommy stay, but for some reason, you vouched for him. You deeply believe that everyone deserves a second chance. A slightly foolish, maybe even childish, thought on your part but you can’t help it. In his eyes you only see parts of a broken man, his belief in the world shattered and gone with the wind.

Tommy struggles with socializing. He says hi and good morning but that’s pretty much all anyone can get out of him. You’re the only one who knows he has a brother, what he’s done. He’s especially annoyed when you’re around, which you think is a little bit unfair but you digress. He does what he’s told and handy with most things—which is lucky for you, you would hear a handful if he couldn’t do anything.

You want to talk to him, you have ever since you first saw him again. Hoping that this time it’ll be different, you sit near him not next to him. There are two empty seats between you two.

“Hi,” you greet him, he doesn’t look at you. In fact, he doesn’t acknowledge you at all. “How are you?”

No answer.

“You’re not having any issues right? You know, heating, water pressure, all that jazz.”

You’re not surprised at the least when he gets up and leave, not a word uttered. He pushes past the crowd and disappears through the door, into the cold. Unlike other times, this is the first instance where anger simmers hot in your gut. You’ve been nothing but patient. But not tonight. He’s going to talk to you whether he likes it or not.

With anger in your steps, you storm out. Luckily, he’s not far. You find him staring up at the undecorated Christmas tree. Normally, you would find it a somber sight, but you’re too frustrated to think about how good he looks with snow falling around him.

“Tommy!” you yell out, and he flinches, head snapping to you with wide eyes. “What the hell is your deal?”

“My deal?” he answers, voice eerily smooth and calm. “I should be fuckin’ asking you that.”

You’re standing an inch from him, the cold biting into your skin. “My deal? I’ve been nothing but nice to you. Wouldn’t wanna play that card but may I remind you that you’re fucking alive because of me? You could at least not be an asshole.”

“Sure you wanna go that route sweetheart? Because I could easily say the same thing for you.”

That night—the night that you escaped, so he did see you. All this time you convinced yourself that it was your eyes playing tricks in the dark. You shake your head, wanting to dislodge the moment from your mind.

“That still doesn’t answer my question,” you hiss. “Why are you avoiding me? I just want to talk.”

“Just leave me the fuck alone. You shouldn’t want to talk to me— someone like you… It ain’t normal. I should’ve died that night. I didn’t ask you to fuckin’ save me.”

You’re taken aback by the silent rage but refuse to show him the effect he has. The only indication that his words had any kind of result is when you take a step back, allowing him some semblance of space.

“You’re right, you didn’t,” you say softly, slowly. His gaze bores into you. “But I did. And you’re here. I didn’t save you that night to just make a point of who’s the better person. As you said, you allowed me to go that night—thank you by the way—but what are you going to do, just not talk to me? Ignore me? I don’t think that’s fair for either of us.”

You stand frozen as Tommy takes a step closer, his breath hot against your skin.

"What do you want from me?" he growls, his voice low and threatening.

You try to take a step back but he follows, closing the gap between you. You can feel the heat emanating from his body, a stark contrast to the frigid air around you. His lips curl into a slight sneer, and you can't help but feel a slight twinge of fear.

"You're always so nice, aren't you?" he says, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "But what do you really want? You want me to be your little pet? Fixing me up like some broken toy. Well, newsflash, sweetheart, I'm not broken. I'm just fine the way I am."

"That’s not—" you say, your voice barely above a whisper. "That wasn’t my intention at all. The world is shit, I just didn’t want to add to it."

Tommy scoffs, his eyes glinting with anger. "But you did by keeping me alive. I did horrible things, things you can’t even imagine. So don't pretend like you understand me, because you don't."

“I know the shit you did Tommy. I was almost one of your victims, remember?”

His eyes drop to the ground, the fire in his eyes finally fading. He takes a quick step back, shoulder slumped, he shakes his head.

“I remember. There ain’t a day I don’t remember the shit I’ve done—we’ve done with my brother.”

Tommy gives you one last look before walking away, “I don’t need your pity.”

Half an hour later, you’re still standing there under the snow, completely alone.

vi.

It’s a dance almost. You find different ways for Tommy to communicate with you. You unlock his anger, his disappointment, his need to be good—the hero, if you will. But to be fair, you can’t take all the credit. It was mostly due to him, you got too close, and he got too frustrated. It was a brief moment of lips touching, then it quickly turned into a desperate ask for submission. You were eager to give, he hated that. Hated that you could when he couldn’t.

You know that there’s a high chance of other things lingering below the surface, things that he probably hadn’t dared to address himself.

In the privacy of your bedroom, you’re on your knees for him. Sucking on the tip of his cock eagerly as he stands upright, his hands are firsts that are stuck to his sides. This isn’t the first time, it isn’t the last. By the way salty precum coats your tongue, you know he’s enjoying himself. He has to be, if he wasn’t this wouldn’t be happening.

You figure that he enjoys fighting against it until he breaks. When he surrenders himself to it, to the pleasure, to the primal need to take, he pins you down and fucks you with everything he has. All his frustration seeps into you, each stroke deeper than the next. You enjoy that he’s rough, you enjoy feeling the lingering sting on your skin long after he leaves.

Looking up, you swallow him further down. He’s not overly thick but long, the dark curls at the base trimmed but still looking untouched. Tommy thrusts forward, the head of his cock brushing the back of your throat. Your nostrils flare as your lungs convulse with the need to cough, he notices but doesn’t pull back. Instead, you feel two hands cradling the back of your neck, pulling you further down his length, making you take him whole.

Your eyes go wide and squeeze shut right after. You feel him throbbing in your throat and you swallow, again and again, which prompts him to drag his cock out slightly only to bury himself back into your throat. Your jaw aches, spit dripping down the corners of your lips as you flatten your tongue over the underside of his cock. A faint growl echoes from the back of his throat, you swallow again, he fucks your mouth as he would your wet cunt. Tears flood your lashline, you can barely breathe. Your throat tightens around him.

“Fuck, don’t close your eyes,” he grunts, the dark curls at the base tickling your nose. “Look at me. Look at me like you always do.”

The Look, is something that you still don’t quite understand. He says it often, telling you to look at him the way that you do, but you emphasize nothing special when you do end up looking at him. It’s just your normal gaze. He only asks for it when he’s inside you.

You slowly open your eyes, your lashes wet and stuck together. His thumb smooths over the patch of skin right under your eye, his chest stutters, muscles growing taut under your gaze.

Ironically, he closes his eyes and lifts his head as if staring at the ceiling. He doesn’t utter another word after that, your lips raw from the way he thrust forward. You feel the twitch of his cock, thick ropes sliding down your throat. You never tire of the taste of him. Not sweet, not bitter. You enjoy the brief moment he forgets where he is, that soft noise escaping his lips, the juvenile way his thighs shake—those are the things that make you ache for the taste of him. You’re an addict.

But so is he.

vii.

Your palms press into the smooth surface of the bar counter. Tommy lurks behind you, cock pressing inside, fingers making dents into your warm skin. It’s late into the night, you’re not sure of the exact time but you know it’s late. His one hand slips between your legs, he feels how wet you are, how needy you get for him. He presses a finger to your clit, the pads of the digits moving in deft circles.

A sharp moan parts your lips, back arching as he pounds into you, the sound of skin against skin loud, yet not enough to pierce the sound of the snowstorm outside. A dose of pleasure buzzes through your veins, electricity crackling across your skin as you feel his length press deep inside. His fingers grasp your throat, pulling you up until his lips tickle your ear. He heaves, his warm breath fanning your skin.

“Tell me I’m a good person,” he chokes out. “Please.”

“You’re good,” you answer slightly out of breath. You touch his neck, the position slightly straining but worth it when he holds you tighter. “Such a good man—and I mean that.”

Your eyes widen with shock when he slides his tongue into your mouth. Tommy doesn’t kiss you often, if at all, but it lights a fire under your stomach. It burns you from the inside out, the smoke of it making your mind spin. Your eyes flutter close and you take a deep breath, he grinds his hips, your insides pulsing around him.

“I don’t care even if you’re lyin’—”

He releases you and you stumble forward, hands finding purchase on the bar counter once more. But you can’t hold your position for long, not with the way he’s hammering into you, reducing you into a babbling mess. Your hands slide, your upper body completely falling over. Tommy doesn’t pause, he doesn’t even slow down. He presses you further into the surface.

“Because I know that you are.”

Tommy suddenly pulls out, a sharp gasp rips from your throat, your cunt clenching around nothing. Before you can protest, however, he turns you over and pushes you. He kneels between your legs, lips finding the tender folds of your pussy.

Your head falls back when he licks into you eagerly, tasting himself and your arousal. His groans vibrate against you, your thighs threaten to close, the meat of them pressing into both sides of his face.

His lips press against your clit, suckling and teasing it in a way that drives you wild. His tongue moves in circles as he pushes two fingers, curling them and applying pressure. Without a second thought, you fingers thread his hair, tugging him closer. Arousal pools between your legs.

Your breathing becomes labored and your body starts to shake. Your eyes roll back as your entire body shakes. Your hips buck against him as he continues to bring you over the edge, your cries of pleasure echoing off the walls of the bar.

Finally, after what feels like an eternity, you collapse against the bar counter, your body still shaking from the intensity of the orgasm. You can feel your skin tingling, your heart pounding and your head spinning. Tommy stands, a hint of pride lingering in his dark eyes. You continue to breathe and watch as he fists himself, the tip of his cock a shade darker when he comes thick ropes over your stomach. You hiss at the heat, the feeling of having a part of him staining you.

Tommy pulls up his pants, and you notice as you get dressed, he’s avoiding your gaze. You’re too satisfied to care. He licks his lips, which you found was a nervous habit he has and offers you his arm. You hadn’t expected it, but indulge in the gesture by taking it.

“Let’s get out of here before someone sees us.”

#tommy miller x reader #tommy miller x you #tommy miller x f!reader #the last of us fanfiction #the last of us hbo #tlou fanfiction #hbo the last of us #tommy miller smut

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mischiefmanaged2 · 5 months ago

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Ahhh this broke my heart 😞💔

OBJECTS IN THE MIRROR— featuring (semi)-famous painter! suguru geto x fem reader

going from being your lover last week to not knowing your name this week.

contents: 18+ content, mdni. non canon compliant/au , smut, angst, retrograde amnesia, lovers to strangers, inappropriate use of paint, oral (f + m receiving), 69, face-fucking, spanking, unprotected p in v, missionary, doggy, creampie, cum-eating, pet names, switch reader + geto

word count: 7k

💌 daya yaps: went to the art museum a couple weeks back for an assignment n this baby was born <33

Almost every artist's dream is to create a piece that resembles one that stands proudly in museums, the one bewitching masterpiece that garners the attention of everyone around it. That attracts attention the way a light beckons a moth.

Or at least, that's what Suguru had been trying to achieve through the countless doodles and paintings that he'd made throughout college. Using cheap colors that he'd bought at a bargained price after working too many hours at a job that paid too little.

A number of sketchbooks stuffed into a drawer, each of them offering a glimpse into what lingered behind his subconscious. The gorgeous aspects of life that he could only hope he was able to encapsulate through his work and the more.. nasty aspects.

And now that Suguru had all the art supplies that he could dream of (and more), he couldn't bring himself to actually draw something. The cabinets in his office were filled up to the brim with different pigments, oils and watercolors, blank canvases. All just simply begging to be used as the days passed by. "I'll do it tomorrow," he assured himself every time throughout the week after when after that he passed the closed office door.

After many many tomorrows, Suguru finally decided to step into the room. His movements were slow and deliberate as he prepped his workspace, adjusting all the brushes to be lined up against each other uniformly. As if the slightest displacement of his brushes would be enough to get him to mess up the work he'd been planning to do. After rearranging for what seemed to be the hundredth time, Suguru decided to pick up one of the brushes.

Just to firmly grasp it in his hand, the plastic digging into his palm. Standing completely and utterly still.

Suguru could feel himself slowly start his descent into madness the longer that he stood in front of the empty canvas with a paintbrush in hand, his paints starting to dry out with every minute that he was still. He'd been stuck in a creative rut for the past couple weeks, wanting to put one of the many ideas that roamed freely in his head onto the canvas without actually being able to. It was like his mind went black the second he was ready.

The once bright sunlight that'd been peering in through the windows had now started to dim down, leaving behind a shadow that covered a majority of the room. A shadow that would surely ruin Suguru's work if he were to get started now. Surely. That's what he told himself when he decided to call it quits for the day, untying his apron and hanging up on the coat rack at the back of the room.

Even so, he couldn't help himself from walking back over to the canvas. Hoping that some surge of inspiration would come to him—the same inspiration that he'd sacrificed nights of sleep long ago just to be able to create a piece to his liking. The type of inspiration that deeply embedded itself into his brain, begging to be put onto the canvas. Begging to be executed. Begging to be seen.

You stood by the door, quietly making your way into the room to where he stood. "What're you up to?" You whispered, your lips hovering above his ear while your arms were wrapped around his lower stomach from behind. Suguru melted into your touch automatically, his eyes fluttering shut. You'd distracted him—that much was certain. But that seemed to be exactly what he needed right now. Allowing himself to get out of his head.

"Staring at an empty canvas and hoping it magically turns into a masterpiece. You, pretty girl?" Suguru turned to face you, his hands instinctively resting on your hips. "Staring at an artist hoping he magically makes a masterpiece."

