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pedgito · 6 months ago

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𝐓𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄 | Joel Miller x reader x Tommy Miller

summary | twisted into the miller brothers web, you find yourself deeply entangled in a complicated situation between the two and hell bent on self-preservation, you discover that running isn't always the best choice.

author's note | i was going to get this out before the end of the year if it was the last thing i did. i have never been so fully engulfed in a fic like this. it's just a little mini series, but i could talk about this shit for hours. thank you to everyone who's listened to my incoherent rambling and especially @gracieheartspedro who nailed down this ending when i was struggling so hard to decide. if you enjoy this silly story as much as me, ily.

content warning | 18+ smut, this is heavily joel miller x reader leaning, cannibalism, gore, mentions of violence, blood, death, joel's territorial <3, lots of unprotected sex going on 'round here, oral (f receiving), pain kink go hard, blood kink and consumption, biting kink, literal love as consumption, restraints, description of wounds from said bites, scarring, omitting a few tags for spoilers but please remember you are responsible for the work you consume, if you are ever feeling uncomfortable, do not continue reading. this is dark fic. that's the only warning i'm giving.

word count —13k, BITTER (part one)

“Killin’ is a viable option.”

Tommy groans, hand rubbing over his face as he leans against the kitchen counter, “They aren’t backwoods folk, Joel. You know that, we gotta be smart.”

“All they gotta do is get the law involved,” Joel points out, “fancy lawyers—“

“We’re selling to half that department,” Tommy argues, a long moment of silence before he adds, “and if you’d stop interrupting I’d tell you I already spoke to ‘em. Said I’d run it by you first before we set anything in stone.”

The big brother seal of approval.

You watch along curiously, stuck in the chair that Joel had a hand gripped around, sandwiched between them both as they volleyed arguments back and forth like they were fighting gladiators shoved in the colosseum—may the best man win.

“I still think we should just kill ‘em,” Joel chirps with finality, glancing briefly over your dumbstruck look, frozen somewhere between fear and shock, their voices fading in and out like muffled conversation, “make sure no one’ll come askin’ questions. Easy. You ain’t never had an issue with it before.”

The letter was still clutched in Tommy’s hand, a list of vague threats and accusations—the weird occurrences around the Miller property, the strange behavior of Tommy’s older brother, the smell. There wasn’t hard evidence, but they weren’t wrong either. A few minutes grazing the property and a look in the barn would confirm anyone’s suspicions—which, speaking of…

“Are you going to kill me now?”

It was a brave thing to interject with, given Joel’s current hostility around the situation with their nosey neighbors and you, like a pest making a mess of his home. But, instead it was him. His mind—a foreign feeling that he didn’t like or intent to allow to wreak havoc much longer.

He’d kill you if he had to, if that was what it took.

Unsurprisingly, they both ignore you.

“Let me talk to ‘em tomorrow, Joel,” Tommy barters, “see if I can smooth things over.”

“Ya ain’t smoothin’ shit over, we know how this goes—you lose your temper and then we have a mess. Just take care of the fucking problem like I suggested.”

You knew the house, it was the only one within walking distance. Far off, covered by a line of trees and eclectic decor—you never thought much of it, under the impression that everyone in this town was as demented as the Miller brothers, most of the suspicions confirmed as the brothers continued to argue.

It was an open secret—deranged and fucked-up, but there was full, completely loyalty.

If you had gone digging enough, you would have found out yourself. But, Joel wanted you to know. It takes a killer to know a killer—the wood of the chair cracks behind you as his grip tightens.

“We aren’t gonna hurt you,” Tommy comforts suddenly, a quick glance over of your injuries, “not intentionally, at least—”

“She fell,” Joel explains, a half-truth, “made a damn mess and wasted the scraps for the pigs—”

“Joel,” Tommy warns, returning his gaze to you, “You’ve been good to us, better than most. We can trust each other, alright? Ain’t no reason to think otherwise.”

He was sickeningly sweet, laying it on so thick you see right through the facade. He was upset, rightfully so, but you weren’t sure how much of it was directed at Joel and how much of it was directed at you.

“When did I surpass being a meal?” You turn your attention toward Tommy, flicking your eyes up briefly at Joel, “Was it before or after you fucked me?”

You expect it to be newfound information to Joel, but he doesn’t react in the slightest. He almost smirks, actually. A sudden, miniscule response that you wouldn’t have caught if you weren’t so on edge.

“Now, darlin’—”

“Cut the shit, Tommy,” You retort, “When did it happen?”

“Still a chance, if you’re feelin’ persistent,” Joel taunts.

Tommy shoots Joel a dangerous glare before his face softens.

“The thought never occurred to me,” Tommy replies though you find it hard to believe him, “M’not sayin’ we’ve been this kind to everyone, but with you—s’different. Right, Joel?”

“Well, she does like the taste,” He grins viciously, a showing of teeth that sends your body into a full chill, “ate it right up, loved it.”

Your eyes shoot daggers in his direction and he shrugs, his tongue shoved into his cheek as he moves to stand, turning in a circle on his heels as he leans against the nearest surface.

“I mean it, you’re safe with us,” Tommy assures, “out there—we can’t protect you. And if you think we’re the monsters, you’re in for a rude awakenin’, baby.”

“Don’t,” You chuffle, a short laugh through your nose, “I’ll—I’ll stay, but this,” You wave your finger between him and you, before it circles the group, a discoordinated trio, “I don’t trust either of you and don’t call me that. Don’t call me anything, actually.”

Your anger was justified and Tommy didn’t try to argue, only sinking back in his chair with an ‘I told you so’ look on Joel’s face. Luckily, they leave you to gather yourself, ignoring the subtle sting from the wounds on your legs and your spiraling thoughts—you could wait until nightfall.

That was it—wait long enough until it was dark and they were both asleep and make a run for the only sane people in the nearest vicinity. They could help you and help take the two brothers down in the process, it was a fair victory for the opposing party and your only saving grace.

–

They retire to their rooms eventually, the insistent chirp of crickets keeping you awake, standing on sore legs as you move around the dark room and pulling on a warm pair of clothes to trek against the nighttime winds.

You were careful, prying open doors with a quiet effort and allowing the softest steps against the old floorboard as you reached the door, immediately met with the deadbolt lock and an even heftier lock to keep you trapped–or to Tommy, safe. The house was silent aside from the sounds of nature, the occasional howling wind blowing through but you looked around, searching for another path—you had already made it this far, you weren’t going to go scrambling back.

If anything, the backdoor would have the same locks and your eyes scan the windows, closed shut but not inescapable. If either of them decided to wake, they would surely know.

There was no time to deliberate or weigh the consequences, hurrying toward the living room window that led toward the yard, pulling it up with forceful but cautious precision, ripping at the screen.

It isn’t an easy feat, not nearly the path you would have chose, but you fell to the ground with a deft slump, careful of your fresh bandages and gravel under your hands as you land, wincing as you stand but peering inside of the house cautiously, determining if you needed to make a run for it.

Silence meets you. Dead silence.

The eerie feeling in the distance creeps in, eyeing the house over your shoulder that is still lowly lit but quite the walk, you turn on your heels and make the long walk there, wondering if darting off down the road would be simpler, continuing until you came upon another sign of civilization or normality, anything to save you.

As you grow closer, the muffled melodic tunes coming from the house start to drown out your stream of thoughts, the bass booming from the driveway as you grow closer. You careful approach the steps to their door, pressing a finger into the doorbell as it chimes throughout the house—the music lowers in an instant, quiet enough that you could hear a pin drop, the door ripping open with a forceful gust of air, meet with the fierce scowl of an older gentleman.

It was hard to describe him, but there was so much going on—a peek at the inner house decor that screamed for a touch of neutralness, a mix of beaded necklaces hanging around his neck over a stretched out tank, barefoot as he approached you on the mat at his door.

It only dawns on you now that you hadn’t prepared anything—you were drawing a complete blank.

“You better start talking,” He speaks, a grittiness to his voice that stills you at your core, “botherin’ us in the middle of the night—”

“You’re right,” You blurt out, shaking your head slightly as you realize how abrasive it was, taking a breath before you speak slower, “about Joel and Tommy, you’re right. They’re bad people.”

His expression turns steely, jaw tightening as he straightens his back in an intimidating manner. You couldn’t mistake the whiff of alcohol on his breath, his drifting eyes down the length of your body, slowly realizing that this might have been a mistake.

Self-preservation had always come first, even if you didn’t think the Miller’s were the worst possible people you could have come across, they were unfortunate targets in the moment.

“They—they are killing,” You point vaguely in the direction of the house, “it’s—the smell, it’s the bodies. They’re murders, you have to help me,” It comes out in a panic and you stutter as the confession rolls off your tongue, his expression only growing dark as time passes.

Fuck, he didn’t believe you. Of course—who would?

Hey, you’ve got a couple cannibals for neighbors—let’s deal with them.

It was never that easy.

“You don’t think I know?” He responds, stepping into your space to send you stumbling backwards, but his arms lock around your biceps and keep you upright, but not for the reason he should, feeling the sting of pain as he squeezes down hard.

You gasp at the suddenness of it, “N—no, no! You have to believe me!”

“I’ve seen you helpin’ them,” He nods vaguely, “Think I’m gonna believe this shit? Where are they, huh?” The spit from his vicious reaction and volume sprays against your face as he shoves you to the ground, your arms skidding against the cement as you scramble backwards, trying to flee his quickly approaching figure, “They use you as bait?”

He’s over you before you have a chance to roll out of the way, your forearm presses up against his neck as he leers, glancing around for any sign of the brothers—silently praying that he was right in the moment, but you knew there was no one to help. Just you. Just him.

He forces you onto your stomach as your face was smashed into the rock path along the driveway, “Well, good—they can watch,” It makes your blood run cold, sensing the exact implication of his words as you calmly and slyly wrap your fingers around a palm sized rock, curling it in your fist as he leans back on his legs, twisting in his grip and bashing the rock blindly at his face, a grunt releasing from him as you make contact with his skull, falling to the ground with a dead weight as you scramble away breathless.

You stare at the sight, a man near death on his lawn before the whistle fades in—low and melodic as it approaches with the sound of heavy boots and speaking before you can react.

“Well, look at that,” Joel looks on in admiration, a small suspicion of amusement in his tone as he steps onto the lawn and peers over you, hand extended out blindly for help as he cautiously steps around the pooling blood of the now dead man, “little messier than I like, but you got the job done.”

If looks could kill—you’re seething, staring up at Joel with narrowed eyes as you take his hand and stand.

“I’ll give you some credit,” Joel continues, “You’re resourceful but predictable—suppose you can’t trust anyone in this town anymore, can you?”

He’s cocky about it, which pisses you off more. Undoubtedly, he was probably watching you the entire time, waiting in the shadows, undetectable. He’s mastered his craft, he killed people for a living. It wasn’t a mystery how he knew or expected your retaliation. But, his reaction is jarring.

“C’mon, up,” He yanks at your hand and helps you upright, instinctually brushing the clumps of grass and dirt out of your hair with a pinched expression as your eyes slowly drag toward the motion, unmoving out of…not fear. It was something indescribable, flinching at the heat of his hands as his eyes gradually rose toward the upstairs window.

“You know what happens next, right?” Joel asks, kicking at the dead body to roll him on his back, staring down at the lifeless corpse.

You didn’t need the whole speech—murder me now, please. Spare me the misery.

“Alright, alright,” Joel sighs, almost like he’s carrying on a conversation with himself—and with your silence, he was. But, he senses your fear, “well—you can’t just murder one and not the other, you little killer. You’re gonna take care of the other one, too.”

“Joel—I—” The adrenaline rush was waning, the bile in your stomach swimming and swirling.

His face hardens in an instant, forcing his hand over your mouth with a stern shake of his head as your eyes grow wide, “Ain’t time for excuses. You made this mess—you’re gonna finish it.”

You blink slowly, searching for any sign of a bluff. It never comes, in fact, his grip only grows tighter until you answer, shakily nodding your head.

“Go on,” He urges, “I’m right behind you.”

He’d have a front row seat this time instead of waiting in the wings.

Joel wanted a full taste.

–

The wife is tucked into bed when you finally find her, barricaded in her sheets and sleeping soundly despite the loud, blaring music when you first approach the house—you figured it was a regular occurrence, but you don’t linger on the thought long.

You hold onto the thought of the husband and his unwillingness to hear you out, how they seemed to already have you figured out, wrapped up in the Miller’s web and just another willing accomplice, repeating the same careful steps from earlier that had clearly failed you as Joel breathed over your shoulder.

It needed to be quick—not entirely painless, but clean.

The vase to the left of her head seemed like an emergency option, the woman splayed out on her back as you searched around, knowing that you didn’t have long with Joel’s looming presence. You chew at your bottom lip as you reach carefully for the pillow beside her head and slowly press it over her face, a few seconds of calm before you find yourself in a predicament.

Climbing over her lap, you mount and press the weight of your palms into the pillow, face scrunched in concentration as the woman flails and shakes against the movement, grunting meekly as your hand slips against the scratch of her nails, glaring at Joel for a silent plea of help, realizing that she was putting up far more of a fight then either of you expected.

He waits until the last possible second, an unreadable expression on his face before he’s flipping the switchblade out of his pocket and piercing it through her clavicle, the blood squirting on your chest and face, rearing back instinctually as you gasp, her body falling lifeless in an instant.

“I can appreciate the effort,” Joel comments, wiping the blade off on the sleeve of your shirt before he pockets it again, “how’d that feel?”

You don’t realize your heart is racing until he asks the question—it was a similar feeling to a drug-induced high, slightly floaty and off-balance, your mind hazy as you blink, the stench of iron filling your senses and that strange look on Joel’s face returns.

You understand it then—lust, another subtle hint as he licks at his bottom lip out of reflex.

Joel would lick you clean if you let him.

You clear your throat and speak quietly, “What—what do we do?”

“Well, we gotta transfer ‘em to the house,” Joel explains, “So, you’ll stay here and wait—not run, that clear?”

You nod mindlessly, towering over your second dead body of the night.

You were far too deep now.

You don’t move—not really. You sink to the sheets beside the woman’s body but you listen dutifully, ears perking up at the roar of an approaching truck and door slamming followed by footsteps before Joel reappears again, seemingly breathing out a sigh of subtle relief as he spots you.

He’d never admit it, but you can see it.

It take a while, but eventually you carry both bodies into the bed of the truck and cover them with tarp, questioning Joel on what happens with the house, the evidence, everything that could essentially criminalize both of you—

“That’s above my paygrade, honey,” You’re not amiss to the change in his voice, his expression more relaxed as he shifts the truck into gear, “the sheriff handles all that for us.”

“And…the sheriff…he—”

Joel chuckles, “It’s everyone. Not just a group of us. We aren’t just sellin’ to townsfolk, either. It’s overseas, across the country. Shit is high risk, high reward. Why do you think I followed you tonight?”

So, he did follow you—he’d known the entire time.

“I saw the idea pop into your head earlier while Tommy and I were arguin’. Like I said, predictable. I’m not sayin’ you didn’t have a fair reaction, I get it. But, we can keep you safe.”

You cross your arms over your chest silently, skin and face caked with blood.

“But will you?” You retort, “Can I really trust you both?”

As the truck pulls in near the barn, the ignition falls silent.

“I want to,” Joel admits, “natural ability like that shouldn’t be wasted.”

A natural-born killer, he means.

“You feelin’ guilty right now?” Joel asks, eyebrows raised.

You shake your head quietly, avoiding his gaze.

“Good, keep it that way.”

Joel works silently to unload the bodies and load them in the barn as you sit quietly in the passenger seat, staring at the barn door as he drags tarp covered corpses inside with a brute strength unlike his brother, somehow spotless throughout the entire ordeal.

“I’ll move the truck in the morning,” Joel tells you as he pulls your door open, a hand waiting in assistance as you climb out on unsteady feet, the ache of your wounds coming back in waves as reality sets in.

“It is morning,” You retort, earning a huff of annoyance from Joel.

“You know what the fuck I meant,” He responds, his thumb flicking at a flake of dried blood on your collarbone as you stand in front of him, “Tommy’ll get pissy if you wash the blood off in the main bathroom—I’ll let you use mine.”

Your face contorts in a mix of confusion and amusement.

“Or I can hose you down out here, your choice.”

–

The house is as quiet as you left it, guided silently with the touch of Joel’s hand between your shoulder blades as you traversed the dark house—and you aren’t sure what you were expecting as you enter Joel’s bedroom, but it wasn’t this.

It was lived-in, personal; full of books and random trinkets, pictures lining the top of his dresser and walls—his family, you can only assume. A few pictures of kids that you surmise are Joel and Tommy, you avoid Joel’s gaze as you look around aimlessly, clearing your throat as you approach the bathroom, hearing the light flick on beside your head.

It was clean, at least. A dark colored shower curtain hiding the tub away from view and his bathroom amenities only slightly astray, probably from previous use that night.

You turn to him with a quizzical expression, his expression matching.

“What? Somethin’ wrong?” He asks.

“It’s just—it’s…clean. It doesn’t—it doesn’t fit you, I guess.”

“I’m just a dirty old man to you, ain’t I?”

It’s a joke, but his delivery falls flat.

“I’m confused, I guess.” You tell him honestly, “Look at me—” A vague gesture at your own disheveled state, dirt and blood smeared on your face as he tilts his head against the doorframe.

“I am,” The deep timber to his voice strikes you at your core, a casual but unsuspecting answer, “I cleaned up for the night, wasn’t plannin’ on getting dirty again.”

“But, you’re always dirty.”

His job required that—but Joel was meticulous about his routine after he was done for the day. Dinner, a thorough shower, sometimes another if he was feeling particularly bothered, and the quiet of the calm house to lull him to sleep.

Unfortunately, that routine has been disrupted since you arrived.

Like an infestation, you’d taken over.

Joel ignores you with a half-assed shrug and flicks a dried speck of blood from your nose.

“Go on,” He demands, “I’ll grab you some clothes and fresh bandages.”

You clear your throat awkwardly and nod as you gently swat his hand away, avoiding his gaze as you press the door closed enough that it doesn’t lock, but allows you the privacy to undress.

It feels good to clean the blood and grime away, scrubbing at your body until it burns, bathing in the distinct smell of Joel’s body wash, a faint hint of it always wafting off of him despite his usually dirtied state.

You can hear him moving quietly beyond the curtain, his shadow passing a few times as you’re expecting him to fold against the urge to peek his head beyond the curtain—something, anything.

You hated the forced gentlemanly facade.

Once you’re out of the shower and dressed in clothes Joel had picked out, a matching set and a fresh pair of underwear that had you glancing sideways at him as his fingers peeked around the bathroom door with a bottle of rubbing alcohol and fresh bandages in his hands.

He kneels quietly with a concentrated expression, mirroring his actions from before. Wincing through the sting of pain as he cleans and dresses your wounds, catching his glances as the noises slip beyond your lips—an inconspicuous check-in, wordless.

You can’t help but fuck with him now, defenses down.

His eyes follow the way your hand smooths over the waistband of your shorts, your thumb slipping beyond the thick band as you lean against the mirror, watching as he taped down the gauze, “Kinda defeats the purpose, don’t it?”

“What’re ya gettin’ at?”

“The whole—bet you can’t guess what color underwear I’m wearing joke,” You play quietly with the waistband, fingers twirling in the drawstrings below your navel as your thighs spread against his guidance, his hand sliding down to your ankle to raise your leg higher in an effort to secure the bandage, “I see you wanted them to match,” You jest at him lightly, noticing the way his eyes immediately lock onto the apex of your thighs.

He brushes it off, a roll of his eyes as he finishes up his job, carefully piling up the trash on the floor as you slowly slide off the bathroom counter, leaving his head level with your waist.

Had you asked yourself if you wanted to be this close to him twelve hours ago, the answer would have been different, but the downright pathetic look on his face as his eyes drag up your body and eventually land on your face are a powerful spell.

Slowly, your hands drift into his hair—surprisingly soft as the curls sway with your movement, gripping the hair tight and pushing his head back in the process, a low rumble in his throat at the action.

“Do you like that?” You inquire, his eyes darkening at the question as he sets his sight on something he wants—a primal gaze, almost like a warning.

“You tryin’ to make my brother jealous?” He asks, “Think I should tell him about your plan to rat us out—how it didn’t work and now you’re tryin’ this—”

“I can’t leave now,” You admit, still not fully settled with the idea but deep down you knew, “I—I do feel safe, you know. With you—”

You exhale shakily as his lips press against the sliver of skin beneath your shirt, just below your navel as his eyes fall shut, his tongue following the path as he presses surprisingly gentle kisses into the skin before his fingers are curling over the band of your shorts.

“Don’t trust me, though—do you?” Joel asks snarkily, eyes peeking open slightly as your lips part in a soft gasp as he pulls the clothing down your hips, peeling the underwear down with it.

One hand drags up your calf, calloused hands against soft skin as he pulls one knee over his shoulder and shoves your shirt upwards, giving him an obscured view of your cunt, lips spreading open with the movement and glistening with slick despite how much you tried to loathe him—there was a racing in your heart that differed from Tommy, like you know you shouldn’t be doing this but your body was demanding otherwise.

You shake your head lazily as it drops back, slumping against the medicine cabinet as he drags a finger through your folds, toying with your clit in small movements, silent as he drinks in every small sound you make, your opposite hand digging into the counter of the sink as his fingers dig into your thigh, opening your eyes as he presses his lips to your cunt, right against the mound and into the short, coarse patch of hair before he’s spreading his tongue out flat against you and licking a slow, tortuous line up the seam.

“Trust–trust is earned,” You reply breathily, “It, fuck—it takes time.”

Joel hums a response of approval as his nose nudges against your clit, tongue dipping inside of your hole as he stared up at you, even at this angle you could see the smug smirk on his face as he drank you in—Joel was still a frightful man, enough unknown that you found yourself wondering if the choices you were making were correct, if somehow this would cost you your life in the end.

But, then he’s pulling away, dragging his finger up the seam of your pussy as he stands, unbuckling his belt quietly as you strip your shirt away, not needing to be told or guided, his tanned skin flushed a subtle red as he unbuttons and parts his flannel, adjusting his jeans and underwear down just far enough under his balls that they sit snug against the fabric, his cock intimidatingly large against his even larger hands.

So much with Joel is unspoken, his intensity held in his gaze. Even from your first meeting, there was a look—and even now, he’s got that look. Like he’s trying to decipher you.

He flattens one hand against the bathroom counter as you spread your legs to accommodate him, his other hand grabbing at your ass to pull you near the edge before he’s running his hand down his shaft, the foreskin swallowing up the red, angered tip of his cock before he’s pulling back and rubbing his cock through your folds, gathering the wetness there and pressing inside with a pinched expression on your face, your breath catching as your hand twists into his shirt.

“That hurt?” He asks, his voice taking on a softer tone.

You nod fervently, “Yeah—yeah, it’s—you’re…pretty big,”

You weren’t trying to actively compare the brothers, but the thought passes in your mind and Joel notices the thoughtful look on your face, huffing out a laugh under his breath.

