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mieczyslawsravenclaw · 2 months

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Eidetic Memory Be Damned -Spencer Reid

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•Pairing - Spencer Reid x FemFBIAgent!Reader

•Rating - 18+, Minors DNI - Smut - NSFW!!!

•Summary/Prompt - Spencer is tired of only having the memory of you to enjoy during his spicy times , so he just has to intrude into your hotel room after a case is finished…

•Warnings/Content - p in the v unprotected (hey kids- DONT DO IT) ; cursing ; Spence loves to beg to nut in you and does so ; creampie ; some pain play? (just a lil hand on the throat dealio and some hair pulling) ; LOTS of praise on both sides (good boy, pretty girl, etc) ; very mf horny lol ; (basically they do just about everything from first base to last bestie slay)

•Word Count - 3.3k

•Authorʼs Note(s) - Iʼm so mf rusty at writing smut so this is probs not the best, I just wanted to write some Spencer spice cause I had a spicy dream about him lmao RIP >_< Also this'll be my first official post of my writing on Tumblr slayyyyy

•Additional Tags - Switch!Spencer , Switch!Reader , Spencer is a needy brat LMAO , Team has ‘no ideaʼ you two are hooking up (Be so mf fr they do) , Good aftercare is so valid , Spencer loves being cuffed and teased muahaha

As much as this last case had taken out of me, I was more than happy to get to spend some time in my hotel room while the jet refueled and everyone got their bearings. Itʼs not home - far from it, Iʼd been missing my own bed for the majority of our time here in whatever state it was now - but at least it was something.

But of course, the reprieve wouldnʼt last long - a sharp knock on my door confirmed that, about 20 minutes after Iʼd laid down to sleep.

“What…ˮ I groan, frustratedly looking over at the clock.

The knock, again, more persistent this time. And I recognize its pattern now, three short tap-taps. Spencer.

My heartbeat, despite my minor annoyance at being woken up, is hammering now. Spencer seems to do that to me, from the moment Iʼd realized I have feelings for him, carrying into whatever it is that we are now. Secret trysts that Iʼm sure are no secret to our team members, especially Garcia, because sheʼd pried it out of me almost immediately and now waits in her dark little room with nothing else but excitement for the latest updates on us, it seems.

“Are you awake?ˮ A gentle but still much-too-loud voice asks.

I tumble out of bed, rushing to the door. I donʼt even have time to make sure I look okay - Iʼm much too worried about anyone else hearing him. The door is unlocked and pulled open in record time, a stunned lanky man quickly and semi-quietly forced inside.

“Spence, someoneʼs gonna hear you if you keep on like that.ˮ I chastise him, shutting and locking the door behind us. No sooner have I done so, than his lithe form overtakes me, nestling into the crook of my neck with a groan that seems both relieved and not relieved at all.

“Donʼt care,ˮ He pushes me back, until my legs meet the mattress and fold. Quickly following on top of me, he sighs, “Been too long. I miss you. You know I have an eidetic memory, yeah? Doesnʼt mean shit when Iʼm up late and even thoughts of you arenʼt enough to keep me satiated.ˮ

“Someoneʼs gonna-ˮ Hear, I want to say. He knows, of course he does. And Iʼm only half-complaining, with his lips at my neck and his leg sneaking up between mine the way he also knows.

“Donʼt care.ˮ He repeats, the low moan at the back of his throat breaking through into the silent room. “I told you I miss you. Should I tell you about what I use my memory for? And just how much that hasnʼt been enough lately? Or should I show you?ˮ

Itʼs clearly a rhetorical question, but still, he seeks the permission I am more than happy to grant.

“Tell me. Uh, show me. I mean-ˮ

“I can do both,ˮ Even in the dark, I know heʼs got that matter of fact smirk on his lips. He reaches down, holding me by the hip with one hand while the other slips into my pajamas, a practiced motion heʼs all too good at by now. “Usually this is what I remember first. The way your skin feels, how nice it is to make you tremble beneath my touch.ˮ

I buck up, and he chuckles.

“All too eager, arenʼt you? Clearly youʼve been thinking about it too, huh, pretty girl?ˮ A pointed question he knows Iʼll struggle to answer, with his hand and his voice torturing me so.

“No eid- identical- uh, no memory recall whatever for me.ˮ

“Still wouldnʼt satiate, I bet.ˮ He remarks, casually rubbing circles and patterns over my panties. This is how he operates, surely and with no warning. A gentle but firm kiss to my jaw, and he continues, “Itʼs like that for me, at least. I know no amount of recalling how you feel under me will be enough to match just how nice it is.ˮ

Heʼs right, and of course he is; I can barely handle the teasing, the tone his voice has taken in this short amount of time. And I currently dont care if weʼre heard, either.

“Spence-ˮ

“What is it, sweetheart? Too much for you? Not enough?ˮ

“Please?ˮ

“Words, honey. Youʼve gotta use your words. Or you can show me, Iʼm okay withthat too.ˮ He guides my hand down to his.

“More.ˮ I plead, working to undress myself before his hands take over.

“You only have to ask.ˮ

True to his word, Spencer pulls the fabric away, no longer allowing it to be a block between us. Itʼs lost somewhere in the sheets as he kisses me, his practiced hands no longer in the mood to tease. He slips a finger in, and when I let out a keening whine, another, his free hand going automatically to my mouth.

“Now as much as I say I donʼt care, youʼve gotta be a little quiet for me,ˮ He goads, knowing this will only make it harder for me to do so. His breath is hot in my ear, his fingers working a motion thatʼs both breaking pent up weeks old frustration, and yet causing more tension in my belly. “Much as I love your voice. Your sounds. The-ˮ

I rut up against him, my lips opening around his thumb. He works it into my mouth, his voice lowering even further.

“Cmon, show me how much you missed me, huh, princess?ˮ

I moan, words lost in my mind as it spins. Every tug of his fingers between my thighs is building a high Iʼm chasing, and when I get to this point, Iʼm not talking - he is. And he knows it, knows the right words to say to build and break me.

“This is what Iʼm after, this is what I canʼt just remember. Because itʼs all too much to remember how good it feels to destroy you.ˮ

Please, please. I canʼt hold off much longer.

“Now are you gonna cum for me, sweetheart?ˮ

I nod, lips opening and letting his hand free from my mouth as my breaths grow heavy. “Canʼt - Please, Spence, please-ˮ

He presses me further into the mattress, murmuring sweet and dirty nothings into my ear as the dam breaks and I ride my high. Iʼm far too sensitive following, and when I try to push him away for a moment, allow myself to collect some sort of reprieve before we continue, he chuckles lowly.

“See, I can recall that clear as day. But itʼs so much sweeter to have it happening in front of me, you know?ˮ He nestles in beside me, turning me to face him.

Nigh immediately, Iʼm reaching for his belt buckle. Of course he wouldnʼt have changed into comfortable clothes, not even this late- Iʼm sure this was his plan all along, and he tried to fight it as long as he could.

“Someoneʼs eager.ˮ He quips, the smirk growing.

“Youʼve got me thinking about it,ˮ I sigh, letting him maneuver himself out of the constricting clothing. “Coming over and getting me all hot and bothered. I really ought to…ˮ

“Ought to what?ˮ He goads, pulling me onto him with a low noise as we brush together. “Hmm? Are you gonna say…you ought to punish me?ˮ

I nod, rubbing back against him. He lets out a moan, hands gripping my hips tighter.

“I remember how that feels,ˮ He pulls me closer, voice dropping. “But for your sake, maybe you should refresh me.ˮ

When he reaches for me again, I pull back, pinning his hands down above his head. I know he could get out of it if he really wanted to - Iʼm strong, but not stronger than him - but he most certainly doesnʼt want to get out of it. And Iʼm enjoying it far too much to stop myself now.

“Whatʼre you gonna do, cuff me?ˮ He snaps, the bratty attitude far too practiced and already making me a soaking mess.

“I might.ˮ I reach for my pair, knowing all too well that heʼll absolutely lose it once I let go on him. I can hardly stand the anticipation. “Scared, Reid?ˮ

“Terrified. Please, donʼt. Iʼve been a good boy, I swear.ˮ

I push him back while he pleads, tightening the metal around his wrists. The look on his face, muffled as it is by the darkness of the room, is more than enough to spur me on.

“Not thinking about this at all, huh?ˮ I shed my top, if only for the knowledge that his inability to reach for my breasts drives him utterly insane. “And Iʼm sure you havenʼt spent many late nights with the memory of me riding you, have you? Havenʼt had your hands on that pretty cock of yours, thinking about how it feels when itʼs me, yeah?ˮ

“N-Not at all.ˮ

“Itʼs a shame, then.ˮ I tease, feeling him harden beneath me with every word. “Iʼll have to make you confess, I suppose.ˮ

His eyes follow my every move as I back up, slotting between his legs and bending down to kiss along his hips.

“Youʼll never get it out of me.ˮ He groans.

“Is that a promise or a challenge?ˮ I ask, not breaking eye contact as I place a kiss on his sensitive head.

“Challenge? Would I…challenge you?ˮ He still holds onto a moment of sanity, until I take him in my mouth, and itʼs lost with a sigh of, “Oh, would I.ˮ

I bob my head, my practiced motions coming in handy now. The usually-full-of- remarks Spencer Reid folds under my touch, soft deep moans and babble of confessions and wish I could pull your hair passing his lips while I work him out.

After a few moments of this, I let him free - at least from the torture of my lips.

“Where are you going? Please, I wanna cum for you, Iʼll tell you everything I did while I couldnʼt stand to wait for you.ˮ He keens.

“Oh, Iʼm far from done with you, Spence.ˮ I slowly, agonizingly slowly, climb back on top of him, making sure to back right up against him as he tightens against the cuffs. “Donʼt you worry, Iʼll have every measly confession pouring from you. You know I will.ˮ

“Please, let me out- Gotta touch you, I just gotta-ˮ

“Shh, be good for me, wonʼt you?ˮ I lift myself over his face, pressing my folds to his lips. “Unless you wanna stay in those forever.ˮ

He shakes his head, vibrating a ‘noʼ against me.

“Good. Now youʼre gonna pay your dues and clean up the mess youʼve made.ˮ

Eagerly, he laps at me like heʼs never had it before. His utter submissiveness overwhelms him, letting me ride his face to my hearts content. Words are muffled and entirely lost in it, and I know by now that the sounds Iʼm making alone will be heard, but I donʼt really care. Iʼm too far gone in how good it feels to finally have him making me cum again.

“Can I touch you now?ˮ

I slide back onto him, teasingly letting myself rest with just the edge of him pressing into my folds.

“Can you?ˮ I look pointedly at his wrists.

“I-oh, my god, clearly not, but-ˮ

“How about this?ˮ I amend. “You give me a confession, you get a reward. Sound fair?ˮ

“Yeah, sounds just fine. I couldnʼt get off without coming here, you realize that, donʼt you? Youʼre the only thing that gets me off anymo-Oh-ˮ His confession is cut short as I slide him a bit further in, just enough to spur him further. “I mean, I get off, donʼt get me wrong here. But nothing feels as good as when itʼs with you. Nothing.ˮ

“Keep going, youʼre doing good.ˮ I praise, sinking a bit deeper.

“Goddamn you feel so good.ˮ He moans. “Like, my hands canʼt even come close to this, are you kidding? I can try all I want, and believe me, I have - Oh, my god, please donʼt stop - Iʼve been trying all the time, I admit that, canʼt hardly stand being around you and not being able to just fuck you whenever I want.ˮ

I push down further, the stretch he gives me loosing my own moan. “How much do you wanna fuck me, Spence? Tell me, please.ˮ

“God, all the time. Itʼs all I can think about when I get down to it - baby, can I please touch you now?ˮ

“Punishment is a bitch, isnʼt it, Reid?ˮ I smirk, starting to push him in and out of me, slowly and with a devious grin that falters at just how damn good it is.

“Baby, Iʼm gonna get outta these and fuck you so good-ˮ

“Try it.ˮ I raise an eyebrow, stopping my motions.

“Oh- No, Iʼm sorry, please donʼt stop. Iʼll be good, I promise.ˮ

“Yeah, you will.ˮ I drop as far as I can take him, savoring the stuttered animalistic groan he lets out as I press down onto him, pulling his hair and moving my hips around him. As he is want to do, heʼs thrusting up into me, even if heʼs unable to reach me with his hands held up as they are. “Eager, sweet boy. Iʼm gonna ruin you.ˮ

And ruin him, I do. The tension and heat in my belly rides and breaks several times, with him unable to form real words except for the continuous begging of please donʼt stop repeated on a loop until I feel Iʼm satisfied with his demeanor.

Once Iʼve tortured him enough, I reach for the cuffs, ready to let him off the leash - knowing that once I do, the balance will shift. Truthfully, Iʼm just eager to let him be true to his word and fuck me like heʼs been dying to.

“You donʼt need any more confessions from me, then?ˮ He huffs, sweat slicked across his brow from the effort of holding back - though heʼs not really done so, has he?

“One last one, I suppose.ˮ I pull off of him, and the pout he gives nearly makes me sit right back down on him again.

“Alright, Iʼll be good and honest with you, then.ˮ He continues while I set to unlocking the cuffs, “You know the other day, just after we got the final piece of evidence put together?ˮ

I nod.

ˮI was so psyched, I couldʼve taken you right there. I donʼt care that everyone would have known, would have seen. Itʼs just something you do to me.ˮ He finishes, his tone light. Oh boy, Iʼm about to get railed. “I love you. And now Iʼm gonna fuck you like Iʼve been wanting to for weeks.ˮ

No sooner is he free, tearing off the shirt he was wearing and looming over me with the hungriest of looks at my body before pressing himself into me. No wait, no teasing - heʼs not got the control for it, clearly, and Iʼm not complaining one bit.

“Next time, you get the cuffs, pretty girl.ˮ He promises, his hands all over my body now that he can manage it. Hard, precise thrusts, his voice heavy and fucked-out.

“And Iʼll show you just what Iʼve been wanting to do that Iʼm gonna savor in my mind after.ˮ

My nails are leaving deep trails in his back, surely leading to marks that would raise questions if anyone else saw. Heʼs so far in me, almost bottomed out, and itʼs almost too much and yet not enough all at once. I pull him closer, and his hand tangles in my hair while the other clasps around my throat.

“Youʼre all mine.ˮ Spencer growls - truly, thereʼs not other word for it, the purely animal drive taking him to a world where itʼs just us, just this. And Iʼm there too, crying out with the ecstasy his body causes my own.

“All yours.ˮ

“Thatʼs right, pretty girl. Say it for me, I wanna hear you say it.ˮ

“Iʼm all yours, Spence- oh, my god-ˮ

“Good, thatʼs good. My pretty girl. Youʼre so tight, you feel so good wrapped around me, donʼt you? God, what a sight.ˮ Here he is, in his rambles now, and I can hardly contain how close I am. “Wanna tell everyone this is mine. Iʼm the only one that gets to have you, gets to fuck you like this. See you break for me. Only me.ˮ

“Only you, Spence, only you-ˮ

“Cʼmon, I know youʼre close, I can feel it. You get so much tighter, god, if itʼs even possible-ˮ

“Spencer-ˮ

“Thatʼs my girl, cum for me.ˮ

“Donʼt stop-ˮ I can feel the cord in me ready to snap, chasing my most intense orgasm of the night with his words and the feeling of him slamming so deep inside me. “More, Spence, you can give me more-ˮ

“Sweet girl, of course, I know you can handle it.ˮ He pushes himself fully in, my breath catching at the slight pain, yet itʼs still so good, I canʼt stop it, I donʼt want to. “Want me to fuck you so good with all of me, donʼt you?ˮ

I nod against his grasp, and he loosens it a bit, kissing me fervently.

“Please, please cum for me, I wanna feel you all over me, beautiful.ˮ He reaches down, his thumb rubbing circles on my clit. Itʼs the last thing I need to send me over that edge, and I cry out, his name slipping past my lips unwarranted. “Oh, baby, love how you say my name. Like itʼs a prayer, like Iʼm a god.ˮ

“Donʼt stop, Spence-ˮ

“Iʼm close, baby- Oh, I wanna cum in you-ˮ

Another orgasm follows near immediately after this one, and Iʼm grasping at him while heʼs chasing his own, his hands fumbling and his thrusts getting sloppy. He grips the sheets, his breaths stunted.

“Cum in me, please-ˮ

“Iʼm gonna, god, Iʼm so fuckinʼ close-ˮ He tightens around me, muscles shaking as he lets loose, and now itʼs his turn to moan my name a lot louder than he should while he cums. Heʼs so pretty when he does, too - the crease that works between his brows, the round pucker to his lips. Partly through, he kisses me, hard. And when heʼs done, his grip loosens, falling slack on top of me with a contented sigh.

A few moments pass where he just holds me, peppering soft kisses across my face and telling me you did such a good job, baby. Then, he pops up with a smile and comes back with water and a towel, cleaning up after himself.

“Satisfied?ˮ I chuckle, slowly pulling my clothes back on.