"With you in the room, it'd be a hard task not to create a masterpiece."

"That's what I was going for. Been told I'm an excellent muse."

"My excellent muse." Your lips connected with Suguru's in a span of seconds, your eyes fluttering shut as the taste of him completely invaded your seconds. One of your hands reached back to the mess that he'd raked his fingers through countless times, holding a fistful of his hair to pull him closer to you. The exchange was something like two puzzle pieces fitting together perfectly.

And in the midst of kissing you, a lightbulb went off in Suguru's head. The first bit of inspiration that he's gotten since entering the room nearly three hours ago. "There's something in that big brain of yours?" Your question drew out a laugh from him, the small huff of air hitting the side of your neck. "Something like that, yeah. I need your help with it, pretty girl."

Suguru taped piece after piece of white paper together—completely covering the pristine brown floors of his studio. He knew damn well he wouldn't hear the end of it from you if he ended messing up the floors with the little experiment that he had in mind. You could only stare from the doorway with your arms folded, trying to decipher what he was hoping to achieve.

"Come here, please," Suguru gestured for you to join him once the pieces were secured onto each other. You joined him once the floor, watching as he slipped off his shirt with ease. Your clothes ended up on the floor in record time, watching as Suguru grabbed some acrylic paint bottles from one of the overflowing cabinets. "Normally acrylic's a pain in the ass to work with since it dries so fast but it should be fine."

"Should be fine for what, exactly?" Your head cocked to the side, watching as he took off the plastic wrap around the cap. Suguru looked over at you with a sheepish expression, hesitating before answering your question. "Just hear me out," Suguru's hands ran down your bare thighs in some half-assed attempt to soften the blow, "I was thinking we could put some paint on us and y'know.. have sex on the canvas."

Oh.

"That's it?" You retorted, having to stifle a laugh.

Suguru's hands stilled on your thighs, looking over at you with a half glare on his face, "I nearly had a heart attack trying to ask you that and you're laughing?"

"Well, yeah. I was expecting something worse, to be honest," Before the laugh you were holding it in escaped your lips, a spurt of paint landed on your stomach. A small gasp left your lips, grabbing the nearest paint bottle and aiming straight at Suguru. "Not the h-"

"Yeah, yeah, not the hair," you finished for him, covering a majority of his chest and neck in green paint. You weren't sure who even ended up winning the fight between the two of you, the two of you nearly covered from head to toe in several layers of drying paint. "Ready to admit defeat?" You prodded with a teasing smile on your face, hovering just above him.

A teasing smile that was wiped from your face within a span of what seemed to be two seconds. "I thought you were the one about to admit defeat."

Suguru rested above you, his hair tickling the sensitive skin of your neck when he lowered himself down to press sloppy kisses in whatever spots he could reach. In whatever spots he could leave a hickey only for his eyes to see. His teeth nibbled at your collarbone, his lips enclosing around the skin and sucking. Treating you like his very own canvas, painting your skin in a mix of small bites and his teeth marks.

"Get on top of me, pretty girl," Suguru's hair splayed out against the canvas, the golden hue of the sunset hitting him perfectly from the window when he laid down. You were about to sit down on his lap when he cleared his throat, "Not like that. Turn around for me."

"Su-Suguru," your breath hitched when you felt his teeth bite down onto your inner thigh just as you barely adjusted, his lips wrapping around the supple skin to leave a mark on you with something other than paint. Suguru kissed his way up to your clit, giving it a chaste kiss before moving back to your inner thigh. Repeating the process until a soft groan left your lips, your hips wiggling back against his mouth.

"Doesn't this defeat the purpose of the paint all over us?" Your words came out in a breathy whisper, suddenly becoming hyperaware of the drying paint on your skin. Suguru squirted some of the paint onto his hand, bringing his hand to your ass cheek. Squeezing the flesh in between his fingers, a sharp SMACK following. Leaving a yellow handprint behind.

"Are you complaining, princess?" Suguru asked in a taunt, the tip of his tongue tracing against your folds, "Plus, we're mixing the colors together. Variety and all."

Couldn't really argue with that logic. Not that you'd even begin wanting to argue—the tip of his sharp tongue rolling against your throbbing clit.

Suguru's lips enclosed around one of your slick folds, his eyes shut in bliss as he gave it the sloppiest French kiss that you'd seen in your life. "So good, wanna stay like this forever," Just one taste of you had the man intoxicated. Suguru spat up into your cunt, his tongue mixing it in with your slick.

"Wanna fucking drown in your pussy, lemme do that. Please, please," incoherent babbles spilled from his lips, begging for.. you weren't even sure what. "Sugu, don't stop," your moans only encouraged him, your nails digging into his thighs when he pushed a thick digit inside of you. Slowly pushing it in and out of you, his tongue swirling around your clit just as slow. "F-Faster, baby. Please."

The baby was almost enough to get the last bit of his remaining composure to crumble—another one of those sweet whines escaping his lips. Even so, he was determined to tease you, "You sure you can take it?"

"Y-Yes, yes, fuck yes, faster," you felt like a bobblehead with the way you were nodding. Suguru's finger curled inside of you, hitting your g-spot when he pulled it out of you. "Since you were nice about it," Suguru's lips wrapped around your cunt, his tongue swirling against the nerves while another finger pushed inside of you. He moved the two in a scissoring motion, working your walls open slowly.

Your thumb and pointer wrapped around the tip of his cock, your other paint stained hand wrapping around the base. Just the slightest bit of contact and Suguru was already bucking his hips into your hand, a groan leaving his glistening lips. "Please, need you," he babbled, pulling away from your sensitive cunt. You simply traced one of the veins on the side with your fingertip, your touch featherlight.

"What do you mean? You have me, with my hand wrapped around your cock. Be more specific," you executed the clueless act almost perfectly, a borderline whine leaving Suguru's lips. From desperation. From need. From how much he was starting to like when you teased him like this. "Need your mouth on me, pretty. Your teasing's too much."

"Your fault for making it so easy," you drawled out, your tongue darting out. Tasting the precum that leaked out his reddening tip. Your thumb swiped against his cockhead, smearing the mixture of his pre and your spit around it like makeshift lube.

"F-Fuck, just like that," Suguru let out a groan into your cunt, the vibrations shooting up all the way up your spine. You slowly began bobbing your head, your cheeks hollowing out as you tried to take more of his thick cock in your mouth. Drool leaked from the corners of your lips, some of the paint that managed to get onto your chin dripping onto the paper underneath. "Lemme fuck your face, princess. Please, please."

"Just. Like. That," his words were punctuated with his hips snapping up into your mouth, the tip of his cock hitting the back of your throat. You were left a gagging mess, your eyes starting to water from the sting. If Suguru could see you, you were certain he'd make some stupid comment about how good you look.

And almost as if he'd read your thoughts, "B-Bet you look so pretty gagging. So so pretty taking my cock."

"And I bet you'd look better with your mouth on my pussy instead of teasing," you clicked your tongue, your lips wrapping around the sides of his cock. Slowly rubbing them against his shaft, your hand going down to his balls.

Suguru had been putty in your hands long ago—but the feeling of your hand on his balls only reaffirmed that fact. Your fingers gently rolled against his sac, each of your movements completely in tandem with your mouth. Almost like a synchronized dance. "S-shit, pretty," Suguru's moans were muffled, his nose deep inside of your cunt.

Suguru's balls started to grow heavy underneath your fingertips, strained gasps coming out of him. "S-Stop," you pulled away when you heard Suguru's words, your brows pulling together.

"You okay? We can stop if you want," you assured him, moving to get off him. His grip on your hips tightened, keeping you still against him. Suguru didn't move from his spot, his head laying back against the paper in some attempt to catch his breath.

"No, no, nothing like that," Suguru let out a shaky laugh, his words making relief crash over your body like a wave. "Just- You almost made me cum."

"Is that a bad thing?" While your words were innocent, you looked anything but. Looking at you was akin to looking at a succubus incarnate. A succubus that Suguru wouldn't necessarily mind submitting to if it came down to it.

"No. Just wanna do it inside of you instead."

"A true poet. You should consider that as a career," a short laugh left your lips. The sound turning into a moan when Suguru smacked your ass again—this time with red paint. The previous yellow on his hand mixed in, leaving an orangey red tint behind. "And you should consider being a comedian."

Suguru shifted the two of you, having you underneath him yet again. His hand wrapped around his cock, pressing it against your cunt and swiping his shaft up and down your folds. He looked over at you—seeing the way you bit down on your lip to keep yourself quiet. Not that it'd mattered, your pussy couldn't exactly lie the same way that you could.

Your walls clenched around pure air—your dripping pussy coating his shaft with each and every swipe. One of his hands moved to cradle your cheek, tenderly. He moved his thumb to where leftover tears remained, wiping them away with one shift motion. The action was meant to be sweet, loving—and yet it was completely betrayed by the shit-eating grin on his face.

Suguru was completely shameless in sticking his thumb in his mouth, his tongue swirling around it while he licked away your salty tears. All the while he maintained eye contact with you.

"O-Oh fuck!" Suguru reveled in the sharp gasp that left your lips when he pushed the tip of his cock inside of you, your mouth left agape. He leaned down, pressing his lips against your own. Unlike the other kisses, this one was more desperate. More needy. His teeth clashed against your own, your tongue moving against his own messily. Just needing to have him close to you.

"There we go, that's it," Suguru purred in your ear, studying each one of your reactions. Watching as you squirmed the further that he pushed his cock inside you. He stilled his movements, your walls tightly clenched around his cock. Even if he wanted to move, he couldn't.

"Take it so well, you were meant for me. All of you," Suguru's lips moved down to your breast, his paint-covered hands staining the skin even further. His tongue swirled around your nipple, the tip prodding against the hardening buds. "Could never get enough of you. Never want to get enough of you," his babbles served to distract you from the slight sting between your thighs, your hand intertwining in his hair. Getting paint on it despite your previous promise.

"You can move," you assured him, his hips snapping into you almost immediately. Suguru's head hung low, already getting lost in your cunt one thrust in. "So good, so perfect," He panted, his thrusts starting off slow and shallow. Getting you more and more comfortable with each one. One of his hands reached out to grab your own, calloused fingers intertwining with your own. He brought your hand to his mouth, gently pressing a kiss.

Suguru's thrusts began to grow faster—meaner. "S-So deep, Sugu," you breathed out, your nails digging into the back of his hand. "Yeah? You can take it, though. Can't you?" He repeated the same words from earlier back to you, watching your eyes glaze over with lust. Rolling back with each punishing thrust. The sound of skin against skin resounded throughout the room, paint splashing against each other.

"Take it so well, knew you could," Suguru disentangled his fingers from your own, moving his hand towards your clit. He slowly began rubbing circles against the bud, your legs starting to quiver from the overwhelming stimulation. It felt like too much, it didn't feel like it was enough. You didn't know what to ask for. "Please," you managed to get out, your hips bucking up to meet his thrusts.

"I know, I know. I got you," and even though the ask didn't seem that coherent to you, Suguru seemed to have gotten it immediately. His fingertips sped their pace up on your clit, your walls clenching around him. Your toes curled against the paper, that all too familiar coil building up in your lower tummy. "Close, close," you chanted like a mantra. Suguru's fingers continued, pushing you towards your orgasm.

Your walls clenched around his shaft, your orgasm hitting you like a wave when you unclenched. Your release covered his shaft, your folds, and some of it managed to drip down to the canvas. Messing up the messy artwork even further. Suguru pulled his fingers away from your clit, bringing them up to his lips with your slick glistening against his digits.

And just like he'd done with your tears, Suguru completely licked his fingers clean. "Fuckkk, you're so good to me," he groaned out, the taste of you immediately infiltrating his taste buds. The only thing left when Suguru pulled his fingers out was his own spit.

"Come on, get the canvas all nice and covered," Suguru helped you get on your stomach, your back arched and your ass up in the air. Your pussy still wet from your previous orgasm. You rested your elbows onto the paper below you, supporting your weight while Suguru smacked your ass with the tip of his dick. "Got so lucky with you," He mused out loud, sounding completely entranced.

Suguru pushed his cock inside of you, filling you up inch after inch. "That's my little Picasso," he teased, watching you put some more paint onto your hands. His hands gripped your hips, his cock pushing deeper inside of you from this angle. The ridges on his shaft brushing up against your g-spot, brushing up against every right spot. All you could feel was him, him, him.

Your fingers laid across the paper, tainting the white paper below you in a mixture of colors. Drip. Drip. Drip. You weren't sure if that was the paint or your pussy at this point. Probably both. "F-Fuck Suguru, don't stop," you moan out, your cheek resting against the paper underneath. Suguru's grip on your hips tightened, his thrusts growing sloppier and sloppier by the second.

"N-Not gonna stop until my cum's dripping out of you," Suguru practically whined, completely and utterly pussy-drunk. Your walls clenched involuntarily, something Suguru couldn't have missed even if he wanted to. "Tightened up so fucking much. That's exactly what you want, my cum filling you up?"

"Mhm, please. Fill me up," your whines sounded like a melody in his ears, a melody that he'd never grow tired of. Your tight cunt was milking his cock for everything it had, gripping around him tightly like a vice. Suguru's balls twacked against your cunt with each mean thrust, each thrust sloppier than the last. Like he just needed to be inside you—no matter how.

Ropes and ropes of cum painted your cunt white as he came, his breathing ragged. You felt so full. It was so much cum—the sticky substance dripping down your thighs. Suguru's mouth instantly went to your pussy, licking away his cum that dribbled down your folds. Pushing the remainder in with his fingers before allowing himself to lay down next to you.