“Good,” That it hurts—he wanted you to feel it tomorrow, that it would be a constant reminder.

He’s a natural masochist, but he wasn’t about not enjoying sex. So, while he savors the soft hiss of pain at first, the dig of your nails into his chest, eventually you relax and turn to curling yourself around him, legs tight around his hips and your arms slung over his shoulders as he presses his forehead into your own and fucks you with a slow, powerful force of thrusts that make the walls shake—surely it would wake his brother, maybe that was what he wanted.

His mouth parted slightly, panting out hot against your skin as he glares at you—into you, through you, your eyes fluttering open and shut as he follows your trailing gaze, the precipice of your pleasure clawing over the edge of their metaphorical walls.

“Yeah, s’right there—isn’t it?” He taunts, a half smirk on his face as he watches you.

Always watching you.

You nod again, feeling the hand that was squeezing at your thigh digging into your skin as he used it for leverage, thrusting into you while he guided your hips toward him, using your body like he had full control over it. His other hand finds your breasts, squeezing the flesh in his hand before he’s rubbing his thumb over the quickly hardening bud, a shiver running down your spine.

There was nowhere to hide with Joel, all imperfections on display as your head lulls back against the mirror, eyes opening to find him matching your expression—somewhat sated but nearing the edge of his own release, he nudges his chin up and speaks, “S’this what gets you off?”

Your brow furrows as you tilt your head, his hand trading your breast for the hand twisted into his shirt, guiding it toward your clit as he gives you a silent order, your fingers circling the sensitive nub.

“Fuckin’ both of us—s’gonna be a hell of an issue when he finds out, you know.”

“Is this what you like—huh, talking about while you fuck?” You counter, “Your brother?”

His jaw shakes slightly as he gaze dips, admiring the way your cunt swallowed him up, his fingers wrapped around the wrist that was working at your clit, toes curling as your knees squeezed into his hips, that heat building in your core.

“I can talk about how he eats pussy better than you,” It’s teasing, an effort to get a rise out of him, “or do you—you wanna hear how he whimpers when he fucks me because he’s so pathetic? Is th—is that what you want?” His hips stuttered with your words, “He’s so much sweeter, you know? S’all soft and kind—”

Nothing like Joel.

His hand seems to loosen at the mention, but you shake your head.

“Oh, don’t ease up now, honey—I never said I liked it.”

Joel opens his mouth to speak, but you didn’t want to hear it, shoving your opposite hand over his mouth as you both spill over the edge, the ache of loss finding you as he pulls out, thick ropes of come panting your stomach as you clench around the emptiness, his teeth digging into the palm of your hand as he groans with his release.

“I’ll handle Tommy,” Joel promises as you both dress, cleaning yourself up as he buttons his shirt, “It’ll be easier coming from me.”

“You don’t have to lie, he should know—”

“I’m not,” He responds quickly, looking up at you through his downturned gaze, “like you said—trust is earned. You’ll earn it.”

How was a mystery—but what other choice did you have?

You learn very quickly that Joel was intentional in you earning his trust—not so much Tommy. He wasn’t surprised by your attempt to escape, but the marring of their neighbors—yours too, now—he was slightly disappointed. Hoping that he could spare you the gruesome side of things, that keeping you within the house and under his watch would help save your innocence about the entire ordeal.

But, he quickly finds out that isn’t the case.

And you find out how steady their diet of human meat was, a fridge stocked full of various cuts and textures, unsuspecting to the eye but you knew—and truthfully, the sickness dissipates after a month of eating that way. Tommy will occasionally skip a day or two, sometimes even a week.

Whereas Joel, he’s fully accepted his ways.

“How does it work?” You ask curiously, night has crept in and left both you and Joel, who you’ve gradually drifted toward lately, aware of Tommy’s lingering touches and fighting that feeling of betrayal on both ends—Tommy never seemed to mind you favoring Joel, even indirectly. However, Joel was territorial, overwhelmingly so. You wished you disliked it, but that was the furthest thing from the truth.

“How’s what work?” He asks, legs spread wide on the couch as take a seat beside him, legs curled under your body and the fire crackling beside you, his hair wet from a recent shower and his shirt sticking to his skin, “Tommy’s job?”

You nod quietly, chewing on a piece of dried meat, akin to jerky.

You’ve willingly succumbed to the lifestyle over the past few weeks, partly to blame on Joel, but mostly out of your own morbid curiosity, finding that it wasn’t all that bad as the nauseous and general sickness fell dormant.

“I don’t fuckin’ know,” Joel answers bluntly, but honest, “He’s got some kinda system going, I do my job—cuttin’ things up, mindin’ my business. I just know it makes us damn good money.”

You wouldn’t be able to tell outside of their house, but they kept things well within the interior—they owned nice things, you assumed they were out of debt and had money saved back, but they lived beneath their means as much as possible.

Joel liked a quiet life, you could tell.

“I could help out more, you know.”

Outside of your general duties and decent pay—it felt lacking, like you could be doing more.

Neither of the brothers kept you chained or trapped, that much was obvious. And you didn’t feel the lingering threat of something to come, the need to run—the feeling of security was something you had searched out for a while and oddly, they provided that.

In some sick, fucked up way, you felt protected.

“Stock is runnin’ low,” Joel debates, his thumb circling the beer bottle between his legs, while his other trails along his bottom lip in thought, “I got an idea, dunno if Tommy’s gonna like it.”

“Who cares what he thinks?” You reply, “He cowers like a puppy when it comes to you.”

It was essentially a lure and catch situation—Joel never strayed too far, always on the outskirts while you found the next willing victim, it was always you approaching them, never the opposite. You were in full control and under very specific orders.

Never people in town, always the stragglers. The more meek and unsuspecting the better, but it varied—after a couple months, Joel doesn’t even bother to stick around, sitting in his truck while you finish up the job.

And you’ve learned over time just how different Tommy and Joel are—Tommy prefers seclusion in the extremist of ways, more subdued with his affection when Joel was around and didn’t argue with him in your presence, almost like he was attempting to shield you.

Joel is out late in the barn when Tommy crowds you in the kitchen, a curious and longing stare out the window at the closed barn door, his tell-tale throat clearing as his hands wrap around your waist, his chest pressing against your back as you sip gingerly at the glass of water in your hands.

“M’glad you feel safe here,” Tommy murmurs into your skin, a soft peppering of kisses along your spine as he moves the material of your shirt out of the way, his fingers slipping beyond the thick waistband of your pants, shoving them down wordlessly, “ready for bed?”

“Not yet,” You admit, letting the silence linger before you speak again, “Can I ask you something—and I’m just curious, I swear.”

Tommy makes a noise of approval.

“What happened to my car?” A laugh bubbles up at the thought and Tommy laughs too.

“I mighta sold it for scraps when you agreed to stayin’ with us long term. I was meaning to tell you, but you never asked…so I figured…”

Who cares, right? Truly, it was a piece of shit anyways.

You laugh softly at his advances as they grow more needy, your arm curling behind you to flex your fingers in his outgrown hair, “I want you to fuck me here,” You admit, his eyes peeking open as he leans over your shoulder to look at you, a salacious smile on your face as you lean back, rubbing your ass against his cock, growing hard underneath the confines of his sweats, before you turn to face him, “like this—right here.”

Fortunately, it takes very little convincing. He’s impatient in his movements, only getting both of your pants down before he’s pushing the head of his cock inside of you, a welcomed but comfortable stretch before his cock is fully seated inside of you, walls squeezing down tight as he buries his face into your clothed chest, your hands cradling his head as he rocks into you at a gentle pace.

“God, I’m never gonna get tired’f this,” Tommy groans weakly, a hand gripping tight at your hip as he quickens his thrusts, one hand falling back on the counter to support the forceful angle of his movements, laughing breathlessly at his comment, his head rises to look at you with complete and full admiration, “I’m serious, baby.”

“I’m not going anywhere,” You assure him, pressing a soft kiss to his lips that quickly divulges into an open-mouthed exploration as you trade sounds, feeling Tommy teeter closer to the edge of his own orgasm as his fingers drift against your clit, always assuring that you were taken care of first—it doesn’t take long, hands gripping the curtain above the sink as your whine loudly against his ministrations.

Tommy is too distracted to hear the quiet creak of the door, but you’re not. The lights are off, only granting you a silhouette of Joel, but you know—he’s smirking to himself, closing the door behind him quietly as he freezes for a moment, seemingly locking eyes with your sated expression, your orgasm hitting you just as he passes down the hall, his face coming into view for a brief moment.

It was pathetic, how quickly your mind drifted to him even while his brother was buried inside of you, your grip on the curtain tightens, pulling the rod from the wall and sending it clanging down against the sink as it startles you back to reality, feeling Tommy’s hips stutter before he’s pulling out and you sink to the ground instinctively, lips wrapping around his cock as he releases the warmth of his cum against your tongue, a heady but tolerable taste that slides down your throat with ease.

Joel is already gone by the time you rise to your feet, redressing quietly as Tommy examines the broken curtain with a subdued chuckle, tossing the few pieces of sheetrock in the trash.

“Sorry,” You wince, looking at him apologetically.

Tommy grins, his thumb rubbing down the center of your chin in a comforting way as he shrugs, waving it off, “Easy fix.”

The difference between the two is simple to spot after a while—Joel’s leniency with things comes to a head as Tommy’s rigidness battles for dominance. He doesn’t make it a habit to put his foot down often, but he was already increasingly hesitant as you started luring people back to the farm—while thankful, it was dangerous. You were good at it, without fail, but something was bound to implode.

–

“She’s earned it, you know,” Joel fights for you, the usual recluse encourages a night-out—a real one, no work, just pure enjoyment, “Ain’t much trouble to get into there.”

The bar, he means. With how often you frequented it now, it was like a second home.

You were coming up on your sixth month mark of living with the Millers, finding the stragglers came in like a cycle, every few weeks, and the town was due for more.

Tommy squints cautiously, turning in the desk chair as the heel of his boot scuffs against the flooring, “An hour—only an hour, don’t need you stickin’ out like a sore thumb.”

Joel, he means. He rolls his eyes in response, dressed more casual than you’ve ever seen him. It was a simple pair of jeans and a dark-colored shirt, but it made him seem normal.

It was unsettling.

“Don’t worry,” Joel smirks, “No one’ll touch her.”

Except him, you think.

Tommy wasn’t oblivious to your odd affection toward Joel, but he wasn’t privy to every detail. He didn’t know how often you snuck into Joel’s bed at night, sometimes after being on his own before that, the devouring looks and purposeful touches that always happened behind his back.

Joel knows you find comfort in Tommy, but there was something missing.

Something lacking.

Tommy eventually relents and you arrive at the bar a half hour later, Joel in tow.

And it is mostly uneventful, drinking amongst the other patrons with the loud rumble of music drowning out far away voices—Joel was stoic, like a bodyguard over your shoulder as he seemed to people watch, like he often did.

“You’re doing it again,” You tell him, peering up at him from your seat as he glances down, his glass pressing to his lips, ignoring the wide-eyed stares from the occasional townsperson, seemingly shocked to see him.

“No I’m not,” He argues, tapping his finger against your lips before he’s guiding the glass to your lips, a wordless order to silence yourself, “Drink, enjoy it—or all that beggin’ was for nothin’.”

Eventually, Joel lets you wander.

Even if it was to dance lazily a few feet away, practically begging him to join you with your hand outstretched, a constant scowl on his face as he refused. But, eventually someone takes that offer for him, obstructing his view with a grin—an older gentleman with wiry hair and rotted teeth.

There’s a few moments of uncomfortable movement before you’re making an excuse to flee toward Joel who snickers at your discomfort, a hand wrapping at your waist to pull you between his legs as the man, persistent as you suspected, approaches beside you.

“Tommy finally let his dog out of the house?” He asks over you, staring Joel down.

Joel chuckles at that, subdued as his hand tightens against your waist, hiding your own giggle behind a sip of beer.

“C’mon, sweetheart—I’ll show you a better time than this guy. Wouldn’t know how to care for a nice piece of ass like that—him or his damn brother.”

Joel stands then, without warning as he towers over the man and you as he forces you into the seat, “Get the fuck out of here,” It was the only warning he was offering, but it strikes fear through the man without fail, sending him scurrying off for the moment.

“Tommy’s gonna kill you when he finds out about that,” You comment as Joel approaches at your back, maneuvering you out of the seat to settle between his legs again, his large palm settling against your stomach as he pulls you against him, spotting the man again from across the room, staring you both down with hardened eyes.

“What he doesn't know won’t hurt him,” Joel argues, the surprising press of his lips against your neck as you jump at the touch, calmed by his reassuring words, “Gonna scare him off, alright?”

“How—” You’re cut off on a gasp as his hand travels up your shirt, squeezing at your breast as his teeth dig into your skin, mouth hung open as you stumble back against him, eyes fluttering closed at the stinging pinch of Joel’s teeth, hard enough that you fear it breaking through the skin

Surely, it does.

As Joel raises his head and catches sight of the man’s widened eyes, he scurries off. He’s not amiss to your reaction to the bite, fingers clawing into his skin, moaning at the action. Really, he should’ve expected it.

“Turn around,” He orders, spinning you on your feet before you can react on your own, catching sight of your dilated pupils as you stare at him wondrously, a smile growing on your face as his impatience grows.

He ignores your wandering hands that crawl up his arms, gripping onto his large biceps before he’s hauling you out of the bar without a word, arm twisted behind your back as you tumble on your feet toward his truck parked in the far back of the parking lot, far away from the roar of music.

“Did I do something—oh,” You squeak, jumping back at the creak of the drivers’ side door as he sandwiches you between the seat and him, “wrong—Joel, did I—”

You’re stuttering but he isn’t answering and you begin to crawl to your side of the seat before he’s stopping you in your tracks, feet pressing against the step bar of the truck while the upper half of your body curls against the seat—and Joel, with his large and threatening presence, towers.

He works at the belt in your jeans, turning your head over your shoulder as he rips the leather from the loops of your pants, “Put your hands on the steering wheel,” He orders and you follow suit, watching as he quietly tightened the belt around your hands and through the steering wheel, rendering you immobile from the waist up.

“Wait—right here? But, there’s people—”

Never stopped you before,” He comments and your face heats at the mention, having never brought up the instance with you and Tommy until now, “I’m not a fan of waiting and I’m not against takin’ you in front of my brother—rather not, but…”

“You like having me to yourself,” You finish for him, a hum of acknowledgement following.

Joel yanks at your jeans until they fall to your ankles, pulling them off alongside your shoes and underwear as he tosses them over your head and into the passenger seat, sinking to his knees without a word as he parts your legs, licking into your with warning as you gasp, your hands yanking against the leather belt.

He squeezes your ass in his hands, spreading you open as he dips his tongue inside of you, forcing you up on your toes as you curse into the seat of his truck, forehead pressing into the fabric as your hands are stretched over your head.

He’s got an idea…a lingering suspicion as he trails his lips along the inside of your legs, never quite kissing or lingering, just a slow drag before he’s digging his teeth into your skin, a sharp pain that makes your pussy clench, his eyes locked on the action as he bites down.

Instinctively, you yank against the binds, the urgency growing as he bites down more, picking various places along your legs until he decides to bite into the fleshy cheek of your ass, purposefully breaking the skin—the tiniest drop of blood pooling at the surface before he licks it away.

He repeats the process, trading between bites and licking at your cunt until your orgasm catches you by surprise, panting against the seat as you catch your breath with his satisfied presence looming behind.

Quietly, he rustles with his belt and slides into you without a word until he’s got his hand tucked up under your chin, wrapped around your throat as he presses you against the seat with his chest, turning your head to the side to catch your already fucked-out expression, more turned on from the biting than the fact that his dick was finally inside of you.

“I fuckin’ knew it,” Joel remarks, watching the smile spread across your face, “You like it when I bite you? The pain?”

You shake your head with a soft hum, “S’nice, but I like you marking your territory.” You watch his face morph into something indecipherable as you laugh, “Got you really riled up in there, didn’t it?”

“Gotta let them know to lead you back to me if you go runnin’ off again,” Joel taunts, grunting against the shell of your ear as your walls squeeze down when the head of his cock nudges at a particular spot inside of you that steals your breath away, “Yeah—that? That right there?”

You nod weakly, wishing you could touch him—claw at his skin, grab on and take hold, but you were left helpless. Though, somehow it was more comforting this way. Joel was increasingly careful of the authority you tried to hold over him, never allowing you to have the upper hand—and you didn’t mind it.

Again, it was the stark difference between he and Tommy, who’d be willing to bend to your will if you asked, eager to please you, but with Joel, it was kismet. He always knew what you were thinking before you even spoke about it.

And as the ache in your wrist grows into full discomfort he releases them without a word of acknowledgement, lips parted with bated breath as you turn until your back is pressing into the seat, legs wrapping around his waist as he hoists you up with his brute strength, releasing a loud moan of expressive pleasure as you surge forward, pressing your lips against his before he can object, licking into his mouth with profound eagerness as his nails dig into the skin at your hips, his balls tightening with an impending release as he returns the wet, sloppy exchange of lips.

It stalls him for a moment, the sensual pace of your lips pulling his focus up, your tongue twirling around his own before they trail to his lips, your lips dragging down his chin, along his jaw, before you’re biting against where his jugular would be hiding under his skin, not nearly hard enough to cause any damage but enough to have his eyes rolling back and his hips stuttering.

“Don’t—don’t pull out,” You tell him through a murmur, running your tongue along the mark in a soothing gesture, catching his gaze as he looks at you, “What? Are you scared, Joel?”

Not scared—Joel wasn’t sure he could emulate that emotion anymore, but it was far too personal for his liking, even with the few partners he’s had in his life he’s never crested beyond that, purposeful in his abhorrence distaste of kids or the possibility of, but you have him completely under your spell and he shakes his head.

“S’just you—wouldn’t want it to be anyone but you.” You assure him, his expression softening as your thumb trails along his bottom lip, eyes locked on his own as his thrusts stuttering through his own orgasm, face pinching at his brow, your breathy moans guiding him through as he pumps your pussy full, feel the warmth seep down as he eventually pulls out, his cum sliding down the inside of your thighs.

“Get in the car,” Joel instructs as he tries to catch his breath.

His silence on the ride home is deafening.

–

Joel is more stoic and pensive over the following weeks—spring is always harder on the business, or so he says, and selling overseas picks up quicker, it wasn’t something they could explain but it was a constant trend; high demand, high reward. It was quite stressful, really.

So stressful that eventually things are beginning to run thin and you become the source of stress relief for both of them—in different ways, but nonetheless.

Tommy would rather cuddle up with you on the couch while you lull him to sleep with your magic fingers, dragging through his hair—it was gentle caresses and quiet conversation that he found comfort in, but Joel was always unpredictable.

Sometimes it was just sharing a meal—his weird obsession with feeding you; providing, in a way? You couldn’t make sense of it, but it never made you feel uncomfortable.

“Have you ever gotten a bad batch?”

“We’re careful,” Joel reminds you, “It’s why we test all of ‘em before we go through the process.”

“Is that why you sent me?”

“Do you want an honest answer?”

You stare at him blankly, waiting.

“Yeah—we had to make sure you’re clean.”

“But now?” You push, your tongue pressing against the underside of the fork as he brings it to your lips.

“I trust you,” Joel admits, “You’ve kept up your end of the deal.”

It was conversations like this that led to Joel’s affinity toward you, a drunken night several weeks later leading you both outside after Tommy had already fallen asleep, walking backwards as your fists curled into Joel’s shirt as his hand cupped your head, licking into your mouth as he unintentionally led you toward the barn door, both of you separating as your back hit the creaking wood.

You pull apart, peering curiously over your shoulder and attempting to look through the cracks, awaiting Joel’s reprimand that never comes.

“You wanna see inside?” He asks curiously.

“You’re fucking with me—”

“It’s a yes or no, darlin’.”

“Yes—yesyes, I do.” You spit out quickly, curiosity getting the best of you as he fishes his keys out of his pocket and snakes it into the lock, unlocking and prying the door open, met with full and complete darkness as he leads you inside, his chest close at your back.

He reaches blindly for the lights out of memory and you’re engulfed in the blaring lights of a spotless room—almost like a medical office with the array of equipment lining the walls and the long embedded tables, something reminiscent of what you would see at a mortuary for draining bodies and embalming, probably to help with the mess.

You sniff slightly, curious about the lack of smell as the door closes.

“That’s partly the animals, but we dispose of some of the shit the pigs can’t eat out behind the barn.”

“Like what?” You stare at him incredulously, eyes wide.

“Clothes, shoes—s’why we have the barrels burning every couple weeks when the stench gets too bad.” He spots your itch to explore, that glistening curiosity in your eyes as you relax at his answer, “Go on, look ‘round.”

You’re not ignorant to the absence of bodies—it was confusing to see a place so clean come from a man who always left work looking like he had brought half of it home with him.

There’s an array of knives and confusing cutting devices that you trail your fingers along, a bonesaw lying against the table lining the shelves, a stack of papers with faces and names, various info that you took a glancing look at, attempting to avoid the idea of putting names to faces and treating the people as anything other than product—it was how Joel lived, as disconnected and separate from the ideas possible.

“Usually it’s messier in here,” Joel admits, your lips parting in a surprised gasp as he presses his lips to your neck, “—we can fix that, though.”

“Joel Miller,” You respond in a scandalized tone, “what exactly are you implying?”

“I’ve got a room upstairs,” Your eyes flick up, spotting the loft overhead—that would explain the long nights when you wouldn’t see him at all, his comfort with being more openly affectionate outside of sex has grown slowly, turning your head to face his over your shoulder as his gaze trails up in another silent question, “unless you’ve got another idea—m’just dyin’ to get inside of you, honey.”

Your teeth dig into your bottom lip in faux thought, already knowing your answer as you were brimming with excitement, resisting the urge to drag him after you.

“Yeah?” You tease, his lips pressing against your soft, kissing you soundly.

“Yeah,” He responds against your mouth, a rare moment of calm, a sweet exchange before he’s chasing after you with a swift slap to your ass.

–

It was essentially an extension of his bedroom, cozy and homey, you find yourself stretching out on the rug rather than the couch, watching as he carefully kneeled to the floor, cursing his achy knees as you giggle, spreading your legs open to invite him in.

“The things you do for me,” You joke, slowly unbutton his flannel as he yanks you towards him, knees falling against his hips as his palms grip either side of your, his thumbs rubbing against the soft skin underneath your shirt, “careful—I might think you love me.”

“If that’s what you want,” Joel replies easily, stripping your shirt over your head as your breasts bounce free, removing your jeans with the same impatience before he’s immediately latching his lips onto your breasts and lazily trading off, biting teasingly into the skin as he looks up to gauge your reaction.

If Tommy notices Joel’s evidence that he leaves, he never says anything. Perhaps it was unspoken, maybe they’ve talked it out—it was information you weren’t privy to, but you didn’t question it. He could smell his brother all over you and he was dying to rid you of it, baring his teeth as he bit into the flesh of your breast, a satisfied hum coming from you in response.