“Almost.ˮ He dips his head down, capturing a nipple in his mouth for a few moments. I groan, overstimulated, but still too happy to appease him. “Now, Iʼm satisfied. Iʼm staying in here, okay? Donʼt care if someone sees at this point.ˮ

“Spence?ˮ

“Mmhm?ˮ

“I love you, too.ˮ

#spencer reid #spencer reid smut #spencer reid x reader #sub!spencer reid

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jujutsubaby · 3 months

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after hours (part 1)

☆ pairing: toji x afab!reader ☆ summary: toji, your objectively hot neighbor, needs a babysitter, and you need some cash. however, things are getting weird because he hasn't paid you in a week and rent is due... ☆ warnings: 18+. MINORS DNI. choking, oral sex (f!recieving), implied parent death, some public nudity, slight power dynamic ☆ tags: modernAU, babysittingAU ☆ a/n: lowkey wrote this with one hand if you catch my drift ꈍ .̮ ꈍ i'm thinking about doing more parts loosely based off of each other following y/n and a love triangle between gojo and toji. yes, they will be horny and yes i will *try* to have some plot let me LIVE okay (°◡°♡) let me know if that's something people are interested in :3 🖤🤍 series masterlist 🤍🖤

"megumiiii~", you sing lightly, "it's time for beeed". it's way past 9pm, and if toji finds out his son was 30 minutes past his bedtime, he'll never let you forget the next time you babysit. not that you have any issue babysitting for your extremely built, ripped, hot, dilf of a neighbor, that is.

megumi groans and tears start lining his little eyes. "but i don't wanna~" he cries out. "there's only 30 minutes left on this show...", he tries to beg. you pick up the candy wrappers you secretly gave megumi after dinner as a treat for eating his veggies.

"okay, first of all, i let you stay up way longer than i should have. second, there's no way in hell am i gonna let you stay up and watch...oh god. you're watching euphoria?!" you exclaim, eyes widening at the thought of megumi watching all the inappropriate content without you even realizing. you hope it's too late in the night and he's far too sleepy and tired to actually retain anything he just watched. you grab the tv remote and turn it off, and pick up megumi in your arms. "c'mon bubs, you've got school tomorrow, and your daddy will be home soon", you whisper softly in his ear.

megumi yawns and mumbles while slowly drifting off. "but i'm not even that sweepyy...". by the time you make it upstairs to his room, megumi is knocked out. you smile softly at him, before quitely closing the door and heading downstairs to the living room to clean up the mess megumi had made.

you look at the time again. 9:45...toji should be back soon, you think to yourself. you decide on reviewing some of your notes for a final next week while euphoria continues to play on the background. you've personally never watched the show, but your roommate, shoko, was obsessed with jacob elordi and loved euphoria, but there was far too much nudity in it for you.

as if right on cue, shoko shoots you a text.

shoko: pls tell me ur balls deep in toji rn babe me n utahime are bored as hell and we need something exciting this friday night 😭

you giggle. it was no secret between you and three that your next door neighbor was insanely hot. you guys always joke about sleeping with toji. you quickly type back:

y/n: stfu what if he was next to me and read this text huh? never gonna happen you know that 🙄

it’s not like you’re not not down for that. you just don’t want to be all over him like everyone else in the neighborhood. you and shoko have seen the way some of these girls did not know how to act on nextdoor whenever toji went on one of his shirtless runs or drove megumi to and from school.

it’s also not like you’re a total virgin either. you’ve had your fair share of ex-boyfriends in the past, but you won’t lie…it has been a while since you’ve been with someone. your thoughts are interrupted by a response from shoko.

shoko: riiiighttt, that's why you asked to borrow my shortest n sluttiest skirt to "babysit" tn 😏

you shake your head, scoffing at your cheeky roommate. you love her, but there's a final next week that isn't going to pass itself. muting the show and putting on your headphones, you get lost in your class notes, reviewing all the important key points and ideas before your final next week. you don’t even notice toji opening the door and his keys clanging on the table as he takes off his shoes and groans after a long day of…work? you’re not entirely sure what he does for a living but you never really bothered to ask. and it’s partially why you were feeling nervous to ask toji about your babysitting payment for the last week, as he hadn’t paid you at all for it. toji heads to the kitchen and opens a cold bottle of beer and saunters to the living room, only to be met with a pair of 4k hd bare titties on the 60 inch tv in his living room and you on the sofa.

toji clears his throat loudly. “whatcha watching, y/n?”, he says cheekily. you look up at toji, startled by his entrance, and you look at the tv, and squeal at what’s on display.

“oh my god, mr. fushiguro! i-i-i have no ideas w-what’s playing. ohmygodidon’tevenknowwhatshowisplaying-” you start rambling, looking around frantically for the remote to turn the tv off.

“relax, y/n-kun”, toji coos. “i’m not judging you. never known anyone to do their best studyin’ while there are a pair of tits on screen, but you always find a way to surprise me.” toji chuckles as you turn off the tv, and moves closer to you so he can sit across the sofa.

“stop teasing me, mr. fushiguro~”, you whine., crossing your arms and pouting. “you know i’d never-“

“c’mon y/n, how many times do i have to tell you to call me toji? i’m not that much older than you, you know that right?”, toji reminds you.

your pout slowly turns into a smile as you laugh slightly. “okay, whatever you say, boomer,” you tease. you and toji both laugh gingerly. you both stare at the blank tv screen, marinating in the comfortable silence you both were familiar with. toji was right when he said he wasn’t much older than you. he was, after all, your age when he had megumi and was somehow making ends meet as a single parent, although you would be lying if you said you hadn’t seen a few women here and there that toji brought home every so often. it was never the same girl more than once, but you definitely knew he had some game, whether you liked it or not. wait, do you not like that he brings girls over?

you shift uncomfortably on the couch as you recall the uncomfortable conversation you need to have with toji. he senses the change in your mood and how you body stiffened up instead of its usually relaxed posture. toji frowns. “hey, what’s on your mind, pumpkin?”

“umm…well, i hope you don’t mind me asking this but…well, i’ve got to pay my portion of rent soon. a-and i’ve noticed that i haven’t gotten paid for the last w-week yet. sorry, i know things are rough but…i was wondering…” you trail off, pleading inside that toji can fill in the blanks himself and can figure out what you’re asking.

toji shifts towards you and locks eyes with you. you don’t really know what you were expecting to see but it sure wasn’t him smirking. you swear you saw a twinkle of playfulness in his eyes as he inches closer and closer to you. almost instinctively, you clench your thighs together, trying really hard not to think about the effect locking eyes with toji has on you.

“aw, i’m sorry, pumpkin.” toji feigns sympathy to you. “you see, i was going to pay you last week. remember when you went to tuck megumi in after last thursday? i had an envelope with the cash i owed you, and i went to put it in your bag, when your laptop chimed with a new message.” your face immediately drops. this can’t be what you think it is. you’re not entirely sure what toji could’ve seen, but also, isn’t this a violation of your privacy? you hold your breath and gulp, daring not to let toji sense how nervous you are.

“oh god, y/n. i didn’t want to look but it’s hard to look away when there’s a message that says ‘so have you fucked your hot dilf neighbor yet?’ don’t tell me you were only babysitting for me because you wanted me?” toji asks, raising an eyebrow, the scar near his lip lifting up slightly in a teasing grin.

“i-i don’t know w-what you’re talking about, toji~ why were you looking at my messages!” you accuse, your face growing hotter by the second with embarrassment and…lust? wait what no, he’s your neighbor you can’t do this! you can feel your panties getting more soaked by the second and you cannot bear to look at toji’s stupid handsome face, so you look at his hands. the way his large fingers rest on the sofa. how would they look around your neck? oh my god, snap out of it!

“why are you telling everyone but me you think i’m hot?” he counters, pulling you from your thoughts. “that reallyyy hurts my feelings, y/n-kun”, toji says as he pretends to pout. wait, when did he get so close to you?

“it’s s-so unprofessional i didn’t want to-“ you start rambling. toji is right next to you, his knees touching your knees. he stops you mid sentence by using his hands that are practically the size of your face to grab your jaw and force you to face him, as you let out a pathetic little whine.

“cut the shit, pumpkin. it’s just babysitting, okay. it’s not that serious,” toji spits harshly. every muscle in your body is on fire, and you have to actively prevent your eyes from rolling back. you swear you had a fantasy dream like this once (oh god, was it with toji?).

“don’t think i don’t see you looking sooo disappointed when i bring yet another girl home with me. hell, it even makes me feel bad…” toji trails off, as he loosens his grip on your jaw, slowly using his fingers to trace your jawline. you shiver at his touch. “hell, even i feel bad when i see your sad sad face drop. my poor girl…”, toji feigns a frown as he starts to softly trace the outline of your lips.

instinctively, you let out a quite moan when his fingers touch your lips. “i do, toji. i feel so sad when i see you with those other girls. i can’t stand it when someone else has you.” you confess, almost embarrassingly easily. your wide bambi eyes look at toji’s, and you’re not sure if you want to cry or beeline back to your place and forget this ever happened. or perhaps a secret third option where you give in to the desires you’ve had all along?

toji groans deeply as he shifts slightly in his seat, but before you’re able to look down and see the hardening tent in his pants, toji shoves his index and middle fingers into your mouth, taking you by surprise. you stifle out a moan before toji sticks them deeper down your throat.

he doesn’t even have to ask you to suck on them as you instinctively start to do so, making a show of gagging on them for toji’s pleasure. you feel warm as you hear toji let out a groan as he slips in a third finger, making you choke on them. your moans vibrate against his fingers and he hums in approval of how well you’re doing with no instruction from him.

“you’re doing so well, pumpkin,” toji hums, a string of saliva connecting his fingers to your mouth as he slowly takes his fingers out of your mouth.

alright, fuck it. this sends you over the edge. your lips crash into toji’s, teeth hitting each as you both get to know the shape of each others mouths. you bite his lip and that’s all it takes for toji to pull you onto his lap and deepen the kiss with his tongue, exploring every inch of your mouth. you feel the vibrations of his groans and your hips grind into his thigh as you put your arms around his neck, pulling yourself as close as you can to him. your legs wrap around his torso as his hands grab your ass harshly. you let out a yelp into his mouth, daring not to end the kiss.

“oh you’ve been waiting for this haven’t you, pumpkin?” toji breaths against your neck after breaking the kiss. he begins to kiss your neck and you moan his name embarrassingly load.

“tojiiii~” you whine, “i need you, please~” you try to move your hips against him to feel some friction in the place you need it the most.

“shhh, you’re gonna wake m’gumi up,” he slurs in a low voice, already drunk off of your warmth. "not so fast, pumpkin", he says as he stills your hips, "i call the shots here." he grins and before you even know it, your back hits the sofa and he pulls your legs up on his shoulders.

you feel exposed, as shoko's pleated skirt does a poor job of leaving anything to the imagination, and all of a sudden, you really wish you wore your trusted boy shorts instead of your black lace thong under it. as he starts to kiss your ankles while looking deeply into your eyes, you see nothing but primal lust on his face. he lightly bites your ankle, making you slightly yelp before covering your mouth, remembering megumi upstairs.

toji's eyes wander to your sweet spot, and it's taking everything in you not to thrust your soaking core into his hungry face. "oh, is that where you want me to touch you?" he teases, his hands running down softly from your ankles to your inner thigh. your hips wiggle side to side, hoping his fingers end up grazing your aching core, but toji holds you hips down roughly. he scoots back and peppers your leg with kisses, slowly inching up and up until he's mere inches away from your panties.

he plants a wet kiss on your clothed mound and you let out a pathetic mewl as toji shoots his head up and stops dead in his tracks. "make another noise, pumpkin, and we end this right now and you go home frustrated and upset." he warns. unfortunately, this turns you on even more and your hands are over your mouth immediately, eyes shut closed, praying toji pities you and gives you some release.

you feel toji take off your panties agonizingly slowly, and your breath hitches. "oh, your panties are fully ruined. better get rid of them." toji says as he tosses them somewhere across the room.

"it's your fault..." you say, you voice a low whisper through your hands.

toji starts back at your mound again and moans into the kiss in agreement. his fingers lightly touch your core, and you shiver in anticipation. "oh, this is where your sensitive, right?" toji teases, as his fingers finally start circling the part of your delicate bud you've been aching for toji to touch. you bite your hand to prevent yourself from moaning loudly, and take deep breaths so to not make any noise.

toji starts circling your sensitive bud with his fingers, moving with your hips as you get to a rhythm that has you on cloud nine. you feel the familiar build up beginning, when toji abruptly takes his fingers away, leaving you breathless and practically whining from his lack of touch. "ohhh, don't worry, pumpkin. i just wanna taste you," he coos, before diving mouth first into your sensitive bud once more, tasting every inch of your delicate core.

this time, you're unable to hold back and your deep breaths are practically moans. you're laughing, whining, crying...you're not actually sure. you're mind is clouded by the pleasure toji's tongue is sending through your body.

toji's fingers start teasing your entrance as your hips buckle and you start grinding on his face. you're making a mess on his sofa but you don't even care, and neither does toji. "oh, toji, fuck~ that feels...soo good...fuck~" you whine. you're practically begging for his fingers inside you, and toji finally complies and inserts his finger inside you.

"please toji~", you whisper, "i need more, please, please."

"wow, someone's a bit greedy. one finger just isn't enough for a slut like you, huh?" toji chides, the vibrations of his voice going straight to your body. he inserts two more fingers, and you feel a pang of pain, which makes you yelp.

"toji~ it's too much," you cry out, unable to handle three of his large fingers inside you at once.

"oh, now it's a problem? you can take it, pumpkin." toji encourages, moving his fingers at a moderate pace while his mouth is still playing with your delicate bud. the pain slowly turns into pleasure, and the pleasure slowly turns into an inevitable build up that's starting to cloud your vision.

"toji~" you whine. "i'm getting so close, please..." you trail off, trying your hardest to lower your moans.

"please what?" toji asks, knowing full well what you wanted, and that he was the only person able to give it you. toji's member was practically begging for escape against his dark pants, but he was far too drunk on your sweet nectar. he doesn't remember the last time he tasted someone as addicting as you.

"please, can i...c-can i...?" you don't get to finish your sentence before toji groans a "yes" into your core, and the dam that had been building finally burst as you release all over toji's face.

you pant heavily as you finish, hoping you weren't too loud. toji lifts his head from between your legs and immediately darts to your lips, kissing you deeply before you can say anything. you moan into the kiss, still feeling the effects of your orgasm rippling through your sensitive body. you taste yourself in toji's kiss and you never want it to end. a whine escapes your mouth when toji's lips finally disconnect from yours, an unashamed smile playing on toji's face. "did you like that, pumpkin?" he asks.

you're still catching your breath as you nod and smile, gazing at him softly. you can't help but want to return the favor for toji, as you slowly get up and scan toji up and down. god, he's so fucking fit.

you scoot closer to toji, maintaining eye contact, and placing your hands on his upper thigh. oh my god, his legs are just pure rock hard muscle. your hands shake slightly as they make their way on top of toji's hard straining member. toji chuckles as you grasp him over his dark pants, stopping you in your tracks by grabbing your wrist and moving it away from him.

"woah, hold on there y/n. it's 11pm. a bit too late to start something now, dontcha think?" he inquires, raising his eyebrows at you.

heat rises to your cheeks and you feel so embarrassed you could combust. oh my god, wait, does he not want you to return the favor? the insecurity showed up immediately on your face, with your lips frowning and eyebrows scrunching. toji cups the side of your face endearingly and his thumb grazes your lower lip before letting it sit there.

"hey, don't give me that look. i want this. i want you but...it's late. megumi has school tomorrow and it's parent teacher night. i know you have class, too," he explains.

you pout, but not before sucking toji's thumb that was grazing your lower lip and giving it a wet kiss. "that's not fair~ i really want to return the favor toji..." your voice trails, as you already know this conversation is over. you sigh as you turn away from him and reach for your notebook and laptop on the coffee table. you get up and bend down to grab your bag and start packing your belongings and fishing out your keys.

you hear toji hum and turn around to see the gears twisting in his dark eyes that are fixated on you. wait, hold on. he's not looking at you. he's looking at your ass. and he's being so obvious and unashamed about it, too!

you blush and roll your eyes as you chide toji. "wow, so you don't want me to suck your dick but you're gonna look at my ass as i leave?"

toji laughs earnestly and the sound of his laughter makes you feel warm and relaxed inside. you could probably live the rest of your life hearing that laugh. wait, what? rest of your life?

"first off, i do want you to suck me off, pumpkin. second, am i not allowed to respectfully admire? anyway, i was thinking. maybe you come with us to the parent-teacher meeting tomorrow? you practically help the kid with his homework every other night, and i think he really sees you as someone he can trust." toji says, bringing you out of your thoughts. you notice the hidden solitude behind his eyes, and feel a pang of melancholy in your heart. you don't know much about toji and megumi's mom, and you never thought it appropriate to discuss with either one of them, so you always let it be. a part of you is curious and another part is afraid to touch such a vulnerable side to toji, fearing it may alter your relationship with him permanently.

"we can grab dinner before, too. my treat." toji winks, and you scoff. he never even makes sure there's food for you at home before he leaves, always leaving you to pay for your own dinner every night you babysit, let alone pay a meal for you.

you roll your eyes, trying to act upset, but a giggle breaks out anyway. "yeah, i'd love to." you respond genuinely.

you finish packing up your things before searching for your discarded panties in toji's living room. "looking for these?" toji teases, holding up your lacy black thong, still ruined with the mess you made earlier today.

"give 'em back, toji~" you say, trying to reach for the panties from toji, before he stuffs them in his pocket.

"i think i'll keep these actually. they need to go in the laundry anyway, might as well be here." he teases, as you pout. toji cracks an evil grin, knowing deep down you must love having to go back home without any panties in your short skirt.

and he was right, you kinda did love it. a blush creeps up to your cheeks as you shake your head in dismay. "you're so fuckin' annoying, y'know?" you say as toji interlaces his fingers with yours as he walks to you to the door.