The two of you laid still on the canvas with dry paint coating the two of you from your cheeks to your other set of cheeks. You'd ended up splattering more paint on each other than on the paper below you. The sun outside had set, leaving only the sound of cicadas outside and moonlight filtering in through the window. A comfortable silence settled between the two of you albeit for the sound of your quick breaths.

Suguru had been to copious amounts of art showings and galleries throughout the course of his career—seen all different kinds of things. Sculptures, oil paintings, photographs, etc. Some of them taking him a second glance to try to see the meaning while some were effortless in the way that they presented their beauty. But somehow all those paintings seemed to dim in comparison to you in this moment.

You in all your post orgasm glory—with beads of sweat dribbling down your forehead, your chest heaving as you tried to catch your breath, your inner thighs shaking from the after shocks and covered with his semen. A view that he couldn't begin to replicate even with the world's most expensive paintbrushes, the most expensive canvas.

No matter how many times you told Suguru that a painting he'd done of you was nothing short of extraordinary, he couldn't help but feel as if something was missing. As if he couldn't capture your beauty in all its essence. Whether it be that your nose ended off balance by one half-inch, one of your eyes ended up slightly more crooked than the other. Nothing seemed to really encapsulate what he wanted to portray onto the canvas.

But the work that lay below you almost expressed you in a way that he could only dream of achieving in this lifetime—expressing you in one of the rawest forms possible. In pure bliss and ecstasy. Pure bliss and ecstasy that he'd been responsible for.

Suguru was nothing short of gentle, reverent when he swiped the washcloth across your paint covered skin. Wiping away all the dry pieces that started to flake off. "Nothing short of being the perfect muse," He spoke in a way that made it seem like the words were meant just for your ears. Suguru pressed a kiss on your shoulder, his lips trailing a path down to your back.

"All I did was have sex with you on top of a piece of paper," you responded, turning around to face him. His hands immediately found your waist, pulling you all that much closer to your body until you were chest to chest. "Maybe. But I've never felt this surge of inspiration before. All because of you, beautiful."

Seeing the final piece hanging up on the wall of his studio, you almost couldn't help but think that it was disorganized chaos. That it was just splatters of paint showcasing what the two of you had gotten up to just the night prior. "I know what you're thinking, but y'know how art critics are. Chances are that they'll enjoy this piece more than any of the others I've done," Suguru spoke up, standing next to you as he looked up at the painting.

"Even if they don't, thank you for indulging me. Don't think I could forget about this painting even if I tried," Suguru wrapped his arms around your waist from behind you, resting his head on your shoulder. You leaned back into his touch almost instinctively, staring at the painting for a bit longer. All the nonsensical shapes and splatters on the wall slowly starting to become something beautiful—something made out of love.

And enjoy it they did. Not one day passed by since Suguru submitted the painting to be hung up in several art showings where he didn't get a call with some offer. Each of them going higher and higher, each caller trying to outbid the last. Coming back to him with a bigger and better offer, all for the chance to see the painting the two of you made. Nothing at all like the days of being a starving artist, living off ramen and a dream.

Suguru's career had been built from the generous donations from coffee shops around the Tokyo area that were willing to pay for a couple of his pieces, of maintaining relationships with artists he didn't talk to for more than once in college to gain some kind of connections. It felt bizarre—having people practically want to display his work for the equivalent of a down payment on a house. Not only from the Japan area, but a couple galleries from overseas.

"I'll see you when I get back, okay? I love you," You were barely half awake, barely registering Suguru when he moved to press his lips against your forehead. He'd barely gotten of the shower from what you could tell, wet hair strands tickling your face and the smell of amber cologne filling up your nose.

"Love you too. Fly safe," you mumbled back in response, or at least you'd made the attempt to do so. Hopefully he heard. In a span of mere seconds, you'd pulled the blankets back over your body and went back to sleep.

For the second time that morning, you were woken up from your sleep. Only this time it wasn't the feeling of Suguru's lips against your skin, rather the shrill sound of your phone beside you. A rather rude awakening. You rubbed your eyes, sitting up in bed and clearing your throat in all attempt to make it sound like you didn't wake up two seconds ago. Picking your phone up, you were met with the sight of an unknown number.

You'd grown wary to answering unknown numbers—whether it be from a multitude of spam calls throughout your day or one of Suguru's fans that found your contact information. You couldn't really begin to explain it, but something, something, compelled you to answer the call at the third ring. "Hi, we're calling from Tokyo General Hospital. You were listed as Geto Suguru's emergency contact."

If you weren't awake before, that greeting was enough to wake you up. "That's me. Is everything okay?" You felt goosebumps all over your arms, a bad feeling sinking down into your very bones. The person on the other line kept talking—the words not registering inside of your head just yet. He was supposed to be on a plane, maybe on his layover. Throughout the call, you could only pick up certain words. Accident. Critical condition. Stable for now.

Rushing over to the emergency room in nothing but your pajamas and a pair of bunny slippers. "H-Hi, I got a call," you took a moment to catch your breath, your knuckles gripping the front desk. Forcing yourself to try to calm down somewhat. Trying to inhale. Exhale. Inhale. Despite that every breath only seemed to be wearing you down even further.

"I'm here about Geto Suguru. You just brought him in," you managed to get out, your fingers anxiously tapping against the counter. Every second that the nurse spent typing on the computer felt like a second too long.

"He's currently in emergency surgery. The waiting room's in the fourth floor," the nurse finally spoke up after what seemed to be an eternity. "Thank you," your words came jumbled up in a rush, turning around and speed walking towards the elevator. The stench of antiseptic filled your nostrils as soon as you stepped out into the fourth floor, a grim feeling settled into every crevice of the halls.

The clock on the wall ticked by slowly, marking each second almost painfully. Each second marking someone being brought into the world, someone being taken away from the world. Marking tears of agony, dispair, joy, and relief. Your brain continued to spiral every time a doctor came out of the surgical wing—giving you the briefest glance before going over to talk to someone else.

A wisdom teeth removal without anesthesia would've been a more welcome thought than the unbearable waiting.

Despite his farewell, the next time that you saw Suguru wasn't at the airport after the art show that would make his career skyrocket. With a smile on his face when he looked at you, like you held the universe in the palm of your hand. Like you were the only thing really worth looking at. But instead, you had to settle for seeing him in a hospital bed.

You could practically see the gears turning in Suguru's head in some attempt to recognize just where exactly he knew you from, where he'd seen you before. Almost like one of the statues that were around his studio, you stood completely still. You gave him your name after a nod from the doctor and crossed your fingers in the pocket of your pajama pants, waiting for some kind of sign that he knew you.

That he remembered the hour long conversations between you, the feeling of your skin underneath his own, that he at least knew he loved you. The action was for naught, however. Panic slowly began to settle in Suguru's features, his arms straining against the needles attached. His face was cold, detached, his finger pointing towards the door. "Leave!" even with the breathing tube down his throat, you at least made out the command.

Before Suguru ended up ripping all the different IVs out of his arm, you made your way out of the room. Standing by the door, almost like a puppy who'd just been kicked out to the curb. Looking through the small window, you could see that Suguru was still on high alert. His eyes darted around the room, the two nurses attempting to restrain him starting to visibly struggle.

His shouts bled through the thin walls, "Leave! Leave!" Until the room went completely silent in a span of seconds, his panicked breathing starting to even out on the monitor. "You're free to come at another time," the doctor offered a sheepish smile, handing over a guide. How to deal with a family member with amnesia. The smiles on the front page only served to mock you even further.

You opened up the door to his side of the closet when you got home, the silence of the room almost overwhelming. It was never this quiet. You'd grown used to hearing Suguru's footsteps echo in his office while he paced around—convincing you that it got the ideas flowing (spoiler alert: it rarely did). The scent of his body wash and cologne covered the room like a thick blanket from his shower this morning.

Looking around the vast space, you could see a couple of his shirts with the color faded out with years and years of use, of wash, and of love. And with that, you noticed a couple shirts hanging up with the tags still attached to them. Shirts that he'd probably been intending to wear for future art showings. Would he even dress the same? Smell the same? The uncertainty chipped away at your composure, leaving you gripping one of his old band tees at the back of his closet.

You sprayed his cologne first thing in the morning throughout the following week, something that you could hold onto for the time being. The thought of packing up his clothes was one that persisted the longer you kept staring at the untouched articles, yet you couldn't bring yourself to do it. Every time you set out with a box on the floor—you couldn't muster to even get his shirts off the hangers.

It felt wrong, in a sense. To almost be mourning him despite that he was well in the hospital. Doing better than expected, even. You couldn't help but feel like you've lost him completely, though. That Suguru Geto was completely gone after that accident. You recognized his body, the one who'd held your own during cold nights. But you weren't sure who he was, not like you used to. You didn't know who he was going to become.

You willed yourself to keep the same enthusiasm as the doctors had been trying to instill, deciding to pack a couple of his essentials in a bag before visiting him. If he was anything like the Suguru you knew, he was probably desperate to wash his hair with something other than cheap travel sized shampoo.

After days and days of avoidance, Suguru finally stood in front of the mirror and looked into it. At first, all he could see was just how weak he looked. How sickly pale he looked against the bright fluorescent lights, how sunken his cheekbones were, how tired he looked. Even if he didn't know who he was supposed to be—the sight was anything but welcome.

And then Suguru looked at the mirror. Really looked into it. Desperately seeking for some kind of hint of the person that people were expecting him to be. The one he'd seen various art critics write about in overlooked magazines that were around the hospital lobby. Only to come up completely and totally empty. With not one single recollection of what happened before the car accident.

Staring at himself in the mirror was like staring at a hollow shell of himself—a corpse with his face, his body, his hair, his voice, that held no memory of the person that he was used to be. A body without a brain. Who and what was he supposed to be acting like? As much as Suguru stared at himself in the mirror, he couldn't find the answer that he so desperately craved.

The canvas and paint set that you'd left behind nearly a week ago remained untouched in the hospital bed stand, still in their original package. Suguru reluctantly pulled it out, setting it down on his lap. "Stupid thing," he muttered to himself, prying open the plastic and looking over at the palette of colors. After facing the same four grey walls of the hospital room, he found himself staring at them for more than necessary.

But even while Suguru held the paintbrush in his hand, the thought that he was even doing that wrong lingered in the back of his brain like a plague. Every line that was sprawled onto the canvas felt like a mistake, the smallest divergence in between the two points almost made him throw out the canvas out the damn hospital window and never paint again. Everything that he was supposed to be, he simply was not.

A deep breath left his lips, forcing himself to calm down before he went through another spiral in less than ten minutes. Suguru's grip on the paintbrush was unsteady, unpracticed, each of his strokes either coming out too wet or too dry. Lighter colors were starting to mix with the darker colors, turning into a shade of mud brown. And yet, this was the calmest he's felt in a while. The calmest without any sedatives, anyways.

The painting didn't come out to be anything significant—anything that he deemed worth putting into an art museum. But the process of making his splotch of colors was an escape from trying to force himself to be someone he wasn't sure he could ever return to. The one time he didn't feel like he was disappointing someone since waking up. The short moment of bliss was broken when Suguru heard the door knob jiggle, his eyes darting around the room.

Looking for any place where he could hide the canvas. Anyplace where the poor excuse of his work couldn't be found—where he wouldn't get someone's hopes up. Opening up the drawer next to him, he decided that was a decent enough hiding spot. Suguru turned the canvas to face down, the paint smearing down onto the scratched wood when he placed it down. Completely ruining the worthless piece.

"You can come in," Suguru called out, watching as you came in with the grocery bag in tow. Looking at you was nothing less than looking at another stranger—nothing different than one of the nurses who came in to poke more needles into his arm.

"Hey Suguru," you popped your head in through the door, almost expecting for him to have that sudden moment like they did in telenovelas. That just one look, one kiss, one touch would bring back the man that you loved. Waiting for a moment that didn't come no matter how much or how many times you wished for it. He gave a nod, simply just acknowledging your presence.

Everyday that Suguru didn't recognize you just felt like one more stab to your bleeding heart. You could see the way that he slightly inched away from you whenever you got too close. Conversations didn't flow the way they used to—you'd learn to measure your words so you wouldn't upset him. To only ask about how he was feeling, what he ate for lunch even if the nurse gave you the report earlier.

"Can you tell me some things about me?" Suguru broke the silence after you'd taken a seat, his attention solely on you. How would you even begin to address that can of worms? What even was the best way to begin describing him without sounding like a romance novel?

"As I'm sure you're probably aware by now, you were an artist. You were dedicated, not just in that, but in everything that you did," you started off, your fingers tapping against the side of your leg. "Your perspective on the world was interesting, a bit nihilistic though."

"You keep saying were. You don't have the same hopes as the doctors?" Suguru asked almost immediately after you finished speaking. Leaving you completely and utterly speechless. You refused to look over at him, staring at the floor with a newfound interest. Without saying anything, you essentially confirmed the question that lingered in the air.

"Can I see some of the works, then?" Suguru tried his luck with that question next. The tension disappeared from your body almost immediately, a breath leaving your lips. "You're free to look around at a couple of the pictures on there," you handed your phone over. Most of them were just off-guards you'd captured when he was sleeping or cooking, really. A couple of his works thrown in between.