“Do you want that?” Joel asks again, “To be loved—ain’t somethin’ you’ve felt much, is it?”

Quietly, you shake your head.

“Well, you’ve got my brother by the balls,” He chuckles knowingly, “I’m sure he’d marry you if you asked—I ain’t good with words, but I can show you—”

Curious, you watch as he stands, grabbing a sharpened knife off the end table before he’s returning to you, “Somethin’ my parents passed down to me—never used, just like lookin’ at it.”

“We’re not about to Romeo and Juliet ourselves, are we?” You joke lightly, half-serious.

Joel grins wide at that, a full belly laugh following as he slices his palm with a squint of pain before he’s allowing the blood to pool in his hand as beckons you forward with a finger. You rise on your palms and stare curiously before he’s directing his hand to your mouth, lips parting wordlessly as the deep crimson hits your tongue, eyes falling shut as you sucked at the wound.

You were so accustomed to the rich, irony taste that it isn’t even a surprise, moaning as the blood slides down your throat and his fingers curl, squeezing more blood out for you to consume before he’s sliding his hand over your mouth and down your chin, stopping against your chest as he smears it with blood, one-handed as he shrugs his flannel off and rips his shirt over his head, tearing the fabric apart in strips like butter, not a sign of struggle.

He ties the fabric around his wound before he’s wordlessly handing you the knife.

“My hand?” You ask curiously.

“S’up to you,” He admits—the wordless blood trade vowing his affection toward you.

It was something far deeper than love, you think. Devotion. Loyalty.

“Wherever?” Your eyebrow raises as Joel seems to clock the moment the idea comes into your head, trailing the blade along the inside of your thigh, up your stomach, along your breasts.

Eventually the tip of the blade finds a spot against your inner thigh, Joel’s hand careful adjusting your placing as he speaks, “Careful, there’s an artery there,” Further down, you brave the initial sting and slice through the skin, watching as the blood rose to the surface and Joel quickly descends, knife clattering to the floor as he sucks the flesh between his lips, his tongue lapping against your skin.

It’s euphoric, the feeling. So intense you could descend into madness as Joel eagerly lapped up the blood, even as he pulled away going back for a second time, a third, rising with blood stained lips and the crimson liquid pooling on his tongue as he pulls you toward him, mixing the taste of his blood with your own as he kisses you, a messy exchange of fluids as you claw at his skin, rising to your knees to match him.

Silently, you work at his jeans, unbuttoning and pulling them down his lips alongside his underwear—Joel works them the rest of the way before you’re pulling the hand supporting him over you out from under him, straddling him into the rug as your cunt sat directly over his cock, feeling him grow harder underneath you, a sight to behold with blood dripping down the corner of his mouth.

“I want more,” You tell him honestly, his cock twitching at the words, reaching for the knife laying beside his head, “Can I have more?”

Joel nods wordlessly, slightly breathless.

It was a trading battle of surface wounds, just enough to spill blood but nothing deep enough to cause any damage—surely looking insane as you straddled him with a smile, blood-stained lips yearning for more. Joel has a drunken haze to his expression, committing the sight to memory as he squeezes at your hips, rutting his cock between your soaked folds.

“Enough,” He says softly, barely above a mumble as he tosses the knife aside, rolling you underneath him before he’s sliding home inside of you, a hand cradling the back of your head while the other gripped at your knee, pulling it high over his hip, near his chest as he thrusts into you, a controlled but needy pace that was followed by low, pitiful groans of pleasure.

You’d broken this man.

His head was buried in your neck, your hand trailing down his back as you squeeze into the flesh of his ass, the fingers off your opposite hand carding through his hair, pulling gently at his curls.

“Got so much of me inside you now,” He breathes into your skin, “fuck—I’d eat your right up, baby.”

Despite his obvious lifestyle, your laugh is careless and light.

“Greedy,” You note, “I’ve already given you a taste and you’re asking for more?”

He doesn’t respond, not really. His hips are sharp, forceful as his cock spears itself inside of you, rubbing against the sensitive spot inside of you, eyes fluttering shut as it overwhelms you.

“Take a bite,” You encourage him, “f’that’s what you want.”

A real one.

Enough to scar, to leave a permanent mark and reminder of him.

One, two—you didn’t care.

His teeth drag over your breasts, tongue trailing around your hardened nipple before he’s biting into the skin at the top of you breasts, a gasp ripping from your throat as your walls flutter around him, tightening at the pain that slowly transfers to pleasure, glancing down at the small gash and trail of teeth marks in your skin.

He’s admiring, finger running over the wound before he’s rising on his knees, continuing the thrusts of his hips but slowing as he reaches for your hand, pulling you upright again.

“You–do you want me to?” You ask cautiously, feeling the blood from your wound trail down your chest, “Are you sure?”

“Ain’t never been sure ‘bout nothin’,” Joel admits, “but—this…yeah, I want it.”

It shouldn’t make you hesitate, but it doesn’t. He isn’t emotional or forceful—it was like a plea, disguised behind his facade of stoicness. He needed this devotion just as bad as you. He needed someone to put his own trust into.

When your teeth dig into his side, he hisses, his right hand cradling your head as the other curls tightly into a fist, your face pinching up as you bite beyond the first layer of flesh and taste the liquid against your tongue.

He pulls you away eventually, looking down at you with a newfound expression.

This was love—not the lust you were used to seeing.

The rest of the evening is quiet, his pace gentler before he brings you to a slow orgasm, coming inside of you nearly seconds after with a soft moan, persistent that the wounds needed to be cleaned immediately after a few moments of rest.

He tapes it away with a gentle care after cleaning and applying an ointment to fight away any possible infection, snorting at how fatherly it all seemed, even helping you situation your top back on.

“At least we spared the rug,” You break the silence, “guess you aren’t as messy as I thought.”

“Oh, I can be,” He assures you, noticing the scabbed up bit of your lip that had become victim when he’d bit into your, biting down to silence yourself. Just a small movement and the wound reopens, completely unintentional but he sucks the blood away from your bottom lip in a soothing gesture before he kisses you soundly.

You only hoped the bliss would last.

–

Eventually, the implosion comes. But, instead of gradual—it was all at once.

Tommy’s birthday was supposed to be a quiet affair, something at home, between the three of you, not having time to celebrate during the week on his actual birthday like you had planned—but eventually Tommy finds himself antsy and Joel senses your annoyance as he keeps finding excuses to slip away or cancel. He encourages Tommy to go off on his own, leaving you both sprawled out on his bed after a rousing round of sex that leaves you both sweaty and breathless, resting your arm against his chest as you stare at him, “What’s up with him lately?”

“He’s good at acting, isn’t he?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“There’s a reason he keeps to the books, you know—why I do my job alone.”

Your eyebrow raises in a silent effort to urge him to continue.

“When I’m angry, you’ll know—” That much was obvious, having been on the receiving end plenty, but Tommy—it was unnatural to see anything but his kind, bright smile.

“He’s my brother—but there’s plenty of shit you haven’t seen yet. And I think it’s unfair that he’s actin’ like things are normal, like he can keep that act up, but something’s gotta give—”

“So what, is he like…a psychopath or something?”

Joel’s silence is telling, jumping up from your spot as you settle on your knees.

“He’s a fucking psychopath?”

“No—no,” Joel excuses, your face contorting into a mix of confusion and amusement.

“You took a long time to answer that.”

“He has episodes—periods of time where he ain’t himself. I can’t explain it and my parents refused to take him to the doctor—you know, backwoods folk and all. If we had a problem we toughed it out.”

“So, he’s got anger issues?”

Joel shakes his head, lips pursed into a tight line.

“He’s killed a couple people—by accident. Least, that’s what he calls it. Tried killing me a few times, too. I’ve always been good at talking him off that ledge, thankfully. M’not trying to turn you against him but I’ve grown up around him, I know how to handle it.”

It was a lot of information to consume at once, still naked in Joel’s sheets as you adjust to sit more comfortably, a small peek at the scar near his ribcage as the sheets shift down.

“He’s lucky we do what we do—he’d probably be in jail otherwise, I’m just telling you because—“

“If it came down to me and him, you’d choose him.”

Joel pauses, his face softened as his lips downturn.

“It’s okay,” You shrug, “Let’s just hope it never comes to that.”

Truthfully, Joel wasn’t sure anymore.

After years with Tommy, he’d grown tired. It was exhausting, fighting between the battling personalities that lived within his brother.

“C’mere,” He beckons, your nose scrunching up as you grin, fitting your face between his waiting hands as he pulls you back over him, kissing you slowly.

A gentle calm before the storm.

–

The arguing is what wakes you first, not the roar of the truck, voices trailing toward the barn.

The bed is empty too, not a single remnant of Joel in sight.

But, you hear him. Loud, angry.

By the time you’re outside the barn is already closed, illuminated by the light inside as you pry the heavy door open, several underdressed with only a shirt to cover the underwear clinging tight to your skin, bare feet digging into the dirt as your feet scuff against the cement and the door falls shut behind you.

“She doesn’t need to know, Joel!” Tommy’s voice cracks, a slight slur to his speech.

He’s drunk, clearly.

“You’re a fucking idiot, Tommy—one night and you pull this shit? It’s exactly why dad had a tight leash on your ass for so many years—”

“Need to know what?” You ask suddenly, breaking through the tension as your head peeks around the corner, both of their heads whipping toward you, Joel moving subtly to block the body that you spot on the table, eyes widening.

It had always been something you and Joel had managed together—Tommy had never shown an interest, didn’t seem to care, but this…

“I’m just tryin’ to carry my weight ‘round here—is that why you like him more?” Tommy asks suddenly, his eyes glazed over and dark as you step forward.

“I invite you into our home—give you a place to stay. I—I stuck up for you when he wanted to throw you out and you chose him? My own fuckin’ brother?”

“He’s drunk,” Joel states blankly, almost dismissive of his rant.

“No—no, let’s show it off, Joel.”

Tommy comes at you with a knife, slicing it down the middle of your shirt as you struggle against him, ripping the fabric away and showing off the healing scar on your chest.

“What happened to no attachments, Joel? No baggage?”

As Joel moves toward Tommy to remove the knife, he lunges at Joel and pushes him out of the way, leaving you with a clear view of the woman laying on the table, an eerie resemblance to yourself as your eyes widen, stepping toward the table as you glance over the body—unmoving, still. She was already too far gone, with no signs of what Tommy had actually done to her.

Your head snaps up at the brawling brothers, screaming for the attention to break through their rage, Joel burying his knee into Tommy’s back to subdue him.

“Why her?” You ask him—Tommy, looking directly at him as you point to the lifeless body.

“Get the fuck off me—” He argues through gritted teeth, attempting to shake his brother off him.

“Why—her?” You stress again, walking forward to crouch in front of him, uncaring of how your body was bared to him in your vulnerability.

“Thought I could give Joel his own version of you to play with—but she wasn’t cooperating. That what you wanna hear? I had you first—motherfucker won’t let me have a single thing to myself.”

“Let him up,” You instruct Joel, backing away slightly.

As Tommy stands, you approach him, his face tight and unrecognizable.

He reeked of alcohol and sweat, a stench of something else that made the bile in your stomach rise, “I never chose, you both had me. You would continue to have me, but this—Tommy—”

“Don’t fuckin’ lecture me, not you,” He bites.

You stare at him with a growing sadness, “You’re drunk—really, really drunk. You’re gonna sleep this off and you’ll regret everything you’re saying right now, I know it. I know you.”

Something seems to snap in Tommy—attempting to rip away from Joel as you scramble toward the floor.

Tommy gets a solid right hook in, something that, if any normal person would have delivered would have left Joel unphased, but Tommy had his advantages, similar in size and stature to Joel, it was barely a fight as Joel dropped to the ground, hitting hard enough that both of you freeze, a slow ring of blood pooling from his head as your chest clinches in a mix of anger and resentment, but your body flinging into flight mode, fleeing while Tommy has distracted by the possibility that he killed his own brother.

Unfamiliar with the place you scramble to hide, unsure if running off would help after your last try, squeezing into a closet buried in the back corner behind a pile of yard tools and mowers, watching as Tommy dropped to the ground.

You could hear him mumbling to himself—a mix of self-assuring words and back and forth conversation, as if someone was responding to every word he offered.

“He’s dead—yeah I killed him,” He mumbles, “if I—if I chop him up, chop her up. Fuck,” His head whips over his shoulder, realizing you were gone, “gotta find her—but Joel, deal with him first.”

Your eyes widen at the firsthand witnessing of exactly what Joel had admitted to you—like some kind of bad omen of what was to come, you sunk down into the darkness and hide yourself away, watching as Tommy roamed around for tools, not a moment of hesitation as he intended to follow through on his plans with Joel’s lifeless body awaiting it’s demise.

It feels wrong, tossing a bone saw aside carelessly as he ran his fingers through his hair in exasperation, flailing tools around wildly, a knife clattering so far away that it lands near your feet, small enough to wrap your fist around as you grab it quietly, awaiting Tommy’s approach to Joel.

Sometimes takes over, not entirely yourself as you crawl from the spot you were hidden in and lunge at Tommy, planting the knife between his shoulder blades as pressed the blade against his own brother’s neck, his blood curdling scream ripping through the barn as he dropped to his knees.

“You bitch,” He groans, shouting out in pain as you remove the knife and sink into his spine, a few seconds of struggle before he slumps to the ground, his eyes dragging toward your shaking frame, bloodied hands rubbing your hair away from your face as you stare down at Tommy’s face, his lips parting as he gasped for air but instead find blood dripping from his mouth.

You drop to your knees, the air stolen from your own lungs but for different reasons.

Both of them dead, within a matter of minutes and it was all your fault.

“Fuck, fuck–” You cry, slamming your fist into cement, but quickly startled by the rousing beside Tommy, almost blaming it on a break in your psyche before Joel is mumbling your name, pressing his fingers into his temple as blood coats his fingers, a sizeable gash on the side of his head as he sits, slowly picking apart the sight before him.

“Oh, honey—what did you do?” Joel asks, glancing down at Tommy’s lifeless body and up at you—surprisingly, there wasn’t an ounce of anger.

“He thought—he thought you were dead, he had a knife at your throat,” You rambled in a panic, “He kept saying he was going to chop you up—chop me up. I don’t know, I fucking panicked.”

Joel remains wordless, staring into the deep abyss of blood pooling on the floor.

“I’m so—I’m sorry. I’m,” The emotion is like a tidal wave, “Joel—I panicked. I swear—”

Joel grimaces against the sharp sting of pain as he reaches for your face, his blood covered hand pressing against your face, fingertips wrapping around the back of your head as he forces you to lock eyes with him.

“Look at me,” He demands, waiting until your eyes lock on him, “This is the part where you promise—and I mean promise, that you won’t fuckin’ run off.”

“No—never. Never, not,” You shake your head, squeezing your eyes shut to blink away the thick tears, “Never again, Joel. I promise.”

“We handle this together,” He explains, “I’ll protect you but you have to say it.”

“Anything,” You nod, leaning forward on your hands to move closer to him.

“Say you’re loyal to me—that you’ll listen and do whatever I ask, without question.”

“I am—I am. Joel, I’m loyal to you. I love—I love you. I need you to know that.”

Joel sighs, head bowing.

“I would have chosen you over him. I couldn’t admit that to myself earlier, but I’m telling you now. Tommy’s always been a manipulator, I tried warnin’ you. Months ago.”

You ain’t the first, you won’t be the last.

“I won’t run. I promise, Joel.” You assure him, because with Joel you felt that protection.

A silence falls before you speak again.

“What happens now?”

“You follow my lead, that’s all I need.”

#joel miller x reader #joel miller #joel miller smut #joel miller x you #joel miller fanfiction #pedro pascal #tommy miller x reader #tommy miller x you #tommy miller smut #tommy miller fanfic #joel x reader x tommy #the last of us #tlou #tlou fanfiction #the last of us fic #my writing

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ultimateloserboy · 2 years ago

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Alright gamers it seems you really like this idea so Ive decided to name it “Season -1” cuz that name is stupid and i think its funny. also its not just november dont leave out december we have to have christmas bullshit in here. holiday episodes are a MUST. (not actually there is no mandatory thing or even a set end date but whatever) just have a blast guys go make “Duck Robs a Mcdonalds the epic trilogy” or something. and remember lazy things and wips are encouraged because thats “cut/unfinished content from season -1” THIS IS MOTIVATION TO BE LAZY ACTUALLY JUST SPEW BULLSHIT OUT OF YOUR MOUTHS LETS GO LETS HAVE FUN AND GET WACKY THIS HOLIDAY SEASON !!!!

hey dont hug me nation im bored we should have a comeback november or some shit. since it takes like seven years to finish a season (no hate i think its actually nice they take their time but anyway) we should just start making up new bullshit episodes. lets post old wips and unfinished oneshots like theyre sneak peaks or cut content. lets make bullshit creepypasta episodes like fucking yellow.exe or red guy fucking drowns. lets make up a holiday episode like “christmas ikea adventure: the lawn chairs revenge” i dont fucking know lets just do it guys i think itd be fun!! it will keep us sane and warm so we survive the cold, bleak famines of winter.

at first i was just gonna ask for fluffybird fanfic but now i think itd be fun if we just started making up “lost episodes” or even just bring back some old aus! i know its probs not gonna happen but i think the idea is silly :33

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evilminji · 2 years ago

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I've seen references to it in other Prompts?

But unironically? Paulina should Heckle superheroes more.

Like? Look at her AS A CHARACTER. You think she respects Authority? In their Tacky suits and with their weak ass boundaries she's been stomping over her ENTIRE LIFE, largely unpunished? Because she's Pretty and gifted in the Social Grace's department?

Granted, rarely USES them on most of these needs. But she HAS them and CAN. Why do you thinks she THE popular girl? Looks? Please. There are plenty of pretty girls out there. SHE can make you feel like you're the most important person in the whole world. Her BEST friend.

SHE put in the work to have flawless skin and a complexe social network based on future networth and political significance. A cute butt. Socials beyond reproach.

And SHE? Is so, SO fuckin PISSED.

Her Boo (don't judge her, it's a cute pun) is being SHOT at! Is run in to the ground EXHAUSTED. Doing jobs that CERTAIN people should be getting off their asses to do. CERTAIN people keep making pretty little speechs and getting good PR, while out here HER BOO is getting LAZER HOLES punched through him!

He should be of DATES. Laughing and going for flights. Sitting in the bleachers of cheer practice, safe and silly and shouting tips even though he doesn't know the first thing about Cheer. Getting to be YOUNG. In love!

And Paulina? Always on her phone. Their socials are just... RIGHT THERE. Oooh, Mr. "We protect everybody, aren't we such GOOD GUYS~☆" Her favorite flats! And, maybe, yeah, it's the pain from getting THROWN from the top of the pyramid they were practicing by that fucking GIW explosion.

Maybe it's the fact that Phantom hand to shield her with his BODY and those bastards SHOT at them. Could be the squad egging her on, furious and phones out. But how the weather in Metropolis, Supes? Enjoying up in your little ivory tower? Guess only city kids matter, huh?

Fastest man alive to ignore a genocide, HUH, Flash?

Nice Speech, Wonder Hypocrite. Guess "all woman are Amazons" until they're DEAD. Then you can do what you want to them?

Just. These Pretty, Bland, Offend No One, We're Aiming For Good Sport Colleges And Know They Check These accounts? Going NUCLEAR. All pretty, made for TV faces too. The sort of thing that makes for GREAT news segments and terrible PR.

Because? If Paulina is doing it? Well, A Lister solidarity. Jocks gotta have their back. They've been holding back some Opinions(tm). Time to throw um to the web.

And the blockades? Doesn't do SHIT. Because the GIW forgot one simple factor(well, MANY factors).

Cheerleaders have Away Games.

Paulina and Company? If they can't text INSIDE Amity? Fine. They'll cue them up. Release them at Amity VS. Whatever loser they're crushing next. Rah, rah, go teeeeam! Guess who has internet nooooooow!

GIW may have access to high tech devices and authoritarian control... but they're IDIOTS prone to easily avoidable human errors.

Meanwhile? Most of the JLA is metaphorically ON FIRE.

#dpxdc #dp x dc #dc x dp #dcxdp #paulina sanchez #danny phantom

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musouie · 11 months ago

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contents: dom!suguru, puppy-hybrid!gn!reader, praise, dub-con(isssh?), mouth play, brief choking, petnames, oral(m!recieving), reader is "trained", mouth fucking, he gets rough and treats reader like an object!!!*

suguru just loves watching his cute little puppy work for his dick like some needy bitch in heat. the little pants you let out as you crawl to him on all fours make his hips buck, and christ, when you settle in between his legs, head in his lap as you clumsily paw at the crotch of his sweats, he nearly cums.

you’re such a good pup, so desperate to please him that you obediently move from his crotch when he tugs your chin upwards, tilting your head to make it that much easier for him.

“aw, puppy must be s’hungry,” he coos mockingly, calloused thumb running along the seam of your lips. you whine as he forces it past them, urging your mouth open, before you quickly hollow your cheeks to suck on it. “shit, you’re s’cute when you do that, such a good lil’ pup.”

you whimper as he shoves his thumb deeper inside your mouth, easily sliding it past your tongue. you take it in as far as it can go, until suguru brushes your soft palate with his fingertip and you struggle not to gag.

“sugu…” you mumble incoherently, “wan’ it…”

“hmm?” he drawls, curling his finger inside your mouth. you make a pathetic noise as you choke, drool slipping past the corners of your mouth and down your chin, but you ignore it as you stare at him with watery, doe eyes.

“wanna make you feel s’good.”

he feels himself twitch at your little confession, lips twisting into a sickeningly sweet smile. you really are such a good pet, so needy to do whatever it takes to please him. who was he to deny you of your wish?

he draws his thumb out with a pop, his slick finger still connected to your mouth by a web-like string of saliva.

you whine at the absence. but when he lifts his hips, wordlessly tugging his sweats down his narrow hips to reveal his stiff, swollen cock, you immediately quiet.

thick and heavy, it rests against his stomach, the head curved slightly and a bead of pre-cum leaking down the shaft. suguru wraps a hand around it loosely, stroking the tender skin on the underside, and shudders. it would be so easy to jerk himself to completion, to paint your innocent, adorable face with his release, to give in and ruin you in ways only he could.

but instead, suguru waits. waits for his lovely, eager little pup to act.

it doesn’t take long. you curl slender fingers around his wrist, timidly tugging his hand away so that you can nuzzle the leaking tip. your eyes flutter shut as you inhale his musky scent, sweetly mewling as your pink tongue darts out to lap at the drooling slit.

he watches as you feed on his pre, drinking every single drop of the bitter liquid as if it were the finest wine. as if you’d never get enough. you make quiet noises of pleasure, and even in your heightened state, you pay close attention to his every subtle reaction.

he doesn’t miss the way you strain your gaze to peer up at him, and the tiny spasms you make when you watch him flinch in pleasure.

and then you kiss it, oh you kiss it. just like you have the rest of his body countless times before. you pepper his hardening cock so softly, so beautifully, that his flinches morph into quivers as he suppresses a harsh moan.