"yeah, i know. let's see if you're still that mouthy after you choke on me tomorrow," toji says, giving you a playfully menacing look.

the cool air of the late night nips at your skin, making you shiver, but you know deep down that has more to do with thinking about all the things toji will do to your poor throat tomorrow evening. "hm, we'll see...," you say, as your breath hitches slightly. you stand up on your tippy toes to give a quick peck goodnight to toji.

you honestly should've known better because toji immediately leans forward and turns the quick kiss into a deep make out session in the chill yet humid night air. he's quick to grab your ass, and you're quick to regain your senses and break off the kiss. oh my god, what if someone saw us, you think, recalling all the girls in the neighborhood that fawn over toji and the fact that you weren't wearing panties thanks to toji.

"stop toji~ it's late like you said," you whine, wriggling out of his strong grasp. you turns you around, you back flush against him and he laughs into your neck, arms wrapping your hips tightly from behind.

he releases you but not before giving you one last squeeze. "goodnight, pumpkin."

"night, toji," you say softly as you turn around and head to your car in the driveway. you do a poor job of pulling your skirt down as low as it can possibly get without you looking incredibly stupid, and cross your arms in the cold breeze.

you hear the door close, and start up the car engine and back out, relying only on muscle memory to get you home, as you spend the entire five minute car ride thinking solely about everything that happened today. how were you ready for another release already? you make a mental note to charge your vibrator when you get back to your apartment.

just as you pulled into the drive way, you jaw fell and you remembered. oh shit wait, he still hasn't paid me.

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intoxicated-chan · 3 months

Text

𝐁𝐚𝐛𝐲, 𝐘𝐨𝐮❜𝐫𝐞 𝐍𝐨 𝐆𝐨𝐨𝐝 𝐅𝐨𝐫 𝐌𝐞

Summary ➳ Ever since Daryl and Merle joined you and the rest of the survivors, Shane believed that the brothers were no good and warned you to stay away. But you never had good hearing.

(A/n) ➳ This is gonna have multiple parts, I’m not a fan having multiple dividers used as time-skips. Take care of yourselves!!

Word Count ➳ 2.1k (There ain’t a lot of smut but I’ll make it up to you guys in the next part!)

Content Warnings ➳ Female Reader, mentions of death/killing, swearing, mentions of masturbation/masturbation (M), oral (F), cunilingus, fingering, pet names (baby), overstimulation…

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 (Coming soon!!)

You often found your mind wandering ever since the outbreak, you struggled to believe what was happening was real. You tried to think positively and hoped that in the end, you would wake up from the nightmare. But there was no nightmare since there was no dream. The outbreak indeed happened and the world is in fucking shambles.

Even during the panic, you found it unbelievable, you refused to believe. It took your brother bruising your arm to drag you into the truck. And when Lori and Carl were put into the truck, Shane told you his belief of his friend’s demise. Another thing that you refused to believe and luckily, you didn’t change your view.

Shane stretched his arms as he stepped out of the tent, a groan leaving his lips. But he wasn’t the only one awake so early, you were as well.

You were folding the group’s clothes, but you were also looking at the tags of the men’s shirts the group had taken. You were ripping the sleeves off of those you deemed the right ones.

“What are you doin’?” Shane asked you, lifting an eyebrow as you ripped another sleeve. He had a good guess of who those were for.

“Daryl’s shirts are coated in sweat an’ dirt. There are holes in ‘em.” You replied, a harmless smile on your face. Shane knew that you were trying to do something good for him. “He needs new ones.”

Shane kneeled, taking your wrist to stop you. “Don’t you think he can do that himself?”

“But he’s out huntin’.” You pulled your wrist back.

“If he can make time for huntin’, he can make his shirts himself.” Shane snatched the rest of the shirts and pushed them to the side. “What are you doin’ up anyways?”

Your eyes looked away from his, fidgeting with the tag of Daryl’s shirt. Your dreams were plagued by nightmares, you wouldn’t go into detail, and you were happy that you forgot most of it.

Shane could see it in your eyes, he rubbed your back. “Don’t worry, we’re gonna get our home back.”

“Would we?” You mumbled, rolling your eyes.

“What was that?” Shane demanded to know. He grabbed your shoulders. “Say it again.”

“It’s gone, Shane. We have no home, there’s nothin’ to go back to.”

“Don’t you ever think like that.” Shane snapped. His voice was low yet gruff, showing how serious and angry he was. “We’re goin’ to get home. Understand?”

You looked away once more, nodding. Your ears caught the sound of Daryl panting, arguing with his brother to wake up and help him.

Shane moved his hands from your shoulder to brush back your hair. “Go back to your tent, get some rest.” Patting your back and taking the sleeveless shirts, his voice returning to normal. “And keep away from them. I shouldn’t have to remind you, again.”

You heard Shane speaking with Daryl, handing or shoving the shirts to his arms in trade for some of the game he caught. You also heard Shane taking credit for the work done for Daryl.

“I did ‘em. You smell like shit.” Shane was starting to piss you off. First telling you to keep away from people you were going to have to work with and then taking credit for work you did…

It was most likely midnight. You and Shane were the only ones sitting by the dying campfire. Georgia may be hot during the day but could be cold during the night.

Shane glanced around, he was cautious, making sure it was just the two of you. He wrapped his arm around your shoulder, pulling you close. “Stay away from them. I shouldn’t be repeatin’ myself and I don’t like to.”

You knew Shane could be an asshole at times but deep down, he meant well. But it was harder to believe him each time when he wouldn’t give you a reason.

“All I am askin’ is an explanation.” You begged Shane. “Give me a reason.”

“Do I really need to explain myself?” Shane loudly sighed when you nodded immediately. “They are suspicious. I know we need every hand we can get but when it comes to them, to Merle. It’s obvious that they are plannin’ somethin’, somethin’ bad.”

“What does that have to do with Daryl? Or me?”

Shane was getting annoyed by your constant questions. He ran his fingers through his hair, nearly pulling them out. “Let me ask you this. Do you think Daryl will go out of his way to save you?”

“What if-”

“No ifs ands or buts. Answer it.” Shane said sternly, he didn’t need your response since your silence was your answer. “Daryl is only lookin’ out for his brother, he ain’t gonna be saving your dumbass unless you got somethin’ for him or Merle.”

“Don’t say that about him. Daryl is just misunderstood.”

A harsh laugh left his lips. “Jesus (Y/n), why are you tryin’? You are unbearably naive. Always having soft spots, like that damn dog. Watch, Daryl is gonna bring you down to his shit level, and when he does, I ain’t gonna be there to help your pathetic ass. You’re gonna be risking your life for people who don’t give a damn about yours.”

Tears stung your eyes, hurt by your brother’s words. And Shane could see it. “You’re my sister, the only family I have left. I won’t have you taken away from me because of them.”

You felt like a fish out of water, the way your mouth was opening and closing. It took you a good minute before you could finally speak. “The world has gone to shit Shane. We need each other to survive, we can’t be divided.”

“(Y/n)-”

“You gotta get rid of your black and white thinkin’. Find common ground with them, not draw a line in the dirt and spit on it.”

You pushed his arm off and stomped off, you must’ve looked like a child.

“(Y/n).” He called out to you, watching you walk off.

You sat on a random rock once. You knew your path back to camp, you remained close by, in case of an emergency.

You wiped your eyes, frustrated. You took deep breaths, running your hands up and down your thighs to stop you from completely sobbing.

“The hell you doin’ out ‘ere?” You flinched, snapping your head around just to see Daryl with a string of rabbits over his shoulder.

“I could say the same.” You grumbled, turning your head back around. “Why you huntin’ out so late?”

“None of yer damn business.” He countered rather harshly. “You gonna answer?”

You were ready to rant but Daryl was a man of few words, and he preferred it if people got to the point instead of wasting his time. “Shane and I fought. He’s a fuckin’ asshole.”

“...Wan’ me to kill ‘im?” He asked, loading his crossbow and hearing a click.

A faint smile crossed your face, holding in the snicker you had coming. “I thank you for your offer. But I’ll be alright. He’s probably stressed.”

“What’ver you say.” Daryl turned around and walked away, just in time for Shane to appear. He didn’t bother giving Shane a second look.

“Still havin’ a hard time deciding if I’m real or not?” Rick asked, taking the water you handed him.

“No, I made up my mind when Shane told me. I knew your stubborn ass would come out sooner or later.” You laughed as well as Rick. You laid your head on his shoulder, sitting by the dead campfire with him.

Comfortable silence overcame you both, but Rick had questions. Especially when he hadn’t seen you and Shane speak, even when he returned.

“Shane… What happened?”

“Shane… He doesn’t think that the brothers are good.” You replied. “I understand where he’s comin’ from but Daryl’s different.”

“Talk to him often?”

“Not really.”

Rick sighed. “You’re too kind, one day that will come back an’ haunt you.”

Rick left the conversation at that, leaving you with your thoughts. You were stuck. You couldn’t focus and you didn’t want to be around your brother.

You joined Daryl despite his protest and annoyance. He allowed you to follow, even more when he learned that never shot a gun before when the topic of weapons came up.

“Don’t be lookin’ tense.” Daryl commented, his hand coming to your wrist. “Yer holdin’ it too tight, relax yer damn grip.”

You mumbled an apology, doing your best to take his advice. But after a couple of minutes of remaining tense, Daryl took away the gun. “That’s it, what’s on yer mind?”

“E’cuse me?”

“I ain’t gonna risk our food on you unable to shoot a damn gun.” You rolled your eyes. “Yer shit brother?”

You grumbled, cursing Shane under your breath. “I rather not think about it.”

“Yer gonna have to find a way to deal with yer shit if you ain’t gonna talk.”

“Like what? Takin’ care of myself?”

Daryl shrugged. “Probably.”

“What am I supposed to do here? Not much to take care of myself with.” You motioned to the trees that surrounded the two of you.

“Perfect place to jerk one out though. Quick and easy-”

“E’cuse me?” You repeated, a little louder this time.

“How many times you gonna say e’cuse me?” He horribly mimicked your voice. “The way ya lookin’ at me shows that you hadn’t done it.”

“I have.” You huffed but Daryl lifted his eyebrow. “I-It’s just- it’s difficult. I can’t do it when I know people are around or gonna be lookin’ for me. I don’t wanna be embarrassed.”

“Haven’t ya learned to do it quickly?”

“No… But are you willin’ to help?”

Daryl gave you a confused look. “Thought yer brother didn’t want you ‘round me? Would ya think he’d approve of this? Me touchin’ ya?”

“Who gives a damn what he thinks? He can’t decide what I want.”

He placed his crossbow against a tree and crossed his arms. “Ya gonna give somethin’ in return?” You nodded hastily. “Then take yer damn pants off.”

Your fingers pulled on his sandy blonde hair, taking gasps of air as you felt his tongue lapping all of your juices. How long has it been? An hour or two? How many orgasms have you had? You weren’t even going to try and count them all.

He kept a tight hold on your hips, he pulled you back whenever you pulled away. He had you laid against the dirt, feeling the pebbles and sticks poking at your back and head stopped bothering you when all you could think about was clouded.

Daryl remained between your legs, your thighs clenching around his head, the wetness covering the lower half of his face. His tongue danced around your folds and clit.

Daryl shifted his position, he kneeled, giving him a perfect view of your flushed body. A layer of sweat across your open skin, an arm thrown over your eyes and your other hand was no longer pulling at his hair but gripping a patch of patch.

He dipped one finger into your cunt, feeling you squeeze around him, making him add another. He slid his fingers in and out, fucking you quickly.

His other hand reached to unbuckle his belt, unzipping his fly and freeing himself. He jerked himself off using precum as a kind of lubricate. Each stroke of his cock was matched by the pace he was fingering you.

Above the wet sounds of your cunt, he could hear the soft moans leaving your mouth. His breathing fell into an unsteady pace alongside an occasional groan from the back of his throat.

Both of his arms were burning, moving faster than to what he was normally used to. A painful shiver ran through him, he was coming.

Another painful bolt. There was a hint of pleasure, but there was a different feeling. “H-Hold on-” Your back arched off the ground, a gasp cutting you off. “I think-”

He curled his fingers and repeatedly hit your g-spot. “C’mom baby, c’mom baby.” He repeated under his breath, twisting his fingers and scissored them inside of you.

You swore loudly, feeling the sudden release, squirting all over Daryl’s hand and pants. Daryl tossed his head back, leating out a strained fuck though his teeth. You felt his hot cum spill over your cunt, your arm moved away from your face and looked at Dary through your hazed eyes.

Daryl gave a couple of more pumps, stopping both of his hands. You gasped when his fingers pulled out, you could see the mess you made. “I didn’t mean-”

“Don’ worry ‘bout it.” Daryl chuckled, bringing his fingers to his lips, licking off the remaining juices on them. “Feelin’ better?”

You nodded, panting. “Very.”

“Good, ‘cause you still owe me.”

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digital-domain · 4 months

Text

Outside

Mahito x Reader // Word Count ~6k

Synopsis: Sometimes, Mahito actually tries to make you happy. This latest attempt comes closer to the mark than any other. You missed being outside, and you feel just a little bit less trapped once you’re out beneath the night sky. For a few minutes, anyways. Before it all goes wrong. If only this stranger on the street was able to keep his mouth shut – and if only Mahito wasn’t there to hear him.

Content Warnings and Tags: Dark content. Noncon, forced relationship, kidnapped reader, extreme possessiveness, choking, hair pulling, dacryphillia, throat fucking, rough sex, discussion of drinking and depiction of drunkenness (not reader), catcalling, non-gory description of physical violence, discussion of past violence and killing, off-screen murder (also not reader but boy is it traumatizing for them). In summation: the dove is dead, do not eat it.

A/N: I - don't even know how I feel about this one. Sometimes a concept pops into your head and you just have to see it through. As always, proceed with caution <3

He wakes you up with a rough grip, shaking you until your eyes flutter open. It’s an unpleasant way to be ripped from sleep, but compared to some of the other ways he’s tried in the past weeks, it’s not so bad. His hands are on your shoulders, this time, and it’s only his hands touching you – it could be worse. Still, you feel the familiar curl of despair in your stomach, the familiar urge to turn away from the face that hovers over yours, to run away from it. But you don’t do so much as close your eyes. It’s not worth it. You know he’ll only pry them back open.

“You’re cute when you wake up.” He grins broadly, giggling at the sight of your eyes struggling to remain open. “You always look a little bit confused for a second. And your voice changes when you’re sleepy. It’s adorable.” When he leans down to kiss you, you accept it, lying still and parting your mouth to allow his tongue inside. Your eyelids feel heavy. There’s no view of the sky in this wretched sewer – you haven’t seen it since the day he dragged you down here – but you can tell that it’s still the depths of night, that you were asleep for a few hours at most. This isn’t unusual. You’ve learned that when he gets a new idea, he doesn’t like to wait.

His kiss is long, and slow. It drags the breath from your mouth until at last, after what feels like an eternity, he’s satisfied. Then, he pulls you to your feet, and holds you tight in his arms, face pressed down into your neck. “I have a surprise for you.” His voice is low, but shaking, barely containing his excitement.

You stiffen involuntarily, just enough that you’re sure he notices. You can’t help it. You think you’ve spent about three weeks here, although you can’t be entirely sure, and none of the several “surprises” he’s sprung on you in that time have been anything short of horrific.

“I’ve decided…” He pulls back, and grins into your face, still far too close for any sort of comfort, his breath falling oddly cold on your cheek. “That you deserve something extra special. You’ve been so much fun, and I want to do something nice for you. Like a reward. I thought about it for a while, and I think I came up with something good.” He tilts his head, sizing up your expression. “Ask me what it is.”

You don’t want to know. But you will, soon enough, no matter what. “What is it?”

“I’ve decided…that I’m going to let you go outside!”

Your brain churns, trying to make sense of what he’s said. “Outside?”

“Mhm! Aren’t you excited?” His smile falls as you stare blankly back at him. “You should be excited,” he says petulantly. “It’s a good surprise. Humans like a change of scenery, right? You like fresh air?”

“Yes, but”- Surely, he’s not offering you what you really want. To you, outside means freedom. And there’s nothing he wants to give you less than that.

“Oh. I get it.” He laughs, and shakes his head. “No. I’m not letting you go by yourself. I’ll be right beside you the whole time. Wouldn’t want you getting lost on your way back!”

Right. Lost. As if you wouldn’t run as fast as you could as soon as you made it to the mouth of the sewer. In any direction, to anywhere at all. If he ever gave you the chance, you would take it in an instant.

“I’ll hold your hand and everything.” As he says this, he interlocks his fingers with yours, and squeezes. “It’ll be very romantic. You’ll like it.”

His grip on your hand will be tight – even if it wasn’t, you know how quick he is, how powerful. As long as he’s beside you, you’ll never have a hope of escape. Still, as his surprises go, this is the best one so far. It’s a very low bar, to be fair, but still…

“Let’s go,” he insists, tugging at your arm.

“Now?”

“Of course!” He laughs again, like you've said something absolutely ridiculous. “You really are cute when you wake up. You get confused…”

You pause for a beat, trying to smooth out the consternation on your face. “It’s the middle of the night.”

“Mhm. And it’s nice out! Very quiet. The streets are almost all empty...no one around to get in the way of the view.”

“The streets are empty because it’s the middle of the night.”

“Yes.”