Suguru scrolled through your phone for a bit, bringing one specific work to your attention. The last work the two of you had made before he landed in a hospital bed. "Looks like a bunch of paint thrown on there. What made me do that?" The same piece that he swore to never forget was the same one he was criticizing now.

"You made that piece with me," you had to will yourself to blink back a couple tears that were threatening to spill, keeping your voice steady. "I guess you can just call it a product of love. We basically just covered ourselves in paint and had sex on the canvas." The explanation definitely sounded better in your head. Suguru simply looked at you with his mouth slightly agape, probably trying to figure out how.

"Was.. that comfortable?" A tamer question than you'd been expecting.

"As comfortable as the floor can get. It was messy in the end.. but it was pretty fun," you willed your voice to remain steady as you spoke, only to have the smallest of cracks at the end. You'd never expected the painting you once thought of as nothing but a splatter of paint would be making you this sentimental. Suguru had more questions, if his expression was anything to go by.

But you didn't get the chance to elaborate more on the painting when the door hinges creaked, the door swinging wide open.

"Oh good, you're here," the doctor you'd seen on your first night here greeted you, a clipboard resting on his arm, "So, we have the latest results from Geto's scan and they show no improvement. While he does seem to be recovering without any problems, chances are that the damage can be permanent." The rest of the doctor's words dimmed down into a ringing noise in the background.

You forced yourself to nod along when you deemed fitting—forced yourself to pretend like your hopes weren't just killed within two minutes. "Well, let me know if you have any questions," the doctor finished up, looking between the two of you. "Nothing here," you responded, glancing over at Suguru. When the doctor received nothing in response, he simply nodded and left the room.

Thick silence weighed in the room—the realization that Suguru would never get back to who he was, to what he enjoyed doing, slowly starting to settle in.

Just a week ago, Suguru was scheduled to go to the biggest art show of his career and now he was looking up at you like you held all the answers in the world. And maybe, in his opinion, you did. The only guide that he had through the unknown. Tears of sheer desperation dribbled down his red stricken eyes, tainting his pale cheeks as he babbled, "I don't know how to be who you want and need me to be. I'm sorry."

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mischiefmanaged2 · 6 months ago

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FUCK THIS COUNTRY

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mischiefmanaged2 · 6 months ago

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new reason to stay alive: outlive the trump presidency. In fact, outlive Trump. He isn’t immortal. We can live to see the day he's guaranteed to never be in office ever again and we can make sure he knows that he'll never have enough power to kill you

stay strong, friends, this isn't your fault

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mischiefmanaged2 · 6 months ago

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any trans person reading this I love you

any woman reading this I love you

any poc minority reading this I love you

any queer person reading this I love you

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mischiefmanaged2 · 7 months ago

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warnings: mermaid hybrid satoru, exploration kink?, suggestive nsfw🔞 this is a long one~

“nngh!”

sounds of distressed whimpers force your head out of your book with furrowed brows—you can barely hear the cries under the steady crashing of waves and birds singing in the wind. part of you thinks you might be going crazy considering no one is within your proximity on this side of the beach. you blink rapidly as you attempt to listen in on the sound and when it doesn’t fade, you hesitantly stand and attempt to make your way closer to it.

but when it leads you to a cluster of all different sizes of rocks near the shore, you sigh. you’re close to just deem yourself crazy, maybe your fantasy book is just encouraging your imagination. but when the whining turns into a faint cry, your curiosity only grows. you squint at the area in attempt to spot the source as you take your shoes off and throw them closer to the dry sand along with your book, as to not get them wet.

you take a step into the wet sand at the very border of the shore where the waves meet your feet as you eye the area.

“is someone there?” you hesitantly call, cringing at the sound of your voice as you look around to make sure no one is seeing you speak to the ocean like an imbecile.

immediately the whining and sobbing halts abruptly, making your brows furrow further with curiosity.

“are- are you hurt?” you ask, taking another step closer to the rocks. the rocks are a bit intimidating even though they’re not submerged much since the tide has shifted so you gulp as you near them.

you’re now ankle deep into the water, no longer needing to go in any deeper to approach the rocks.

it’s silent now. you’re now second guessing if you even heard anything in the first place, but it’s too odd that the noises seemed to stop once you had spoken.

so you finally approach the rocks, laying your palms down on a large one to peek your head over it, half expecting to see a child that’s lost their way.

and what you see makes your eyes widen and the blood drain from your face. you gasp in a mixture of shock, fear, and confusion when you make eye contact with what looks like a fairy tail creature.

you jump back in surprise, stumbling and falling straight onto your ass, completely soaking your bottoms and the hem of your shirt.

“w-what-what the fuck?” you stutter to yourself, shaking your head harshly as you clench your eyes shut and grip the wet sand. maybe these fantasy books are finally getting to you or maybe you fell asleep on the beach and this is all a dream.

a moment later, you blink rapidly as you shakily stand. and this time, you walk around the rock so you can properly see what you think you saw without something in the way.

and once you do, you see it again, staring at you with wide piercing blue eyes. you can’t even speak as you analyze it, much less breathe. it looks deathly afraid of you, whatever it is, and it eyes your every step with the upmost observation and fear.

it’s long scaly fish like tail is a beautiful blue color, but it’s torso and head is seemingly human. it has milky white skin, pecks with nipples like a man, toned arms with little blue fins attached, and hands with fingers— though they seem more webbed than a normal persons. it’s tail begins where a normal humans legs would. it’s some kind of a creature that’s half man and half fish. if you didn’t know any better, you’d say it looks like a mermaid.

you don’t dare to take another step closer, staying a few feet away with caution. it’s tail is caught in some kind of netting connected to the rock and it looks as though the grip it has on it’s tail is so tight that there’s a bit of red blood seeping from it.

it’s not moving one inch as the baby waves crash gently on it. the creature is so still, in fact, that you’d believe it was dead if not for its eery eyes watching your every breath and the way it’s blinking every now and then.

you’ve had the ‘do aliens exist’ talk before, everyone has, but no matter your stance on it, actually seeing something inhuman and seemingly otherworldly is a whole nother conversation entirely.

your breath is shaky as you squint at the netting because even though you have no idea what this creature is, it looks like it’s in pain. you can’t help but wish to help it.

you gulp and take a step closer to get a better look at the netting but the moment you do, it flinches and it’s tail begins to slam against the sand with force— like it’s trying to scare you off by splashing you with the small amount of water under it.

and if his intent was to scare you, it works because you fall right back onto your ass with a gasp as droplets of water litter your face.

“i-i-i’m sorry! i- won’t h-hurt you!” you stutter out, voice shakier than it’s ever been as you wipe your face of the water. you aren’t even sure if this creature can understand your language, but even animals can understand intent so you figure it’s worth a shot.

hesitantly, it slows it’s flopping and tears begin to fall from its beautiful, gleaming eyes as soft whimpers fall from its lips. it seems as though it’s accepted its fate, that you will hurt it or even worse, kill it.

your brows twitch in sympathy as you stand once again. its teary eyes follow you every step of the way as you inch closer to it ever so slowly with hands extended, as if to communicate that you won’t hurt it.

and once you get close enough to potentially touch its tail, you crouch in front of the mid part of it with caution, eyes trained on it’s terrified face.

you gulp. “i’m going to t-try to get this off, okay?” you voice, knowing it likely doesn’t understand you.

it’s face contorts with confusion and eyes flicker down to your hands that are steadily moving towards it’s tail.

you pause for a moment, giving it time to process what’s happening before attempting to make contact. as you get just inches away, it flinches violently, tugging against the netting and letting out a painful whine.

“it’s okay! don’t move— calm down.” you coo, attempting to adopt a calming tone to your voice. it seems to help a bit because its tail stills, though still obviously hesitant.

although your natural curiosity urges you to touch its tail to learn more, you don’t want to frighten the injured creature any further. this is your first time encountering such a being, and it's likely the creature’s first time seeing a human.

you gently place a hand on the net around its tail, careful not to touch the tail itself to avoid scaring it. you carefully maneuver the netting, examining what can be done. the knots are tangled, but not impossible to undo.

you gently let go and look at its face once again with sympathy.

“that must hurt, huh? poor thing.” you coo as it softly sobs, “i’m going to unknot it now.” you explain with a newfound determination.

you begin working, carefully untying the netting as gently as possible. when the creature’s whines intensify from a particularly painful tug, you pause, easing up to show that you mean no harm. this gesture seems to soothe it, enough that its gaze shifts from your working hands to your focused face, filled with curiosity.

you notice that whenever your fingers get close to its tail, there's a subtle resistance, as if an invisible barrier is pushing against you, protecting it from your touch.

finally, you get it untied and you pull the ropesoff of it’s tail with an accomplished sigh. “all done.”

it’s eyes widen in shock as its tail suddenly moves freely. you huff with a cheerful smile, watching as the creature realizes it’s free and no longer doomed to die here. you can’t help but wonder why it was so close to shore in the first place.

then, suddenly, as if realizing you might still pose a threat, it swiftly turns and glides gracefully into a deeper part of the ocean.

you stand up with an expression of bewilderment as you watch it swim into the water, disappearing with a splash of its large tail.

you chuckle to yourself in disbelief, rubbing a hand down your face. your eyes remain fixed on the spot where you last saw it, hoping to catch just one more glimpse before you leave. you know no one would believe you if you told them what you just witnessed, but maybe that’s for the best, given how cruel humans can be.

just as you’re about to turn to retrieve your book and shoes, your eyes light up when it’s white haired head pops up, exposing its face as it stares at you from afar.

when it doesn’t move to leave immediately, you lift a hand and awkwardly wave, mentally cursing yourself when you realize it probably doesn’t know what that gesture means. sure, the way it’s just watching you is a bit unsettling, but it doesn’t seem to have any ill intent. you’re fairly certain it understands that you set it free—or at least, you hope so.

and then, you exhale sharply in bewilderment when it surprisingly copies your gesture, lifting a hand and waving back at you before disappearing back into the ocean.

the next few days you can’t help but visit the same area of the beach again, hoping that maybe you’ll see the astonishing creature again. but you don’t, not for days.

after about a week, you finally see it again, but any hopes or expectations you had are quickly dashed when it merely observes you from a safe distance in the water. you don’t dare to push the boundary and enter the water, fearing that it might scare the creature away or even the possibility that it could hurt you.

in the days that follow, it surprisingly returns each day at the same time to watch you for hours at a time. whenever another human comes by, it vanishes into the ocean in the blink of an eye, only to reappear and gaze at you again. you’ve noticed that it seems particularly interested in watching you read for some reason.

unfortunately, you have college classes to attend still so you’re forced to skip a beach day. the entirety of the class, all you can do is wonder if the creature is waiting for you to show up.

the next day, instead of lounging on the dry sand, you sit in the shallow water, where it reaches up to your waist, wearing your swimsuit.

to your surprise, when it pops up like usual, it doesn’t seem afraid of your new proximity but it stays a long distance away as it eyes you. its expression reads curiosity but you can’t be sure from this distance.

after spending about an hour idly watching the creature and playing with the wet sand under your hands, you grow comfortable. you even close your eyes and bask in the sun.

but when you hear the gentle ripple of water— as if something is moving, you peek open your eyes to see it much closer now.

it scares you at first, making you gasp and scoot back a bit with fear. but your reaction seems to scare it too, making it quickly retreat into the water again.

“n-no! wait! i’m sorry— come back!” you plead in fear that it might never return as you crawl in deeper on all fours, unsure if it can hear you beneath the water.

a moment later, it peeks up at you again, much further than before but still close enough to see. immediately you smile and wave, hoping it recognizes your gesture again.

and it does recognize it, showing a sort of naïveté as its eyes light up and it swims closer, shockingly fast. it’s a bit unnerving how fast it moves but maybe you should have expected as much from a creature of the water. you try not to show any signs of fear or shock at its movement so you don’t potentially scare it away again.

it then exposes its entire face as it lifts a hand and waves back with wonder in its eyes, only feet away from you. it seems it’s hesitant to come any closer because you’re in a shallow part of the shore— though you think that’s for the best because even if it hasn’t hurt you thus far, it’s an unknown creature that you know nothing about. it’s best to keep a small space between the two of you for now.

you take a seat in the water that’s now up to your lower ribs as you examine its beautiful features while it examines yours.

it’s facial features are that of the most beautiful in the world, you think, surpassing even the most famous of beauties in the human race. and it’s eyes are a color that shouldn’t be possible, so piercing blue that they’re almost glowing. its hair is milky white, much more pure of a white than any bleach could ever turn a humans hair— matching its eyelashes and eyebrows. you aren’t sure, but it looks like a man in his twenties.

“beautiful, you’re so beautiful.” you breathe out in awe, making it’s head tilt in curiosity— reminiscent of a puppy.

and then it suddenly speaks, but the language scares you. it’s like no language you’ve ever heard before and it’s tone sounds bewildered. it’s voice is deep and raspy, like a man and you’re not sure what you expected but it wasn’t that.

you can’t help but flinch and gulp a bit at the sound of it, it’s only natural to be afraid of such an unknown sound but you’re trying your best to be open minded.

as if responding to your sign of fear, it begins to speak again but this time— in english.

“c-calm— d-d-ow-n, poor th-thing.” it stumbles over its words, attempting so hard to copy your words and cooing tone from weeks ago when you were freeing it.

you can barely grasp what it’s trying to say, but as you piece it together, your jaw drops in awe. you’re amazed that it remembered what you said well enough to repeat it—especially since it’s using the same calming words you used on it to try to soothe you. It’s as if it’s trying to calm you down, even though it probably doesn’t understand the meaning of the words.