“s’alright, puppy can be sloppy,” suguru murmurs, and it’s all you need to finally lean forward and slide the entirety of his tip into your mouth.

it’s a warm, humid, searing heat, and it tears a guttural groan from suguru’s throat the moment he feels your supple mouth close around him. with half of his length jammed in your throat, you hold your position for a few moments before moving.

your pace is slow, painfully so, that suguru struggles not to clasp your head in his large hands, fuck his hips upward, and just slam into your face again and again and again and again.

he’d heard your adorable pleas and complaints and wails plenty of times before: how his rough treatment makes your jaw ache for days, and how sating his urges makes him forget his own size and nearly crush your windpipe with each unforgiving thrust.

but fuuuuuckk, when you ease more of him into your mouth with little gags, making sure your teeth avoid scraping him like the well-trained pup you are, his hips are rutting before he can think against it.

he pushes his full length into your inviting warmth and curls his fingers into your hair as his pace turns brutal, fucking your face in one solid motion without sparing a thought for your pleasure.

spit dribbles down the corners of your mouth, leaving a wet sheen all along his pulsing, rigid shaft, and you can do little than drool and whine as suguru uses you as his little cocksleeve.

“sugu–” you gag, but he doesn’t stop, can’t stop, and he buries his length inside your slick, plush mouth until the tip kisses the back of your throat. his pulse thrums in the ring where your lips seal around him, and he can’t help but sink deeper to make your nose brush the coarse hairs around his cock.

“you’re s’perfect, puppy. takin’ me in s’well, suckin’ on your owner’s fat cock s’well,” he groans, voice slightly pitched. “you’re gonna make me cum down your throat.”

“i-” you start, but it turns into a muffled gurgle when suguru’s fingers tighten in your hair, forcing your head straight and his entire length down your constricting throat. you spasm from the lack of air, nails raking his thighs as if they were your lifeline, but it only serves to spur him on.

“‘m sorry, you jus’ feel s’good.”

and, per usual, the praise from him makes you relax just a bit.

you close your watery eyes, focusing on doing your best to not suffocate with suguru’s thick cock splitting your mouth and fucking into you.

he keeps one hand loosely gripping your scalp, long fingers threaded through your hair to use as an anchor, while his other languidly cups your chin. your jaw muscles strain and your whole face aches from sucking him off, but his slow caress soothes the pain, grounds you, while the tight heat curling in the bottom of your stomach leaves you breathless.

“s’good, s’good,” he whines between groans, each one sounding raspier, more pained than the last. “don’t think i can hold on any longer, puppy.”

and soon enough, his hips begin to pick up speed, and he buries himself to the hilt with each thrust.

like a good pet, you relax your throat and open your jaw wider, giving him more access to pump into your pliant mouth as his thick tip presses snugly against the back of your throat. “swallow every last drop. good pets know what to do when they’re fed.”

fuck, yes. you were so good. you could be so good.

the lewd noise you make as you try to answer, your lips and tongue vibrating against his sensitive skin is his undoing. suguru releases inside you, emptying his load down your throat in hot, thick spurts. but even then, he doesn't let up.

he bucks his hips until he’s wrung himself dry. his balls, once heavy and swollen, are depleted, all thanks to his sloppy little puppy’s sloppy ministrations.

slowly, he pulls himself out of your slackened mouth, watching his limp length drag between your swollen, glistening lips. he watches as you swallow the aftermath of his release, gaze pinned to yours until you dutifully display your empty mouth, sticky with his fluids.

only then does he utter what you've worked so, so hard to hear.

“think you deserve a lil’ treat.”

ᰔ: @madaqueue

#suguru geto smut #geto smut #geto x you #getou suguru x reader #geto suguru #jjk drabbles #jjk smut #jjk x reader #suguru smut #suguru x reader #suguru x you #hark the angel’s sonnet ༒︎ ࣪ ˖

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marxistlesbianist · 6 months ago

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The thing about all these dumb fucking posts USAmerican “leftists” write about how “foreigners don’t understand how oppressed we are” is that not only are they horribly ignorant and racist (which, to be clear, is reason enough not to write them), but they also actively hinder our ability to fight the oppression we do face!

Like, if you can understand that racism, misogyny, transphobia, etc. within the US are all interlinked through the capitalist system, then please consider that imperialism is also a core element of this web (the core one, in many ways). And that just like a trans person experiences transphobia which cis people do not understand, a neo-colonial citizen is going to have shit to say about imperialism that you’ve never heard before.

Just on a basic level, you cannot fully understand oppression within the US without understanding imperialism—you cannot understand police violence without understanding the military industrial complex, you cannot understand economic Injustice here without understanding how neocolonialism bolsters our economy, you cannot understand white-supremacy/patriarchy/cissexism without understanding it's roll in upholding colonial repression. International solidarity is a necessary step in overcoming each of these issues, and that cannot happen until you start actually listening to the people experiencing imperialism firsthand!

If you are tired of seeing people outside of the imperial core talk about how they hate all USAmericans, then step the fuck Up and work toward building a movement that actually challenges this fucking empire!

#thought cabinet #communism #chickens come home to roost #we have nothing to lose but our chains. we have a world to win

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rubberduckyrye · 1 year ago

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Okay in all seriousness. There's something that I REALLY want to talk about as an open discussion with the fandom, but. This is not going to be a very nice thing to hear/talk about.

It's about how Gonta is treated by the fandom.

As a fan of all the V3 characters now, and as someone who has always been a fan of Gonta, and as someone who has many mental disabilities and two diagnosed neurodivergancies... I'm tired of playing nice about it.

You all need to stop being ableist towards Gonta.

I've mentioned in the past that I don't like shitting on personal interpretations. I don't like saying something is or is not canon because narration is just a big web of text that you try to decipher with your own personal biases, experiences, and thoughts. That's why two literary analysts analyzing the same text with the same literary criticism rules can come to wildly different conclusions--why people develop different headcanons from the same canonical information.

But one of the things that challenged my integrity is just how many people view Gonta as this innocent, naive, ignorant, baby boy who can do no harm/never has a complicated/dirty/violent/sexual thought in his life ever.

This incredibly ableist interpretation of the character bothered me for, well, obvious reasons (See: It's fucking ableist, need I say more?) but I never challenged it as harshly as I am now because to be frank, it's not my place to tell people how to HC a character. It still isn't. But I've pretty much given up on my integrity on the subject and have decided to go all in on discussing why this interpretation of Gonta is just. Really bad.

First of all, not to promote my own analyses here or anything, but I think this analysis I did of Gonta explains a LOT in regards to the ableism the cast gives him in canon. I also think that this subtle ableism is why the fandom is so bad with Gonta's characterization in headcanons and fanfic--because they've seen how the cast treats him, and they think it's normal. They don't see the microaggressions, they don't see the subtle ableism in the cast--they just see this big giant idiot who speaks like Tarzan in the English version (which... I don't actually know why people assume Tarzan (Thinking of Disney's version) is stupid. Like as a boy he had to reinvent the spear with no one to guide him on how to do it. He was able to strategize and outsmart "civilized" men in the final showdown. Still I digress) and don't see the literal genius behind his social awkwardness.

There is also another very important point I'm going to make in addition to this, and it's going to be very uncomfortable to Gonta fans who insist he's nothing but a sweet baby who only has pure thoughts. Especially to the fans who insist he "can't be sexual" or think it's weird to ship him with his peers.

Sorry to burst your bubble, but... Gonta blatantly has sexual desire and gets horny right in canon.

This is further clarified here:

It wasn't a matter of Gonta didn't want to touch her because touching someone in their underwear was inappropriate, or being flustered because she was in her underwear which is inappropriate...

It was literally a "weird feeling" that made him unable to approach her or touch her. A "weird feeling" that Miu makes pretty obvious as to what it was--sexual arousal.

He literally was sexually attracted to and felt sexual arousal from looking at Miu in her underwear. He had sexual feelings and thoughts about Miu. Why?

Because Gonta is a young man.

Gonta is a brilliant, talented young man who has normal human thoughts for someone his age--sexual desires, upsetting thoughts, complicated thoughts, ectect. He is not a child, he is not mentally stunted (I've been informed that people have literally said this on Ao3 for the NSFW Gonta fics, please for the love of god stop that)

I think the reason why Gonta fans typically want to keep him as a "pure baby child who can do no wrong" is because treating him like the young adult that he is makes it harder for them to justify Chapter 4. Every time I've seen a Gonta fan that hates Kokichi, it's always followed by the sentiment of "Kokichi manipulated and abused Gonta into killing Miu, so it's all Kokichi's fault." They're afraid of nuance and liking a character with the grey morality of genuinely thinking Mercy Killing the cast is a viable option, because it challenges their own morals about the character they adore.

To those people who read this and are upset: You can and should like Gonta! Gonta is a magnificent character who showcases the subtle way microaggressions can manifest and hurt people, he's a good-hearted person and a literal genius, he cares deeply for his friends and loves everyone with upmost sincerity.

But.

You need to re-evaluate your stance on Gonta if you think he's a stupid, naive fool who Kokichi manipulated. You need to re-evaluate why you think those thoughts, why you think Gonta being shipped with anyone is "Kinda weird" or "has weird consent problems" or "give you the ick." You have to challenge yourself and ask yourself uncomfortable questions in regards to why you treat Gonta like a child when canon has proven otherwise, why you think he cannot have violent or sexual thoughts, why he can't think mercy killing his class is the only way to save them.

This isn't an attack on you--but understand that these specific takes on Gonta? They are ableist in nature. They belittle and dismiss him, they treat him like a child, an idiot who can't think for himself--and you have to come to terms with the fact that Gonta is a far more complex character with complicated thoughts and feelings who is a young adult. Not a child. A young adult.

So again, ask yourself this: Why are you treating this young adult like he's a toddler?

#Gonta Gokuhara #Miu Iruma #Kokichi Ouma #Danganronpa V3 #DRV3 #As an AuADHD individual who thinks Gonta is Autistic coded #do you understand how frustrating it is to see this shit #Do you understand how it feels to be infantized? To be told through the lens of a character “You're too stupid to be an adult”?#Worse yet is that I'm also constantly told that me being short and baby faced makes me “child coded.”#Do you understand how ableist this all is. Do you Understand?#Anyway that's one post down. Gonna go read a thing for Star #This does genuinely upset me though as an AuADHDer #Please stop. I am speaking on behalf of people like me--/Please fucking stop./#Tag Edit: Yes this is safe to RB and spread around #Please do RB this in fact

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npookie0 · 13 days ago

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….ronin x reader who cries very very easily? i love ur writing!

Saintly Tears

The devil's lover is crying their eyes out again, should he soothe their pained heart?

Words: 918

Cws: Ronin's last name spoiled, probably no more than that

Ever since you were very young you were a person with a strong heart, which led you to be extremely emotional. You were a person who cried very easily and for the smallest of reasons; lost keys, your cookies being burnt, missing out on a small event in your town that came back every month. This have you more trouble in your life than you wished for.

Kids in your life were cruel, they bullied you when you were a child yourself, pushed you until you were crying and then mocked you. Your parents reacted at the beginning, trying to support you and stop the bullying, but even they grew tired of your crying, telling you to just get yourself together, stop the crying and ignore the bullies.

You leaned to control your emotional nature, or at least you controlled it around strangers and if you weren't already feeling extremely down. It was still hard, especially when your friends sometimes made "jokes" about how easily you would cry, of course they were the only ones who laughed. You didn't find it as funny as they did.

Joining the serial killer server on the dark web wasn't something you really expected to have a positive impact on your life, you actually expected it to make it so much worse, but here you are now. With new friends who don't poke fun at you, but support you and accept your tears.

There's also your boyfriend, Ronin Beaufort, The Devil's Butcher, the Antichrist and probably ten more edgy sounding names that he or the news reporters came up with. Anyone would think that Ronin would be the type of person to bully you whenever you'd cry for seemingly no reason and, well, they weren't exactly wrong, but he knew where to stop to not cross the line. He didn't intend on actually hurting your feelings, even assholes like Ronin knew not to cross the line.

This was one of these days, your day was good at first. You could nap a little in the morning, your favourite serial killer brought you coffee and breakfast to bed, he even gave you a ride to work after you got ready. At work everything was going swifty, no issues and even the printer worked perfectly well, the celebrities who you interviewed were all friendly, no looking down on you. It was a seemingly perfect day, you were never happier.

Issues started when you were working on your last article back at home. You had to write something about a murder orchestrated by a mafia, nothing unusual really, that's what your whole work was about. Yet, it all was going wrong.

Your program crashed, the font you always used suddenly disappeared, you almost lost the three pages you just finished editing. Nothing worked and you were getting more frustrated with every passing second.

In the moment when your computer crashed for good you broke down, hitting your desk with your fists and falling back to the chair.

"Fucking hell... can't I even finish work?" You sobbed and wiped your tears.

Ronin entered the room, alarmed by the thud caused by your attack on the poor desk. "Hey, are ya okay in there, darlin'?" He asked and stopped in his tracks, seeing that you were curled in your chair and crying while the screen of your computer was going crazy.

The man walked up to you and gently cupped your face, wiping your tears with his thumbs. "Baby, tell me what's happen' in here, willya?"

You sniffled and leaned into his touch. "I... I was working and everything went to shit, nothing works anymore and I have to send it in the next two hours or my boss will be pissed." You sniffled again and wrapped your arms around Ronin. "Ro please help me!" You sobbed.

He chuckled and gently brushed a hand through your hair. "Sure, sure, I'll help ya, but just 'cause you asked so nicely." He raised your head up and kissed your forehead. "But that can wait a bit, yeah? I have my lil crybaby to calm down first." He said teasingly.

You sat in the kitchen with him, a mug with tea in it in your hands and a can of soda in his hand, you were leaning your head on Ronin's shoulder while he brushed your hair with his hand. There was silence between you, he just let you enjoy the silence and his presence, you were stressed and emotional.

"Y'know, I'm glad that you don't treat me like I'm some weird childish person just because I'm crying so often." You said suddenly and Ronin raised an eyebrow.

"And why would I treat you like that, baby? it's okay to cry, whether you do it everyday or once a year, I couldn't care less, I'd be there for ya regardless. Someone has to help my loser when their poor heart is too heavy." He gently hit your head with his and cackled at your reaction.

"Gosh, thank you my hero, what would I do without you."

"Nothin', you'd die on this hill alone with a broken computer and a pissed off boss."

You chuckled. "You're right, I should really thank the devil for sending me his butcher over to destroy my life."

"See? Now we're talkin'." He kissed you, but quickly broke the kiss. "m'kay now that you're calm we can work on that computer of yours, c'mon, we gotta hurry if ya want to get done with work today."

Meow :D I hope that it satisfied you dear anon <3

I had fun writing this :p

see ya soon pookies

Nate :p

#killer chat #asks #fanfic #killer chat ronin #fluff #ronin beaufort #gender neutral reader #comfort #ronin comfort #ronin fanfic #ronin fluff #ronin x reader #ronin x g.n. reader

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defectivevillain · 2 months ago

Text

a spider's day off

pairing: Wade Wilson/Reader

The reader is transmasculine (he/him pronouns). Otherwise, race is ambiguous and no physical descriptors are used. (The reader is spider-man, because I said so.)

summary: You hate to admit it, but Wade was right. You’d rather die than utter those words aloud, but here in the comfort of your own apartment, you’re willing to acknowledge that internally. It’s a good thing you took the day off, because your headache is persistent and your cramps are returning. Coupled with the mood swings and just general irritability, you figure it was wise to follow his suggestion. Again, you will never admit that to him. Never.

word count: 2.6k | ao3 version

author's notes: Guys this is sooooo fluffy. It’s very uncharacteristic of me. I kept second-guessing myself lmao.

This is a period comfort fic, because I’m on my period and I want to be with Wade Wilson. I don’t think that’s too much to ask. So here’s this.

Warnings: Expect mentions of menstruation, cramps, medications, heat pads, etc. Nothing too crazy—no mentions of blood or hygienic/care products.

Deadpool is… an interesting guy, to say the least. He’s loudmouthed, rude, and endlessly energetic. He isn’t a hero, but he also isn’t a villain. He’s almost constantly poking fun at you or tailing you on your patrols, but you can rely on him if there’s genuine trouble. You’re somewhat forced to collaborate with him these days—he seems to keep popping up everywhere. It’s annoying, especially on days like today, when he just can’t stop chattering.

“Just… stop talking,” you eventually hiss, bringing a hand to your temple as it practically pulses in pain. Deadpool’s constant talking is certainly not helping your headache. He’s not actually saying anything of consequence—he’s been detailing the past few episodes of a TV series he’s watching. You’d been tolerant of it for the first five minutes, but you eventually snapped, of course.

Now Deadpool’s staring at you and whistling exaggeratedly. “Wow, I guess spiders can be cranky,” he says, holding his hands up in mock surrender. “Are you on your period or something?” he huffs. It’s clearly meant to be a throwaway comment, but you hear yourself respond before you can think better of it.

“Yeah,” you mutter under your breath.

Wade is, unfortunately, observant when he wants to be—and he notices the comment. “Really?” he blinks, tilting his head at you curiously.

“...Yeah.”

“Oh shit!” the vigilante exclaims, suddenly seeming excited. “No way. No wayyyyyy! That’s perfect!”

Well. That’s not necessarily the first reaction you were expecting. “Why is it perfect?” you squint at him skeptically. Being on your period isn’t exactly… fun. So why is his reaction so positive?

Deadpool ignores the remark. “Congrats, I’m giving you the day off from hero-ing!” he says instead, looping an arm around your shoulders.

“What?” you ask incredulously. You’re too tired to push him off of you, instead just valiantly pretending not to notice. “That’s not how it works—”

“You can go home now,” Deadpool responds, making a shooing motion with his free hand. “The city can survive without Spider-Man for a day.”

“Wade…” you sigh exasperatedly.

Wade turns to face you. “Seriously, you look like you’re about to fall over, Webs,” he observes, poking your shoulder.

It’s somewhat true—you’re pretty exhausted. How Deadpool noticed that while you’re wearing your mask, though… you’re not quite sure. You decide not to think about it any longer, because it’ll only make your head spin. “Fine, fine,” you eventually acquiesce. “You win, I’ll go. Just don’t wreck anything, okay?”

“Psh, please,” Wade makes a show of shaking his head. He’s rolling his eyes under his mask, you just know it. “I wouldn’t dream of it.”

“You said that last time,” you feel the need to remind him, “and then you nearly blew up the bank.”

“Hey!” he exclaims. “That doesn’t count. That was the robbers—I was just trying to stop them.”

“And then take the money they stole,” you interject.

“Well, duh,” Deadpool scoffs.

You just take a deep breath. “Never mind,” you say with a shake of your head. You’re not going to deny the opportunity you’ve been given. “I’m going now. Bye.”

“Byeeeee!” Deadpool says with a childish wave. “¡Adios! Au revoir! Sayonara!”

You send a half-hearted wave over your shoulder as you leave. You suspect Wade’s still reciting goodbyes in various languages even as his voice falls out of earshot.

You hate to admit it, but Wade was right. You’d rather die than utter those words aloud, but here in the comfort of your own apartment, you’re willing to acknowledge that internally. It’s a good thing you took the day off, because your headache is persistent and your cramps are returning. Coupled with the mood swings and just general irritability, you figure it was wise to follow his suggestion.

Again, you will never admit that to him. Never.

You’re settled on your couch now, wearing a comfortable shirt and sweatpants. Even changing out of your suit felt like a tedious task today. Everything is just requiring too much effort for your liking. You’re both hungry and nauseous, craving sweet but savory foods. And a lot of minor inconveniences are setting you off.

A blur of motion reaches your peripheral vision and you pause, wondering if you’re imagining things. A few moments pass and you decide to pay a haphazard glance over at the adjacent hall, expecting it to be empty.

You’re very surprised by what you see. “Wade!” you exclaim, your heart racing in your chest at his sudden appearance. “You scared the shit out of me.”

“Oops,” he says sheepishly. Since your interaction earlier, he’s changed out of his typical uniform—instead wearing a sweatshirt and jeans. “Your window was unlocked…?” Wade grimaces unconvincingly.

“No, it wasn’t,” you frown, looking over to the window he came in from. The glass is gone—it’s clear he broke it. You must’ve been pretty distracted not to hear that. Then again, you had the TV on at a decent volume—not to mention, your thoughts have been elsewhere today. You suppose you’re lucky the intruder was only Wade.

“It wasn’t unlocked,” Wade concedes, casually stepping around a jagged chunk of glass from the window. He senses your staring and rolls his eyes, picking up the glass and casually tossing it out. “I’ll blackmail your landlord into fixing that, don’t worry.” His response is so nonchalant that it almost makes you think you’re the one being unreasonable.

“What are you doing here?” you finally manage to question.

“I’ve been waiting my whole life for this moment, dude,” Wade responds with a mischievous grin. Your heart instinctively sinks at the sight. That smirk always means trouble. Sure enough, Wade heads into your living room and props his head up on the back of the couch, looking down at you while batting his eyes. “I’ll be your sexy nurse. Now I just need a slutty costume…”

“Wait, what?” you sputter. “Why? I don’t need a nurse.” And certainly not one in a shitty Halloween costume. You decide to keep that part to yourself, though. A remark like that is just asking for an argument with Wade, and you don’t quite have the energy for that now.

“You’ve saved my ass way too many times now,” Wade answers easily. “I gotta return the favor sometime. Besides, y’know, hurt/comfort, reader-insert, all the good shit.”

…You don’t know what that last part means.

“You’re acting like I’m going to die or something,” you huff, getting off the couch and heading into your kitchen. Wade follows at your heels, idly poking around in your fridge before grabbing a soda. (Secretly, you only buy that soda for him—but he doesn’t need to know that.) Meanwhile, you open one of the cabinets and grab your heating pad, placing it in the microwave and setting it for less than a minute.

“What are you doing?” Wade asks, tilting his head to glance at you as you start the microwave.

“Using the microwave,” you answer matter-of-factly.

“Hey, no, no, no,” Wade chides you, putting his soda down to place his hands on your shoulders. “I’m the nurse here; you’re supposed to sit down.”

“Wade, I’m fine,” you sigh in exasperation, secretly touched by his concern but also embarrassed by the fuss he’s making. “This happens every month, it’s nothing crazy. Relax.”

“Relax?” he says dramatically, putting a hand to his chest. There’s a slight quirk to his lips that tells you he isn’t genuinely offended by the statement. “Me? I could never.”

“But seriously,” Wade continues, looking at you imploringly, “just lemme take care of you, okay?” He sounds strangely earnest—and uncharacteristically sincere. You’re not sure why this is such a sticking point for him. You’re about to argue again, but he keeps speaking before you can. “Come on, Spidey, pleaseeeeee? I’ll be so helpful, I promise.”