You look down at your clothes. They’re an odd ensemble, a blue, mid-thigh pleated skirt and a large black t-shirt he brought back yesterday from who-knows-where. Only the third change of clothes he’s given you in the weeks since he found you. Certainly a step up from the tattered, indecent remains of the dress you’d had on that first night, and even from the other ensembles he’s collected in the intervening time – but still not anything you’d choose to wear in public. It’s a small detail to get hung up on, but you’ve found yourself latching onto small details quite often in the past few weeks. If you think about the big picture for too long, you start to feel like your brain is going to break.

“You should be excited,” he says stubbornly. “But if you really don’t want to… I can find something else for us to do. I’ve got other ideas!”

There’s nothing threatening about the way he says it. It’s matter of fact, almost genial. But that doesn’t matter. You know that you don’t want to experience any of his backup plans – your imagination is already going into overdrive, picturing what he might have in store if you refuse his offer. “No. I…I want to go outside.” You realize, as you say it, that it’s true, and not only because your fear the alternatives. Still, your voice comes out small, and it shrinks even more as you force out your final sentence. “Thank you.”

“Aw. You’re very welcome.” He kisses you on the forehead, and starts leading you away. As you follow, slightly behind him, you rediscover another one of those small details you latch onto when everything is too much: the sewer itself is oddly warm, but the floor is always cold on your bare feet. It doesn’t make sense. Sometimes, such minute observations are comforting distractions, but right now, this particular one is only adding to your unease.

After a few begrudging steps, you manage to spit out: “I need shoes.”

“Oh…of course! You should have said something before.” He releases your hand and darts away, faster than humanly possible, returning to your side moments later with a pair of black high heels you recognize as your own. “You were wearing these with your dress the night I found you, remember? I decided to keep them.”

Of course you remember. You’d kicked them off inside your apartment, minutes before he’d shown up. Had he really stopped to pick them up when he’d carried you away? The details of that night are…well. Most of them are hazy. A few are painfully clear.

“I kept the dress, too,” he sighs, as he places the shoes in front of you. “It’s too bad you can’t wear it anymore. I still have it, just in case you change your mind.”

You step into the heels, and reluctantly take his hand, wobbling slightly as you follow him through the tunnel. “I was wearing it for days,” you say timidly. “It smells.”

“It smells like you.” In the periphery of your vision, you can see his head turn in your direction. You keep your eyes glued to the floor. “The longer you wore it, the more like you it smelled. It got stronger.” His nails scratch at the back of your hand, long and harsh against your dry skin. “I guess human scents linger for a while, because it still smells like you.”

You stay quiet, as you usually do. How are you supposed to respond to something like that? There was a time when you thought he said things like this to upset you. Now, though, you think he’s just frightfully honest. He doesn’t say things to provoke you – he says things because they appear in his head, and he has no qualms about letting you hear them. Does he know that they make you uncomfortable? He must – but clearly, he doesn’t mind.

For several minutes, you walk through twisted passages. Although you can still feel his eyes lapping at your face, at your body, at the hem of your skirt, he’s silent for once, giving you the gift of uninterrupted time in your own head. You wonder how long it’ll be before he feels inclined to get you a new bundle of clothes. A set of underwear, at least, would be nice. Maybe if you ask, he’ll do it. He does seem to like providing for you, even to take pride in it, although he certainly doesn’t know how to do it properly. When he presented your most recent outfit to you, he stared at you like he was expecting something more than numb acceptance. Like he was expecting you to jump for joy, or to thank him for giving you the dignity of wearing clothes that didn’t stink. These little moments – where he seems to truly believe he's being kind to you - have been happening frequently in the past week or so, and you’re not sure how you feel about it. On the one hand, it probably means that he’s getting even more attached to you. That doesn’t bode well for your future. Then again, your future was more or less wiped away the moment he discovered your existence. You might as well appreciate the little comforts you’re provided.

“Do you feel the air yet?” He smiles, much more gently than you’re accustomed to – inviting, rather than forcing you, to smile in return. “It’s changing.”

As soon as he points it out, you feel it. It’s the light at the end of the tunnel – a stir in the dense, cloying air that gives you a faint sense of comfort. As you move forward, that light becomes physical – he leads you up a ladder, briefly letting go of your hand to allow you to climb. You scrabble up towards the light, almost losing your shoes in the process. As you poke your head over the street line, you can’t help but feel free, just for a moment. When you look up, you can see the stars above you. There aren’t as many as you’d like – the city lights render all but the brightest invisible – but it’s something. Despite everything, you’re grateful for it.

“You like it! I can tell…I knew you would.” He smiles broadly, and grasps your wrist, pulling you onto the street above the sewer. The assistance is unnecessary – but under the circumstances, you don’t mind. You don’t flinch, as you usually do at his touch. He grabs your hand, and you walk along the street together in strange silence. He’s watching you intently, as always, but he’s not talking, and that’s enough. If you didn’t look, you could almost pretend that you were alone, staring out at the open city streets and up at the sky above. What time is it, exactly? 3? 4? One of those times where no one is awake except for you. When you were alone in your home - your real home - you used to cherish being awake at such times, cherish the strange, powerful sense of isolation. Even now, stumbling along the sidewalk with this demon at your side, you can’t help but cherish it again. At least you’re outside. At least you have the stars to keep you company, and not just him.

“Thank you.” When you say it this time, you mean it, although it’s not really directed at him. He’s barely there, in your mind. You’re thanking the night air, and the sky, and the empty, open streets for the strange comfort they provide. Only now do you realize how claustrophobic you’ve been for all this time. The dim light of the sewer, the imposing walls trapping you inside – those little oppressive details have been adding to your misery. Now that they’re gone…you still hate everything about your situation, but it’s easier for you to ignore it. Easier for you to pretend, for a moment, that everything is going to be okay.

“I knew you’d like it,” he repeats. You’re sure his eyes are glowing, that he’s got some version of his crazed smile splattered across his face, but you don’t have to look. There are so many better things to look at right now.

Just as you have this thought, a shadow emerges from the intersection in front of you, perhaps twenty paces away. Under the streetlights, the shadow takes the form of a man. He’s tall, maybe twenty years older than you, dressed simply in jeans and a grey t-shirt. And, as he gets closer, you see that he’s stumbling. He pauses to lean against a battered storefront, right beside the mouth of a shadowy alley. He’s swaying slightly, and you think you see his mouth moving, as if he’s muttering something under his breath.

“I’ve seen ones like him before!” Mahito’s hand tightens over yours, voice full of excitement, as he pulls you to a halt. “It’s almost always at night…and their breath always smells the same way.” His free hand comes out of nowhere to turn your face toward him. His eyes fix intently on yours, and his finger strokes gently over your mouth. “Your breath smelled a little like that, the night I found you, but it wasn’t nearly as strong as theirs. And you weren’t walking so strangely, either.”

You don’t ask why he was close enough to smell their breath. You already know. The horrors you’ve witnessed in the past weeks have been enough to bring you to tears – both out of pity for the bodies beneath him, and fear for your own.

“The things you humans do to yourselves…” He tugs your forward by your hand, and kisses you on the forehead, his fingers slipping into your hair. Even when he pulls back, he doesn’t let go. “You’re lucky you’re done with all that now. You can’t do anything to yourself…and no other humans can do anything to you, either. The only one who can do anything is me!”

Desperate to shake his gaze away, you cast your eyes upwards, but the expanse of the sky does nothing to dispel the claustrophobic dread churning in your stomach. Perhaps it was never about the sewer itself, after all.

He releases your hair and grips your hand tightly. “You can keep walking now. I want to get a closer look.”

You walk slightly behind him this time, your other hand clenched at your side. Usually, you’d worry about how strange you might look to passersby, holding onto what seems to be empty air, stumbling awkwardly as if pulled by some invisible force. But you doubt that the man before you will notice. You can see Mahito’s neck crane as the pair of you approach. As you draw even with the man you think he’s about to let go of your hand, and run up close for a better view.

But before that can happen, the man grins at you, his burnt-out eyes suddenly finding their focus. He doesn’t meet your gaze. In fact, he seems to look everywhere but your face, in the space of a few seconds. His mouth falls open. And the inevitable words tumble from his mouth, their edges blurred. “Hey…sweetheart. Whatcha doin all alone?”

Your stomach churns. If you were truly alone, at this time of night, this would be more than enough to set off every alarm in your head, to send you rushing down the street. But right now – right now, the fingernails tightening against the back of your hand are screaming for all of your attention.

“I didn’t like that.” You turn, giving into the sudden sense of dread that commands you to look. Mahito has never sounded like this before. He’s never looked like this either. There’s no hint of a smile, no glow in his eyes. “I didn’t like that.” You quickly realize what’s wrong with the picture: he’s serious. Not the inquisitive kind of serious – the deathly kind. He’s squeezing your hand tight enough to leave crescent moons in your skin. His eyes latch onto yours, clinging so tightly that you can’t bear to look away. You gasp as, in two places, the skin on the back of your hand gives way, sliced open by his viselike grip. To your surprise, he lets go at the sound of your voice. He holds his hand up to the side of your face, only glancing at the smudge of blood on his nails before capturing your gaze once more. “You’re…you’re not his sweetheart. You’re mine. He doesn’t get to say that. He can’t…” In the periphery of your vision, his hand is shaking.

You stumble as he turns you aside, nearly crashing onto the sidewalk beneath your feet, scrabbling for purchase on his arm. For once, he doesn’t try to catch you – he barely seems aware of your grasp on him at all. The man against the wall is staring blearily, deeply confused, no doubt, by the nothing that appears to be tossing you around.

Mahito’s hand finds the back of your shirt and drags you across the sidewalk, practically hurling you deep into the mouth of the alley beside the storefront. He disappears for a moment – not nearly long enough for you to process your new surroundings, never mind attempt to escape them. In the split-second it takes for your eyes to adjust to the looming walls on either side of you, the dustbins gathered in shadowed clumps along the alleyway, and the crumbled brick inexplicably lying at the edges, your view is interrupted by a flash of movement, unintelligible, faster even than the one that carried you here, followed by the sharp thud of a body on pavement And beneath that, a sickening sort of crack. You think you heard a similar sound or two in the moment before this violent flurry, but you're too frightened to process it entirely. Mahito stands before you, facing the dark, indistinct end of the passageway. Several yards in front of him lies a huddled mass, flung across the alley and into the pavement beneath with a force magnitudes greater than the one that carried you into these shadows. It whimpers in pain, face down, seemingly unable to move.

Your mouth falls open – but even if you could speak, what would you say? Would you tell him to stop? From the half of his face that you can see, you know this would be a futile effort.

When he hears the rasp of your breath, Mahito turns, slowly. One of his hands is in a fist at his side, the other still raised in the aftermath of a brutal throw. This hand slowly falls.

You’ve seen him kill before. Three times, in real life, and several times in the nightmares that have haunted you nearly every night since. What disturbed you most was the way he reveled in it, the grin that spread wider across his face with every movement, with every pitiful sound that echoed into the night, with every deafening spatter of indistinct human mass that forced you to your knees in terror. And his laughter – that was the most hideous sound of all. That’s the one you always hear in your dreams, the one that still echoes in your ears when you wake up.

But somehow, seeing him without that smile, standing in complete silence, is a thousand times more terrifying. You blink rapidly, trying to fend off the wave of tears you can feel building behind your eyes.

He takes a step towards you. Another. One more. It’s a narrow alley – three steps is all it takes to pin you against the brick wall that stretches up to the sky behind you. His hand rises to stroke along the side of your face, to brush over your trembling lips. “You shouldn’t be crying.” He’s far too calm, the pitch of his voice lower than what you’ve grown to expect. “You can’t cry. Not for him.” Here, his voices quivers, enough to remind you that under this strangely cold exterior, he’s just as volatile as ever.

To your horror, a stray tear escapes from between your lashes. As soon as he sees it, he swipes it away, the ragged edge of his nail dragging threateningly along your cheek. “Don’t.”

You would choke out an apology, if you thought you could speak without releasing the rest of the flood. Instead, you find yourself staring silently, helplessly, as his hand closes around your throat. “You’re the most pretty when you cry,” he sighs, soft voice contrasting horribly with the roughness of his grip. His face falls into your hair, and he inhales deeply, fingers tightening against the sides of your neck. “And you’re mine. When you’re this pretty – it has to be for me. Not for anyone else.”

How lovely it would be to look up and see the stars just one more time. To pretend that you were alone for one more moment. You’re suffocating, in all senses of the word, the combination of a lack of oxygen and pure terror sending a violent, vision-blurring rush to your head. The kind of rush that makes you feel like your mind is being violently expelled through the top of your skull, forced to watch helplessly as it floats over the hollow body it’s left behind.

He kisses you slowly, almost tenderly, staring desperately into your deadened eyes all the while. Starving for some response, even as he drains the air from your lungs. When it ends what seems like eons later, he at last drops his hand, and the pressure on your neck disappears. You gulp at the night air, eyelids flickering with the exhaustion and relief of your sudden release. You tilt your head back for another mighty inhale, but it’s cut short by cold hands sliding down your neck, onto your shoulders, guiding you gently but firmly to the ground.

For a moment, the only thing you let yourself process is the rough scrape of pavement on your knees. It’s not smooth. It’s not comfortable. But you can make it slightly better, because there’s a bit of rubble beneath your left knee, or perhaps a small stone - with all too much effort, you manage to shift the weight of your body, to move your hand and swipe the pebble away. The motion leaves you staring at the ground, eyes sweeping desperately for some other small bit of something to latch onto. You don’t want to look up, because you’re all too aware of what lies between you and the sky. It’s been watching you adjust your posture. Watching you make your futile attempts to stave it off.

Mahito slides two fingers just beneath the line of your jaw, and digs in until you have no choice but to raise your face. “You’re doing better. You’re doing good…I didn’t see any more tears. And when they do come back…they’ll be all for me. Soon. I'll know...I'll know that they're mine.”

You think you hear a sound from back in the alley, where his victim still lies alive, and motionless. But when you turn instinctively, he catches you, pressing his thumb firmly into the skin over your molars and scrapping you hard with nails beneath your jaw. “Don’t!” He practically yelps, and the high-pitched sound yanks your eyes all the way up to his face. “He – he wanted to take you.”

You took me. The thought comes to your mind, unbidden, not for the first time. It will never leave your mouth.

His eyes are wild, and his chest heaves, his face an overflowing blend of overwrought emotion, anger and confusion and urgency. “You’re mine. Mine.” He shoves his fingers into your hair, and grips hard, nails scratching mindlessly at your scalp. “No one else can have you. Ever.”

From your mouth comes a terrified whimper, not unlike the sound you heard from the shadows moments before. You follow it with words, and they come out nearly inaudible, caked in the phlegm of tears soon to come. “I want to go back.”

“We can’t.” For a tense, still-aired moment, his eyes fall closed. Without their vengeful glow, he looks more dejected than anything else. He takes a slow breath. You’ve never known whether he needed to breathe, or whether he did it for some sort of effect, but in the moment, it’s serving him, somehow. The hand loose at his side closes into a fist as he exhales, and when his eyes snap open, they’re brighter than ever. The confusion is gone, and the anger has retreated to the background – only a hauntingly familiar hunger remains. “We can’t go back. I'm not done yet.” His voice steadies, and he stares mercilessly, ravenously, into your captive gaze. “I need to - make it better. Make it right."

He yanks you forward. The tension on your scalp becomes painful as you fall gracelessly into his thigh, but he rights you, pulling you into his crotch and holding you steady. The fist at his side unclenches, and falls heavily, almost clumsily onto the back of your head, pressing you firmly into the outline of his cock.

He’s already hard. You’re hit with a nauseating wave of revulsion as you feel the stiffness beneath the cloth against your face, as he drags your lips over the length of his shaft. He holds you there, drawing out the moment, as if daring you to pull away. When you look up, there’s the ghost of a familiar smile on his face – enough to send your gaze plummeting down. His hands drop from your hair, and stretch, in their distorted, unnatural fashion, all the down way to your wrists, dragging them up his thighs before placing them on the waistband of his trousers.

There’s a moment where you do nothing, holding your hands utterly still, inches from his cock. As if your inaction might be enough for him to change his mind. He’s used these moments to toy with you before, letting you draw out your resistance, enjoying the anticipation, enjoying the anger and despair in your eyes. But he has no patience tonight. His hands fold over yours, pressing them down into his waistband, and a third arm juts out from his stomach, rending through the cloth of his shirt to grasp your face, squeezing your cheeks and prodding harshly at your jaw until your mouth is forced open.

His cock springs free, and you let out a choked sob. He’s experimented with many shapes and sizes, and tonight, it’s clearly designed to make you struggle. His third hand retracts back from whence it came, leaving nothing between you and your fate.

Both remaining hands depart from your wrists and land firmly on the back of your head. He tugs you forward, forcing the tip of his cock into your still-open mouth.

You make the mistake of allowing your eyes to flick upwards. And, for the first time since that fateful moment minutes ago, you see his grin spread over his face. “All mine,” he sighs, hands relaxing where they rest upon your scalp. “All mine.” He presses forward slowly, but firmly, easing himself into your mouth, savoring each scrape against your tongue, each time you’re forced to breathe through your nose. He doesn’t stop at the limit of your comfort – he never does. He presses past the edge of your throat, lodging himself inside you, until he’s nearly cut off your breath for the second time tonight. Your eyelids feel heavy, and your eyes themselves water uncontrollably, threatening to spill over at any moment.