“amazing,” you breathe out, blinking in utter disbelief.

“ama—zong,” it repeats with a curious tone.

you giggle with your eyes crinkled closed as it mispronounces “amazing” as “amazong,” and your laughter only seems to intrigue it further. its white eyebrows twitch as it swims closer, trying to catch more of your laugh.

when you open your eyes again, you find it closer than before, causing you to stiffen and gasp. it’s now only a few feet away, and because it’s in such shallow water, it’s forced into a horizontal position, with parts of its tail visible behind it.

then, it speaks again, slowly, but in its own language like it’s trying to teach you a word.

“sa-tor-u.” it coos, sounding out the word for you to learn with gentleness.

the fear that rose when the creature came closer is quickly replaced with fascination as you focus on the word.

“satoru.” you repeat the word slowly and immediately it smiles as it lifts its tail and splashes the water excitedly.

you chuckle at the sight as droplets from the splash of its powerful tail land on your cheek.

“satoru. what does it mean?” you question with a smile, more to yourself than the creature as you wipe the water away from your cheek.

and as if detecting your questioning tone, he quickly points at itself and repeats the word again.

“you? your name?” you ask, eager to learn more about the creature. but he doesn’t understand your words and simply blinks at you. it’s astonishing that he wants you to know his name—not that you think he’s unintelligent, but you weren’t sure of his level of awareness. ‘satoru’ is primarily a male name, you wouldn’t be surprised if you’ve come across some humans with the name.

“uh- um,” you then point to yourself and speak your own name slowly, eager for him to learn yours now.

he repeats your name with determination to pronounce it correctly, and you nod with a big smile, delighted by the sound of his beautiful voice saying your name.

then, as if the setting sun is a curfew, satoru suddenly turns and dives into the ocean with urgency. but before disappearing for the night, he resurfaces briefly, waves with a smile, and then vanishes once more.

the following days are some of the most exciting of your life, stories you’ll tell your grandchildren about teaching a beautiful merman to speak english.

unfortunately, the first thing you teach satoru is how to say, ‘stay back or i will hurt you.’ its a bit tough to explain the meaning but once you point to his tail to remind him of the painful netting, he understands for the most part.

you’re afraid someone less moral will come across satoru who’s so beautiful and naive and innocent to the human world. you have to explain that not all humans are like you and though he’s a bit confused, he mostly grasps the concept.

you’ve found that the easiest way to teach satoru about words and meanings is to read to him. he listens to you for hours and when you begin to pick children’s books that help in learning english, he excels quickly.

soon, he’s able to speak at a moderate level and you’re simply aching to ask him every question in the book as you sit in your familiar place in the shallow water by the rocks.

“are you a mermaid?” you inquire, knowing it’s a silly question to ask considering ‘mermaid’ is a silly human term for fairytales.

“‘mer-maid?’” he repeats with curiosity, and you chuckle to yourself. you should have expected that response.

“where were you born? how old are you?” you instead question, eagerly.

he points to the open ocean before turning back to you. “eight— six.”

you hum in thought, recalling how you’ve already tried teaching him about human days and years, but it seems he has his own way of measuring time. you’ve discovered that in his terms, eighty-six translates to twenty-six in your time.

“are there a lot of your kind?”

“yes. lot.” he nods, seemingly happy to be able to communicate with you.

“are you able to get out of the ocean completely? or do you need the water to breathe?” you ask.

“no, i can get out. but we are not supposed to. rules,” he grumbles, clearly annoyed by the rule. you wonder if he might be a bit of a rebel in his society. this also explains why he was treading so close to the shore when he got caught in the net.

“can i ask question too?” he suddenly questions.

your brows twitch in slight surprise at his curiosity and you nod with a smile.

“why do you save me?” he suddenly asks, referring to the time you met and you freed him from the netting.

you exhale with sympathy as you gaze at him.

“why not? i saved you because you were in pain.”

he blinks at you with utmost wonder in his blue eyes and then quickly refocuses onto his next question— as if he’s afraid he won’t have time to ask everything he wants to.

“how many are you?” and his question slightly confuses you until it clicks that he’s asking your age.

“uh— in your time, i’m eight-one,” you explain, converting your age of twenty-one into a number he can understand.

he immediately coos, “cute. you are young. in my home, you would be offered up to mate.”

you blush a bit and gasp a bit before chuckling nervously. “o-oh!”

“do you have a mate?” he asks with gleaming, glowing eyes.

you breathe out a laugh. “no. do you?”

“how do you say—” he hums in thought, likely looking back on your language exercises, “—hell no.”

immediately, you burst into a fit of giggles. that phrase was one of your favorite to teach him.

“beautiful. you are beautiful,” his smile broadens at the sound of your laugh, breathing out audibly through his nose— making a noise reminiscent of an awe.

your eyes widen at his compliment, blinking rapidly as your cheeks burn. “w-wow, me? says you.”

“thank you!” he cheers, like a child who has been taught to say thank you after every compliment— it makes you snap out of your flattered state and giggle a bit.

“what are these? why?” he questions and you jump when you feel his fingers graze along your calf under water.

“m-my legs? um- i’m not sure why. to walk i suppose.” you shrug, slightly shivering at his touch with a blush. you hadn’t made physical contact yet and it’s a bit unnerving. he doesn’t seem to be the shy type.

“painful?” he questions with concern, fingers still curiously exploring your legs gently.

you giggle softly at his assumption, and he tilts his head at you with a curious smile. you figure he thinks your legs must be painful since they’re split in two instead of being one piece like his tail.

“no, not painful,” you shake your head, attempting to eye his hand traveling up your thigh through the murky water as you grip the sand.

“soft,” he says before dipping his head under the water, intently examining your legs. he runs his hands along them, but when he reaches the inside of your thighs in exploration, you gasp and quickly grab his hands to stop him before he can reach your private area. he surfaces, looking at you with a puzzled expression.

“hurt you? sorry, i’m sorry.” he pouts, slightly pulling back and lowering himself to show that he’s a non-threat submissively.

you huff and gently pull his hands from your legs so you can interlock yours with his— partly to keep control of where he puts them and partly to just feel his skin.

“you didn’t hurt me. that area is just,” you pause, thinking on the right words to use for this, “-sensitive and private.”

he moves closer again, your friendly gesture of holding his hands helping him to relax, as his fear of hurting you fades and interest takes its place. he says a word in his own language and you blink at him with confusion.

“what’s the word for— is it—mating organs?”

“um— ‘mating organs’?” and quickly you realize that you had never taught him a word for your reproductive organs and your face burns in embarrassment. “oh uh— yes, sort of.”

“can i see?” he questions, making your embarrassment sky rocket. it’s obvious he’s simply intrigued with the human body, without ill intent.

“uh— that’s not a good idea,” you quickly utter, letting go of his hands and shutting your thighs tightly.

he starts pouting, and if there’s one thing you’ve learned about satoru over the past few days, it’s that he’s kind of needy and playful, and definitely prone to pouting when things don’t go his way.

“why?” he whines, hands returning to caress your ankles gently.

“uh-um because— well, that’s like me asking to see your- fish-tail-mating area,” you exclaim dumbly, unsure of if he even has male reproductive organs like humans do.

he blinks at you, pout still prominent.

“‘fish tail?’” he repeats, thinking for a moment before his brows raise in understanding.

“you can see and i can see!” he shouts, as if he’s just solved the issue easily.

you gulp and your gaze flickers around, avoiding his gaze in utter disbelief. you’re pretty sure that he’s insinuating a ‘i’ll show you mine if you show me yours’ situation.

“please?” he pleads, and you wish you hadn’t ever taught him the word because his sweet, graceful tone sways you, as if his voice has a spell woven into it.

you can’t deny your own curiosity about his tail and his anatomy, so you find yourself looking around the empty beach before gulping and nodding—for research purposes.

he brightens up and promptly adjusts into a seated position. using his palms, he scoots closer to the shore, encouraging you to move back until his tail is completely exposed. he rests his back against one of the many rocks by the shore as the baby waves crash against the both of you.

you gulp as your eyes linger on his stunning physique, sitting back on your calves while you focus on where his abdomen transitions into his tail. he seems to notice your ogling, taking your hand and gently guiding your fingers from the wet ridges of his abs down to his scaly tail.

“w-wow, you’re so beautiful.” you breathe, lips slightly parted as your breathing deepens in astonishment.

he giggles, as if he’s quite used to this type of admiration, and lets you explore his tail. when you reach his fin, he playfully flicks it up, huffing in amusement when you flinch and gasp.

you then bring your hand to press against his warm chest, where his heart is and your jaw drops when it beats in such an irregular way— unlike any human heart.

“your heart! it’s- amazing.” you breathe in awe, moving your fingers around slightly to feel it better.

his head tilts in wonder before reaching out and pressing his own finger tips to your chest, just between your breasts.

and after a moment of waiting, he gasps and hunches forward to suddenly press his ear to your chest.

“boom! boom! boom! boom! boom!” he breathes in astonishment, now understanding why you were so amazed at his heart beat. he thinks yours sounds so comforting, he could stay pressed to your soft chest all day.

you chuckle and blink down at him, slightly embarrassed that he’s pressing into the fat of your breasts. but after a few long moments of him simply listening to your heart, you gently pull his head up to lean against the rock once more.

“you keep feel?” he questions, asking if you’re done exploring his body or not.

although you feel a bit deranged for letting your mind wander, you can’t help but ponder how his kind reproduces. you don’t see any visible dick of any kind but you do see a slight bulge where his dick should be.

you tilt your head at it, hesitant to ask but it seems you don’t have to because he notices.

“under. like your cover.” he gestures towards your bathing suit bottoms with a slight blush dusting his high cheekbones.

“o-oh, i see,” you stutter with a bashful smile, lowering your chin in an attempt to avoid eye contact with the bulge beneath his scales.

as if reading your mind, he then tilts his head down to make eye contact with you.

“you want to see?”

you part your lips and stutter, blinking rapidly.

“um- if that’s okay.” you gaze up at him nervously, biting your lip coyly. you figure if you’re ready to reveal what’s beneath your bottoms, it’s only fair that he does the same.

though he seems quite shameless and confident, he grows shy as he moves his scales to the side and exposes a slit.

your brows furrow, eyes squinting briefly as you focus in on the area. you can’t help but gasp when a long, thick member resembling a human cock slides out. it’s nearly identical to a humans, except for the fact that it has blue scales near the base.

it bobs, seemingly hard, but you aren’t sure if he’s naturally this size or not. you wonder if it’s potentially arousing him to show his genitalia to a human but you can’t deny the possibility that you’re just demented.

“w-wow, big,” you gulp, in a slight haze as you watch a bead of what looks like pre cum dribble out of his tip. you don’t even realize what you just said until he’s chuckling.

“human not ‘big’?” he questions, almost slyly. he seems quite confident in his body, which he absolutely should be considering how ethereally gorgeous he is from top to bottom.

you clear your throat and force your gaze away from his throbbing member.

“n-not usually that big.” you mumble. “are those.. scales?” you point at the scales near the bottom of his cock.

“yes, touch?” he asks, reading that look on your face as a look of a creature that wants to mate— though he’s not so ignorant as to be unaware that you’re likely just curious like he is.

your eyes widen even wider and your mouth opens and closes as you try to put your thoughts in order. you aren’t sure if he’s so shamelessly lewd as to ask you to jerk him off.

“no mate, just touch,” he attempts to clarify, delicately grasping your willing hand and moving it close until it’s just inches away from the scales you were curious about.

how many human can say they’ve ever had this opportunity before? to explore a merman’s body? you figure as long as you just touch briefly, it’s fine, it’s not like you have harmful intentions.

you gulp and your gaze flickers up at him as if to make sure it’s okay to be doing this before focusing on his cock.

you softly brush your fingers along the ridges of the bumpy, slick scales at his base, causing his cock to twitch. you glance up at his face as he whines a word in his language and unintentionally thrusts his hips toward your touch.

the scales are soft but textured at the same time, and they seem to ripple in response to your touch—as if they’re just built to react to stimulus that way.

“o-okay you can put it away,” you quickly mutter when you form the instinct to wrap your hand around his cock and pull more of those adorable whines out of him.

he nods, eyes lidded and breathing deeper than before. you watch as it slides back into his slit and he covers it with his scales once again. it’s a bit bizarre the way it retracts and moves but mostly fascinating.

“my turn?” he questions eagerly, gently nudging your legs with one hand as to make them part while the tip of his fin grazes your outer thigh.

your nerves rise as you close your eyes and take a deep breath. a promise is a promise and though it’s nerve racking, you want to prove that even though you’re a strange creature in his eyes, you’ll stick to your word.

“y-yes.” you nod with a nervous smile.

excitement litters his face as he moves to lie on his stomach, tail playfully tapping against the shallow puddle of water beneath.

you tentatively and somewhat embarrassedly get into position, with your legs bent on either side of his head and leaning on your elbows to watch what he does.

you attempt to take deep, steady breaths as he gently pushes your thighs apart with warm hands.

shakily, you let them part ways, allowing him to push them as far apart as they go until you feel the subtle burn of the stretch. it’s really not his fault, he’s likely completely unaware of how far your legs can push apart.

you can’t help but imagine how startling this sight would be if someone were to stumble upon it. he then pulls at the material of the gusset of your swimsuit with confusion, making your abdomen gently flinch.