You just sigh and head back to the couch, sensing this is an argument you won’t win. Wade lets out a victorious sound at your unspoken surrender. He remains by the microwave until it beeps, before grabbing your heating pad and handing it to you on the couch.

“…Thanks,” you mumble, still feeling a bit awkward about the situation. Then again, Wade quickly literally forced himself into your apartment and took on the role as nurse. He didn’t have to do that. (The question remains, though: why would he do it?) You hold it to your lower abdomen before attempting to get more comfortable.

And then you realize: you haven’t taken any medication to help the cramps. Damn it. You glance over at Wade, who seems otherwise occupied with studying your apartment. You shift and start to get up, only for him to turn around.

“Ah, ah, ah,” he chides you, stopping in front of you with his hands on your shoulders. “What do you need? I’ll get it for ya.” This attitude of his is almost endearing. It feels weirdly… intimate. You’re not usually this vulnerable with anyone. And while Wade kind of forced his way into your apartment, you have to admit: it’s nice to be cared for.

Plus, you’ve known Wade for long enough to know he’s the most stubborn person on the planet. If he’s committed to do something, nothing will sway his decision. With that in mind, you sigh and consider his question. “Water… and ibuprofen,” you relent. “…Please.”

“Anything for you, baby boy,” Wade responds, sounding far more sincere than you expect him to. He heads back to the kitchen.

“Wanna sit?” you offer when he returns, making sure to thank him once more before downing the pills. You feel incredibly awkward having him around while you rest on the couch.

“Hell yes,” Wade responds enthusiastically, moving to sit on the cushion next to you. You watch the movement for a second, raising a brow.

“I don’t bite,” you huff, watching as he sits a good distance away from you. The remark comes out before you can realize the implications of it.

“Aw, are you touch-starved, Spidey?” Wade grins, looking over to meet your eyes. Damn it, he saw straight through that. “That’s adorable.”

“Shut up,” you scoff, immediately regretting every single action that led to this moment: Wade on the couch next to you, you willingly inviting him to come closer. What is wrong with you?!

Wade isn’t making fun of you for it—not really. He’s the teasing type, of course. But he isn’t genuinely judging you. In fact, since you pointed it out, he’s been slowly migrating across the couch towards you. “Come on, you know you wanna cuddle with me,” Wade continues, leaning closer with a smile. “Besides, you’re all hunched up over there.”

You choke on an annoyed groan, struggling to decide your next move. Eventually, you abandon the rest of your dignity and sidle up to his side. To his credit, Wade doesn’t stiffen or flinch—he only pulls you closer and wraps an arm around your waist.

You lean your head on his shoulder and keep silent for a moment, before coming to a realization. “You’re never going to let this go, are you?” you ask.

“Nope,” Wade responds shamelessly, a smirk on his face. “The big bad spider gets all cuddly when he’s tired. So cute.”

“Shut up.” Your default response in this situation is just to brush off his teasing. It’s a defense you’re both familiar with. Wade seems to be expecting you to say something along those lines, because he just laughs.

“How’re you feeling?” he asks sometime later, mercifully letting the subject drop. For a moment, you can almost convince yourself that this is normal. It’s a bit difficult to get over the inexplicable conviction that you should be embarrassed, though.

You forget about Wade’s question until he’s gently nudging you. “Eh,” you say noncommittally. “Tired, mostly.” Emotional too, but it’s usually better not to talk about that. It’s a somewhat unfounded feeling, not necessarily triggered by anything specific. Usually this melancholy comes and goes, eventually fading within a few days. If you keep yourself distracted, you can usually forget about it.

As time passes, you can’t help but relax and lay on his chest. If Wade is bothered by your sudden clinginess, he doesn’t say anything. You’re sure you’ll be super embarrassed by this clingy behavior in the next few days, but right now, it feels nice to have someone next to you. Besides, as much as Wade likes to tease you, he’s still a good guy. He wouldn’t actively try to torment you about this.

Plus, it certainly doesn’t seem like he minds. You suspect, idly, that he likely needs this human contact as much as you do. The two of you don’t get close to very many people, on account of your secret identities. It’s too dangerous. But times like this make you remember the friends you used to have, the people you used to love.

At some point, Wade’s other hand cradles your face, his thumb dancing across your cheekbone before stopping at the scar running down the side of your face. It’s relatively faded now, but from a close distance like this, you’re sure he can see it.

“How’d ya get this?” he asks, his finger tracing the mark back and forth.

“Dr. Octavius,” you answer.

“The octopus guy?” Wade blinks.

“Yeah,” you confirm.

“Huh,” he remarks, studying the scar for another minute. “Thought it’d be a little more… scandalous.”

You blink in confusion, still very much aware of his hand on your cheek. It’s making you feel weirdly nervous. You try to refocus on the conversation. “What, like a suction mark or something?” you huff. “His tentacles are robotic,” you remind him.

“Yeah, a lil’ robo hickey!” Wade exclaims, sounding a bit too excited at the thought. At your disbelieving look, he says defensively, “Come on, that’d be sick.”

You can’t help but laugh. “That’s ridiculous.”

The two of you talk about harmless things for a while longer, before you feel your eyelids begin to burn from fatigue. You’re rather comfortable, your muscles slowly relaxing as you start to lean on Wade. It’s growing more and more difficult to keep your eyes open. The ibuprofen finally seems to be kicking in, which is fighting off the cramps you were feeling earlier. Now, the pain is ebbing away—leaving exhaustion to take its place.

Sensing your tiredness, Wade trails off mid-sentence. Or, at least, you think he does—it’s kind of hard to tell. It’s been weirdly difficult to focus your attention throughout the past few minutes.

“Sorry,” you blink, trying to remember where he left off. “What were you saying?”

“Don’t worry about it, Snorlax,” Wade hums, his hand starting to rub your back.

“You’re not helping me stay awake, you know,” you mumble.

“I know,” Wade responds smugly. Then the smirk on his face softens. “You shouldn’t fight it; you need to rest.”

That’s true, but… “I don’t want to trap you here,” you remark, moving back slightly to glance at him.

“Oh, I really don’t mind, sweetheart,” Wade reassures you, gently tugging you back towards him. “It’s not every day I get a cuddly, cooperative Spider-Man. Gotta take advantage of it.”

You can’t exactly find fault with that, and you’re too tired to argue the point further. Instead, you just lean into him again and close your eyes. Wade’s hand falls still on your back, a steady reassurance of his presence.

“Night night,” he says quietly. (Or, at least, as quietly as Wade Wilson can manage.) “I’ll be here to watch over ya, fight off those birds in your nightmares.” He punctuates this remark with a squeeze to your shoulder. “Birds? Wasps? What are the enemies of spiders? Humans and their shoes…?”

You would roll your eyes at him if you weren’t already falling asleep. Wade shifts, grabbing the blanket and ensuring that it’s fully draped over you. You fade too quickly to notice the fond expression that rises on his face.

endnotes: GAWDDDDDD i need this man biblically. *viscerally,* even.

Did Wade change out of his suit so that he could cuddle with you? Methinks yes… Mwahahhaa…

also, huge shoutout to my bestie @connorhasabigtip for calling me yesterday and helping me write this. we were silent on call for a full hour, with me writing and her reading 😭 we'll find you your brown cowboy one day, bitch. looking forward to being badasses in fortnite again today. (she's the Sith and I'm the Jedi, in case y'all were wondering.)

thanks for reading! <3

check out my other works, sorted by fandom.

general taglist: @its-ares @excusemeasibangmyheadonawall @the-ultimate-librarian @gayaristocrat @always-lying-to-you @moss4ev3r @hottskull

friendly reminder that i don't give permission for my writing to be shared to other sites, stolen, copied, translated, or used in any way. thanks!

#defectivevillain #male reader #transmasc reader #deadpool #deadpool x reader #deadpool x male reader #deadpool x transmasc reader #wade wilson x reader #wade wilson x male reader #wade wilson x transmasc reader #sobs #why do I ALWAYS HAVE A HEADACHE WHEN IM WRITING FOR HIM

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thebearer · 2 years ago

Text

caramen apples |dad!carmen berzatto x mom!reader|

the first entry in thebearer's ber months :)

“Teddy- hey, two feet down. Stop rocking on the chair, Dorothea, I am not telling you again”

“Daddy! I’m just kidding.”

“Yeah? Stop before you hurt yourself or your sister, please.”

“I won’t hurt, Daddy, I do it all the time.”

“Daddy, can we tastes it?”

“No, Wills, not yet. It’s still hot, baby. And no you don’t, Teddy. Stand still or I’m putting you on the ground.”

“When will it be ready-”

“-Yes, I do! Mommy lets me all the time, Daddy!”

You bite back a laugh, tucked behind the wall of the kitchen. A four year old, a seven year old, and caramel apples? It sounded exactly what you expected- chaotic.

“Mommy does not.” You chimed in before Carmen, a brow raise that was entirely motherly. It had Carmen smirking, stirring the pan on the stove, while Teddy turned with a gasp.

“You sneaked!” Teddy pointed at you, a devious little smile that told you she’d been caught. You knew it entirely too well.

“Mommy! Look! We make apples!” Willow pointed excitedly at the prepped apples on skewers in front of her.

“Are you?” You grin back, voice rising in exaggerated excitement. You wrapped your arm around her and Teddy’s backs, steadying them on the chairs Carmen had pulled up for them to help “cook”.

“It looks so yummy.” You hum, eyes catching Carmen’s. “Can I have one?”

“I guess.” Teddy sighed dramatically. She’d been hanging out with Richie too much.

Carmen snorted lightly, shaking his head. “Alright, I’m gonna help you dip the apples, ok? Don’t touch the caramel. It’s gonna be really hot, alright? Got me?”

“Got it.” Teddy and Willow hummed in unison, Teddy peeking over the counter towards the hot pan.

“I wanna go first.” Teddy said firmly, looking at Carmen.

“Wills, you good with that?” Carmen asked, looking at his youngest.

“Teddy can go firwst.” Willow lisped, still struggling with her r’s. Your heart melted, pulling her closer to yourself lightly, pressing a kiss to the crown of her hair.

Carmen smiled, picking up the first apple, helping Teddy hold it while he adjusted the pan. “Ok, now turn it slowly- yeah, just like that, Teddy. Good job.” Carmen beamed, cringing a little at the lopsidedness of the dip.

“Look!” Teddy grinned, pulling it back, a glob of caramel falling on the counter with her. “I did it!”

“You did!” You beamed, a wide smile that had her laughing proudly. “Put it on the sheet, ok?”

“Look, Willow, I dipped it.” Teddy ignored you, turning to her sister. She lifted the apple high, and for a second, you thought she might put it in her sister’s hair. Instead, Teddy, set it proudly on the counter- not on the paper, making Carmen hiss with a cringe when she did it.

Your eyes cut to his, lifting a brow. “You’re cleaning this up?”

“Of course, honey.” Carmen muttered. “You might need to clean them, though.” He nodded towards Teddy, grabbing the glob of caramel that fell and eating it off her fingers, before smacking them together and laughing with Willow at how the caramel strung like webs between them.

“Teddy, hey, are you supposed to do that?” You glared at her sternly.

“Yes.” Teddy grinned, deviously. That little shit, you thought, lips twisting together to hide your smile. She was so funny sometimes, it was hard not to laugh at her. “Jus’ eating it.” She shrugged, giggling with her sister.

“Hey, don’t touch your hair, alright?” Carmen nudged Teddy’s hands down lightly. “Go put your toppings on. Willow c’mere, it’s your turn.”

“What do you want on yours, Teddy Bear?” You asked, sliding Teddy over and pulling out the jars of toppings Carmen had prepared- M&Ms, nuts, granola.

“I want M&Ms.” Teddy chirped, reaching her hand into the little cup, squealing with laughter when they stuck to her already sticky fingers. “Willow, look!”

Willow turned, nearly dropping the apple into the hot pot of caramel, Carmen’s eyes widening when he caught it. “Hey, be careful.” Carmen said, his voice hard but calmer.

“Sowwy.” Willow’s eyes rounded softly, melting him entirely when they met his own.

“I think that’s enough M&Ms.” You laughed, stopping Teddy as she dunked the apple and her hands into the candy. “Save some for Willow, and me.”

“I want nuts.” Willow hummed, delicately scooping and sprinkling them on to her apple, so careful and precise- just like Carmen. You told him she was watching him, sometimes he didn’t believe you, until he’d see it for himself.

You grabbed a cloth, wiping Teddy’s hands as best as you could, wiping her face down gently. Carmen dipped both of yours, placing it in front of you. “You want nuts too?” Carmen asked.

You blushed. Of course he remembered. From years ago, before the babies, before the marriage, when Carmen still lived in his shitty little apartment with jackets inside the stove and barely any room to move. Carmen had taken you to an orchard, picked apples and pumpkins because it made you happy and that made him happy. He’d made candy apples, caramel apples, even cider donuts in that tiny apartment. You sat on the counter, dipping yours in chopped peanuts, sharing sticky kisses between bites.

“Yeah.” You hummed, hand snaking around his waist, giving his hip a loving squeeze. “M&Ms too.”

#thebearer ber months #thebearerblurbs #thebearer #dad!carmen berzatto x mom!reader #dad!carmen berzatto #dorothea “teddy” berzatto #willow natalia berzatto #carmy berzatto fluff #carmen berzatto fluff #carmen berzatto #carmy berzatto #the bear #carmy berzatto x reader #carmen berzatto x reader #carmen berzatto x fem!reader #carmen berzatto x female!reader #carmen berzatto x you #carmen 'carmy' berzatto

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amore-reads16 · 10 months ago

Text

Part three- Liam Mairi x fem reader

Overview- after Y/N’s challenge with Bodhi on the mats tension is in the air. Rumour has spread on your fighting skills and you can no longer hide under the shadows of mediocrity you had found comfort in. Meanwhile avoiding Liam has become near to impossible as he corners you at every chance he gets. Will you forgive him and fall back into the web of deception he spun or will you stand your ground and shut him out until he disappears. Liam hopes for the latter.

WARNING- slight smut…

Note- thank you so much for all the support on this story! I don’t want to make it into a big thing despite all the ideas I have! So I’m thinking another two parts and I’ll try and draw it to a close. Also let me know if you would want a Xaden x reader story because I have some ideas for a few short parts for that as well! Anyway enjoy this part :)

Also I hope everyone enjoys the little cruel prince reference at the end it just came to me and I couldn’t resist putting it in …

Avoiding Liam is like avoiding flies on a hot summers day. Annoyingly impossible. After his jealous outburst the other day he can’t seem to leave you alone, bothering you with a thousand questions which range from petty inquiries into any kind of attachment you may have with Bodhi- ‘so you’re telling me you don’t have a crush on him because the way you pinned him down on that mat would say otherwise Y/N’ and more painful questions that you didn’t know the answer to yet like ‘when are you going to forgive me? When are you going to let me in and let me explain everything? When are you going to admit to yourself that you know I love you’. That last one had hurt. You didn’t know he loved you. Not anymore, after everything he did, you were finding it hard to believe anything he ever said to you was true.

You couldn’t bear to hear him explain everything to you. To hear all of his lies directly would just crush you even more. But if he explained everything and you forgave him only to learn that he was deceiving you again and this was a ploy to learn more about your signet… well that would destroy you. There was no right move to make so ignorance was bliss at the moment. Well kind of. It was hard to be ignorant of the situation when the situation wouldn’t leave you alone. In fact the situation was currently running behind you trying to catch up with your fast pace.

“Y/N will you please just wait !” Liam shouts breathlessly.

You carry on trying to ignore his shouts and the nosey people that watch the scene he is now making. He eventually catches up with you and stands in front of you grabbing your arms to stop you walking into him holding you still, much to your dismay. You huff in annoyance as he pants from sprinting down the hallway.

“Where-“ he breathes in “did you learn to walk like that?” He shakes his head quickly catching his breath.

“What do you want Mairi?” You snap and he sighs in response.

“Back to last names are we now?” He tuts shaking his head.

“Saying your first name feels to intimate” you snark back “and the thought of anything intimate with you makes me feel sick”

He laughs at this. But not a jovial laugh, no it’s sarcastic and filled with humour as if he’s in on some joke you aren’t. “We both know that’s not true. Especially when I curl my fingers when I’m deep in-“

You quickly cut him off slamming your hand on his mouth, your eyes wide in horror of what he has just said in the middle on the corridor with people walking by and listening. This boy will be the death of you. You grab his hand and swiftly pull him into the side near a window so the two of you can have a little space.

“Shut up!” You snarl “you can’t say shit like that in the middle of the corridor it’s disgusting”

He smirks and leans up against the wall crossing his arms showing how tight and muscular they are. Fuck me. He’s gorgeous. How can someone be so despicable but so damn attractive to you? No clear thoughts come to your mind. The only thought is that you want nothing more than to feel Liam’s arms wrapped around your waist once more as you straddle him slightly rocking back and forth whilst he-

“What are you thinking there Y/LN” he smirks even harder making you frustrated with how much he is enjoying seeing you squirm just by one action. Especially an action as pathetic as leaning up against a wall. Get yourself together woman!

“How much I want to-“ you start but he cuts you off.

“Fuck me?”

“Kill you” you finish “I will never fuck you”

“Again” he adds to your sentence reminding you of all the times you spent wrapped up in his sheets.

“Yes again.” You say begrudgingly “Well what did you want ?” You demand to avoid anymore sexual talk.

“You know what I want” he says simply. Any hint of flirtyness is gone and now he is serious. He wants to talk.

“To explain yes but you know what I want also. I want you to leave me alone because I don’t want your explanation” you say and attempt to walk away but he grabs your arms pivoting you back around to face him. You are only a few inches away from his body now. So close you can see the fleks of pale green that run through his eyes. The way his golden hair flops in front of his face. His perfectly shaped nose and its slight slope at the bottom. His lips- so pink and so soft… you almost cave. Breathing in deeply you meet his eyes which are staring into yours so deeply you think you might melt right here right now.

“I think you do want my explanation but you are too scared to admit it” he starts pulling you even closer. Great you think now you officially can’t breathe. “I think that you are too scared to hear what I have to say because you’ll realise that I do love you and I fucked up badly but I am willing to do anything to earn back your trust.” Now he’s caressing your arm stoking up and down it with his fingers calloused from carving his wood figures. “I think that in time you’ll trust me and we will be stronger than ever. I think that is what scares the shit out of you.” He pulls his hands away from your arm and steps backwards leaving your body cold and craving the warmth he just briefly supplied.

“But maybe I’m wrong” he carries on and you cross your arms across your body as if you are trying to recreate the warmth of his body. “Maybe you don’t want this as much as I do”

“Is that a challenge?” You ask straightening your posture so you at least look more intimidating and not like a baby deer.

“Only if you want it to be” his smirk returns almost making a smile appear on your face.

“In your wildest dreams Mairi” you mumble turning away and heading towards your class which he has officially made you late to.

“Oh but you are in my dreams!” He hollers after you as you are halfway down the corridor. “And that’s not just the dirty ones!”

You shake your head and are glad your back is facing him as you finally let a smile on your face. Dickhead.

……………………………………

All through battle briefing all you could think of was the feel of Liam’s hands on your body, stroking your arm slightly causing goosebumps to spread over your skin. And the smug bastard was sat across from you staring at you as if he knew exactly what you were thinking. Bastard. How bad would it be if you were to just have sex with him once? Use him to get whatever it was in your system out. Bad. Very bad you have to tell yourself. He lied to you, poisoned you with his words, he told you he loved you. All to aid Xaden Riorson and whatever twisted scheme he was brewing. You wanted no part of that. But Liam on the other hand… that was a different story. At first when you had learned of his betrayal you were mad, so mad it caused you to beat the shit out of Bodhi on the training mats just to prove you were a threat. But now that anger had faded and day by day you just grew more sad consumed in the heartbreak Liam had caused. And it was easier to remember the love you felt for him. It was harder to block past memories out. But you needed to. You couldn’t trust him anymore.

After classes was over and it was dinner time you decided to skip the meal and get something later once everyone had gone to bed or gone off to do their own things. Instead you were sat in the very garden you had witnessed the hooded figures discussing the information Liam had gathered on you. You sat in the crook of an old tree reading a book about the history of dragons and their riders. Learning about the most skilled riders in the history of Navarre brought you comfort and hope. Hope that you could survive this hell hole and build a better life for you and your brother.

‘Incoming quick one, you have company’ Rhella warns in your mind.

Immediately you shut your book drawing a dagger from your leather pants. You spring up from your seat pointing the dagger into the darkness ready for Xaden or perhaps Imogen to spring from around the corner and slit your throat. But neither of them appear. Instead a blonde mop of hair peers around the corner causing you to sigh, partly out of annoyance and partly out of relief.

“Woah! Put the dagger away sweetheart” Liam laughs his hands up in the air in a mock surrender

Not putting the dagger down but lowering it slightly you glare at Liam who is walking closer. “You idiot Liam! I thought you were-“ you begin but don’t have the energy to finish. You don’t particularly want to admit how vulnerable he and his friends has made you feel. How you can barely sleep at night out of fear you may never wake up. “Never mind” you finish after a long moment of silence. Feeling defeated you lower your dagger completely.

“Y/N” Liam pleads “you don’t think I’d hurt you do you?” He asks, clearly hurt.

“Of course I do! You’ve already hurt me! You were planning to kill me with your friends!” You shout anger rising in your body again.

He takes in a deep breath walking closer until he is only a short distance away but you could tell he was at least trying to be respectful tonight. “Please understand this, even if you’ll never let yourself understand anything else about what I did, I would never hurt you. Ever”

Tears suddenly begin to pool in your eyes. The soft tone of his voice, caring and caressing at the same time soothing you in some strange unexplained way despite everything. The air is thick with the loss of him and the indecision of whether to cave to everything your body wants, but your mind and heart refuses. He comes closer very slowly, almost testing if you’ll give him permission to be this close to you. You don’t back away or yell so he takes it and uses a hand to wipe a stray tear that falls from your eye.

“I’m so sorry Y/N” he whispers bringing his forehead to yours. And for a moment you embrace it. For a moment you breathe in his sent which reminds you of the fresh sea and clean linen. For a moment everything finally feels normal again and you are complete. But this is only for a moment. Pushing Liam off you forcefully you scoff loudly.

“Sorry doesn’t cut it Liam!” You sob “I love you and you are ruining my life!” You shout getting close to his face, finger pointing at him as you get close enough to start hitting his chest repeatedly.

“You still love me?” He says so quietly you barely hear him.

You sneer at his words “Loved. Past tense.”

“You said love” he replies.

“That’s semantics” you counter ashamed of your own slip up.

“What can I do to fix this if you won’t let me explain! To get you to trust me again! I’ve tried! I AM trying! But you won’t let me in” he’s shouting now clearly frustrated with the situation at hand.

“Why can’t you understand Liam? I. Don’t. Want. You. Anymore” you spit.