Just when you think he’s too much for you to take, he pulls back. But he lets you enjoy your freedom for just a moment before thrusting deep into your throat, pressing his palms so roughly against your head that you know you have no chance of escape. You sputter uncontrollably, and narrow trails of drool escape from the sides of your mouth. Your entire body shudders, gasping for breath, for a break, for a way out. But your suffering, as usual, does nothing to slow him down. If anything, it spurs him on. He thrusts into you again, and again, gradually working himself up, speed increasing with every indecent noise that manages to escape from around his cock. Your survival instincts take over, and you desperately try to pull away, desperate for a single deep, clean breath; he pushes you down, his hands a hundred times stronger than the force your body can muster.

“So pretty.” He sighs – not with pleasure, but with relief. Like doing this to you has finally set his mind at ease. “You can cry now.”

You couldn't stop yourself if you wanted to - tears drip down your cheek as he pulls you in close. So close that you choke disgustingly loudly – so close that even if you dared to look up, you wouldn’t get a clear picture of his face. So close that you feel the bile churning in your stomach, threatening to give way. For several seconds, he keeps you here, staring down at you, crushing your every attempt to struggle.

There’s another whimper from the recesses of the alley – louder, this time - but your empathy seems to have disappeared. You only wish you had enough freedom of body and mind to make such a sound.

He thrusts once more, revels in the way you gag and balk at his size. When he frees you, several seconds later, yanking you back by the base of your hair, you feel no relief. You barely have time to take that one deep breath you’ve been craving before a sharp shove to your shoulders sends you crashing onto your back, knocking the air from your lungs. He drops to the ground and crawls on top of you, pinning you to the ground as his swelling cock drags up your thigh.

”You’re too pretty for humans…and feel too good...” The tip of his cock presses hard at the lips of your cunt, and you use the strength you have to squirm away – until your shoulders hit the wall behind you. “They don’t deserve to have you.” He drags you towards him, and you don’t resist, if only because you don’t want to know how it feels to have your skull slam against solid brick. Your lips, recently sealed shut, part once again as his cock forces you open. For as long as you can, you keep quiet, trying to deny him the satisfaction of hearing the reaction he can already see. But you can only hold out for so long. In real time – the earthly time separate from the years that pass in your mind – it’s barely seconds. He’s molded himself to stretch you open, to stretch you beyond your limits. And he knows those limits well enough not to fail.

His entire body seems to shudder with anticipation. "Come on. I know you can sound pretty, too. Don't hold it back."

You obey, a fresh thrust of his cock forcing a sob from your mouth. His growing smile warps into a full, overbearing grin, a grin that you don’t dare shut out by closing your eyes.

He fucks into you recklessly, sloppily, again and again, and his hand falls upon your neck once more, threatening to tighten to the point of no return. “See? It’s – it’s so nice when you cry for me.” He squeezes – whether it’s intentional or a sign of his failing control, you truly don’t know. “Isn’t it? Isn’t it nice?”

“Yes.” It’s a rasp, hissing out between sobs, and it’s the most painful lie you’ve ever told – but between his hand at your throat and his cock buried deep inside you, what choice do you have? Your mind floats fuzzily above your head once more, abandoning your body to hang on for dear life.

“Good.” He exhales blissfully, innocently, his pure, all-consuming pleasure at odds with the cries of pain and despair you hear emanate from your mouth. “I knew it…still like to hear you say it…”

He’s babbling – and, you realize, with a fresh wave of despair, so are you. “I can’t…please…”

“Soon.” His hand inexplicably releases your throat, and furls into the shadows, arm extending far longer than it should, to the point where you wouldn’t be able to see the tips of his fingers, even if you dared to look away from his face to watch them. “Almost…”

When you finally allow your eyes to close, he doesn’t notice – his head is already thrown back, and somewhere in the alley, yards away, his fist tightens. Hard.

The bile rises in your stomach all over again. For just a moment, you’re lucid enough to realize what he’s doing. And you can’t stop him.

He falls over you and gasps heavily in your ear. His cock pulses, and your eyes snap open against your will, mouth parting instinctually as you feel the all-too familiar shock of his release.

It aligns cleanly with a sickening splatter, exactly where his hand fell into the shadows.

“There.” He buries his face in your neck, and his arm retracts back into view. His hand, oddly slick, brushes up your forehead and through your hair. “All done. All better.” He doesn’t seem to notice the dry heaving of your breath, the uncontrollable shaking of your arms and legs. Or perhaps he does. Perhaps he’s enjoying it. Perhaps he thinks it’s a good thing. “A happy ending…you humans love those, don’t you?”

You’re beyond words. Lacking the strength to speak, the will to move. The only thing that’s working is your mind, and you wish it wasn’t. You wish it would abandon you again, instead of shoving its way back into your head. You don’t dare look back into the depths of the alley, but you know what you’d see if you did. Something transfigured, ruined, mangled – dead. It’s not your fault. It’s Mahito. All him, all him, all this suffering at his hands…and yet, you’re the only one who’s falling apart. Of the three who came into this alley, he’s the only one who hasn’t been destroyed.

“Don’t worry.” He raises his face, smiling gently into the ravages of your expression, carefully wiping a tear from your cheek. “We’re never gonna do this again. We’ll never hear anyone talk like that again." He laughs - laughs. "Not him...but not anyone else, either. I’ll keep you…I’ll keep you away from it all. Keep you all to myself.”

Your back is still pressed to the ground, skull resting uncomfortably upon the hard surface below you. There are still stars in the sky – just a few bright ones, strong enough to penetrate the city lights around you, but they blur before your eyes. Far away, they fade into nothing, pinpricks compared to the blinding glow of the manic gaze bearing down upon you.

Mahito rolls you onto your side, and you stare numbly into the street as he wraps his arms tightly around your waist. Your arm is trapped beneath you, pressing harshly into the asphalt, but it doesn’t matter. You barely notice at all. All you can feel is him. All you can hear is his breath, unsettlingly even and quiet, and his occasional hums and sighs in your ear.

You know this won’t last long. That once he decides he’s done, you’ll be dragged back to his home, perhaps never to emerge. It’s horrifying, but you’re too numb to feel that horror just yet. You can’t bring yourself to mourn for the outside, the world you’re about to be torn away from. Not yet. Not now. And perhaps not ever. Perhaps it’s best if you never see the stars again. Best for Mahito, best for you – and best for anyone who stumbles into your path.

#tw dark content #tw noncon #tw violence #tw murder #tw yandere #jjk mahito #mahito #mahito x reader #jjk x reader #dead dove fic

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chaotic-iguana · 5 months

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dewdrop

in which miguel really, really likes mornings. or maybe not.

warnings: smut-ish? fluff? more of a braindump to get me back into writing. oh also yeah, add miguel to my character list.

morning: the suspension of time between night and day; reality warped and fuzzy and warm in the in-between; soft and slow and dripping like honey.

the steady weight of an arm resting on your back, a chest rising and falling under your head. the drag of the hours to come forgotten somewhere under muffled whines and fluttering lashes; greedy, grasping fingers and hungry mouths, burning kisses and whispers getting lost in the frigid air resting her fingers on your lips.

mornings are sacred. mornings are untouched; untainted by anything that was and anything that could be. golden tendrils wrapped around sighs breathed into skin, soft caresses and tangled hair met with gentle grins and gentler hands.

mornings when even the birds are asleep; flowers slumbering under dew, when your stirring prompts a raspy ‘sleep well?’, as you blink against the blinding light kissing your lashes. when small talk becomes a symphony of moans swallowed by the seal of your mouth on his, when miguel can really take his time taking you apart and putting you back together; lay back as you straddle him and leave burning trails of kisses down his chest, watch your eyes shut and your head tip back as your toes curl, fingers fisting the bedsheet beside him and you’re divine-

until the steady beeping of his watch signals the end of your stolen time, lyla popping up with a smirk and half-assing her way through a snarky comment while telling him about how ‘there’s another emergency and they need you now’ and day catches up with him again, sinking its claws into the delicate balance of dawn and dragging him with it. until all he can do is kiss your head and work you through it, leaving you under a heap of blankets and whispered praise before ripping off his sweatpants and activate his suit, fists curled in irritation and opening a portal, the breath knocked out of him when he turns for one last glimpse of you splayed out on his bed. until all he can do is handle it until morning comes around again.

short, i know (sorry). update - i might be coming back?? as always, thanks for reading, comment your thoughts or find me on ao3. stay hydrated and have a great day! taglist: @imherefordeanandbones @theywhowriteandknowthings,@josephquinnswhore,@millerscoffee, @nostalxgic, @sscorpiiio, @its-nebuleuse, @sofiparallel, @mandoisapunk, @bastardmandennis (hey pal), @amanitacowboy, @party-hearses, @planet-marz1, @chiogarza, @jenispunk. i know y’all didn’t sign up for miggy content so let me know if u wanna be tagged only in pedro works. divider by the amazing @cafekitsune.

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targaryenluvs · 2 months

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MAKE YOU STAY / EDDIE DIAZ

PAIRING: Dark!Eddie Diaz x Fem!Reader

SUMMARY: Your attempt to leave Eddie won’t work, because he won’t let them, or you.

WARNINGS: Obsession, guilt trip, jealousy, possessiveness, sexual content, manipulation gaslighting & entrapment.

WORDCOUNT: 2.3K Words

A/N: Happy season 7 launch!! I got inspired slightly by @megalony and her new Dark Evan series go check it out!!

Gif not mine, credits to the owner!

Life with Eddie use to be everything you could ever dream of. Whether it be slow mornings getting ready together, sharing a shower and helping Chris get ready. Or an absolute hurricane ripping through your home whilst the three of you stumble over each other to get ready after a sleep in.

No matter the time of day, you loved whatever you were doing, as long as they were by your side.

And Eddie’s protectiveness use to be just another aspect of your relationship you loved, until you opened your eyes.

It use to be small, his anger.

An incessant colleague reaching out for tips and aid in a new project, you being a senior member meaning it wasn’t uncommon for people to reach out to you. You were one of the best workers at the company, well respected and loved as well as brilliant. And always willing to help someone in need.

He use to love that about you. Until it followed you home.

Chris was currently at a friends house, leaving the two of you to an inside date night, “Now on what planet would I ever sit and watch four movies with the title ‘Die Hard’. You sure as hell can’t die that many times.” Eddie shook his head as you refilled each of your respective glasses.

“Sure you can, just ask Chimney.” You gasped before swatting Eddies arm, “Be nice! And put on our show.” The murmuring voices of your favourite characters was more than enough to lull you into his arms, content washing over you. Your ringing phone however, was ready to disturb the peace Eddie had longed for all day.

“Let me just grab this.” His hand scooped your phone up before you could, “Just get it later.” His dismissive tone made you frown, “Give me my phone, please.” You leaned over to snatch it, walking into the hallway. Eddie couldn’t help but massage his temple, did you seriously chose a phone call over peace and quiet in his arms?

He hadn’t noticed how often you picked up your phone, until it interrupted him. It happened often. When the two of you were cooking together, soft music and ambience long forgotten. Almost falling asleep, cuddling, and out of the blue the world was falling apart without you. Eddie thought he could handle it, you were needed, that wasn’t your fault, right? But what he also couldn’t handle was the secretive nature.

Why did you always walk away? Were you hiding something?

And now you were coming home later, clanging into the house at 11, or 12. Sometimes even later. “Where were you?” Eddie stood by the door as you hung your jacket, “Jesus, you scared me E.” His arms were crossed, shoulders tense as you made your way to him, a smile too wide for his liking. “Work ran late, m’ sorry.” As you walked away, his hand caught onto your wrist.

“Ow, let go.” Eddies grip loosened as you retracted your arm, soothing it, “What is your problem?” You looked up to view a sweet smile, “Nothing, just worried about you. When you didn’t call, I got so scared. This world, it’s scary Y/n, you know that, especially during these times.”

Your eyes watered involuntarily at his saddened demeanour, “Oh Eddie, I’m so sorry, I should’ve called. That’s my fault, forgive me?” Your arms came around his neck, before trailing down to his chest, playing with his name tag. “I forgive you, I can also think of a way you can make it up to me.”

His smile was mischievous, and intentions impure. “Oh? And what would that be Mr Diaz?” His hand was heavy on your back and slithering lower by the second, “I think we have an appointment with a bed tonight.”

“I have work tomorrow, so do you.”

“Cmon, for me?” His eyes were pure evil, and you were more than happy to give in, even if you were tired. Really damn tired, but he wanted you, so you should give in right? You did give him a fright. “Take me away Diaz.”

If you’d noticed the signs earlier, maybe you could’ve gotten away. His jealousy, when it did rear its head, was an ugly shade of green.

A late night, again.

Eddie had been by the door for 10, sitting for 20, pacing the kitchen and stress-eating for another 10 before he finally settled into bed. Wide awake of course. The opening of his bedroom door caused him to stir. He watched as you slowly moved around, placing your stuff away, putting your phone on charge and then changing.

He sat upright as you yelped, “Eddie! You scared me, again! Why are you sitting in the dark?” His face was drained of warmth, skin cold to the touch. “Was waiting for you, again.” You frowned at his words, “Baby, you know I’m late these days. Better for you to go to sleep than wait up.” He shook his head, burying his head into your stomach as his body relaxed. Your hands raked through his hair gently, “I think you should consider working from home.”

Your hands stopped in their tracks, working from home? The last time you worked from home was during lockdown, and you’d driven yourself half mad. “Why is that?” Eddie glanced up at you, “You’re barely home, Chris misses you, I miss you. Don’t you want to be with us?” You took a deep breath in before smiling, “Of course I do. I- I’ll see what I can do baby.”

His hands quickly dragged you into bed, “Knew you’d understand amor.” Eddie rested his head in the crook of your neck, his hands slowly making their way underneath your shirt.

“Sweetie, I’m tried.”

“I missed you.” You relented, letting him continue. It seemed to be all you were doing these days, bending backwards and over to please him, literally.

The first time you noticed his behaviour was also when you realised you needed space. Not that he’d give it to you. A new coworker, Harry, had invited not only yourself, but your friend Aleya and Jack out to lunch.

He was a nice guy, very eager to learn and never scared by a little constructive criticism. The only problem was probably his overbearing cologne, very pungent? Intense?

You’d also been driven to work that day, courtesy of your boyfriend. You were working shorter days now, completing about an hour or two of work at home now. It had taken some adjusting, after a few forgetful days and about a million texts from Carla with an impatient Chris at home waiting for you.

You spotted Eddies truck pull up as you wrapped up your conversation with the your three lunch goers, “And that’s me, I’ll see you guys on Monday. Thank you so much for lunch!” You reached out to Aleya for a side hug, the same for Jack and a normal hug for Harry. “Tell Eddie there’ll be a fire at my house later tonight, and he better bring Evan!” Jack joked as you waved him off.

Jack may or may not have a huge crush on Evan.

You hopped in, quickly chucking your purse and files into the back seat before kissing Eddie on the cheek. “Hi! How was Chris’s school?” Eddie shrugged his shoulders, “Fine.” Your eyebrows furrowed at his shortness, “Something wrong?” He turned onto the highway, knuckles tightly gripping the wheel, “You smell like him.”

“Like who? Harry?”

“That his name?”

You rolled your eyes, “No, it’s actually his father’s, middle name Jesus. Care for some wine Eddie?” Not once, had Eddie ever been physical. But raising his voice? Oh that was fair game.

“You think you’re funny huh? Having lunch with other guys and taking the piss outta me?”

“Nothing happened baby, it was lunch. He’s new and trying to fit in and I’m being nice. There’s nothing to worry about I swear.” The silence permeated in the truck, causing the hair on your arms to raise. You hated the silent treatment wholeheartedly.

“Whatever.”

His change in demeanour could flip like a switch, you always assumed it was him putting up a front. But when Eddie showed up the next day, flowers in hand and looking his sharpest, you were forced to reevaluate. “God I wish my boyfriend was that sweet.” Your project partner whispered as you sighed, “That’s Eddie.”

Even your boss wanted you to go with him, “Take the day off sweetie, you deserve it.” And with a pat on the back and a million swooning interns drooling over Eddie, you were sent on your way.

“I got these for you Y/n/n.” Your favourite flowers, arranged perfectly and smelling divine. Your hands wrapped around the bouquet, “Thank you Eddie, they’re perfect.” His smile caused your heart to race, he looked amazing. The Eddie with you that day was incredible.

His infectious laughter, perfect smile and the sweet nothings he whispered into your ear. That, was the Eddie Diaz you knew and loved. A gentleman, who had eyes for only you. Which is why you couldn’t help but wonder, what made him change? How was it possible to go from absolutely furious and unnecessarily jealous to an angel?

You didn’t want to know, and you didn’t want to stay around long enough to find out.

Maybe it was the date, or the fact that you felt as if he deserved an explanation face to face. Either way, if you’d known better, you would have made it away.

“Eddie, we have to talk.” The two of you were currently sitting on the couch, favourite show playing in the background. Eddie hummed along, a slight acknowledgment to your words. “It’s, about us.” Eddie turned the volume down, your sentence piquing his interest.

“What’s wrong?”

“I think, we should break up.”

And with six words, Eddies entire world came crashing down in front of him. What on earth were you talking about? “What did you say?” The smile on Eddies face was anything but sweet or reassuring, a bad attempt at keeping his composure. “You’ve been acting, odd, to say the least.” You stood from the couch as he followed in pursuit, all the way to the kitchen.