“is this connect to you?” he looks up at you. it seems he’s asking if your swimsuit is similar to his scales that cover his slit.

“no, i can take it off.” you utter shyly before simply pulling it to the side so he can see your pussy.

immediately his eyes widen and he leans in so close that you can feel his breath fan over your twitching folds.

you’re aware he’s likely never seen a humans genitalia before and has nothing to compare yours to but it doesn’t stop you from growing self conscious under his stare.

“like me?” he asks, blinking up at you with furrowed brows. he’s attempting to ask if you have a cock that comes out of your slit as well, though your slit does look very different than his.

“n-no, no. it’s just a.. hole.” you explain, humiliated, blushing, and gripping the sand to cope with the embarrassing words.

“what is this bump?” he questions, pointing at your twitching clit, fingertip only breaths away from making contact.

“um— mating.. tool?” you cringe at your choice of words but he chirps a hum as if understanding— though you aren’t sure how much he could possibly understand form your poor explanation.

“touch?” he asks, not taking his eyes away from your slit. he doesn’t miss the way your ‘mating tool’ spasms when he speaks.

you gulp and close your eyes with a sharp exhale through your nose, trying to collect yourself and your naughty urges.

“why?”

“to see more,” he explains, “so compact.” you can tell he’s referring to the way your outer lips keep your inner lips closed to an extent in this position.

“o-okay,” you nod, watching him like a hawk as he reaches out and pulls one of your outer lips to the side, making your folds straighten out on that side. it allows for a peek into your clenching chasm and it only intrigues him further, squinting his eyes to look into your hole.

“smells yummy,” he whines out, causing your pussy to clench around nothing and slowly leak a bit of arousal. you bite back a moan at his unintentional compliment.

“a-are you done?” you gulp, hoping he doesn’t question your slick leaking out.

“this is your mating hole?” he refers to your pussy and you bite into your bottom lip, mind racing with ideas of ‘mating’ with the beautiful creature in front of you and how it would work.

“y-yes,” you stutter, breathy.

“you have mated before?” he asks, gaze flickering up at you and gently letting go of your lips. it takes everything within you not to laugh at his question, he’s basically asking if you’re a virgin.

“no, have you?” you turn his question back on him with a small smile.

“no, that’s for life long mate,” he admits with a matching smile, leaning in and licking an affectionate stripe up your inner thigh.

you gasp pathetically in pleasure and your thighs clench, making you quickly cover your pussy with your bottoms once again in fear of your urges pushing this experience too far before you know it.

“o-okay no more.”

he frowns a bit at the sight of your covered pussy and gently pushes back into the water to submerge more comfortably.

you settle into a criss crossed position after scooting closer until the water reaches your waist.

“thank you for showing me, you are interesting,” he coos with a smile, gently lifting a dripping finger to brush it down your cheek, making you shiver.

you exhale slowly and lean into his touch. “will i see you again?”

he suddenly seems as though he has an idea or remembered one, face lighting up.

“i be back—wait,” he voices briefly before turning and diving into the water so fast that you’d have missed it if you blinked.

you can’t help but furrow your brows and reach out to the ocean in fear that he might never come back— even in spite of his words. but a few moments later, he re-emerges, making you exhale in relief. he seems to have brought you a large white shell.

“watch,” he coos, keeping eye contact with you as he brings it to his lips and blows. a beautiful sound comes out of the shell, inducing a peaceful tranquil feeling deep within causing you to light up with awe.

“you call and i come,” he explains softly, wrapping your hands around the shell like it’s a precious gift.

your heart flutters at his words and the feeling of his hands around yours, eyebrows twitching in a pout when he lets go.

the sun suddenly sets below the ocean and now it’s his turn to pout. “i must go.”

and just like that, he kisses the back of your hand before escaping back into the dark ocean, leaving you to wonder when you’ll see him again.

—————-

i am so in love with mermaid satoru bye

13K notes · View notes

mischiefmanaged2 · 7 months ago

Text

Still thinking about this 😢

The Wolf You Feed (Part 4)

Pairing: Joel Miller x Female Reader

Word Count: 8.1k

Part 4 / ? (Ongoing) A O 3 | M A S T E R L I S T

Summary: Set in a fictional New England town, you fall for your handsome, intense and outdoorsy neighbor while renting out your parent's vacant summer home during a brutal winter.

Chapter Warnings: ANGST. Smut. POV-Switching. Rated Explicit. 18+ MDNI. See series masterlist for complete warnings.

A/N: This one is gonna hurt. I’m so sorry.

You get ready for bed and eye the flannel that you stole from Joel’s house. You hold it close to your chest and breathe in his scent that still lingers.

You strip down to nothing but your lacy panties and don his shirt. You precariously drape it off your shoulders and look at yourself in the mirror.

Joel would love this.

Your hair is still damp and messy from your shower but you look clean and bright. The I’m positively smitten glow you have makes you radiate.

You position yourself on your bed perched on your knees with your legs spread open. You adjust the shirt just right to hang over your shoulders and around your breasts, just barely covering your nipples.

With your phone positioned slightly above you, you snap a pic while making your most innocent face. Your full body is in the frame and perfectly teasing with your frumpy shirt placement. Your sluttiest black, lacey panties also help to conceal just enough to be a tease.

You: Getting ready for bed

You attach the photo and send it. You sit back on your heels and eagerly watch for the read receipt. He is quick to reply.

Joel: Goddamn

Joel: Beautiful

A brief pause.

Typing. Typing. Typing.

Joel: Got any more?

Your heart skips a beat. You absolutely want to give him more.

You: Maybe

You sit back and let the flannel shirt drape open, fully exposing your breasts and your hardened nipples. You sit more upright, and grab a fistfull of your hair and gaze up to the camera, looking a little deranged and lustful. You eye your photo before sending it, impressed with yourself.

Sent.

Joel: Fuck

Joel: Look at them tits

You smirk as you imagine him losing his mind and hope he is as horny as you are. You feel your heat begin to surge inside. You feel so needy for his cock.

You: Your turn

You weren’t too sure what to expect or if he would even play along but after a minute you got your answer.

The photo he sends is so poorly taken, it is endearing when you get over the disappointment of not having his dick perfectly photographed. It’s dark and grainy. You can just make out the navy blue sheets under his skin to deduce he is in his bed too. His black t-shirt is pulled up just slightly and his hand is what's mostly in focus, holding onto his cock that is peeking out of his flannel pajama pants. He is pulling his foreskin down tight making the head of his cock flush with color against his skin. The shadowiness makes his happy tail look even thicker and more unruly than what you have seen.

Nevertheless, it is undeniably Joel. The flutter you get inside that you only ever felt from him.

You: Joel, how naughty

One more photo, he earned it.

This time, you let the shirt fall off completely to your hips. You slide one of your hands into your panties and hook your thumb over the edge to pull them down. You make a ��V” with your fingers and press yourself apart so your swollen clit is in full view. With your free hand you snap one last picture and send it. This one is more focused and does not show your face, but it certainly was an eyeful. You doubt he would even be looking elsewhere.

Your message is instantly read. After a moment Joels typing comes and goes until it stops completely. You wonder if he is touching himself. Hope he is touching himself. You impatiently rub your fingers against yourself while you wait, aching at the thought of him.

Your screen changes to an incoming call from Joel Miller.

Of course you answer it as calmly as you can.

“Hey, Mr. Miller.” You greet him with a flirty tone.

“Mmm what are you doing to me, baby girl.” He speaks low and sounds relaxed and groggy. You wonder if you woke him up when you sent the first pic and kind of hope you did.

“Just getting ready for bed and thinking about you.”

You hear him make a breathy acknowledgement and you know he is stroking himself just by how he is breathing. You feel bolder and more daring talking to him on the phone. You can be a tease and he can’t do anything about it.

You put it on speaker so you can have both your hands free.

“Wishing it was your fingers on me.” You lay back on your bed and slide your fingers over your clit until a moan escapes you. “Or your cock.”

“Mmm. Keep going,” he growls low.

Even on the phone he has to be bossy. His voice cuts straight through you. Always so commanding but spoken with a warmness that makes you melt.

You slide a finger inside your wet and needy cunt and use your other hand to tease your clit.

“Joel…” you rasp his name low as you moan. “How hard are you right now?”

You hear him chuff quietly.

“Bout ready to come, sweetheart.”

His shallow breathing and occasional grunt cheers you on. Your hands are so inadequate compared to his. You need to be filled by him. Want his rough hands putting friction in all the right spots.

You fumble with your nightstand drawer for your dildo. His ears pick up on the creak of the wooden drawer opening and he stops you in your tracks.

“No toys.” His stern voice commands. “I want you to get off with your fingers.”

You can hear his grin on the other end.

“... and beg for my cock.”

That wouldn’t be hard to do. You already are screaming inside for him to put you out of your misery. Your performative moans are now all too real.

“Joel… fuck.” You whine but bring your hand back to your opening and press inside with two of your fingers while you massage your clit.

His authoritative demands empower you. Hearing him breathing, groaning and barking orders at you makes it a lot easier to get yourself to the edge. Despite how tiny your hands are in comparison, your mind fills in all the gaps as his voice penetrates your ears.

“I want you to fill me,” you whine.

“Mmm. Gonna make a mess of me.” He sounds haggard. He has been holding back his own release for sure. The thought of making Joel Miller come undone over the phone is intoxicating.

You moan and your breath hitches as you can feel yourself teetering on the edge. Pleading to release.

“Joel…” You whimper. Begging.

“Come for me, baby.” His commanding tone returns, beckoning you to do as he asks.

“Let me hear you. Come for daddy.”

You gasp at his words. That was never something you thought you were into. It went straight to your pussy. Your walls flutter around your fingers as you replay his words in your head. You do come for him, hard, and let him hear you climaxing over the thoughts of him inside you.

“Mmmm.” He groans low as you ride your climax high and let your desperate sounds tip him over the edge.

His labored breathing and raspy moans pick up and you know he is coming.

He goes silent and You can just imagine him laying in his bed with his cock in his hand, pumping himself until he comes over his knuckles. Spent and sticky.

A moment passes as you both breathe heavily catching your breath. Enjoying the moment with one another and relishing in the aftermath of your shared experience.

“Such a good girl.” He praises. “Now, get some sleep.”

You roll your eyes. As if sleeping was going to come easy at this point.

“Night, sweetheart.”

“Night… daddy.” You smirk to yourself, amused and satisfied, and hang up.

You were pretty shocked to see Joel in your driveway come the next morning. He was scraping ice off your windshield and there was a fresh tossing of salt and sand on your walkway. There was some freezing rain overnight, unbeknownst to you.

“Hey, you really don’t have to do that for me.” You call out as you lock your door and make your way down the path.

“I know.” He scrapes at the last bits of frost. “Still gonna.”

You brighten at the way he says it. Feminism be damned, it felt really good to have this man looking out for you.

You were looking real cute in your Bean boots and beanie. Acting a little more timid compared to your late night activities.

You shoved your hands in your jacket pockets and walked over to your car with a cutesy spring in your step. Joel tried to hide his disdain for your carefree jaunt down the icy path. Still, he looked so handsome in his brown suede coat and his relentless refusal to wear a winter hat. Always wielding that power to make you melt in his presence.

“Thank you.” You smile at him as you approach him at arm's length. “Still not giving you the shirt back,” you tease.

“Don’t want it back.” He holds back a smirk and quickly looks you over. Reliving last night's photos, you can imagine. You suppress a wicked smile imagining him saving them in his main album like a heathen.

He takes a step towards you and with his gloved hand he gently holds your chin and brushes his thumb over. You note the subtle way his eyes soften. His longing stare makes it feel like he isn’t going to see you for a long time, and it lingers. He drops his hand and puts it on his hip. His other hand fidgets with his leg like he is unsure what to do.

“I’m not gonna be around for a little while” He hesitates and looks like he wants to say more and you pickup that something is off. Something he still has decided you are not privy to know about. Whatever has been bothering him the past few days is still weighing on him. “I got some stuff to take care of and I’ll be real busy.”

“Ok, Joel.” You don’t give away that you think he sounds suspicious. Guilty even. You want to press him, but you let it go, again. You open your mouth to speak but he cuts you off.

“I’ll call you, alright?” His voice is firm, there is no room for questions.

“Alright.” You force a smile and he nods and heads to his truck. It was hard not to take that as asking you not to bother him. He wasn’t being unkind in his tone, but he wasn’t being truthful either.

You can’t shake the feeling that something is off.

You are dragging your feet at work. After your late night fun with Joel your mind was wide awake and you had trouble sleeping.

Marlene is extra bubbly today. She is riding the Friday wave and you are grateful she takes on more of the customer facing role while you just work mindlessly making endless orders of lattes and cold brews.

“So, do you wanna?”

“Huh?” she had been talking to you, apparently.

“Do you want to go out tonight?”

“Oh. Yeah, ok.”

“You sound really interested.” She says sarcastically while she stares at you and crosses her arms.

“Sorry, just tired. Yes, I’d love to.”

“Good. Meet at Copper’s around 8? They are doing all night happy hour and open mic.”

“Sounds good.” And it does sound good. Something to do to keep yourself busy and it’s better than going home and watching Netflix by yourself. You have no idea how long Joel is going to be occupied and Marlene is the only other person you would consider a friend since moving there. It would be nice to spend some real time with her outside of work.

“Its not the classiest place, but the crowd is good. Dress slutty and maybe we can get some free drinks.” Marlene jokes, but you have every intention to dress like a knockout and have a good time.