“Bullshit” he quickly responds staring down at you grabbing your arms to keep them from hitting his chest. “I know you want this more than anything and that you have to stop yourself everyday from running over to me just to touch me, be near me. That everyday is a battle between what you know you actually want and what you should want. And I’m fed up of not being able to do this” his voice has changed, it’s darker now, full of lust and craving different to his normal happy, cheeky persona. He bows his head towards yours causing your breath the get strangled in your throat. The action is so quick you are unsure there was anyway you could have stopped it, not that you wanted to, as he aggressively kisses you. Weeks of absence from you has left him depraved as he almost devours your lips. You kiss back on reflex, your bodies moulding together instinctively as if that’s where they belong. This is wrong is all you can think. But why does something so wrong feel so right? The pair of you stumble towards the tree you were once sheltered in and are now using as a surface to be pressed up against whilst Liam ravishes your body. He slides his hands under your shirt fondling the bottom of your breast making you shiver and let out a small whimper into his mouth at the contact. This pleases Liam as you feel the smirk on his face as you kiss him.

“Shut up” you hiss in between kisses

“Didn’t say anything love” he replies as he removes his mouth from yours moving into your neck sucking on the sweet spot he knows all too well.

“Liam” you moan trying to keep your voice down realising you are still outside “not here” you manage to say.

He pulls away but he’s still so close you can feel his breath on your skin. “Do you want to-“

You are so desperate in this moment reason is a thing of the past and you immediately agree to whatever it is he was going to suggest “yes”

“I didn’t even finish my-“

“Yes” you say again causing him to gulp pressing another longing kiss onto your lips. With you pressed against a tree his body consuming yours as he leans one hand above your head against the bark he looks like a god. And who can say no to a god you try to make excuses for what you know you are about to do, and in the morning regret. But your body has needs and unfortunately for you he knows every single one of them.

“Okay” he barely whispers leaning away from the tree whilst he takes your soft hand in his beginning to lead you back into the quadrant and to his bedroom. Oh shit. Doubt begins to fill your mind which he senses. He brings you to a halt at his door.

“We don’t have to do this. I don’t want to do anything with you that you’ll regret. That would kill me” he says slowly and sadly. And that was it. In that moment you knew that no matter what he had done, no matter how much it had hurt you, this boy in front of you cared for you more than you would ever fully accept. Which is why you reach behind him twisting the knob on his door opening it whilst you push him into his own room.

“I want you Mairi. Even if in the morning I’ll tell you differently. Tell you I despise your very existence. Tell you I want nothing to do with you. Even maybe swing a punch. I won’t mean it. Not really, not deep down. Just know that” you say softly. He nods in response uttering the very three words that ignite and crush your soul at the very same time.

“I love you”

…………….…………………………….

Liam had fallen asleep ages ago however you could not manage to get any rest. His arm was wrapped around your waist in a familiar way as your back pressed up against his front with your legs intertwined. It was odd how quickly the two of you fit back together like nothing had happened and all was normal. But all was not normal which is why you couldn’t seem to get any sleep. You needed to get out of there. The weight of him was suffocating, not because he was heavy, but because what you had just done was weighing you down. You had told yourself that no matter what you wouldn’t let Liam worm his way back into your life but here you were. Naked. In his sheets. Fuck. You needed to get out of there… now.

Savouring perhaps the last moment you would have with Liam you carefully, and slowly, lifted his arm from around your body managing to slide out of his grasp replacing the spot where your body just was with a pillow to avoid him waking up and wanting to talk… to explain.

As quietly as possible you put on your clothes and slip out of Liam’s door. When you are on the other side you release a long sigh suddenly torn between running back into Liam’s bed or running to your room where you can try and forget what just happened and how it made you feel. Going to your room is the logical thing and today you side with logic. You begin to walk down the corridor but you don’t get far before a voice calls out from the shadows

“Going somewhere?”

Your body stiffens. You immediately reach for your dagger only for a thick tendril of smoke to wrap around your hand stopping you.

“There will be no need for that” the voice emerges from the shadows. Xaden. Tonight may just be your last night on earth you think.

“Riorson. Lurking in the shadows as per usual” you snarl turning around to meet Xaden’s face which is even more striking in the moonlight.

“I could say the same thing about you considering our last encounters have been centred around you sneaking around in the dead of night” he says striding forwards slowly towards you. A predator stalking his prey.

“Touchè” you say nonchalantly. Normally, seeing Xaden, especially after everything that had happened, would make your hairs stand up, your posture rigid and your breath hitched out of fear and sheer awe over his power. But tonight you couldn’t be bothered being on guard, you were too emotionally torn to fight back tonight. There is a moment of silence where you stare at him and him you.

“So” you begin “if you’ve come to kill me just get it over with and if not I’ll be going to my room, I’ve had a long night and no offence, well maybe offence, you are the last person I want to be talking to right now” you say crossing your arms waiting for him to either kill you or dismiss you.

“We made a deal. I don’t harm you or your brother and you keep our secret safe” he says flatly.

“Yes we did indeed, but I’ll be damned if I ever trust a word that comes out of your mouth” you are growing tired of this now. Bored of whatever this conversation is, but then Xaden says something that makes you go rigid.

“I know you’ve just come out of Liam’s room, and I can take a guess at what you have been doing” he whispers making you wish you never left Liam’s bed.

“And?” You ask

“If our deal is going to work that can’t happen again” he says. At this you scoff shaking your head not quite believing the words that have just left his mouth.

“So you send your friend to con me, you expose my secrets, you try to kill me and now you are telling me who I can and can’t sleep with?” The question is rhetorical and you can’t understand why you are even having this conversation.

“This isn’t going to end well” he says in a softer tone now “for him or you. You don’t fit in with us, you don’t belong with him. You will never understand him or his goals.” Xaden is now standing so close to you that you can feel the cool shade of his shadows wrapping around you in a threatening manner. “Stay away for him” he says voice low “or our deal is going to be called off and I don’t think I have to remind you of the consequences of that”

You stare at him in shock and he meets your gaze never flinching or backing down. Anger bubbles inside you itching to be let out. How dare he try and control your life. How dare he dictate yours and Liam’s relationship. How dare he after everything he has put you and Liam through think he has any right to be the ultimate decider of your fate, your future. Fuck that. But you are wise enough to not lash out. So you keep calm and appear intimidated, although that part is easy when a 6 foot god knows what jacked male towers over you, and you nod your head slowly submitting to his command.

“All I have to do is stay away and I’ll be safe? My brother will be safe?” You ask, doe eyed.

“Yes” he says simply

“Okay” you mumble so low you aren’t even sure he hears but nods curtly giving you one last look, probably assessing you, before he walks away becoming one with the shadows again.

It was then and there where you came up with your plan- if you couldn’t be better than them you would become so much worse. Play them at their own game. Learn their secrets just like they did yours. Then the power would be in your hands. You would be the one calling the bets. And how amazing would it feel to finally have justice, to be the one doing the threatening and not be the threatened. And maybe, just maybe, then you would finally feel normal.

#liam mairi x reader #bodhi durran #betrayal #enemies to lovers #fourth wing #garrick tavis #imogen temult #liam mairi #xaden riorson #smut #relationship #reunion #tension

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exhaslo · 1 year ago

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the sex pollen story.. Can we get a part two please? 🤭 that made story me blush like crazy 🤭🤭🤭🤭

Sure!

Part 1

Warning: MINORS DNI, Smut, overstimulation, creampie, Sub!Miguel, oral (m-receiving), bondage, riding

---------------------------------------------------------------------------

Revenge was so oh sweet.

You had been waiting for this day to come ever since that incident between you, Miguel and the sex pollen. As great of a night that was, your pride couldn't stand having such a weak moment. Your ego thrown out the window as you cried and begged Miguel to help you.

No.

You had to get revenge, and you finally got it.

As much as you would love to take credit for having Miguel the state that he was in, you couldn't. Lyla and Miguel made sure to get rid of anything involving the pollen from the first incident. As Miguel made sure to block your access from returning to that world where it happened.

How Miguel got in this situation, was quite entertaining. He had entered a different world and ended up getting hit with a similar sex pollen.

"(Y/N), stop staring," Miguel hissed lowly as he sat against the wall. You cooed softly, hovering over him,

"Awe, you had me beg so much last time," You chuckled, bending down and stroking your boyfriend's chin, "Can't I have the same treatment?"

"It hurts," Miguel groaned, wincing as his suit disappeared.

You gave him a slight pout before deciding to tease him. You stroked your finger down his chest to his cock, watching it twitch from your slight touch. Miguel's low grunts and groans were so sexy, you wanted to hear more.

"I guess I can help you, but-"

You gave Miguel a tender kiss before webbing his arms together. He tried to argue but you kept stroking his dick nice and slow. Precum coating your hand as Miguel whined.

"(Y/N)!" Miguel groaned. You hummed lowly,

"I'm just having fun, Miggy. Don't worry, I don't you suffer. I'll treat you just as good as you treated me~"

Now that Miguel was tied up, you decided to have your fun. You bend down and proceeded to lick and stoke against Miguel's cock. Watching him twitch and squirm was so delicious. You hummed in response before licking his tip.

"Hn!" Miguel groaned as he cam.

With a lick of your lips, you wiped your face of his cum. Miguel was a panting mess as he quietly begged you for relief. How could you say no to such a plea? Returning to his harden cock, you engulfed your mouth around his length, sucking him off.

Miguel lifted his hips, moaning as you pleasured him. There was no sign of Miguel calming down. His dick twitched with every swirl of your tongue, enjoying the warmth of your mouth. The bitter taste of his cum hitting the back of your throat as you felt your own sex grow hot and wet.

With another load of cum unloading on you, you swallowed hard. Wiping your lips, you looked at your boyfriend's lustful gaze. How you were loving this. Miguel flinched and shuddered as you stroked his dick once more, pressing against his tip,

"(Y-Y/N), s-stop playing around." Miguel groaned. You leaned forward to kiss him as your fingers squeezed and stroked his cock,

"Are you getting sensitive already?" You asked with a small whine, "I suppose you've been good."

Undoing your suit, you tried to ignore the glow in his eyes as he saw your wet core. You placed your hand against his face, only for Miguel to lick and bite against you softly.

Setting yourself above Miguel, you cooed and moaned as you inserted his dick inside you. His hot, thick cock, twitching already, begging to fill you right upon entry. As tempted as you were to give in, you had to keep getting your revenge.

With a small gasp, you moved your hips and started to ride Miguel. Your arms wrapping around his neck as you rolled your hips against his, enjoying the tip of his cock kissing your cervix with each bounce you did.

"Shit, more, let me take over (Y/N)," Miguel groaned lowly. You shuddered as you clenched against him once he lifted his hips,

"I-I'm in control....h-here~ Ah~" You moaned, bouncing against him at a faster pace.

Miguel groaned and shuddered as he tried to lift his hips. You could feel his every attempt. Your body shivered in delight as Miguel unloaded inside you, his body shaking from overstimulation as you continued.

Fixing Miguel's messy hair, you kissed him hungrily as you kept your sloppy, yet fast pace. Your body was burning for more. Gripping Miguel's hair, you cried softly as you squeezed his cock, gushing all over him.

"(Y/N)." Miguel hissed.

With a gasp, you felt yourself pinned to the floor. Miguel broke out of his restraints, hovering over you. Within an instinct, he was balls deep, pounding your sensitive core. You flung your head back, moaning in pleasure.

Honestly, you weren't mad. You got your fun and revenge from last time. You could afford a good fuck now. Holding onto Miguel, you gasped and whined as he showed you no mercy. He wanted to make sure you felt just as good as he did.

And he sure was. Miguel held your waist as he kept cumming inside you, desperate to relief his overstimulated self. His expression showed no signs of stopping as his sweat rolled down his face. You whimpered in response, wanting him to relax...

But that was a silly thought.

----------

You were panting heavily as you laid against the floor beside Miguel. The two of you exhausted and fucked out. Your body was still twitching slightly from the intense fuck as cum poured out of your abused cunt.

Miguel on the other hand was taking deep breathes as he tried to regain his composure. It only took him a few breathes before he sat up. Curse his advance DNA and stamina.

"Are you happy that you got your payback from last time?" Miguel asked as he picked you up.

"Hm...not sure....how much payback this....really was." You muttered in protest.

Miguel could only chuckle as he took you to wash up. His silence was enough to know that you needed a different form of payback. Chuckling lowly as he kissed you, Miguel sat you in the tub first,

"I think we should start sending the Robot Spidermen from now on."

"Well, you're no fun."

The two of you just smiled, knowing damn well that this was going to happen again some way shape or form.

It was just a matter of when.

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Hope you enjoooooyed~~~

@kinkybandages

#spiderman 2099 #miguel o’hara x reader #atsv miguel #miguel o'hara smut #across the spiderverse #miguel spiderverse #miguel spiderman #miguel o'hara #miguel x you #miguel o'hara x reader

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asce-of-hearts · 7 months ago

Note

Uh heyyyy you said your requests were closing but you haven’t said if they are- anywayssss I was reading this one Yan!MonoShinso fic you posted and like Shinso mind controlled reader cuz they talked and shit but that gots me thinking……what if reader was mute?

Basically reader is mute so Shinso can’t really mind control them and stuff- pls ignore this if your not doing Yandere stuff or requests it’s currently 3 am and i got 2 hours of sleep sorry about the lack of punctuation-

Unable

contents: Headcanons for Yandere!Shinsou x gn!reader who he can't control because they're mute.

more Shinsou content here

TAG LIST

WARNINGS: YANDERE

When he asks you a question and you respond with signs. He becomes perplexed. He cocks a brow, and then you point at your mouth and smile.

Oh, you're mute.

His plan immediately crumbles. He was planning to kidnap you right after you answered his question about some address he pretended to be unsure about. He freezes, not knowing what to do or say.

But then he melts as you take his hands, gently, softly. Oh, how he was longing for this, for your touch. You point at somewhere in the distance, smiling. You're offering to guide him, and he can only nod as he slowly walks with you.

God, since when is he so flustered? Stumbling all over his feet as he walks with you, blushing whenever you make sweet little sounds akin to laughter as you help him up.

After you lead him to the place he supposedly wanted to go, he crumbles and folds. He puts on a sheepish smile, his tired eyes more half lidded than usual.

"I was lying. I just- I wanted an excuse to talk to you. I thought you were pretty." That's only half a lie. He omits the fact that he wanted to kidnap you after, but why should he say that? It's not that important. "So, uhm... I suppose this is the time to actually ask you out."

You can't help but blush too, nodding.

The rest of your time together after that is you teaching him sign language and him showing you around some interesting spots he knows. He's pretty lonely, so he has time to explore and wander around some nice, hidden places in the city. It's not like he's a pro hero who knows his way around town, away from prying eyes.

It's easy for him to strike once he has lured you into his web. His eyes fill with guilt when he can only hear you banging through the locked door of his room. No screaming or crying. There had to be something he could use to his advantage, right?

After all, it's in his nature. He has always been a cunning, manipulative bad man.

hope you enjoyed this!

have a great day/night

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pedrito-friskito · 2 years ago

Text

disobedient - miguel o’hara x fem!reader (spidersona)

do you get off on disobeying me?

a/n: I regret fuck all folks. part 1 of 2 (no clue when part 2 will happen but it will). special shouts to @psychedelic-ink, @inklore, and @splendiferous-bitch for feeding my miguel obsession and being the best ❤️‍🔥

word count: 6.5k

warnings: oh mama. sex pollen, unprotected p-in-v, rough sex, desperate miguel, multiple orgasms, in a shocking twist a whole lotta exposition cuz I gotta make the fucking make sense, y’know?

✨@friskito-library for new works✨

You’re not supposed to do this.

You’re not supposed to be here, period, but the notion hasn’t stopped you thus far. It’s just gonna make him more pissed off than he normally is, but pissing Miguel O’Hara off has quickly climbed to the top of your list of talents, and you’re content to continue doing as you please.

Especially if it means he’ll keep glowering at you with those eyes of his.

It threw you off initially — him, in general. Unfairly large, all rippling muscle and too-tiny waist, the hip-to-shoulder ratio of a Dorito chip and retractable claws you’ve seen more than once now. Not to mention an ass that looks like it was sculpted by a god. But it was the eyes that caught your attention, when you caught him glowering at you from a shadowy corner, like a predator hunting its prey.

“You gonna keep gawking,” you’d asked, “or come say hello like a normal person?”

Neither of you fit that category — normal people, boring — and he’d ignored your quip, actually growling at you as he stalked out of the shadows and brushed past you, bumping your shoulder in the process, and your brow had lifted at the way his suit seemed to ripple with the impact, forming and reforming against his skin. You saw it all, thanks to your spider-tacular vision, and your next thought after I want to sink my teeth into that ass, was I need to get my hands on that fabric.

Six months later, and no dice. You’ve been bouncing between Earth 928 and whatever dimension suits your fancy since Miguel first brought you here. How you convinced him to hand over one of his fancy bracelets, you’ll never truly know, but you have a distinct feeling the nature of your first meeting was what prompted him to give you access to the multi-verse — along with a slew of rules you more often than not turned your nose up at.

It also probably has something to do with the fact that you didn’t leave Nueva York for the first month. You holed up in the room he provided, ate the food he left by the door, and slept your days away, ignoring the too-bright world outside the windows, content to waste away to nothing. You couldn’t go home, what did it matter anyway?

Enter Miguel O’Hara and his incredibly bite-able ass.

When he first found you on the rooftop, cornered you near the fire escape, you’d gone snarky, despite the rumble in your bones, the betrayal that had cut you to the core, the looming fact that shit had just hit the fan and nothing was ever going to be the same again.

And then Mister Grumpy steps through a fucking portal and tells you he can save you. He can’t fix what happened, but he can take you somewhere they won’t find you again, a haven of sorts. For a moment, you reeled — how could you know for sure that you could trust him? You almost asked him as much, but then the blanket of realization swept over you: there was nothing left for you on Earth 374. The spider on his chest was clue enough that you were on the right track. Sure, his was bright red on dark blue, whereas your own was navy against slate grey, but the similarities were close enough, namely the giant fucking spider.

The door to the rooftop had jiggled and Miguel swept a hand out, shooting webbing at the handle, keeping it shut. “Clock’s ticking, princesa,” he told you, the nickname said almost tauntingly. “Offer’s about to expire.”

You knew there had to be other spider-people out there in the universe, you just hadn’t imagined them to be so…large.

Or demanding, you’d learn later. Or asshole-ish. Sigh.

“Get me the fuck outta here,” you answered, and that was that. You were standing in his lab in Nueva York a moment later, and the jolt of multi-dimensional travel had you puking your guts all over the glossy floor. Faintly, you’d heard Miguel’s grunt of disdain.

“Lyla, get someone to clean this up,” he said, and his hand curled around your arm a moment later, hauling you to your feet like a rag doll. “You’ll get used to it,” he told you. “The jumping. I did the same thing after my first time.”

You were too out of it to know if he was actually being nice, or if the subtle lift to the corner of his mouth was just amusement at your expense.

“Yeah, well, warn a girl next time, would you?”

But you did get used to it. Once you managed to get your ass out of bed and back into your suit, you were soon away from the Spider Society more than you were there. For the first couple weeks, Miguel hadn’t said a word, apparently content to let you go where you pleased, barely questioning you when you deigned to return. Then, it was like a switch was flipped, and he was up your ass — and not in a fun, sexy way. He wanted reports on each of your jumps, timelines and activity breakdowns. He wanted lists of targets, reasons behind them, background checks. All things you knew he could easily get himself, but you also didn’t have the guts to tell him that since he’d saved you from Earth 374, you hadn’t actually…helped…anyone.

It wasn’t for lack of trying. Your first solo jump you’d managed to find a few bank robberies and a mugging happening within a few blocks of each other. Clearly, you’d picked a gem of a universe, and while you’d managed to web up the bandits in the vault, something in you had frozen when you tried to track down the mugger. The scene unfolded on the street below and you just…shut down.

The rest of your trips were spent just exploring. You swung your way through cities, camped out on rooftops, just watching the normal people go about their lives down below. You noted the differences between that universe and your own, tried to remember where all the puzzle pieces fit, even though you were looking at a different picture.

And it’s that curiosity, that quiet desperation to know more, that has you padding out of your room in the Spider Society tower, overriding the elevator that’ll take you up to Miguel’s lab. His currently empty lab. The man himself has been away on a scouting mission for nearly forty-eight hours, and you’re not expecting him back for another twenty-four, which gives you more than enough time to satisfy that annoying voice in the back of your head that wants to know how they’re doing.

It’s late. The world outside the tower is dark, the sky an inky black, streaked with light shades, dotted with stars. You’d be a fool not to find Earth 928 and Nueva York beautiful in their own strange, overly modern ways, but even six months in, it’s hard to think of it as home.

But you know why. It’s because it’s not.

You’d lasted a few days before you started glitching, and being cooped up in your room, you assumed you’d be able to hide it from Miguel. Part of you feared that if he knew something was wrong with you, he’d send you back to 374, and then what would happen to you?

You went to sleep worrying it over in your mind, and woke up to a complicated-looking watch sitting on the nightstand beside your bed. A hastily scrawled note stuck to it.

Put it on. It’ll help.

As soon as you did, the device beeped to life, a holographic screen jumping up, telling you the date and time and a myriad of other pieces of information. And then—

“Hiya, toots! I’m Lyla.”

You were confused as hell by the AI at first, but you quickly realized how useful she was, even more knowledgeable than Miguel, not that she’d ever admit it. And, in all honesty, you were a fan of the gab sessions. When Miguel wasn’t working her overtime, she’d beep her way through your watch for a good chat, perch herself on your pillow in the days you were still a shut-in, and when you started to make your way through the multi-verse, she was quick to point out the must-sees wherever you were.

She ran out quickly when she realized you were visiting the same place, just a different universe.

The doors to Miguel’s lab whoosh open at your approach, bare feet padding along the glass floor, and as you pause, getting yourself a cup of coffee from the forever-full carafe he keeps far away from the supercomputer, your watch pings to life, and the AI herself glitters into existence.

“What d’you think you’re doing?”

You ignore her at first, fixing your coffee the way you like it, flicking the stir stick into the trash before bringing the cup to your lips. It’s not until you start toward the computer and the large platform that houses it, that you answer her.

“Nothin’.”

She groans. “That’s a load of shit and we both know it.”

“He’s not here,” you say, shrugging a shoulder as you step onto the platform. The screens hum to life as you drag one hand across the infrared keyboard and when you glance over your shoulder, Lyla’s staring at you over the top of her heart-shaped glasses. “What he won’t know won’t hurt him.”

“And you really think doing exactly what he told you not to do is the best idea?”

You sigh, sipping your coffee as you sink into the chair, rolling yourself close to the computers. Miguel rarely uses the chair, apparently content to just stand and stare all broodingly at the screens. You only watched him — caught him — do this once, but when you caught on to what was happening, you filed the information away. He’d given you hell for snooping around, though you teased that he was just pissed you’d managed to sneak up on him, and according to Lyla, nobody does that.