“I feel like, all that we’re doing lately is either fighting or sleeping. Every time I come home, you have something to say. Whether it’s about my later nights, about who I was with or what I’m doing on the phone. It’s like I have no privacy at all. I cannot keep a single thing to myself. And if I try to? You blow up at me. I mean last week for example, I tried my hardest to not argue with you by walking away. And all you did was follow me around the house, it drove me crazy. Showing up to my workspace when I tell you I can get more done without random lunch dates. I’m a grown adult but you treat me like a child. And if I stand up for myself I’m cheating. It makes no sense at all Eddie. And I tried to make it work, but I feel like you’re controlling me. I even reduced my hours, because you asked. I moved in even when I wasn’t ready, because you asked. I need a break.” You took a deep breath after your monologue, needing a second.

Turning towards Eddie, he stared straight at you. “I had no idea you felt that way baby. I’m so sorry, I never meant to do any of it. I love you so much, I can’t help but worry. After everything we’ve been through with Shannon,” And there it was, the guilt. It was blinding, clawing its way through you. Shannon. He’d already lost someone he loved, and Chris lost his mother. No wonder he was always to protective over you.

“Hey, I’m not leaving like Shannon okay? What happened was a tragic accident, and I promise nothing like that is going to happen again Eddie.” You immediately engulfed in a hug, his head resting against yours, “I don’t want to loose you, I don’t want Chris to loose you.” Eddie muttered repeatedly as you closed your eyes.

Chris walked into the room, thirsty, tired and curious, “Is something wrong?” You immediately detached yourself from Eddie, wiping away your tears, “Nothings wrong sweetie, did you need something?” He nodded before turning around and walking to his room, “We’ll talk later yeah?” Eddie whispered into your ear before moving ahead.

Sniffles came from underneath Christopher’s blanket, “You alright buddy?” Eddie asked, patting his hair down, “Water.” You watched as Eddie swiftly made his way to the kitchen whilst you sat down, “You need anything else?” Chris’s hand slowly lowered the blanket before smiling your way, “No thanks mum.”

And as quickly as he spoke, he turned over to sleep again. Your eyes were probably protruding out of your head, shock filling your senses. “Mum?” The word sounded foreign on your lips, but apparently comfortable enough on Chris’s.

“He called you mum.” Eddies voice was low, most likely as astounded as you based on the look on his face. You got up slowly, aware of the sleeping boy. You couldn’t help but smile, and kiss his forehead before making your way to Eddie. “I can’t believe it.” Eddies hand came up to wipe away the stray tears before pulling you in and kissing your forehead, “I can.”

“You’re apart of this family baby, always have been.” His words seeped in as he guided you to your bed, whilst you were stuck on autopilot. Chris viewed you as a parent to him, that’s how common you were in his life now, a constant for him to fall back on. He loved you, almost as much as you loved him. Your words weren’t forgotten just swirling in your head, how the hell could you ask for a break now? With this new huge responsibility?

Eddie knew, of course he knew. He was the one encouraging Chris to call you by your new name. Because if there’s one thing Eddie knew he needed, besides Chris?

It’s you, and he’d do anything to make you stay.

#yandere 911 x reader #911 x reader #eddie diaz x fem!reader #eddie diaz x you #eddie diaz imagine #eddie diaz x reader #911 imagine #911 fic #dark!eddie diaz x reader

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livelaughlovesubs · 2 months

Text

Pitiful thing

Dom!reader x sub!Raphael (reader is gender neutral)

Part two!

!Warning! dark content (this is going to be disgusting), a bit gore (ripping wings!), sadistic reader, spit, vomit, dacryphilia, beating, biting, stepping, stomping, kicking, piercing (Rara is getting rid of an old one), anal play, sounding, slapping, use of sex toys, blood

Word count: 7.3k (my longest one yet)

Nini!rant: repost until it shows up in the tag…!

The accident which occurred during Christmas was long forgotten. For you it was a brief interaction, a short encounter and a meeting never meant to happen. It didn’t matter what happened to him, to that angel, because in the end what they did to you were worse. Maybe it wasn’t justified and you were being petty, since that angel in particular hasn’t done anything yet, but do you regret it? No. It was fun.

On the other hand, it left the other party pretty impressed, as if the event left a brand on him. That angel thought something was established between you two. A special treatment only he got, as if he became a higher being. It’s not that he caught feelings for you, it was for the act you did to him. Even though it’s a curse in disguise, since he is the sun that got attracted to the night.

Not even a month later that man came down to hell again, landing at the same spot as last time, searching for a certain someone. Just like playing catch, about him looking for that vivid dream he lived down here. How ironic, once was enough to get him hooked and addicted.

And destiny was playing a prank on you, unexpectedly bringing you two together again. Because as fate planned, you crossed that path on that specific day too. A huge dust cloud was spreading in front of you, hindering your sight. It took a while to make out the familiar shadow between the mist. You squint your eyes, no way he was back here again. However you weren’t displeased. Why should you get upset about something insignificant like this anyway.

“Someone out for revenge?” You remarked and leaned against one of the food stalls. The familiar figure turned around to face you, his bright blond hair appearing from behind the mist. “No, rather, I’m here to thank you.” He said, slowly his entire figure emerged from the dust. “That’s surprising, why so?” His words caught your attention, you didn’t expect it from him, an angel. “You helped me become a higher being, I guess it is curtesy that I show you my gratitude. So, I’ll give you permission to touch me.” Raphael said with a smug face. It’s unnecessary to mention that you were hella confused, what did he eat this time?

The angel also seemed a little confused now and added, “…shouldn’t you be grateful and happy?” Ah. So that’s what was going on in his head. “Hah, haha.” You giggled, and continued with, “become a higher being? Really? You angels are more arrogant than I thought.” Raphael didn’t let it get to him, all he did was muttering under his breath, “right, a human couldn’t possibly understand something as complex as this. Fine, I don’t care.” That’s what he said, but he did sound a little disappointed.

“Right… hey Raphael, just tell me if you want to fuck. I liked how you cried.” You were now the one with a smug face. Suddenly he grabbed your shoulder and shouted, “Don’t forget your place, you are just an insignificant creature, we angels are the only ones loved by god.” The grip was tight, it almost started to hurt, but you couldn’t stand how he tried to intimidate you, so you replied, “oh yea? And who is named gods only mistake?” That wasn’t smart, he had all reasons to kill you after all. But hopefully he won’t, after all you are the one that got him ‘closer’ to god. You are the only hint those annoying things have.

The Blondie seemed to struggle with making a decision, before giving up. “Damn it.” He sighed and pushed you away. “Woa, how friendly of you. Now I’m definitely not going to help you become a greater being.” “And what if I threaten to kill you?” “You can’t because you’ll still need me.” This wasn’t going anywhere, it’d be better to just separate. Right now all you two were doing was fighting like children.

“So what do I have to do to get you to help?” Raphael crossed his arms and acted coldly, still having that overly confident aura surrounding him. His halo with the little sun was also shining slightly, how it irked you. All angels were the same, overly confident, arrogant and a pain in the ass. Then something clicked in your head, even if their personalities are shitty, you were still able to have fun. “… actually, nothing, just don’t resist.” “What?” You didn’t explain yourself, instead walked closer to him, resulting in him backing up some steps too. “What are you-” “I told you not to resist.” Your hand reached out to him, holding him by his waist. “Ugh..!” He tensed up, you could tell he was hesitating on what to do, still looking for the best solution. But you ignored it, why should you care about his comfort anyway, he came to ask you to touch him after all.

The hand, which was on his hips moved to his back and groped his ass, while your other one started to cup his bulge. He pushed you away again, “You! How dare you do something like that!” “You said I got permission to do it.” “And? That’s why you aren’t going to warn me?” You rolled your eyes and turned around, about to go back to your home in hell. “If you don’t want to do it I won’t. I’ll be on my way now, what a waste of time.” “Wait!” He yelled again, with a half angry and half desperate tone. “I’ll do it, just- not here.” “Pff, everyone saw your body on Christmas anyway.” “Still, ugh, why are you so stubborn?!” “I’m leaving~” “alright alright!” Raphael hurriedly raised his shirt, biting the end of it to keep it raised, showing off his piercings. The two crosses on his chest waved, practically inviting you to touch them. A small smirk escaped you, “hah, so you can be a good boy after all.”

A few moments later you were touching him all over. He stood and kept his arms behind his back while you gave him a sloppy handjob. Hands wrapped around his shaft, pressing down slightly when reaching the tip and repeating the movements. Every time you did that he flinched, his shoulders jerked upwards and his piercings clanked against his skin. All those accessories on his body were cute, he was the definition of ‘don’t judge a book by its cover’. Not to mention his moans were adorable too, and how he blushed like a maiden fresh in love. Did he get more sensitive during that time span? At least that cock cage he once had was gone, guess he didn’t get a new one. “Hey, get on your knees.” “Hmmm?!?” He sounded like he was protesting, but you can’t hear so it doesn’t matter. In the end, he did just as you said, why would he go though the extra trouble to be a brat only to follow your comment anyway. After he got on his knees, he soiled his clean white pants with dirt, his cheeks got a bit redder too. Because he kneeled down, you couldn’t reach his crotch anymore, so you placed your hand on his chest instead.

Fumbling with his pink nipples, tugging on them carefully. Rolling your finger over them and groping his pecs. It was embarrassing for Raphael, it didn’t hurt nor felt especially good, it was humiliating. Every single part of this was shameful and he truly didn’t know what he was doing here. Though somehow, he still found pleasure in the pain you gave him, it was scary how much he enjoyed it.

His saliva drooled down his chin, all the way down to his white sweater. A wet spot could be seen and it kept getting bigger. His bangs were also sticking to his forehead due to the sweat covering his body, and not to mention how much he trembled. It was cute, you wanted more. You pulled at his piercings, enough for it to hurt slightly, watching as his buds stretched forwards. “Mhm-mmM!” The angel groaned, face blushing furiously while he clenched his teeth. Eyebrows furrowed and expression twisted into one of shame. If you didn’t know better you would have thought he was going to kill you any moment.

“I’m done, get up.” Just as how abrupt you started this play, you ended it too. That was so sudden, he couldn’t even process the information before your hands left his body. He let his shirt fall down and asked, “what? But…” then he bit his bottom lip, followed by standing up on his wobbly legs, unwillingly getting up from his spot. “fine, ugh..” the man in front of you looked like a mess, seriously, he couldn’t even stand without shaking. “You did pretty well, come back another time.” “..?? Why’s that?” “Don’t follow me.” You turned around and left, ignoring him as well as his questions. “Hey, hey! Come back- you, ugh, damn it!” That man’s frustrated screams were the last thing you heard.

Some time has passed since your second meeting with him. To be honest, you were surprised he actually listened to you and didn’t follow you. Nevertheless, that didn’t change much about your perception of him. You weren’t sure yourself why you left like that, however you were sure on one thing, it was a good decision to leave that day. He will come to you by himself sooner or later, and if destiny is still in your favour, everything will go just as you anticipated.

Today you were chilling outside a hotel. It feels nice being alone for a bit, or rather, not being in the presence of any clingy devils. You didn’t necessarily hate them, but you didn’t have hard feelings towards them neither. At first you thought it wouldn’t bother you that they all subconsciously thought you were Solomon, but it did start getting on your nerves. Also how they didn’t even want to accept the fact that you were someone else, not trying at all to adjust. They were also rather… controlling. It was hard enough to sneak out without Satan or sitri noticing.

Raphael didn’t have such a peaceful time like you, he was frustrated beyond repair. The first time you touched him he was at least able to finish, last time you left him with a raging boner. That must be the reason why he missed you so much, he wanted you to finish what you started. So when he finally found you, his heart skipped a beat. He immediately landed in the back alley of the hotel, quietly and carefully, as if one wrong move would cause you to run away.

You noticed him when he started to walk towards you, wondering when he got here. It’s the first time he didn’t make a mess as soon as he came down to hell. “You, you are free now aren’t you?” Raphael proclaimed, a stressed expression on his face. The past two weeks didn’t go well for him huh. “Yea, and?” “The thing you did last time, finish it.” You eyed him up and down, he could feel your sharp gaze on him, it made him almost uncomfortable. Once again he was making such a bold request. Oh well, you have some spare space in your schedule and playing with something else once in a while is healthy. “I’ll pretend I heard you say ‘please’, anyway, follow me.” “Where are you taking me?” “I thought you preferred doing it inside?” “I’m not a pervert like someone else after all.” How impolite he was, but you’ll excuse him for this once.

You greeted the reception as you got inside the hotel and walked straight to the elevator, Raphael followed you with hesitant steps before joining you. It was a bit awkward, especially for him since it’s an unfamiliar environment, you could see how he fumbled with his hand. Maybe he was wondering why none of the devils were suspicious of him, or if his presence really is that unnoticeable. It could have been something entirely unrelated too.

The two of you didn’t exchange a word while waiting, and it continued until both of you arrived at the vip room (a small advantage of being friendly with the kings) of the hotel. Afterwards you pulled out a room card and unlocked the door with a click sound, opening and entering it. “Close the door behind you.” You said, in case it wasn’t obvious enough. He did without much thought, and started looking around in the room. It was pretty and had a bathtub too, to be expected for vip. The bed was kingsized, it took up so much space but the room still looked huge.

You sat down on the bed, he stood in front of you. Then you commented, “you know, Raphael, you value yourself so much but how comes every time we meet it’s about intimacy? You are pretty desperate for an angel.” He didn’t show much of an expression, even so you could read his body language and saw his fist tightening. “It’s a bit ironic.” A small chuckle slipped from you after saying that, then you patted the space next to you, telling him to sit down. The angel obliged and walked over, when he got close enough you pulled him by the arm to force him to sit down.

Just like what happened a few days ago, you do what you want without any regards for him. Once he sat down, you pushed him again to make him lay flat on his back. He didn’t really resist since he knew he was stronger than you, and this time he wasn’t restricted by any weird powers. “Keep your hands above your head.” Another command, he debated silently whether he should keep playing obedient, but after seeing how you left last time… he really didn’t want to get worked up for nothing again. It’s always so thrilling and surprising when with you, because you do what you want and never tell him your plans. Though sometimes he thinks it’s better he doesn’t know.

Now that his arms were hold above him, you tied them together. Despite the fact that he has been good until now, you can never be sure about the future. “Hey, why are you tying me up again?” Raphael asked. “I didn’t tie you up during Christmas,” You clarified. “You know what I mean.” “I feel more comfortable like this, don’t want to?” Your eyes stared into his coldly, showing that you ain’t up for games. He wanted to protest further, however the thought of you leaving him like that was something he couldn’t make peace with. Not after all the efforts he went through to find you. He went quiet again until you were done binding him.

Next thing you did was pulling out the rather familiar ball gag, about to install it onto him again. The angel widened his eyes, were you planning to recreate the past with all those equipments or what? Did you pity the fact you couldn’t do more? When you brought the gag closer to his face, he reluctantly opened his mouth, letting you bind the straps around his head. After gaging him successfully, you pulled out a cutter knife, bringing it to his neck. His pupils shrunk, he glared at you menacingly. You dragged the knife along his neck, taking note of how his breath got more and more shallow with each passing second. “Don’t worry, I’m not going to kill you.” Yea, so reassuring, he feels so safe.

You grabbed his collar and pointed the sharp edge towards his shirt, afterwards you cut into his sweater. The knife was sharp enough to cut through the fairly thick fabric pretty easily. From the top to the bottom, until you split his clothes in two. He hold his breath the entire time, which was weird since normally he didn’t fear death nor wounds. A little blood was fine and he can take the pain, so why was he so nervous? It must be because of how stoic you were. You looked so chill and serious while you tore his clothes, keeping your attention on him and no one else. It’s the first time someone was focused on him like this, it was almost embarrassing, but he didn’t dislike it.

But you were thinking about how naive and cute he was, all you did was look at him for a few seconds and now his heart was pounding like crazy. It was way too easy to wrap him around your finger. Angels truly are useless and pitiful things. After you finished cutting through his clothes, you put the knife away. You only cut it in the middle, so that they were hanging from his shoulder like jackets. Since they were cut now, it revealed his bare torso. This is the third time that you’ve seen him in such a state. Those accessories he wore didn’t change one bit, still sparkling on their own. At this rate you were going to mesmerise every single one of them. Two vertical nipple piercings, two just below his chest, two on his navel which were connected by a chain, three belly button piercings and three rings a fairly large distance under his armpits on each side. He also had more, like two on his hips or some on his arms, but you weren’t entirely sure about it. Nevertheless you liked his piercings for many reasons.

This time you were better prepared for his sudden visit, so you had a whole bag full of stuff you wanted to try with him. The first one of those toys was a sounding rod, the same one he seemingly loved during Christmas Eve. Your hand made its way downwards and started rubbing against his bulge, gently caressing it until he got hard. Out of reflex he clenched his thighs, causing you to force them open to kept touching him. Small sounds of pleasure could be heard from him as he whimpered under the gag. “Mhm..mhm!” Those were only low grunts, you could see how he tired to keep his composure as long as possible. Next you pulled his pants down, revealing his semi erect dick. He was so eager it made you want to laugh, you didn’t even touch him that much but he still got hard. It was pathetic.

You took the metal rod and pointed the tip towards his slit before slowly inserting it. It hurt so much while you did it, it was unbearably painful. He wanted to move and clench his legs together again but you didn’t allow him, instead you said, “spread them wider, or I might pierce something I should’t.” With such a warning, he had no choice but to open them, reluctantly allowing you to play with him some more. His legs were trembling again as you forced the entire rod inside his urethra, tears started to build in his eyes. That was a bodily reaction to the sting and pain, since the metal wasn’t even wet when you shoved it inside him. “Hmm.. hgnG..” he yelped a little and jerked his hips, trusting forward. There was no helping it, it was so painful… yet why was he so aroused now?