When you walk in it becomes obvious you are overdressed. Many eyes were on you. You stuck out and had a lot of attention, some unwanted, but it also was flattering. Your choice of black minidress was conventionally good for a night of drinking and letting loose, but less practical once you walked through the door and saw what you were working with.

Copper’s was just a few notches above a dive bar and significantly less upscale than the late night Boston clubs and speakeasy’s you frequented. It was mostly crawling with locals, many of which you recognized from Grind. Despite that, the energy felt good. Friendly faces lit up when they saw you and even more cast some not-so-conspicuous stares at your body when they thought you were not looking.

The expansive bar wrapped around the back wall and there was a small stage on the wall across from it. High tops and tables filled out most of the middle with little room to do much more than sit and socialize. Get drunk off beer and cocktails and fat off appetizers and hot wings. The whole place was a little chaotic and rough but it felt cherished. It embodied that small town feel that was brought to life by the patrons.

Marlene walks up to you with some sort of fruity cocktail in each hand. Dressed much more casually than you with a high waisted denim skirt and a low cut band tee.

“About time you get here. Damn, girl!” She looks you up and down as she hands you the drink. “You don’t play around.” You share a laugh, and relish your new, unexpected friendship.

The cocktail is overkill on the sweetness but the vodka hits you hard when you take a sip.

“You didn’t tell me this place was a dive!” You tease.

“Well it’s the only bar we have open year-round so don’t knock it.” She pretends to scold you.

“I’m joking. This is perfect.” And it was.

You and Marlene make quick work of your drinks as you float around the bar. She introduces you to new people and you get friendlier with familiar faces. The bartender flirts with you when he learns you are new to town and you indulge in some harmless fun.

The bar is quickly filling up and you think it must be a fire code violation at this point. You buy the second round of drinks and take a seat while you still can. Laughter and the high from your buzz set you on the right path and you are filled with gratitude for your new friendships and your new home.

[Joel POV]

Joel fiddles with his empty beer bottle, unsure what the hell he is doing. Tess should be arriving any moment now, and he is no closer to ending things with her.

He has his guitar in tow, stowed against the wall. He perches himself in the very last seat, enjoying some solitude while the bar slowly starts to fill in.

He raises two fingers at the bartender and signals that he is ready for another beer. The bartender returns a moment later with a fresh Budweiser.

“There he is!”

Joel spins on his bar stool to the familiar voice.

“Hey Frank. Bill.” He nods to them as Frank slaps his back enthusiastically and sits down next to him.

“Been a while. Tess coming too?”

“S’posed to.” Joel takes a swig of his beer and doesn't give them much of an opportunity to ask more.

Bill sits silently on the other side of Frank, orders two beers and slides one to Frank. He never was one to talk much compared to his counterpart.

“Well, we have missed you. It has been at least a month since we have seen you.” Frank turns to Bill, urging him to converse a little. They were all old friends, but Tess was the one that tended to be the glue between them.

Bill nods in agreement. “Ain’t like it used to be. Not missing much.” Joel keeps to himself, staying mostly quiet while the other two make small talk between themselves. They know Joel well enough to recognize when he is in a mood and to give him space.

Tess walks up to the bar shortly after and throws her arms around Frank in surprise.

“Hey Stranger!” She turns to Bill and does the same thing but he is much more reserved. She intentionally makes him uncomfortable with an embrace, making Frank laugh at his discomfort.

Joel turns his body so his legs are back under the counter and sips his beer. The three of them chatter for a few minutes while Joel broods.

“They are going to start soon. Lets grab a table before they are all taken.” Frank was already buzzed and it made him even more eccentric.

“I’m fine right here.” Joel declines.

“Alright, well join us if you want to later.” Frank taps his shoulder and shuffles off towards some tables closer to the stage. Bill follows behind after giving a silent nod to Joel and Tess and lifting his beer to gesture goodbye. Poor Bill was not one for going out and socializing, but he did it for Frank.

Tess takes Frank’s seat and hails the bartender right away. She notices it's not their regular guy and isn’t too impressed with him making her wait. A silence looms for a few moments. The air is awkward and tense.

“Two shots of whiskey.” She requests and glances over at Joel as the bartender pulls out two shot glasses. Joel nods in agreement.

“Wasn’t sure if I’d see you tonight.” Joel is the first to speak.

“Likewise.” Tess says sharply but follows up softer. “I’m glad to see you.”

The bartender finishes pouring the shots and pushes one to each of them. They knock them back.

“Look, I meant what I said.” Joel sounds like he is reassuring himself as much as her.

“I know.” She retorts. His eyes find doubt in her words. “Jesus, Joel, I know. Can’t we just have some drinks? Don’t be such a sour puss.”

Joel scoffs at her words. He pushes his empty shot glass away and taps near his glass when the bartender walks closer. He pours another round. Joel and Tess knock back a second shot. It isn’t nearly enough to help him deal with his issues but it does help him lighten up a little.

Tess leans against Joel's shoulder and presses her hand onto the top of his thigh. She always was a lightweight, and had no problems coming on to him. No doubt she had pre-gamed before coming out, same as Joel.

“Why can’t it just be like this?” she traces a circle on his leg and moves her finger closer to his groin. He shifts his leg as she grazes his zipper.

“Nothings’ ever easy with us, Tess.” Joel pauses and puts his hand over hers. Reluctantly he peels her hand away. “We don’t want the same things anymore.”

“You don’t want this anymore?” She slides her hand back over his zipper this time with more force and she feels him twitch under the denim. She strokes her fingers down his length pressing into his seam. He stifles a groan and stirs in his seat.

“Tess..” His words plead her to stop, but his body reacts to her touch as it always does. Betraying his good intentions. Their attraction for one another was never in question. It just made things a whole lot more complicated. It was hard for him to resist her advances, and he wasn’t even sure he wanted to. She wasn’t exactly cooperating with his poor attempts to resist either.

“‘Course I do.” He looks at her, wantonly and holds her gaze. He pauses and chooses his words carefully. “But it’s not enough.”

She was observant of his reaction, calculating what sort of leverage she had left with Joel. She could see his genuine anguish and was reminded too well of the circumstances that brought them together in the first place. She never said it in all those years, not once, but she did love him.

“We can make it work… we always do.” Tess tries to reason with him, but she has defeat in her voice.

“It’s too late for us, Tess.” Joel reaches a hand out to the side of her face and gently holds her. She removes her hand from his lap and wraps around his forearm and covers his hand with her own, leaning into his touch. The moment is intimate and despite a room full of people it felt like they were the only two. The unspoken love between them was always there as a thread to keep them together. This was not ending because the love was gone, it was ending because it had no more room to grow.

He could see that she was finally accepting what he was saying. At least she was trying to. He brushed his thumb over her cheek and reassured her with his touch that his feelings for her were not lost, but he was not going to give into them anymore.

“I need a clear mind.” He locks eyes with her as he takes his hand back. “I’m playing tonight.”

“You are?” She pulls away, surprised and easily distracted with the subject change. She looks down and eyes Joel’s guitar case leaning against the bar. “Singing too?” Joel nods. This feels familiar and comforting.

“Well I’ll be damned.” Tess’ smile fades and expression softens, filled with sadness. A realization that they had moved away so far from where they used to be. A silent moment lurks but it is not unwanted. It gives them both time to think.

“I never asked you for anything.” Tess utters quietly. Joel nods in agreement, silently reliving all the things he loved about her. Still loves about her.

“Never had to.” Joel gives a gentle side smile. Their eyes meet. Eyes that are intimate and mourning all at once. Hopeful and nostalgic.

He was always going to love Tess.

She stands to interrupt the silence and reaches for his hand to follow.

“Lets find Bill and Frank. I wanna sit with them while you play.”

“Alright.”

Joel leaves his guitar at the bar and follows close behind her. The room is getting more and more crowded by the minute. The first act is wrapping up and switching over to another singer. The bar is alive with excitement.

Following Tess into the crowd his heart drops. There you are, just a few tables in front of him, sitting at a hightop with Marlene. Dressed incredibly sexy with your short dress and your cropped leather jacket. Knee high boots and your hair flowy and free. He wished he could take you right there and have his way with you.

You looked so happy. So unaware of what was about to happen. Innocent and at peace.

Tess grabs his arm and pulls him towards your table, excited to see you and Marlene and she makes a beeline to say hello.

You shouldn’t be here. His brain screams and his heart races. His chest gets heavy and tight as he inches closer to your table, unable to stop the encounter. It was too late. You had already noticed him approaching when Tess called your name and you saw him in tow.

He should have told you from the start, but he didn’t. Even if nothing had happened with Tess since he started falling for you he was well aware how this was going to look.

He was finally making some progress with Tess and couldn’t risk that getting ruined. At your expense, too. There was no other way.

And he knew right at that moment he was the biggest asshole in the world.

[Reader POV]

You turn your head as you hear your name being called out. You see Tess first and just towering behind her is Joel. It was impossible to miss him with his broad shoulders and brooding scowl. For a brief moment, you light up to see him when your eyes catch his.

He was a sight to behold. Wearing a button up navy blue shirt with the sleeves rolled up on his tight forearms. Jeans hugging his body and perfectly accenting his burly frame. His hair was also slicked back and styled like he gelled it fresh out of the shower. The moody lighting masking his silver streaks more than usual. He looked absolutely delicious and it made you ache for him all over again. You had just put him out of your mind too. It didn’t take much to stir up those feelings again when your desire for him was relentless and insatiable. Your heart races, fueled by your longing.

Until you realize they are together.

A wave of dread washes over you. Joel immediately looks away from you in a panic, confirming your fear that something is wrong. He won’t look at you but you can’t take your eyes off of him and ignore everything else around you.

“This is my new star employee. She’s wonderful.” Tess lights up talking about you and playfully bumps into your shoulder. She is babbling on but you have no idea what she is saying because you aren't listening to her anymore. Too preoccupied with figuring out what was happening. Questioning why Tess was introducing you to the man you had been fucking for the past few weeks. The man who had naked photos of you on his phone. The man you were hopelessly besotted with.

Joel’s eyes glance up at you and for the first time ever he looks sheepish. He holds his hand out standard and practical. Emotionless like it's a formal business greeting.

“Joel. Nice to meet you.” You stare, dumbfounded by his words, spoken so nonchalant.

Nice to meet me?

He holds his hand out firmly, waiting for you to take it. His eyes plead with you to go along with it. You lightly grasp his hand. His fingertips drag tenderly as he pulls it away, as if they were apologizing. You say nothing but force a pathetic half-smile.

Tess clearly having one too many drinks hangs off of his shoulder and bumps into his hips. You try to hide the confusion and disgust on your face. Joel refuses to look at you again after your introduction.

He doesn’t reciprocate her energy at all. He looks like a lost dog. Uncomfortable and out of place. She seems oblivious to it, but you are dead focused on reading him to get some answers while she carries on talking. He is a stone wall, giving you nothing.

Marlene says something in response and the two of them laugh but you can’t hear anything but muddled voices over the loudness of your thoughts.

Joel nods at whatever she says but is silent. He looks so distant like he wants to shrink away. Guilty and cowardly.

Every piece of your being wants to scream. What is going on? You don’t want to assume anything. Maybe they are friends and you are overreacting. But then why wouldn’t he have said something sooner? Why did he pretend not to know you? Why won’t he even look at you? The questions keep piling up and your stomach is in knots.

“Come on, Joel.” She hooks her hand around his arm to pull him along. You’ve never seen him act so submissive. “See you girls later.”

As he brushes past you he catches your arm when no one is looking and he gives you the softest brush with the back of his hand. He tries to be inconspicuous and whispers in your ear as he passes.

“I’m so sorry.” His words stab you. They sound sincere and painful but offer no comfort or answers.

As Joel and Tess disappear into the crowded room of people, Marlene is quick to notice you are in your head but brushes it off as being a little drunk.

“God they are annoying.” Marlene shakes her head and takes a sip of her drink. You hear her talking, but still not really listening. You are preoccupied watching Tess take a seat a few tables away and see Joel make some brief small talk and wander off in the direction of the bar.

They didn’t look romantic, at least not from his angle. Are you just overreacting? The alcohol is probably just making you paranoid. You hate how insecure he makes you feel. The reality is that the more time you spend with him the harder it is to be apart. He was unlike any man you had ever been with on so many levels. He made you feel so needy for his attention, and jealous that he was with Tess in some capacity, instead of you. You feel foolish.

A singer briefly performs a song and the room gets loud again as voices rise between sets. You are silent and disassociating with everything around you, unsure if it's the buzz from the alcohol or your serotonin working overtime to calm you down.

“You ok?” Marlene asks.

“Yeah…”

Marlene prys. “You don’t look ok.”

It was obvious from that awkward moment earlier that she knew Joel. You wanted to spill and tell her everything and pick her brain, but your suspicions made you question where her loyalties may lie. You had never told her who your neighbor was and now you felt trapped and alone with this secret.

“I just need another drink.” You laugh and play it off coolly. “Gonna grab one at the bar, be right back.”

As you walk to the back of the room you take note of Tess still sitting at the table and talking to a few guys. It looks like they are familiar and catching up. Joel is standing at the crowded bar at the very end, mostly tucked away and probably how you missed seeing him sooner because you weren't looking for him. Against your better judgment you approach him.