Fingers hovering over the keyboard, you pause. He did tell you, rather specifically, not to do what you’re about to do. He didn’t tell you why, wouldn’t give an inch when you pressed him, but he was firm.

No good will come of it.

Earth 473. Not an identical twin to your home universe, but a very close sibling. The differences were so small, so scarce, that you truly thought you’d stumbled back to 374 accidentally, and you’d nearly jumped back to Nueva York, heart in your throat. But then something caught your eye, and you froze.

Across the way, teetering at the edge of the rooftop, was Spider-Man.

His suit was the opposite of yours, the spider grey and the suit navy. You could feel him staring right back at you, even at the distance, and as you stared back, he lifted his hand. For a moment you thought he might wave, your own fingers twitching to return the gesture, but then it continued up, gripping the back of his mask and yanking it from his bed.

You saw his mouth form the words, heard them like a whisper in the air.

“You’re alive.”

Your frozen heart dropped into your toes.

It was Peter. Your Peter, the one you’d left behind on Earth 374, your best friend, the one who…who…

You didn’t have it in you to finish the thought. It was all the evidence you needed to know that this universe was not yours. You were the only Spider-Person on 374, and your Peter wasn’t…he couldn’t…

You’d stumbled backward, blindly grabbing for your watch, suddenly desperate to be back in the SS tower. But then you paused, your fingers twitching on the dials and digits.

And you almost went exactly where you weren’t supposed to. Like a reflex. Shaking yourself, you punched in 928, everything in you twisting and turning as you stepped through the portal.

Miguel was waiting. He’d been watching you, paying close attention to that particular jump, and had used the link through your watch to see what you saw. The opposite-but-mirror image on the rooftop.

“I know what you’re thinking,” he said, his voice low, that deep timbre that still managed to catch you off guard. “The multi-verse doesn’t work that way.”

“You have no idea what I’m thinking,” you spat back, shrugging off his hand when he tried to grab your arm. “You have no idea what I’m feeling.”

His face had gone feral. Those carmine eyes flaring, staring down his nose at you while you just stared right back, defiant. You went to step past him, and he caught you again, this time his longer fingers wrapping around your forearm, the tell-tale prick of his talons biting through your suit.

“I know a fuck load more than you seem to think,” he snarled, dragging you close to he was in your face. “In case you forgot, I’ve been at this a hell of a lot longer than you have, and what you saw out there, what it means to you, I know exactly where your mind went. And I am telling you: the multi-verse does not work like that.”

“What am I thinking?” you spat back, ignoring the pinpricks of pain that shot through your arm as you got even closer, leaning up on your toes. “If you’re so fucking knowledgeable, tell me.”

He released you, then. The pain in your arm dissipated as quickly as it had come, and his eyes went…soft. Thoughtful.

Sympathetic.

“You’re thinking,” he started, inhaling deeply, rubbing two fingers between his brows as he spoke, “that you could go back there, to 473, and make a life for yourself. The same family, the same friends, the same life. They lost their version of you, so why not fill her shoes? Find some semi-logical explanation, hide your powers, live your life. Am I close?”

You almost stumbled backward, the truth of his words sending you reeling. You bumped into his desk instead, knocking a cup of coffee over, and neither of you said a word as the dark liquid spread across the desktop, dripping off the edge and onto the floor.

Miguel took a half-step toward you, then turned slightly, looking over the curve of his shoulder at you. Something in you longed to press your forehead against his frame, search for some kind of support, but you stayed stuck still.

“I know,” he continued, turning his head, staring straight ahead, “because I did exactly the same thing. And I lost everything.”

His words echo through your mind now, the deep tone you’ve gotten very familiar with, and you shake your head, clearing away the cobwebs he’s left in your head. “This is different,” you say aloud, partially to Lyla, partially to yourself. “I’m not going there, I’m just…checking in.”

The AI rolls her eyes at you and snaps her gum. “I said it once and I’ll say it again: load of shit.”

Your fingers fly over the keyboard, typing in the codes to find what you’re looking for. You haven’t been back to 473 since that jump; Miguel had forbade it after your spat, and even went so far as to block your watch from taking you there. You thought he was being unreasonable, and he reiterated that he was actually trying to keep you safe.

No good will come of it.

You hit the final key, and the images start to fade in. You can just barely make out the shape of her — of you — when the screens go black. Your breath catches in your throat as a large hand comes down on your shoulder, gripping tightly, though you don’t feel the pricks of his talons.

“Do you get off on disobeying me?”

The words are almost a purr, the opposite of the tone you’re expecting, and from the corner of your eye, you see Lyla blip from existence. It makes goosebumps rise on your skin, the hair on the back of your neck standing on end as he leans in, hot breath on your ear.

“If I make you cum, will that make you more obedient? Hm?”

“What the fu—” you start, trying to whirl around, but his grip on you is solid, warm palm following the curve of your shoulder until his fingers are wrapping themselves around your throat. It’s a welcome weight, sparks of electricity shooting down your limbs, your thighs rubbing together to relieve the instant pressure. “Mmm.”

His thumb presses down on your racing pulse, and you’re suddenly aware of how warm he is. He’s…too warm. But you have to admit, the way he’s holding you…it’s nice. Really nice.

“Miguel,” you start, trying to turn again, but he fits his face into the bare side of your neck, lips grazing the thin skin. “You’re not supposed to be back yet.”

“Mission went south,” he mumbles against you, his tongue darting past his lips and dragging along your skin. It makes your eyes roll back, but…

Where is this coming from?

He should be furious with you. He caught you red-handed, no questions about it. You weren’t expecting him to find you in the first place, but now that he has, you’re expecting a screaming match, toddler-level foot-stomping and possibly being thrown over his ridiculously large shoulder and being tossed into your room like a rag doll. Locked up like Rapunzel until you start listening to his brand of reasoning. You’re expecting a blowout.

You’re not expecting this.

He huffs in your ear as his lips graze the sensitive skin beneath it, his words spoken into the shell, tongue catching on your earring. “You smell delicious, cariño.”

The pet name makes you shiver. “Mig,” you say again, your hand covering his as his other arm wraps around your middle, pulling you back against his chest. “What are you doing?”

His heart is racing, so hard that you can feel the heavy thump of it against your spine. It’s too fast, even for him, you know that much. His fingers curl against your stomach, talons poking out and shredding your shirt to strips. You gasp as the fabric falls away.

“Miguel.” You make your voice as stern as possible. It’s not that you don’t want him to touch you like this, it just seems so sudden, so out of character, and you—

He wrenches himself away from you, the heady warmth of him suddenly gone, and you whirl, hand flying up to grip your neck as the sound of him crashing into the wall reaches your ears. His fingers are leaving indents in the metal, talons scratching deep, and you gulp as you realize you’re lucky he didn’t just accidentally slit your throat.

Whatever’s happening, he’s not himself.

“Mig,” you call, wiping your bloody hand on your sweats, crossing the distance he’s put between you. “Would you just talk t—”

“NO!” he roars, throwing a hand out in front of himself. You can see his large frame shake as he sinks down against the wall, long tears in the metal forming in his wake. “Keep your distance.”

Your brow lifts. “Says the man who was literally crawling up my ass three seconds ago.” You ignore him, taking another step, ignoring the way his words ring through your head. Do you get off on disobeying me?

Yeah…maybe you do. Just a little bit.

You crouch down low, getting on his level. “Mig, tell me what happened.”

“Don’t call me that,” he spits, staring you down for a moment before forcing his head to the side, an action that looks like it takes a lot of effort. “Just…go to your room, leave me be.”

“You telling me not to call you that just makes me wanna call you that more.” You shift onto your knees, inching a little closer. “I can’t leave you be, not when you just put a bunch of holes in the wall,” you lift your hand to your throat, where the scratches he left are already almost gone, “and almost in me. Tell me what happened.”

He tilts his head back against the wall, still turned away from you, one crimson eye looking your way. “Mierda, you’re stubborn.”

You roll your eyes. “Like you didn’t know that already. Talk.”

“Earth 1365-7,” he starts, eyes fluttering shut. His eyelashes are unfair, you think to yourself, the way they fan out across his even more unfair cheekbones. “I ended up in their version of OSCORP, some testing centre. Different serums and gases and…they were trying to weaponize a kind of paralytic that’s found in certain spider venom.”

His tongue pokes out after he says the word venom, tracing the tips of his fangs, and you swallow hard.

Bite me, bite me, bite me.

You shake your head, silencing the thought.

“And you stopped them?” you prompt, when he doesn’t go further, instead inhaling deeply and scrubbing a hand down his face.

“I did,” he tells you, but there’s no trace of triumph in his voice or on his face. “But I stumbled into one of the other labs, and as soon as I did…” He trails off, body shifting against the floor, and it’s impossible to miss the ripple in his skin-tight suit, the way he props one knee up, blocking your view of his crotch. “It was some sort of plant that they’d been researching. The pollen, it raises a person’s heart rate, skyrockets it, and muddles their senses. If left untreated, it can kill them.”

You stare at him hard. “What’s the treatment, Miguel?”

“The side effects,” he continues, ignoring your question. “Heightened blood pressure, extremely sensitive skin, lowered inhibitions, and…”

“Mig, would you just tell me?”

“Arousal,” he finishes, and you freeze. “Intense arousal. I didn’t mean to jump on you like that, I just…The only way to treat it is to…”

He doesn’t say it out loud, but the implication is clear, along with the intense reminder of how he was pressed against you.

You tuck your bottom lip between your teeth, shrugging a shoulder, trying like hell to look non-committal, like your skin isn’t still tingling in all the places he touched you. “Lowered inhibitions, like you said.”

He doesn’t say anything so much as hum in response, his head lolling to the side again. His eyes are fire when they open again, landing on you and pinning you in place. It makes your breath hitch again, palms lowering to rest on your thighs.

“You need to get out of here, cariño,” he murmurs, his voice low, husky, fingers tapping against his bent knee. “I need to deal with this.”

You’ve inched a bit closer to him, you realize, your traitorous body giving you away.

“How are you gonna deal with it?” you ask, barely above a whisper. Every inch of you is tingling now, not just the places he touched, and the way he tilts his head back again and groans is not helping matters. “Maybe I should…help.”

His eyes flash to you, pools of red, pupils blown big as dinner plates. “You want to…help.”

“You said this could kill you,” you continue, leaning forward until your palms hit the floor. “Someone should…keep an eye on you, y’know. Make sure you…y’know, don’t.”

“How articulate of you.”

“Fuck off.”

He chuckles, the sound deep and rumbly, but you don’t miss the way his shoulders shake even after the laughter has stopped. His breathing is shaky too, you can hear it from where you’re crouched. Worry threads through the lust that’s seemingly replaced your blood, and you slide even closer to him, until there’s maybe two feet between you.

“I don’t want you to die.” The words hang heavy in the air and the truth of them twists your guts. Stubborn ass he may be, but he’s done nothing but protect you since he found you back on Earth 374. You…care. You care a lot.

“Lyla can keep an eye on me,” he spits, but you just get closer.

“So she can wipe her hard drive and clean her eyes with soap afterward?” you joke. “I can’t leave you like this, Mig. Can AIs even use soap?”

“Don’t call me that,” he says again.

“Let me help you,” you say, the words coming easier, firmer. “You know that I can.”

You close the distance completely, your knees bumping the side of his thigh and your hand covering his on the floor. The fabric of his suit recedes, revealing his hands, and your fingers brush over his knuckles. “I don’t need your pity.”

“It’s not pity,” you tell him, leaning back on your heels, lifting your other hand to pull his bent knee straight. “You need help, and I’m offering it.”

He groans again.

“I’ve owed you, this whole time,” you continue, resting your hand on his shin as his leg rests on the floor. It takes everything in you not to let your eyes wander up to the space between his hips, but you manage. “You saved my life; let me save yours.”

The spider made you strong, made you fast, but Miguel…He’s so large, so imposing, and the moment his hands land on your body, you know he’s been holding back from you.

He maneuvers you into his lap, your knees resting against his hips. In an instant you can feel him, the hard prod of his cock against your cunt, separated only by the thin fabric of your pants and the rippling material of his suit. Miguel groans as he fits his face into your neck, talons pressing into your hips as the suit melts away, every inch of his golden skin suddenly on display. It’s overwhelming and your blood heats, unable to bite back the moan that slips free when he pulls your hips against his, the pressure between you exactly what you need it to be.

“This doesn’t mean anything,” he grits out, his hips lifting off the floor as he chases your body, as you chase each other. “This is just…”

“I’m helping,” you breathe out, your hands curling around his shoulders as you settle into his lap. Well, not so much as settle as twitch, the fabric of your shirt riding up as his hands move up your sides, curling around your ribs. “This is only about keeping you alive.”

“Alive,” he repeats, and you bite your lip, feeling his fingers curl into your shirt. “You have no fucking idea how…”

“God, shut up,” you groan, gripping his face in your hands, claiming his mouth for your own. The sound of tearing fabric reaches your ears as your lips meet his and he growls at you, shredding your shirt and tossing the fabric away, leaving you bare from the waist up. His hands drop to your ass then, tugging at your pants and you bite his bottom lip. “You could just ask nicely, you know.”

He just grunts in response, effectively splitting the elastic band and pulling the rest of your clothes away. You’re completely naked now, perched in his lap, and your skin heats in every spot you’re pressed to him. Which is basically everywhere. “I’ll get you new ones,” he grits, and you roll your eyes, biting at his lip again.

There’s little ceremony to it. Miguel drags you along him a few times, the feel of him prodding between your legs lighting a fire in you. You can feel how big he is, but you busy yourself with his mouth, your knees pressing against his hips. One of his hands skims down your back, curving around your hip and sliding two fingers through your folds. It makes you keen, a moan ripping from your throat when he presses those fingers into you.

“Wet,” he grunts against your mouth, his breath stuttering as you clench around his digits. You rock your hips into his hand, tangling your fingers in his hair and tugging until his head tips back.

“Take what you need,” you say, and for once, he listens to you.

The feeling of his fingers pulling out leaves you aching, but you’re not left waiting for long. He presses against the small of your back, tilting your hips, and then he’s inside you, sheathing himself to the hilt in one smooth motion. The sheer fullness that sweeps through you is almost too overwhelming, and your breath whooshes out of you as your chest slams into his. You can feel the way his heart is racing, the rapid thump beneath his sternum nearly vibrating against your own.

This doesn’t mean anything, you remind yourself, circling your hips as he plants his feet, bends his knees. He holds you up slightly, giving just enough space between you for him to thrust up into you, hitting a spot that makes you see stars. This is just…helping. I’m just being helpful.

You’re just…quickly reaching the most intense orgasm you’ve had in a hot second.

He keeps hammering into that same spot, the lab filling with the sound of his skin on yours, your panting breaths, and Miguel’s grunts. It’s fucking euphoric, your head falling back between your shoulders. “Mig, I—”

“Not yet,” he growls, and suddenly you’re being lifted, the heavy weight of him still pressed inside you. Your grip on each other is firm, and Miguel moves quickly, sweeping you out of the lab and through the door that leads to his room. You barely get a breath in before your back hits his mattress and he’s towering over you, his big hands curled around your thighs, kneeling so he can prop your ass up. The angle lets him drive deeper and you throw your arms over your head, curling your fingers in his bedsheets, trying to find some leverage.

One of his hands moves over you, palm grazing your stomach before moving down. He thumbs at your clit, dragging another moan out of you, his brow going hard. You have a better look at his face now, his expression pinched, eyes trained on where he’s pounding into you. His skin is damp with sweat, a sheen on his forehead, his mouth hanging open. You swear you can see his pulse jumping in his throat.

“Want you to cum, princesa,” he nearly begs, and the hitch in his voice makes goosebumps rise all over your body. “So. Fucking. Tight.” He punctuates each word with a deep thrust and everything in you goes impossibly tighter.

“This is about you,” you pant out, clawing at his sheets. “I don’t need—”

But you do. You really fucking do, but something about admitting that to him right here and now feels…wrong. It twists your gut in a not-so-fun way.

“I don’t care, I need you to cum,” he growls, releasing his grip on your thigh to grab at your chin, forcing your eyes on his. “Now.”

Suddenly, your body is not your own. It responds instantly to his command, a string threading your muscles drawing tight as a bow before snapping entirely. Your back arches against the mattress, so hard it just brings you closer to him and Miguel drops his head, dragging his nose up the middle of your chest. It courses through your entire body, your hips lifting entirely off the bed to chase him, to keep him buried within you.

He groans as you cum, the sound the only thing you’re aware of besides the pleasure setting your body on fire. There’s a ringing in your ears, your muscles going lax as you start to come down, but he doesn’t stop. One of your hands floats to his hair, tangling the sweat-damp strands around your knuckles and you can feel his growl shake your ribs.

“More,” he grits, raking his hands down your sides, gripping your hips again. You inhale sharply as his head turns, skirting across your chest to take your nipple between his lips. The pace is relentless, your body growing tight again with his movements. He’s playing you like a fucking fiddle, and you’re the first to admit you’re loving every second of it.

You manage to open your eyes, the pleasure receding just enough for you to regain some of your faculties.

He’s staring right back.

It makes you flinch, jolting in his grasp as his lips draw back, revealing one pointed fang. You shiver as he drags the tip of it around your nipple.

“Again.”

And again, your body obeys. This time it sneaks up on you more than barrels through you, making you throw your head back against the mattress. “Fuck, Miguel.” Your nails dig against his scalp, tugging at his hair, revelling in the noise it pulls out of him. You want to record it, put it on repeat, set it as your fucking ringtone. How the fuck is he doing this? This was supposed to be about him.

Not that you’re not enjoying yourself. Quite the opposite.

He’s still staring at you, peering up at you from where he’s bent against your chest. There’s something in those ridiculous eyes, something you have no name for, and you force your eyes away, moving them down his body, to where you can see him still driving into your cunt, the length of him slick with you. The sight alone makes you clench, and when you do, he curses under his breath.

“Where…?” he grits, the hoarseness in his voice drawing your eyes back up to his face.

He looks like he’s in pain. Your heart twists in your chest at the sight, reaching up to swipe your hand across his sweaty forehead. “Does it hurt?”

“I need…” He trails off, leaning into your touch, turning his head and nipping at your wrist, at your pulse. “Where can I…?”

“Wherever you want,” you pant, gasping as he drives as deep as inhumanly possible, moving you further up the bed. “Whatever you need to—”

You’re cut off by the roar that echoes through the room. He buries his face in your neck as it happens, most of his weight dropping onto you, hips pinning yours to the bed, chest pressed to yours. He pulls out at the last second, cock sliding through the hinge of your thigh, cum spurting hot against your stomach. He doesn’t seem to care about the mess he’s making of you both, his entire body covering yours as he shudders his way through it.

It feels like it lasts forever. His limbs go taut and then loose, his breath quickening and then slowing against the shell of your ear. You don’t know what else to do except hold him through it, wrapping your arms around his shoulders, one hand finding his hair once more. It’s like his release is chasing the pollen from his system, his superhuman body returning to his brand of normal. He babbles through some of it, grunts and moans and something that sounds almost like your name murmured in your ear.

You just hold him.

Eventually, he seems to come back to himself. You’re loathe to admit you’re revelling in the feel of him against you, the way his hands are tangled in your hair against his pillows. The weight of him is…it’s nice. It’s really fucking nice.

It’s too nice.

You wait a few minutes, wait for him to find his bearings, to peel himself away from you, but it never comes. He’s a solid weight on top of you, and while you’ve been listening to his erratic breathing, waiting for it to even out, you realize that it’s gone…slow. He’s asleep.

“Mig,” you murmur, barely above a whisper, tugging softly at his hair. Nothing. Not so much as a twitch. He’s dead to the world, his slow breaths turning to quiet snores in your ear. Carefully, inch by inch, you slide your way out from under him. You freeze when he rolls onto his side, his breath hitching for a moment, but it evens out again and you slip off the edge of his bed.

Your clothes are toast, the shreds of fabric scattered on the floor of the lab, so you slip into his closet, finding a t-shirt that’s way too big for you. You definitely don’t inhale the scent that clings to it as you slip it over your head.

Your steps are quiet as you pad back into his bedroom, leaned up on your toes as you peer at him. Still asleep, hasn’t so much as moved from the spot you left him. You draw closer, your fingers curled around the hem of his t-shirt.

He doesn’t move an inch as you reach for his wrist, easily slipping the watch off his wrist and replacing it with your own. The too-big band of his adjusts to your size as you close the latch around your wrist, turn on your heel, and scurry from the room, through the lab, shooting a web up at the ceiling and launching yourself up to the next floor, the level your room is on.

You don’t make a sound as you pack your bag, reluctantly shrugging out of Miguel’s t-shirt to put your suit on, stuffing it into your bag with handfuls of clothes, whatever random shit your muddled mind has decided you need to take with you.

It felt too nice.

You know what would happen, you’ve decided, if you stay. You’d drift off, there in his bed, enveloped by his broad frame, half-drunk off the scent of him. You’d get the best sleep of your life, and when you woke the next morning, he’d be there, staring down his nose at you, the desperate man that had pulled pleasure from your body like it was his damn day job replaced with the grumpy fuck that plucked your last nerve like a guitar string.

The problem was that you knew exactly what he’d say to you:

This doesn’t mean anything.

The problem is that you’ve grown to care too much for him, grumpy, desperate, and all things in between.

Lyla makes an appearance as you sling your bag over your shoulder, keying in the universe you want to jump to, Miguel’s watch not locked out the same way yours is. “You really think that’s a good idea?”

You lift a brow as she cocks her digital hip at you. “You want me to answer that? So you can tell me I’m full of shit?”

“Ideally, yes.”

“Can AIs make promises?”

She crosses her arms over her chest. “Technically speaking.”

“Don’t tell him where I am,” you ask, pleading. “Please?”

“He’ll find out anyway,” she tells you, shaking her head, heart-shaped glasses slipping down her nose. Her eyes are big as she stares at you over the rims. “He’s smarter than you give him credit for. I know he’s a grumpy asshole ninety-nine percent of the time, but he—”

“Lyla, please.”

She sighs, sliding the glasses back up. “He won’t hear it from me.”

“Thank you.”

The portal crackles to life, that familiar tug in your stomach as you step toward it. Lyla fades from view as you take another step, and you ignore the echo of Miguel’s voice calling your name, and step through completely.

#my fics #disobedient #miguel o’hara #miguel o’hara x reader #miguel o’hara smut #miguel spiderverse #miguel x you #miguel o’hara x you #miguel o’hara fanfiction #miguel o’hara fic #miguel x reader #spiderman 2099 #atsv miguel #miguel

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ghoularaki · 1 year ago

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w3lc0me t0 th3 fr3aksh0w <3 | 1

↠ summary: Your ex-boyfriend not satisfied with how the relationship ended comes back to teach you a lesson its best to keep your mouth shut. Some secrets are best left unspoken.