After using that, you reached for another one of your toys, an egg vibrator. You strapped it against his tip, but didn’t turn it on yet. It was still the preparation process. Which is why you put one of the egg vibrator inside a condom, then pulled that over a dildo. This time you did reach for the lube, out of your own comfort, since the things you want to do will be harder without it. Squeezing some of that liquid onto the makeshift dick and pointing the tip against his entrance. The Blondie was on the verge of clenching his thighs together again, it took all his willpower not to. He was fearful of your treatment, however also thrilled. It’s like he loves and hates it, but most importantly he wants you to keep your attention on him. Don’t leave like last time, please don’t leave him alone.

While you were teasing his hole, you glanced at his figure. What he did was unbelievably adorable. How he made himself smaller by rolling into a ball, so helpless and vulnerable it got you acting on your desires. You did cover that toy with lube, but you didn’t prepare him. Instead you pushed and used your strength to force your way in again. “MhmMHH!!” Another scream. “Don’t be so tense, Raphael, it will only hurt more.” You gave him some advice, even though you were sure he knew himself. His chest raised and sunk, his breathing unsteady and eyes unfocused. Those almost emotionless eyes were half lidded and hidden by his bangs. This pulled your attention towards his bandages, especially that eye patch. You were going to rip it from his face one day.

His hands clenched around the rope you used to tie him up, legs wide open like he was some cheap whore and single drops of tears rolling down his face. The halo, which hasn’t been doing much until now, suddenly started to shine as if it was trying to distract you. You didn’t really mind at first, but the more you pushed that toy inside him, the more that ring of pure light shone. When the dildo fully penetrated him, his halo, that divine Symbole, was already illuminating the entire room. No need to say it blinded and annoyed you, leading to you hesitantly reached out to that thing. You touched it with the tip of your finger to make sure it wasn’t dangerous, before gripping it with your whole palm and yanking it off him. That wasn’t exactly hard to do, which kind of surprised you. You had an angels halo in your hand now… and it was still shining, which is why you threw it away.

Raphael’s expression was one of shock. Of course it would be that, no one ever ripped his halo off and he didn’t neither. It didn’t hurt, though it did feel like something disappeared from him, and his body got lighter. Well, all you did was throw it into another corner, so he can probably just pick it up later…right? Somehow, he was starting to get an unwell feeling about this, he was skeptical. He wanted to tell you how he felt about what you did or were doing, despite his wants he couldn’t, he couldn’t bring it over himself to tell you no. Besides this is nothing, he can bear it, all he had to do was to focus on you and pleasing you, then you’ll also keep your gaze on him. An eye for an eye right?

Everything was done now, your preparations were complete. You turned the vibrators on, directly skipping to the middle level. The eggs started to move and were rubbing against him. Even though he expected it made his shoulders jerk and dick twitch, it was still so sudden. One was placed on his tip and another deep inside him. “Hu-hmm…mhm.” Raphael panted. How amazing it felt at first, but the sensations and blood rush was becoming too much for him to handle. All you did was observe him for a few moments, then giving the relentless toys assaulting him a helping hand. Trusting the dildo in and out of him, other hand tugging at his piercings, mouth kissing his neck and eventually biting down. “NGhHnn… m-mhm..!” He sobbed a little when he felt your teeth sink into his skin. You bit hard enough to draw blood, and when you pulled back you were able to see the blood flowing down his shoulder to his collarbones and chest. The red fluid was giving a nice contrast to his smooth and pale skin, as if you were drawing on a white canvas. This was starting to stir something within you, out of impulse you used your finger to wipe the blood, then licking it clean with your tongue.

You bit him again and again, the area around his nipples, his other shoulder, his torso or abdomen. When you were done leaving bite or smooch marks on his upper body, you started kissing every of his wounds. Like his piercings or the ones you left on him. The vibe changed drastically, it felt soft and gentle in contrast to what you were doing earlier, making his heart pound faster. “Hmm…” a low content groan left him. What you did felt like it was forbidden to him, it felt like something two lovers would do. How he yearned for that, for any kind of love and touch this depraved man could get. At the same time he was so ashamed of his actions, how could- dare he enjoy the touch of someone who isn’t god? How could he even think about being in a relationship with anyone but god?

The vibrations were adding up with each other, especially the one on his tip. It was starting to hurt because of how sensitive he was. “Uhh..hu-ugh..” Once again he repressed his own feelings in order to keep you here with him. This however resulted in some squirming and trashing around to balance the pain. He rolled from one side to the other, irritating you a little. “Raphael, hold still.” You commanded, but he couldn’t listen, it’s like his body doesn’t want to follow him anymore. “MhHmm..! HmMm..” “Raphael.” You repeated his name, nothing happened. A silent minute passed, with his whines being the only thing that filled the room. Why was he acting up suddenly? Even though you tried to calm him down, he continued kicking around like he was riding the bike. Then you slapped him.

A loud sound erupted in the mists of complete silence, his face turned to the left side and an imprint of your hand started to show on his cheeks. “Uhh..!” He could still feel the sting of the moment you hit him, the aftermath also lingering for a few extra seconds. Eyes widened once again, a speechless expression featured on his face as he glanced at you. Another slap, this time his face turned to the right side. You haven’t uttered a single word yet, but you let out a deep breath. A few moments of silence again, now his eyes were completely hidden by his bangs, you couldn’t tell what he was looking at. What a coward, hiding his gaze like that, it was staring to get on your wrong side.

You punched his stomach, making the angel gag. It didn’t hurt that much, aside from the fact he felt like the food he ate was being forced out of him. For you though, it didn’t quench your anger, instead you were more annoyed now because the piercings he owned were in your way. You grabbed the chain and yanked on it hard, he yelled which was muffled by the gag again. “MhmmM!” You pulled on it again, now blood was dripping from where he pierced them. He moved his body, trying to escape before he froze on the spot. As if a hidden force was hindering him from just running away. And you tugged at it a third time, this time you managed to pull the entire chain off, running his piercing. “GaHHhh!! MHmMM!!” It hurt, it hurt so much and yet he still weren’t able to get on his feet. Was this some kind of trial god gave him?!?

A bit of his skin was stuck to the accessory, with that being said it got ripped off too. He was bleeding from his navel now, and that wasn’t exactly a small amount. It spilled down from all sides, turning his body and the bed red. “Uh-UhmM..!” A shudder ran down his spine at the sight of it, he was always covered in blood but never his own. His eye brows furrowed and pupils quivered, a small blush spread across his face. This was new, and arousing to some degree. It made him forget about the pain completely.

You took a look at the chain and threw it away, it looked disgusting all covered in blood and skin pieces. Also since the bed was red now you didn’t want to sit on it, instead standing up and stepping on his belly. “Huh, you are bleeding a lot more than I thought. It’s my first time I hurt someone to this degree.” Were you truly human? You said it’s your first time, but you looked so used to seeing blood, you didn’t even get nauseous from the look of it. He didn’t know what to do, all that happened was a deep blush forming on his cheeks, tears flowing down his face and blood storming through his new wounds.

You used more force to step on him, digging your shoe into his skin. The dirt which collected itself under your soles were now smeared onto his once beautiful skin. The imprint of your shoe looked nice on his helpless figure, just like the other marks you left on him. Then you started to raise your foot and stomp on him, enough for him to get the urge to vomit. “Ugh- ga-hghn…!” But the gag is in the way, if this continues he will just chock on his own vomit. He clenched his eyes, focusing on forcing it down. Of course that didn’t go unnoticed, you didn’t give him permission to close his eyes now did you? This led to you kicking the side of his head fairly gently, before stepping on his cheek. “Don’t pass out, I’m not done yet. The fun just began.” You smirked at him while you said that. A unsettling one at that, you could basically see the bad intention in it. Your expression just screamed ‘sadist’.

Finally you took the ball gag off him, he gasped and panted loudly. It didn’t take long for him to start chocking again due to you stomping on his stomach repeatedly. More tears spilled from him, his body wasn’t reacting well to your treatment. Why, was it because you were a human? He yanked on his binds, wanted to use his hand to cover his mouth. It was of no use, he was worn out now after such a long session. He couldn’t hold it back anymore and threw up all over himself. His entire figure was pulsating, lips quivering as he sobbed, then another round. This time it wasn’t just vomit but also blood. “Ah- urghh.. gahhh..” This was a huge burden on his body, making him nauseous and dizzy.

Your heart was beating fast, you wondered if sitri has located you yet with such a loud heartbeat. His pathetic face and posture was surprisingly beautiful, it felt so good watching him crumble underneath your feet. Rendering him powerless and dependent on your mercy felt great… how good would it feel if this was Gabriel instead who was suffering? The one responsible for your misery, to see him completely destroyed just like this. It sounded too delicious, so good you couldn’t keep a clear head anymore. You couldn’t help yourself! It’s his fault that he is an angel, it’s his fault he is of the same breed as Gabriel! You kicked him and kicked him again, bruising his body all while smiling with a content face. Swellings and dark spots were forming on that once flawless body. The more your view got blurred by red, the more you couldn’t separate him from your hatred. Oh well, you never claimed you were innocent anyway.

The beatings continued for some minutes, paired with random insults you wanted to throw at Gabriel. Looks like your anger got to your head. “Fucking whore, you think you are so much better than everyone else? You damn disgrace to your own race. God disappeared because of useless insects like you..!” Another kick, then you stomped on his chest, “fuck, I hate you Gabriel I hate you. It’s all your fault I’m like this, damn it.”

After calming down from your sudden outburst, you panted heavily. Now this was what you needed, a punching bag to vent your anger to. Your eyes fixated on him and only him, anything else didn’t matter anymore. Maybe you’ll get a complaint from the owner, but what are they gonna do, you were way more important than them.

Even though the ball gag wasn’t there anymore the angel beneath you didn’t scream a single time, the vibrators also weren’t turned off. All he did was gasp or whine while crying quietly. “Hic… hah..ha-haaa…” He didn’t cry due to the pain and torture, it was something else not even he understood. He smiled as he cried, watching you being so fixated on him you almost forgot to breath. His body looked like a war, or as if he tripped over paint with how many blue, purple or brown spots were spread on his skin. Not to mention all that red, even the tips of his once blond hair were dyed crimson now. The overwhelming smell of blood was filling your nostrils. Normally you weren’t a fan of that, however right now it didn’t bother you.

His wrists has bruises from the binds, his legs still twitched once in a while because of the toys and his stomach looked disturbing. As mentioned beforehand, bruises, bites and blood were present, also his vomit and cum made itself clear. There were other unidentified things mixed up in that toxic venom too, maybe some dirt and sweat. You didn’t care enough to try to figure it out though. It was damn disgusting how everything dripped down his body onto the mattress, and the smell was starting to get overwhelming. Not because of the blood but the other things. Nevertheless it felt good, knowing you’ll be the fall of him.

In the midst of this messy, unorganised situation, you hugged him. Currently unbothered by the fact that all the dirt and filth will get on your clothes too. You finally turned off the vibrators and took the toys out of him, an inaudible moan slipped from his lips as you did that. “Ah-..hng…” his wrists were bound together, but he was still able to move them, so he wrapped his arms around your neck. Raphael was holding onto you so tightly it was addictive. How would he react if you suddenly left like last time? Would he cry out in despair? Ah, that face must be really pretty…

He tried to hug you even tighter, probably using all his strength, despite that fact it felt like nothing. You really wore him out, enough for a seraphim to become this inexcusable disgrace. It must have been the stress building up inside you for the past few months, the stress of dealing with your harsh reality which led you to do such inhuman things to him. Who cares though, you were in hell already you can’t fall even deeper.

How he clung to you so desperately, how he whispered your name with that meek voice of his, it made you want to ruin him more. You cupped his cheeks, and pulled his eyepatch down. His hidden eye was a little bruised, maybe from a fight otherwise nothing special. How you wanted to pluck his eyeballs, they were so pretty after all. Raphael looked up at you with big eyes and shaky breath, as if he was expecting something. You kissed his forehead gently and slowly made your way over to his earlobes, now licking them with your tongue. The angel still had that pink blush covering his face as he enjoyed the first fluff moment he received since his creation, shuddering a tiny bit whenever you touched or caressed him. Then you whispered:

“you are so miserable it’s funny.” He didn’t have the strength to really answer you, so he just turned his head towards you. The confusion in his eyes were really noticeable. “Angels are so delusional and depraved, I have to hold back my laughter.” After saying that, you chuckled into his ear, “you’re such a crude and vulgar being, at this point I don’t even think you qualify as an angel. If there anything about you that says ‘graceful’ and ‘divine’? I think not judging by the state you are in.” You made sure to take little break between each sentence, so that he had time registering what you said. In the meantime you’d blow hot air against his ears. “Not even god wants you, you are a mistake, a flaw that shouldn’t exist.” He tensed up after hearing all that, shoulders now raised to his ears. You were clearly degrading him and making fun of him, so why was he so dazzled by your voice? As if you were hypnotising him, is there anything he could do in this situation?

“Don’t even try to hide it, you are unwanted. Isn’t it such an honour that I’m still willing to spend my precious time with you?” You said, still grinning from ear to ear. Then you used your fingers to force his eye open, whispering agin, “Hey, Raphael, you don’t deserve happiness. Please be unhappy a lot, so that I can be happy.”

“…what?” He seemed a bit confused, clearly finding it hard to come to terms with what you said. How could he anyway? He really didn’t want to believe your words, yet they sounded like a prayer, like a prophesy that was deciding over his fate. “You are all alone with no one to depend on. You are disposable and worthless. I’m the only one you have.” It felt like needled were poking at his heart, no, they were stabbing it. His head was empty, only the words you uttered were ringing in his ears. “Why don’t you come down to hell, heaven is too good for you. You don’t deserve that, just like how you don’t deserve your position.” Your voice was calm the entire time, though it somewhat drifted into being exited. Raphael thought about it and asked in a weak voice, “what is it you want me to do…?” “Your wings, I want them. Show me your wings.”

“…” silence. He didn’t hear anything. Then a beeping noise rang in his ears, unwilling to leave him alone. “Ah, ah.. ugh- ah, hah..haha…” he laughed. His body shook as he did. All he thought was, ‘god, what should I do?’ A wave of nausea washed over him, as if his brain was being cooked. “That’s sick, you know the wings are an angels pride? It’s a gift from our beloved god!” “Exactly, you don’t really deserve that now do you?” Ah… does he really have to answer that question? You knew the answer to it anyway. His heartbeat went faster, the urge to puke came back and he felt sick. He felt horrible, downright awful. It was becoming unbearable, that empty void he tried so hard to escape from, that he desperately tried to fill was eating him alive from the inside. He was so deep in thought so that saliva was running down his chin again, adding onto the turmoil.

You hugged him tighter, whispering in a low voice again, “poor thing, such a pitiful thing you are. It’s better to be at rock bottom than fighting for something you’ll never have. Even if god comes back he wouldn’t look at you, you are way too insignificant.” You caressed his cheeks again, showing him a comforting smile which hid your internal motives. “Shut up..” he trembled, “shut up, shut up, please, shut up… stop, stop it- please, stop, stop, stop it…!” He clawed at your shirt, making himself even smaller and curling into a ball.

It was too much. He doesn’t want this anymore. The best would be if he couldn’t feel and think, if he didn’t need to do anything. All he wanted now was to live comfortably, and the only comfort he could find was arching in pain by your hands, while being comforted by the same ones. You were filling that void inside him with poison, and he’d gladly eat every last drop.

Slowly he spread his wings, two pure white things appeared from his back and white feathers started flying around the room. He pressed his face into the crook of your neck, something he was never done with anyone before. Hah, he has never even hugged anyone until now. You reached for his wings, rubbing the base and wrapping your hand around his wing bones, the other one was stroking his hair. How did Michael rip those off so easily? Doesn’t matter, you don’t have to make it pretty. While Raphael clung to you like his life depended on it, you brushed your fingertips over his soft feathers. They really are too good for him, maybe you’ll try and get a clean cut to gift them to andrealphus. He’d love them.

Suddenly something snapped, you could feel it due to the shift of strength. He bit down on your shoulder even more, enough to leave a mark on you too. The most of his voice got muffled by your shoulder. His on the other hand convulsed and trembled. Ah.. it hurts, it hurts.. but it’s worth it, it’s worth it, that’s what he kept telling himself.

“Easier than expected.” You muttered under your breath. It was impossible to pull the entire wing and bones off, which is why you had to break the bones. Raphael was still clenching his teeth and bearing the pain while you started to work on the second one. At this point your hands were completely red, the feathers were also tainted red. More blood stormed out from the newly opened wound, it made everything even more chaotic and bloody than it already was. His shirt, which you cut open earlier, was also no longer white. He was covered in red from head to toes.

The second time went a bit better than the first, because now you had ‘experience’. It was fun. The sound of bone shattering and breaking, the feeling of flesh tearing from under your palms and seeing how much you could do with your own hands. A soft and gentle smile made itself apparent across your face. Raphael screamed in agony, crying, shaking and smiling as he did. He doesn’t even know why he is smiling. Has he finally lost his mind? It’s not a bad feeling, but it is confusing. Haha.