You squeeze into the space next to him and try to keep a little distance from him, but your bare thigh rubs up against his leg as you step in and the person to your left pushes into you. He stays facing straight ahead and doesn’t acknowledge you, except to move his leg from its wide posture. His scowl works overtime to keep his composure. He takes a sip of his beer.

You hail the familiar bartender with your empty glass. He winks and goes to make you another. Drink three and he already has your order memorized and was probably hoping to get your number.

Joel stares him down as he walks away and you could have easily mistaken it for jealousy. The irony of it, as your harmless flirting was nothing compared to his potential relationship with your boss. You needed answers, whether or not Joel wanted to disavow you.

“You wanna tell me what the hell that was about?” Your voice is a little shaky, wavering through your anger and confusion.

“I owe you an explanation.” He nods, still staring off ahead.

You pause, waiting for him to say more, but he doesn’t. Your eyes bore into him and his ignoring you is making you fume more and more. You try to read him, and see the subtle changes as he gets more and more frustrated that you are not getting the hint to leave him alone.

“So… explain?” You push his chest, try to pry the information out of him. His jaw tenses. Glowering and annoyed. His calm facade being chiseled away by your incessant need for answers.

Joel looks at you with cold eyes. Sad eyes. Eyes you do not recognize. He recoils at your touch. Makes you feel like a dirty secret. He tips back his beer and downs the rest of the bottle.

“Can you please fucking say something?” You beg. You are annoyed at how he is acting. He was clearly frustrated by your being there and that anger was festering by the minute.

“This isn’t the time.” He says unphased by your request.

The bartender interrupts you to hand you your drink and gives Joel the side eye, no doubt noticing how prickly he was and how much your demeanor had changed from earlier.

“What are you staring at?” Joel snaps at the bartender. His intimidating tone was low but it was threatening. His misplaced anger was looking for any way to escape.

“Relax, bud.” He puts his hands up in a submissive gesture and backs off. He glances back over to you but you look away and don’t make eye contact with him again.

“She ain't’ interested.” He threatens and somehow makes himself look even bigger. The bartender nods with a knowing smile that might as well say ‘not worth the trouble’ as he grabs Joel’s empty beer bottle and moves on. He wasn’t interested enough to contest with Joel.

You hate how much it turns you on to see him get protective over you. His mixed signals were giving you whiplash. You suspect and even hope that his lashing out and acting this way is just a tactic to get you to leave the matter alone for now. It wasn’t going to work with you though. You were not afraid of him or intimidated.

His fingers curl over the counter and he flexes them, agitated. He taps his fingers in a rolling motion and pushes himself away from the bar with the heel of his hand.

“You should go home.” His words hurt and are spoken with finality through dark eyes that penetrate you. “We’ll talk about this later.”

“No.” Your brows furrow at the audacity. “I want to talk now.” You demand.

Joel ignores you and pushes past you to get to the back hallway. He makes you feel insignificant and like you are just an obstacle in his path to walk around. It makes you even more angry.

You tip back the bulk of your drink dangerously fast and follow him. There were so many people, no one was really paying attention to you and Joel, so why was he acting like this?

You stumble down the corridor to the bathrooms, instantly regretting your choices to drink so recklessly. It makes you feel gross and desperate that you have to chase him someplace so dark and secluded.

With his back to you he balls his hand into a fist and knocks on one of the bathroom doors with enough force to startle anyone in earshot. Someone inside yells that they need a minute.

He puts a hand on his hip and the other drags down his face as he paces and turns towards you. He knew you would follow. He fans his hand out in your direction, pleading with you to let this go.

“I said later.” His words sound tired from your persistence. He looks you up and down and you see something else in his eyes. Behind the anger, the hunger for you is still there.

“Joel.” Your anger starts to cool when you see how agitated he is. Afraid that you are just making everything worse. Maybe you should just leave this alone until later. You could be making a scene over nothing.

“You shouldn’t be here,” he speaks slowly and deliberately, trying to keep himself calm. You try to hold it back but you can’t stop the tears from welling up in your eyes. Impatiently he bangs on the door again and an angry yell returns, calling him an impatient prick.

“I didn’t know you were going to be here tonight.” You are not sure why you are the one defending yourself here. You feel the room spinning and reach to brace yourself on the wall before you stumble. The alcohol and the adrenaline of being afraid to lose Joel was just becoming too much.

Joel reaches out to you and grabs your wrist to steady you. He leads you a bit further down the hall, and just at the end is a small and dark alcove with storage boxes. You can still hear the loudness of Copper’s echoing through the hallway but at least it feels more private. Trashy, but discrete.

You back yourself against the wall, feeling overwhelmed by everything and your anger vanishing into nothing but hurt. Joel stands across from you with his arms crossed. He takes a deep breath.

“Listen. This ain’t got anything to do with you. Ok?” Now is your turn to respond with silence. You have a thousand questions but no words manage to come out, instead a tear drops down your face. You wipe it away quickly but he already noticed it.

“Sweetheart.” He closes the gap between you and holds your face in his hand, wiping his thumb over the wet trail on your cheek. You look up at him with glossy eyes and he looks pained to see you so upset. “Please don’t.”

You feel foolish crying given the real probability of infidelity. Still, you lean into his touch, craving the contact with him that he had been denying you. Soaking in his warmth and pushing the negative thoughts as far away as possible.

He presses up against you, pinning you against a stack of boxes. It is reserved but still so sensual. He pushes your hair behind your ear and combs his fingers through it, smelling your sweet scent mixing with his woodsy, pine cologne.

The heat from his cock feels so good against you, and you can feel him harden slightly when you push your hips into him. Even through tears your body can’t say no to Joel. His body towers over you and makes you feel calmer being in his clutches.

He sneaks a hand up the side of your leg and slips it under your dress. You feel his breath hot on your neck as he kisses you there. His scruff scrapes against the soft meat of your neck and makes you come undone. He presses his mouth into you, hedonic and greedy.

His thumb slides under the thin straps of your panties and he draws circles on your hip bone, dancing dangerously closer to your center. He doesn’t cross the threshold, and with restraint he slides his hand around to your hip over the top of your dress. He presses his forehead into yours and holds you there for a brief moment, relishing having you in his grasp.

As soon as the heated moment starts it fades and Joel takes a step back, holding you at arms length. With a desperation in his eyes, he speaks.

“Go home.” His words hurt. “Please. Go home.”

He turns and leaves you alone in the hallway, disappearing into the crowd. Discarding you like an unwanted problem. A mistake. Something to acknowledge only in the dark.

You feel absolutely blindsided and used and you don’t even know what is going on. You slide your back down the wall and curl your arms around your knees, hugging yourself. You have never felt more alone and abandoned. You hold yourself harder to keep back the tears.

Moments later you hear footsteps and a familiar voice rattles you back to earth. It’s Marlene, knocking on one of the bathroom doors asking if you are inside. You regain your composure and bring yourself to your feet and walk sheepishly towards her from the alcove. You adjust your dress and hair, both a little disrupted by Joel.

“There you are! Is everything ok? I’ve been looking for you.” You turn to face her and do your best to look composed and calm.

“Yeah I was just feeling my drink and had to get away for a minute.” You are a terrible liar.

“Uh huh...” She reaches her hand out and wipes some black makeup that still lingered on your cheek. “Don’t tell me you’re crying about that guy you’ve been seeing?” She tries to guess what could have you so upset. You fake a laugh and try to throw her off. She notices your messy hair. “Or did you makeout with that bartender that was hitting on you?” she asks excitedly.

“Nothing like that. I’m fine. Really.” You say with confidence but she is still skeptical. You take a few steps down the hallway. The words Joel begged of you before leaving you replay over and over.

“Hey, do you… know that guy?” You struggle to get his name out. “Joel?” She looks at you puzzled. Inquisitive. Amused at your question.

“Everyone knows Joel Miller.” She stares at you, her expression trying to hide some judgment but can’t resist. “Why?”

You don’t answer and just stare off blankly. You feel like a total idiot. A used trollop. She tries to read between the lines, assuming your drunk ass is crushing on him.

“Don’t get involved with Joel.” She warns and hooks her arm in yours and leads you back to the main room.

Your table had been scarfed up which was no surprise. There were so many people.

You are floating between being too drunk and carefree and on the verge of a mental breakdown. For now, the alcohol was keeping you afloat. This wasn’t the time or place to deal with whatever was going on with Joel and you were not in the right frame of mind to handle it.

You made up your mind. You were going to stay and try to salvage what was left of your night. You would stay clear of Joel. Why should he get to tell you what to do? You lose your footing and stumble but Marlene balances you.

“Ok… you need to drink water.” She mothers you and takes you by the shoulders to lead you back to the bar.

“Yes, mom.” You muster up a joke and take a deep breath.

Another half hour passes. You don’t see Joel but you don’t look for him either. You don’t want to see him or want him to see you. The water helps sober you up just slightly. The music is loud but soothing as it occupies your headspace. The current act was a man and woman duo singing something moody and playing guitar. They played a few songs and then the MC shared that they had just one more performer for tonight.

You lazily look at your phone and it’s so much later than you realized. You turn to ask Marlene if she is ready to go when you see him, walking towards the stage with a guitar slung on his back. Joel was the final performer? You watched him walk up to the stage with disbelief. He wanted you to go home so you wouldn’t see this? It felt forbidden to look and of course you needed to.

You had no idea he was the musical type. Realizing now you didn’t know much about him at all, apparently. The thought of that makes you feel sick.

You feel numb to everything around you. Maybe it was all just a bad dream. It had to be.

He takes his seat on a stool in front of the mic, propping up his guitar on his lap and strums a few chords. The audience is awakened. You hear people mumbling to their friends that they can’t believe Joel is playing again.

Apparently everyone but you.

You want to be angry. Upset that he was so deceptive to you and kept his life so secret. Dismissive about your desire to understand.

Your body betrays you, fluttering at the sight of him. The room is darkened and the light shining on him makes him look even more gorgeous, casting harsh shadows that accent his tight body. His silver streaks in his slicked hair catching the light and his broad frame defined perfectly in his well fitting shirt. His watch reflects the light as he positions his hand to cradle the neck of his guitar. His forearm flexes as he guides his hand over the strings. It makes you wet.

“This one’s…. for Tess.”

Your heart stops.

His voice wavers as he looks down to his guitar, avoiding eye contact with anyone. The room is deadly silent. He has everyone’s attention. You are certain your heartbeat is the loudest thing as you are filled with panic.

Did you hear that right?

He strums his guitar and a low and gravelly voice follows.

Love will abide

Take things in stride

He said… Tess?

Sounds like good advice

But there's no one at my side

You feel a pit in your stomach.

And time washes clean

Love's wounds unseen

He said Tess.

That's what someone told me

But I don't know what it means

'Cause I've done everything I know

To try and make you mine

The profound sadness in his voice hurts. It cuts you like a knife. His guttural but steady low singing moves you. You would never, but it makes you want to run up to him and hold him.

And I think I'm gonna love you

For a long, long time

You hate this. Being in this moment, trapped. It felt like listening to a private conversation. Still, you can’t look away.

Caught in my fears

Blinking back the tears

I can't say you hurt me

When you never let me near

The sharpness in his tone is notable and you see him clench his teeth at those words.

'Cause I've done everything I know

To try and make you mine

The pit in your stomach grows as your fears are being realized before your eyes.

And I think it's going to hurt me

For a long, long time

Joel was in love with her.

Wait for the day

You'll go away

Knowing that you warned me

Of the price I'd have to pay

You look over to where Tess was sitting earlier. She looks hurt and fragile, masked by anger. Not like anything you had seen before. You pity her. You pity yourself.

And life's full of flaws

Who knows the cause?

Living in the memory

Of a love that never was

Joel is hurting. Whatever their relationship was, he certainly wanted it to be different.

'Cause I've done everything I know

To try and change your mind

And you are just a toy for him to play with. You need to leave. You need to be anywhere but right here.

And I think I'm going to miss you

For a long, long time

Suddenly the room is spinning. You are going to be sick. The alcohol and anxiety inside you mix together and you feel like you can’t breathe.

'Cause I've done everything I know

To try and make you mine

And I think I'm gonna love you

Joel looks up and his eyes accidentally find yours for the briefest moment. An unintentional stare. He looks away and down at his guitar, no doubt outraged that you didn’t go home. That you saw him spill his heart and soul out to another woman.

For a long, long time.

Angry that you caught him cheating. The only truth you know.

The loudest silence follows as he strums the last chord. Then, the room erupts in applause and many people stand up to clap and cheer. Even the drunkest person could have watched that performance and felt his pain. You suspected few people realized it was so good because it was so honest.

Marlene looks over at you and can clearly see how ghostly and unwell you look. You shake your head and try to hold back the flood of tears welling up in your eyes.

“Can we… can we go? Please?”

“Yeah, of course.” Marlene puts an arm around you and helps you up. The tears start falling and you can’t stop it. You can’t hold back the flood of sobs and emotion leaving your body.

“Whoa… Whats wrong?” She puts her hand on your cheek and tries in vain to wipe the tears away. Looking extremely concerned and no doubt piecing things together.

You can’t even think properly. You gasp at the air to save you.

“I just need to get out of here.”

You glance up to the stage and Joel has already left it. Probably going to his lover or whatever the fuck that was all about. That sickness feeling surges back. You want to throw up. You want to disappear and erase every moment you had with Joel.

“Come on, I’ll take you home.”

To be continued...

A O 3 | M A S T E R L I S T | N O T I F I C A T I O N S

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