↠ word count: 4,871

↠ pairing: todoroki touya x reader, takami keigo x reader, geten x reader

↠ genre/warnings: angst, smut, college/dark web au, DARK CONTENT, yandere! dabi, bullying, asphyxiation. NSFW (morning sex, riding, slight dubcon, unprotected sex)

↠ a/n: geten fuckers unite

series masterlist

Smoke filled the room, a cigarette perched between Geten’s lips. Leaned against the propped up pillows, his hands clamped onto your stuttering hips. Dressed in just a tank top and a pair of flimsy panties adorned with tiny, black skulls he pulled to the side, his eyes don’t leave your bouncing tits.

Little moans left you as you kept a fast pace. Your pussy was filled to the brim with his cock. This morning, Geten woke you up with a hand down your panties, fiddling with your clit. Still sore from last night, you easily opened for him, tilting your hips so his deft fingers drifted to your aching hole. Not one to ignore your wants, his hand slipped down to shove two fingers inside you. Pumping them against your walls, he made a comment about how wet you were for him already.

Impatient, Geten flipped you both over so you sat on his lap. Shimming down his sweatpants, he pulled his hardening cock out. He grabbed one side of your waist and guided you down onto him. A squeaked left you at his length entering you with little prep.

Eyes bleary, you stared at Geten’s cocky, but content face.

“You’re so easy.”

A whimper tumbled out from the degrading words. You were so easy for him, but who could blame you when he always put your needs above his.

You nodded in agreement, “Please.”

One of the hands on your hips drifted up to your throat. Circling around the column, he brought you closer to his face. Eyes bouncing to his lips, Geten repeated the motion. Leaning up towards you, he encompassed your lips, working in tandem. Mutual moans interrupted the kiss. Resting your head on his shoulder, you burrowed into his long, dove-white hair. The hand on your throat migrated to the back of your neck to bring you closer to him.

Glancing down, you spot the alarm clock on his side table.

“Shit!” You had class in ten minutes.

Your shout startled him, “What?”

You spring away from him and try to pry yourself away from his grip but he only clamped down on you and thrusted his pelvis up. “G-geten, stop, I have class in like ten minutes.”

“That’s enough time.”

Instead of letting you go, he planted his feet on the bed and thrusted up with fervor. The shock of him slamming into you had you collapsing onto his chest.

Your hands scrambled to grab onto something. You wrapped your arms around his neck, clutching on as he rocked you up and down. “I-I’m going to be l-late, please!”

A loud moan left you as his thumb made its way to your clit and he angled his cock to hit the spongy spot inside you. He repeatedly hit it while swirling and twiddling your clit.

“Shut up and take it. The less you complain, the faster I can make you cum,” His voice had a gravelly tone to it as he also approached his release.

“D-don’t be a dick.”

He only hummed in response. The sound of slapping skin filled the room with your squelching cunt. His hips stuttered as he got closer. You squirmed against him as you tried to reach your climax with him. His hand moved down and pinched your clit.

Whining, you cum onto him and he followed, filling you up to the brim. Your breath hitched at the warmth painting your walls. Sagging against him, Geten started petting your hair.

Your eyes looked down to see you now only had two minutes to get to class.

“Ugh, you’re such a prick!” You screeched at him as you pulled yourself off his softening dick.

Shivering at the cooling cum slipping down your thighs, you kept going, “You know that I told you it is the first day and I’m going to be so late.”

Geten raised his arms to lean against them while staying on the bed, not even offering to help you get ready. “You weren’t complaining while cumming on my cock.”

Whipping around, you glared at him as you took off your underwear and threw it at him. He caught it with ease and pocketed it in his sweatpants he put back onto his hips.

Running into the bathroom, you quickly sat on the toilet and shoved new underwear over your thighs. Washing your hands, you muttered to yourself how you were going to fucking stink of sex.

The bed groaned as Geten got up and grabbed you a spare skirt you kept at his apartment. While you brushed your teeth, he tapped your thighs and you stepped into the clothing as he pulled it over your hips and zipped it up.

Spitting into the sink, you grabbed the hoodie Geten handed you and threw your bag over your shoulder. Swiping your boots, you hopped as you tied up one and the same with the other. As you raced to the door, Geten grabbed your upper arm and pulled you to him.

“Geten,” You said, exasperated.

He gripped your jaw and kissed you, finally releasing you. “Have fun.”

Rolling your eyes, you waved him off and ran out of his apartment towards the university. Thank god he lived close enough if you ran you would only be fifteen minutes late. Flipping your bag towards you, you pulled your flip phone out from the front pocket.

The little charms clattered together as it opened with a click. Beeps chirped from the device as you opened your messages to see Toga had texted you.

bitch where r u ?!

from: lil psycho

sent 8:01 AM

Texting and running, you glanced up from your phone to make sure no one was in front of you.

uhh about 10 mins, geten was being an asshole

from: scene qween >:3

sent 8:06 AM

As the main building enters your view, you slipped past the people to swing the door open with more force than needed. Another beep came from your phone but you pocketed it into your backpack once more. As you flew by the people in the halls, you swore you heard whispers of your name and lingering eyes. Waving it off, you continue to the elevator.

Once inside, you rested your head against the wall, thankful no one else joined you. You watched the numbers go up until you hit the third floor. The door barely opened up when you snuck through them sideways. You spy the door and go for the one in the back. At the top of the lecture hall, you slipped to the back and sat right next to Toga.

The room juts up like tiers stacked on a cake, students scattered around the tables like decorations. Toga stared at you while you shily made your way in, closing the door softly in hopes to not be seen by the professor. Scooting yourself onto the chair Toga saved for you, you slumped onto the table and plopped your bag on the floor.

“So what did I miss?”

Toga slapped your arm and you sucked in the yelp.

“Bitch, why the fuck are you so late?” She seethed under her breath.

You rolled your eyes, “I told you, Geten was being a dick.”

Toga gave you a coy smile, “Was he being a dick or were you on his—”

Pretending to gag, you stopped her before she could continue that thought. “Eww, don’t say that!”

A throat clearing interrupted you both, snapping your head up, the professor raised his brow at you two. “Are you ladies done?”

“Yessir,” You mumbled while Toga huffed.

Snickering pulled you from your shame. Targeting the sound, you see Shigaraki laughing at you, an aisle down. He kept eye contact as he smirked at you. You rolled your eyes to see Toga also annoyed by him.

“He’s so freaking creepy, and he wonders why people think he’s a school shooter.”

Shigaraki’s jaw clicked. He definitely heard that. You had no qualms with the recluse man at all. If anything you would call him an acquaintance, but sometimes he was so up his own ass, it made it hard to like and defend him.

“Toga!” You bit out, “You don’t just say that.”

“Buzzkill.” She paused for a moment, almost like she didn’t know how to articulate her thoughts. “Anyway, speaking of school shooters, did you hear the news?”

Your brows pinched in confusion, “What news?”

Toga faced twisted into a grimace and shifted her eyes to the side. “Dabi’s back.”

Cold water splashed over you. Of course you knew this. Who didn’t know about Dabi coming back to school despite everything. You just didn’t expect it to be so soon.

Wiping your sweaty hands over your skirt, you simply nodded and turned back to the lecture. Taking the hint, Toga left you alone. Blood pumped in your ears as dread infiltrated your system. Dabi being back, especially on campus, meant there was nothing saving you from him anymore. And after what you had done, you were sure he wouldn’t be happy.

The rest of class, your leg bounced with anxiety, rattling the table. Your eyes bounced between the clock and the door. A route to avoid the main campus filled your head.

A loud sound of the professor clapping his hands together pulled you from your stupor. Charged up on adrenaline, you masked the need to hide under the table and cover your ears from the sudden sound.

“That completes class, remember to look at the syllabus—”

Before he could finish the words, you grabbed your bag and tossed it over your shoulder. Toga opened her mouth to say something but you were already out the door. The door swung open and it slammed behind you with an audible clank.

Threading your other arm through the bag, you looked left and right, deciding to keep left. Not going the same way you came in, you stuck to the walls. Glancing frantically around you, for any signs of black hair, you reached behind you and lifted the hood over your face. Further you went, the less you saw of other students.

Opening another door, you leaned your head to make sure no one was present. Deeming it safe, you go through the door to the staircase. No one really used this stairwell as it mainly led to the basement. Racing down the three flights of stairs, your heart pounded in your throat. Despite there being no one behind you, it felt like there was a presence lurking behind any corner. Them just waiting to snatch you up.

Shaking off the paranoia, you continue down the hallways of the photography wing. The only people that come here are photography majors waiting for their film to develop and the janitors. Nodding your head at the one that was currently mopping the floor, you go to the door leading outside.

Squinting your eyes at the bright sun, you clutched further onto your backpack. Your phone beeped in your bag, but you ignored it. It was most likely Toga. You weren’t in the headspace to talk to her. Not until you were safe in your dorm room.

Your boots slapped against the pavement. Peering from under your hood, you saw nothing out of the ordinary. Your phone beeped again. Hitching your bag higher, you kept a fast pace. If you didn’t want to seem like a lunatic, you would have started running ages ago. Sucking in a breath, you kept going.

Passing other dorms, you slowed down a little as you were on the right street. Taking a right, you finally met with your building. Other students hung out in the nearby parking lot, but you paid no mind to them. Swinging the door open, you continued on. Going through the foyer, there were people already at the tables with books spread around them. Walking to the elevator, you pressed the up button. After a moment the elevator arrived with a ding.

As you walked in, you turned around to hit the third level, through the closing line you swore you saw Keigo amongst the crowd. Shuttering, you stumbled further into the elevator until your back hit the wall. You rubbed your eyes, there was no way he would be in the same dorm building. You two were completely different majors and he was two years above you.

Waving it off as your nerves getting the best of you and not sleeping well last night, you swallowed the terror. Shuffling through the hall until you met the second to last dorm on the left, you paused. Swinging your bag to your front, you pulled out your keys and your phone. Prioritizing getting in the door, you grasped your phone in your palm while stabbing the keys in the lock. Twisting it with a small struggle, you were finally in your room.

Securely away from campus, you sighed in relief. Luckily, your roommate must have still been in class. Twisting the lock behind you, you swung your back on your bed that was to the right along with your designated desk. Plopping down on your chair, you opened your laptop.

Your phone buzzed again. Now annoyed, you flipped it open with vigor. You had three messages: one from Toga, another from Geten and then an unknown number.

Ignoring the ones from Toga and Geten—you can answer later—you went straight for the unknown number. The buttons lit up when you clicked onto the message.

miss me doll?

from: unknown

sent 9:21 AM

Gasping, you slapped your phone shut and threw it away from you. Instinctively you tucked your legs to you on the chair and hugged them to your chest. Staring at your phone, you flinched when it buzzed again. A ping coming from your laptop had you yelp this time. In the corner of your eye, you spied a message from MySpace.

Your hand shook as you clicked on the notification to see it’s from your internet friend. You had been talking to her for a few months now. When you were at your lowest point, she had walked in your life and offered you a place to hide from your problems.

how did classes go ?!

from: killerkiko

sent 9:26 AM

Her message went unnoticed as you reached for your phone. Opening it back up, your face illuminated from the soft glow. The text stared back at you. Knowing it will only be a temporary solution, your phone beeped twice as you blocked his new phone number.

Through your panic, your webcam blinked red. Someone enjoying the show you unknowingly gave them.

~*~

The next day came too quickly. Yesterday you spent the rest of the day hiding in your room. In your spare time, you talked with your friend and posted photos of yourself. Rapidly, you became kind of popular on MySpace. You and Toga were well known within a niche space of people with common interests. You weren’t arrogant enough to call yourself famous in the slightest, but your photos and videos got some traction.

Though, your laptop annoyed you more than anything. While you were still friends with Keigo he had installed a different router to ensure safety after a minor stalker incident. Nothing too major, just a freak found out your location and threatened to leak it. Ever since he installed it though, everything ran slowly.

“Stop complaining,” He rolled his eyes at you with a lopsided grin.

Despite being a jock, he surprisingly was good at technology. Anytime you had problems with your computer or phone, he was the person you went to.

But after what happened, that kindness no longer extended towards you. To say you were isolated from the friend group would be an understatement. At least you still had Toga.

“Are you just going to stand there, or are you going to be late, again?” Your roommate sassed you.

From her bed, she had a nose in a book. Peering from over the edge, she raised a brow at you. Waving off her attitude, you walked out the room.

“Don’t forget my snack, you owe me!” She shouted into the hallway.

“Yeah, yeah!” You replied and then muttered, “You’re welcome.”

Luckily, your classes for today were later in the day. Being able to sleep in today was a blessing. Taking your time, you leisurely walked to the business building. Majoring in business was the least of your interest, but your parents were relentless.

Still taking the back routes, you felt a little safer. From the message you got yesterday, Dabi was definitely on the lookout for you.

Someone clearing their throat made you jump and snap your head towards them. Crossing the fork in the walkway, Shigaraki shuffled to you. Inwardly, you groaned. What possibly could he want.

Walking together, you remained silent, waiting for his typical snarky quip. Strangely, he didn’t say a word as you two went into the building. Going towards the stairwell, you decided to avoid elevators for now. Before you could though, Shigaraki grabbed your upper arm and guided you to the elevator.

You struggled out of his grip, “W-what are you doing?”

Dragging you with him, Shigaraki let you go once you two were in the confined space. Ripping away from him, you rubbed away his surprisingly strong grasp. Hitting the number two, you waited for Shigaraki to hit the button he needed. His hands stayed stuffed in the black hoodie he always wore, hood up. He did nothing, so you shrugged it off.

“You want to tell me why you kidnapped me?” You asked sarcastically.

“If I wanted to kidnap you, I wouldn’t have done it so publically.” He side-eyed you.

Staring at his peripheral, you snipped, “You know what I meant, asshole.”

“Always the attitude. Can’t I walk with my dearest friend,” He had a lilt to his voice as he twisted his neck to give you a creepy smile.

Used to him, you didn’t think twice about his wide grin displaying all his blunt teeth. “You want something.”

The doors opened, metal scrapping together. You both walked out. While you went to the right, Shigaraki went the other way.

“I always want something.” He called over his shoulder.

Shuddering at his cryptic words, you continued to class. Once you reached the door it hit you that Shigaraki wasn’t a business major and had no reason to be in this building. Connecting the dots, you gave a little smile. Despite being a dick, he had his moments.

~*~

Making it out of the building after back to back classes, you were exhausted. Heading to your dorm, you screamed as someone tackled you with a hug. Whipping your head you saw Toga attached to you. Pushing her off, you slapped her arm.

“You scared me!”

“Geez! No need to hit me,” She pouted.

Not being able to stay mad at her for too long, you threaded your arm with hers. “What is with people ambushing me today.”

She raised a brow at you in question.

Leading her to your dorm, you answered, “Shigaraki decided not to be an asshole and walked me to class.”

While walking, Toga redirected you towards the main building. Subtly you tried to go back to the path, but she strengthened her hold.

“I told you, he doesn’t suck that bad.”

“Himeko.”

“I’m hungry,” She whined. “Plus, you can’t hide forever. Do you think Dabi of all people is actually attending his classes?”

Tilting your head in contemplation, “You do have a point. I also promised Ayame a snack, so might as well.”

“And you have me to protect you!” She cuddled up to your neck.

Giggling, you placed your head on top her’s, “Oh my darling knight what would I do without you.”

“For one, starve to death.”

Rolling your eyes at her, you moved your head as you braced yourself for the cafeteria. With bated breath, you opened the heavy doors with Toga in tow. Like a cornered animal, you surveyed your surroundings for danger and any escape route. Not spotting a tuft of dyed black hair or dirty blond had you letting out a stuttering exhale.

Peering at the line for real food, you changed your mind. You weren’t that hungry anyway.

“I’m going to just get some snacks from the vending machine. I’ll meet you outside.”

Toga furrowed her brows, “Are you sure?”

Bumping her shoulder with yours, you simpered, “Yeah, you know how I am.”

The petite girl obviously didn’t believe you, but waved you away. Being the social butterfly she was, Toga cut into line to converse with some people she knew. A girl with brown hair smiled at her and welcomed her into her place. With bubbly laughs flowing into the air, you walked further into the room.

Gaggles of fluctuating conversations followed you as you hurried towards the doors outside. The crowds were stifling. Anywhere within the people Dabi could jump out and swallow you whole. Grasping the door, you push the doors open into the courtyard. Around the garden laid tables with a few students scattered about. Turning to the side, you kept under the awning towards the vending machines.

Pulling your wallet from your baggy pants, chained to your belt loop, you scooped some coins for your snacks and Ayame’s. Your back to the students, you shivered. Rubbing the nape of your neck, a chill ran down your spine as if you were being watched.

Shaking, you quickened your pace. It could be nerves, but you rather not gamble. Slotting your coins inside the metal mouth, you reached your arm down to grab your drink. Repeating the same for two bags of chips. Clinking together in your palm, you shoved your change into your wallet. Hands full, you tucked your drink under your arm while walking, plopping your wallet back in your pants.

Dead leaves crunched under your boots. Shuffling over to the empty table under a tree, you brushed away the leaves displayed across the table. Letting your snacks spill over the top, you sat down with a huff. Bending over, you unzipped your back to put Ayame’s chips so Toga doesn’t steal them. A heavy weight had the seat sink next to you.

Sighing, you said, “I was really hoping you wouldn’t see—”

Your heart stuttered.

Cold enveloped you in a cruel embrace.

“Hoping I wouldn’t see what?” Slumping his posture to establish eye contact, gold ate your own irises.

“K-keigo.”

A sly, lopsided grin parted his lips. From his smile, his sharp canine caught your eye. Leaning his cheek on his palm, he rested his elbow on the table.

“Aww don’t be like that, Y/n, we are closer than that, aren’t we?”

You scowled at him. He knew damn well, you weren’t going to call him by his first name and the audacity he has to call you by yours was asinine.

“What do you want, Keigo.”

Though you wanted to look around you for either Toga or Dabi, you dared not to break the power play he began.

“Can’t eat with my darling friend?” Before you could correct him that he didn’t have anything, he opened your chip bag and munched on your food.

Deepening your glower, you reached for your food but he snatched it away from your grasp. In the earlier days, you would have followed his hand by tackling him, but you refused any skin contact with him.

“Fine.”

Despite your heart pounding in your eyes, you were done with his antics. Grabbing your drink that still wasn’t opened, you go to stand up, but overly warm hands gripped your shoulders and slammed you back onto the bench.

Your teeth clattered together in your mouth from the force. One of the hands snaked around your neck, forcing your head into a firm stomach. A pointer finger tilted your chin up with such strength your throat strained. Cold rings bit into your thin skin.

Blue consumed you. Liquid fire poured into your terrified visage. Dabi gave away no emotion as you shook under his palm. A bunny captured by a wolf, prey eyes stared down the canines begging to satiate their hunger.

“Where do you think you’re going?” His pierced, thin brow raised in question.

Words caught in your larynx.

A laugh is heard from the side reminding you Keigo hadn’t left. “Aww the poor girl. Just look at her, man, she looks like she’s going to piss herself.”

Dabi doesn’t break his gaze with your watering eyes, a grin spread on his scarred cheeks. “You’re right. The little snitch is gonna make a mess of herself. Aren’t ya, princess?”

He moved his finger and thumb to pinch your cheeks, and shook your head. “But I think she’s more upset we disturbed her lunch.”

Tearing you from his trance, he glanced at Keigo and nodded his chin at the drink still in your hand. He ripped it from your slacked fingers and cracked the cap open with a swift twist. Keigo handed the now open bottle to Dabi who released your shoulder to grab it. He tapped it to your lips.

Scared, knee knocking together, you sucked your lips and shook at your head. Dabi only gripped your harder, shoving your head upwards. Fingertips dug into your mandible, prying your mouth open.

“Drink up.”

With no remorse, he poured the sweet juice down your throat. Hastily, you swallowed, but the man above you didn’t stop. The drink spilled from the corners of your mouth. Coughing it back up, it went up your nose, effectively choking you. You squirmed to free yourself, but he had you by your throat—quite literally. Your feet kicked up the grass beneath you as your hands went up to pull the bottle from your mouth, but Keigo grabbed them and slammed your wrists to the table.

Choking down all you could, the flood of juice finally stopped. Throwing the bottle somewhere to the right of him, Dabi never let go of your throat as you sputtered and harshly inhaled all the air you could. Gagging, you tried not to throw up on yourself.

Unable to fall forward, you sagged into the man behind you. He welcomed it. Mouth agape and spit dribbling from your bottom lip, you were already exhausted.

“Hmm I’m already done with my chips,” Keigo spoke up, watching what unfolded in front of him with keen eyes.

Your eyes blearily rolled over to him, a glare quivering on your face. He balled up the wrapper. Just as you thought he was going to litter like Dabi, he shoved the trash into your open mouth. As you were going to spit it out, Dabi slapped his hand over your mouth.

“Maybe this will teach you not to run your filthy mouth,” Dabi sneered above you.

Tears streaming down your face, your brows pinched upwards in desperation. Nostrils flaring, you resisted the urge to swallow as saliva built in your palate.

A slam of plastic hitting the table caused you to jump and see Toga glaring down at Dabi and Keigo.

“What are you doing?’

Dabi huffed and shrugged, “Just talking to my girlfriend.”

Now glaring too, you struggled further to get out of his grasp. Keigo went to tug your arms down but Toga snipped.

“Don’t.”

He raised his hands up in defense, “Whoa, don’t need to get pissy with me.”

With Keigo distracted, you clawed at Dabi’s wrists and tried to pry him away. He gripped your neck tight, so tight, your eyes bulged.

Silver flashed as Toga jumped half way on the table to slash at Dabi with a hidden pocket knife. Before she could land a hit, Keigo gripped her arm and swiftly tugged it down.

“Are you trying to get arrested?” Keigo seethed.

Toga kept her gaze on Dabi, pupils blown and bobbling with frenzy. Taking the hint, Dabi pulled away and you doubled over, coughing out both spit and the wrapper in your mouth. Keigo then also released Toga. Discreetly, she flipped her knife back into its hilt and shoved it into her pocket.

Placing his hand on the table, Dabi leaned over you and sneered into your ear, “I’m not finished with you.”

Eyes wide, you barely processed his words as you traced the details of his hand adorned with thick rings. Nails still painted with chipped, black paint. Intricate and darkly shaded bones tracing his own cartilage to cover some of the old burn scars.

He hasn’t changed one bit.

Somehow that both comforted and terrified you. With a bite to your ear, Dabi departed from your trembling frame. Keigo was soon to follow.

Rapidly, Toga took where Keigo sat and rubbed your back.

“This might be stupid to ask, but are you okay?”

Shakingly nodding, you croaked, “That went better than you I thought it would.”

Toga laughed, “You crazy bitch.”

Shrugging, you slumped into her form and shut your eyes. “At least he didn’t kill me.”

“He still might.”

Nodding once more, you agreed with her. Despite her words sounding like a joke, she was completely and utterly serious.

Dabi has killed before and he would do it again. Even—especially—when it came to you.

#yandere dabi #yandere x reader #yandere dabi x reader #yandere #yandere x you #yandere touya #yandere bnha #yandere hawks #yandere hawks x reader #geten x reader

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