Now that you took everything from him he looked no different than a normal human. Or rather like a hurt animal depending on you. At the rate he was bleeding, he was going to bleed out, yet all you two did was hug each other for different reasons. Somehow both of you didn’t care, you only assured him with, ‘I’ll take you to lucifer’s hospital after this,’ as you kept fumbling with his now red hair. It’s the first time you ever got to enjoy yourself like this, you weren’t going to ever let him go now. Who knows, next time it might be Gabriel whose wings you are holding in your palms. After all, it’s not enough to just keep the bird in a cage, you need to break its wings and keep it shackled, only then it will truly belong to you.

#sub character #sub!character #dom reader #dom!reader #whb #what in hell is bad #rara whb #whb raphael #sub raphael #sub whb

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justmediocrewriting · 3 months

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“Eyes Open,” {v.s}

A/n: first installment of my NSFW Dialogue Prompt Special — featuring everyone’s favorite chef ❤️ I had quite a fun time writing this, and I hope that you beautiful peeps will enjoy it!

Warnings/tags: explicit sexual content, soft!sanji, but also mean!sanji, cunnilingus, first times, virgin!reader, experienced!sanji, prompt, blurb, sexualization of Taz Skylar’s (alleged) tongue piercing (its canon to me), tongue fucking, hair pulling, 100 follower NSFW dialogue prompt special

Genre: smut

Word Count: 1.8k

Pairing: Sanji x fem!reader

Prompt: “Keep your eyes open; look at me, baby.” (#1 from list)

You had no idea it could feel so good.

You didn’t know what Sanji was doing, or how; all you knew was that your pussy felt like it was melting beneath his tongue, all slick and sloppy, electric currents traveling up your hips every time your clit throbbed beneath his affections.

You’d heard talk of this, had listened when your friends gushed about the euphoria of it, but you had never once taken it to heart — you thought they were only hyping their experiences up in an attempt to look cooler. But now that you were experiencing it for yourself… it was more intense than you’d ever imagined.

Sanji’s tongue was a searing hot force against your clit, alternating between flattening against your pearl and circling it with movements that were far too skilled for him having “just a little bit of experience,” as he’d told you before; and every so often the man would switch it up by splitting your folds with the tip of his tongue, up and down, before pushing the slimy muscle just so into your pussy, pumping in and out deeper as if he were trying to spear you on it completely before returning to his original task of devouring your clit.

The sounds falling from your lips were ones you’d never once imagined yourself making; a mixture of whimpers and moans and heavy breaths, they were a symphony that harmonized with the tune of Sanji’s own muffled groans vibrating against your pussy. It was hot, your body was hot, you were tearing apart at the seams, Sanji was too fucking good with his tongue, and just what the hell was that was that warm, hardened ball you chanced a feel of from time to time, because it was zapping pleasure through you with the ferocity of some sort of hurricane —

“Open your eyes, doll.”

Sanji’s tongue had disappeared from your sex, taking it with it that searing pleasure, the loss forcing your eyes to snap open so you could level the man between your legs with a disappointed glare. The lone light turned on in the galley reflected the shine of spit and arousal smeared along Sanji’s chin and lips, which were lifted into that boyish grin that never failed to send flutters through your heart. Your brain almost completely short circuited at the sight of your own arousal glistening on that handsome face between your legs, and it took you a few embarrassing seconds to register that Sanji had spoken to you.

“Uh, what?” You asked smartly, words coming out as no more than wispy breaths. Sanji’s grin only widened and your hips nearly bucked off the counter when the man blew a stream of cold air against your overheated clit.

“You’re so sensitive, love. Does it really feel that good?”

Your skin flushed at Sanji’s antics, the bashfulness that had previously been overpowered by pleasure returning full force. Sanji knew you’d never been with another person this way, had never felt anyone’s hands, fingers, or tongue on you, had never felt the kind of pleasure that Sanji was shoving into you — it was embarrassing enough alone, and here he was teasing you about it.

Sanji ripped you from your state of silence by sliding a thick thumb between your folds, trailing from the very bottom and only stopping when the pad of his thumb reached your clit. With a spark in his eyes Sanji slowly rubbed a circle over your clit, pulling a sharp exhale of breath from between your lips as your hips trembled from the action.

“Answer me, doll.” Sanji gently commanded, the rolling timbre of his voice sliding over your body like a physical thing and demanding compliance from you. You couldn’t help but nod with a small, breathy, “yes.”

Sanji’s gentle expression turned downright devilish, the sight sending mixed signals of panic and arousal straight to your brain stem, and your heart thundered erratically with anticipation when Sanji leaned closer to your sex — that masterful tongue was so close to your clit now, if only Sanji would have the clemency to put it there.

“Show me how good it feels, love. Let me see the look in your eyes when you cum on my tongue.” Sanji growled, hands shooting up to wrap his forearms around your thighs and hold your lower body in place. Your breath halted in your lungs and you had barely a moment’s preparation before Sanji was diving into your pussy again, tongue and lips devouring every inch of it like a man starved.

“Fuck!” You hissed out as your clit was assaulted by a barrage of flicks and circles, pleasure zipping through your lower half much more intensely than before. Had Sanji been holding back before, or something? Sanji’s eyes were endless pools of deep ocean as he stared into yours, bottom half of his face completely hidden by your pubis, and your gut clenched almost uncomfortably with the familiar build of an orgasm.

The atmosphere had changed instantaneously; it was heavy, hot, full of tension and desire to a degree it hadn’t possessed before, and you could feel everything now.

You could feel every small physical detail of Sanji’s tongue as it laved over your cunt; the veins, the bumps, the ridges, that fucking ball. You could feel the tip of Sanji’s nose rubbing across the skin above your clit as he subtly shook his head, his groans and grunts vibrating your clit with a tortuous intensity, each and every sensation winding the coil inside your gut tighter and tighter.

“That’s it, baby,” Sanji breathed against your cunt, voice thick with arousal, “keep looking at me like that, fuck.”

Despite the flush it was bringing to your skin, you simply couldn’t tear your eyes away from Sanji’s — you couldn’t stop watching as he ate you, as his eyes fluttered every so often from the taste of you, those baby blues nearly swallowed by blankets of black. It felt almost as if Sanji was getting more pleasure than you were, his moans deep and consistent, tongue haphazardly shoving into your cunt and twisting. There was less grace about his movements, but the desperation and pure sloppy hunger within them made up for it entirely.

“Oh, my gods, Sanji,” you whimpered, head becoming fuzzy as that coil continued to wind, pleasure and pure passion now taking control of your body as you brought a hand down to grip a fistful of Sanji’s hair. You wanted that hot tongue closer, harder, deeper inside you, wanted Sanji to eat you like he meant it, make that coil finally snap, fuck.

Your hips rocked against his face, the movements hindered by the grip he still held on your thighs, and when you couldn’t use your hips to attain your desire, you used your grip in his hair as leverage to push his face closer. Sanji let out a guttural groan as you did so, his tongue now focusing all of its attention on your clit, flicking and sucking and circling, shit, it felt so good, you were losing your mind —

“S-Sanji, fuck, don’t stop.” You begged, tears pricking behind your eyes as your hips stuttered. It was so close, you could feel it, you were teetering right on the edge. You just needed a bit more. “Ah, faster, please, I’m almost there.”

Sanji groaned and dropped his forearms from your thighs, winding his hands up to instead grip your hips harshly. Never faltering the movements of his tongue, Sanji rocked your hips for you, nearly crushing your cunt against his mouth with the fast, hard pace he’d forced upon your hips. You let your body fall lax as Sanji manhandled you easily, guiding your body to the utmost point of pleasure, tongue leaving your clit to shove between your folds and wiggle inside your tight channel.

Sanji’s moans now rivaled yours in volume, and had you been in your right mind, you probably would have been concerned about whether or not someone could hear the lewd activities unfolding within the galley — but Sanji was effectively tongue fucking all coherency out of your brain, eyes locked on yours and that little ball scraping against the bottom wall of your cunt and driving you absolutely feral.

“Fucking shit, Sanji, it feels so good.” You moaned, fingers scratching against his scalp in appreciation, your hips trembling under his hands and that coil winding so tightly you were sure you were going to start cramping from it if it didn’t snap soon. “Keep fucking doing that, I’m gonna fucking cum.”

Sanji’s right hand curled forward until he could slide his fingertips against your clit, the combined stimulation of his tongue plunging into your cunt and firm fingertips rubbing circles into your clit nearly instantly snapping that coil. Your other hand swung down to grip his hair as well, and your hips bucked with abandon against his face as your orgasm ripped through you.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, yes!” You chanted, upper body curling around Sanji’s head as your hips twitched and your clit throbbed under his fingers. Sanji never slowed his caresses, didn’t once stop your movements, not until the waves of your orgasm had faded and the pleasure quickly turned into something unpleasant.

Sanji’s tongue slipped out of your cunt wetly, his hand giving your hip a slight squeeze as his other retracted from your clit, and as you sat dazed and breathless, still riding the high of your orgasm, Sanji maneuvered your bodies until he was now standing between your shaking thighs, his hands coming up to rest on either side of your neck.

“Are you okay, love?” Sanji asked gently, and all you could do was nod with a goofy sort of smile on your face. That had felt absolutely amazing, and your body was still buzzing, still hot and so, so fuzzy from the aftershocks. You leaned your forehead into Sanji’s chest, inhaling the subtle scent of his cologne, your near liquified arms coming up to wrap around his middle.

For a few moments, the two of you stayed like that, wrapped around each other, until Sanji finally broke the silence.

“You looked so amazing when you came, doll.”

The words were hot, spoken lowly with something akin to reverence, but there was something else eddying beneath them, something that told you there was more to the statement than just what he’d said. Your suspicions were confirmed when Sanji slid his hands from your neck and wrapped his arms around your hips, pulling your lower half flush against his, and your breath halted in your lungs when you felt the searing heat of his clothed cock against your core. It was fucking massive — and Sanji’s next lowly growled words sent a shiver up your spine.

“I can’t wait to see you when you cum on my cock.”

#opla #opla sanji #opla x reader #one piece live action #opla sanji x reader

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buckets-and-trees · 1 year

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Unholy Errand

Characters/Pairings: Lloyd Hansen x female!Reader, God the Bounty Hunter x female!Reader, Ransom Drysdale Word Count: 4k

Summary: You're caught in the crosshairs when a hit goes out for your boss.

Content Warnings: non-consent and dubious consent, cuckolding, bondage, knife play, dacryphilia, oral (m and f receiving), cumplay, spitting, facial/marking, groping, spanking, clothed males naked female, coarse language, mild but irreverent use of religious terminology/themes (we’ve got a bounty hunter who refers to himself as God – we’re not committing hard to the bit, but we are using the bit), use of pet names + no y/n

Notes: I was happily working on some other lovely things last weekend, and then Sunday afternoon, totally unprovoked, a rogue muse crept up and whispered, "Lloyd and God..." and my brain broke, and I told @navybrat817 and she immediately enabled/encouraged the sprouting of this fic (and helped identify exactly who these two would be after). I thought this might be fifteen hundred words... and then it hit 2k, and then 3k, and they still weren't done with poor Reader, so...

Additional Notes: First time writing Lloyd, God, or Ransom in any capacity. This is also straight up the filthiest thing I've gone all in on. Is it the filthiest thing that exists on the internet? Of course not, but my filthiest and READ THE TAGS. This is NOT your standard Aspen fic. But was this a bit of a riot to write? Yep. It had a chokehold on me all week, and I stayed up far too late to finish it off tonight because... if I didn't, life would've prevented me finishing for a couple more days, and I've been too eager to push this out.

The clearing of his throat is what pulls your attention. You look up from your desk, taking in long legs in impossibly tight white slacks showing too much ankle, and a torso clad in a black turtleneck and blazer. A thick mustache lives above his smirk. He was too silent entering the offices, and he knows it, seems to revel in unsettling you. “Lloyd Hansen, the six o’clock appointment.”

“Yes, if you’ll follow me right this way,” you proffer politely, and move smoothly out of your chair, leading him to the door of your boss’s office. You give a short knock and open the door, announcing, “Lloyd Hansen, sir,” as you briefly step inside, holding the door open for the man.

He’s still smirking as he passes by, and then you sweep back out, but not before hearing Lloyd whistle and say, “Fancy shit you got yourself in this office, Ran,” as you close the door on them.

You sigh as you sit back down at your desk. Lloyd is your boss’s last meeting of the night, and he had seemed more than perturbed when he said to go ahead and accept the last-minute request Lloyd had made for the appointment. While this is the meeting of the day, Mr. Drysdale had made it clear he was staying late, which means you are also staying late, so you pull out the file of menus you keep in your desk and begin mulling over where to order dinner from tonight.

There’s a succession of loud thuds on the other side of the wall, and you only hesitate for a second before rushing into the office.

You stop dead, a small cry escaping your lips as you watch Lloyd wrestling Ransom to the ground.

“You may be sorry you disturbed us, sweetie, but since you’re here, be a good girl and close and lock that door so we don’t get interrupted by anyone else.”

You hesitate, staring in horror at the display before you: books knocked off the shelves, everything that’s usually so immaculately placed askew on the desk, a lamp overturned, Ransom Drysdale on the floor of his office with Lloyd Hansen’s knee pressed into his back and both arms pulled taught behind him while Lloyd binds his wrists together with the Hermes ascot scarf ripped from Ransom’s own neck.

Lloyd clucks his tongue. “Lock the door or I start cutting his fingers off. Barnes and Rogers only said they want your boss alive; they didn’t say how much of him still needs to be intact.”

“Do it,” Ransom grunts, turning his head away from you, clearly embarrassed at his predicament.

You turn and slowly close the door. You know there are still people working at Blood Like Wine tonight, and while it’s not likely that any of them will be passing through this wing after normal business hours, it’s probably safer that they stay out than accidentally stumble into whatever this dangerous mess is evolving into. You wished you had suppressed your own urge to investigate.

When you turn back around, Lloyd is unbuckling his belt as he continues to kneel against Ransoms back. He pulls it out, uses it to gag Ransom, giving it an additional tug after already pulling it tightly, and fastens it off.

“There, that’s just about perfect.”

“What are-?” You venture to ask, but he abruptly cuts you off.

“No one asked you to talk, sweetie, now come away from that door.”

You only take two reluctant steps towards them when there’s a scraping of wood that draws everyone’s attention to the opposite side of the room.

A piece of the floor is slowly being lifted from below, pushed out of the way, and then another man pops up from out of the floor. He hefts himself out of the hole in the floor and then drops a duffel bag on the floor, the heavy sound of muffled metal hinting at the equipment he’s brought with him.

“Oh, good, you’ve already done some of my work for me,” the tall, dark-haired man appraises the situation he’s just stepped into.

“Who the fuck are you, and where’d you come from?”

“Clearly you watched me ascend from a trapdoor in the floor.” He stalks over to stand in front of the large mahogany desk and sits back on the edge. “You didn’t think Harlan Thrombey - noted mystery author - wouldn’t have a publishing house full of trapdoors and secret passageways?”

“Didn’t need to, walked right in the front door. Still waiting to find out who you are.”

“God the Bounty Hunter.”

“Ooh,” Lloyd cocks his head, and another one of his smirks returns, “I can’t say I hate the audacity. Very bold. But there are a lot of gods and only one Lloyd Hansen.

“Now we’re clearly both here because of the hit put out for this prick, but since there are two of them and two of us, why don’t you make yourself useful, God, and tie up this little Margaret while I get Ransom nice and comfortable here.”

“With pleasure,” God says, and beckons you over to him.

The way he fixes you with his gaze is so intense you can’t to resist his silent command. He stands when you’re just a foot or two away, puts a ringer under your chin to tilt your head up, and looks down into your face. You don’t dare look away, nor do you want to, for some reason.

After another moment, he lets your chin drop, and God begins to circle you, looking you up and down. You hold very still. “You don’t need to be tied up, do you? You like to behave, to be praised.”

Lloyd lets out a loud, longsuffering sigh. “Fine, it can be more fun when they’re tied up, but I’m not picky as long as I get what I want.” Then his tone changes, directing his next words at you. “Understand, sweetie?”

You nod.

“Good.” With that, Lloyd pushes his knee roughly into Ransom’s back, drawing a painful groan from the bound man, before standing and hauling Ransom up with him. He shoves Ransom down to sit on the couch that faces the desk in the small entertaining area of Ransom’s office. “Now Relax, let me pour myself a drink. No reason we can’t enjoy ourselves for a few minutes, for old time’s sake.”

While Lloyd pours some bourbon, God steps right up behind you, close enough that you can feel the heat of him. He moves your hair off your shoulder, and leans close to whisper in your ear, “You be very good, and I’ll make you my angel.” You can’t help but shiver - it’s the heat of his breath at your neck and the promised threat - and you know he notices your reaction, because there’s a soft, dark chuckle before he presses a hot kiss to the base of your neck. His hand comes around to your front, toying with the edge of your open collar, and then he lightly draws his index finger along your clavicle and then up the other side of your neck. You don’t realize you’re holding your breath until you gasp when his other hand quickly pushes a small piece of metal right below your ear.

“And what’s that?” Lloyd asks, not missing the tagging.

“A little incentive for obedience,” God answers. “Fifty-thousand volts when fully unleashed.”

There’s a non-electrically generated jolt in your stomach, but it’s not pure fear, it’s tinged with a little adrenaline as well.

“Huh. To each his own. Now down to business, Ran.”

God steps back and then leans on the edge of the desk again. He pulls you to stand between his legs, your back up against his chest, and his hands settle on your shoulders. Standing against him like this has your hips aligned with his, and you have no doubt it’s setting the stage for his intentions, even if it seems harmless enough now. It mimics a familiarity between partners that is both soothing and unsettling.

Across the room, Lloyd takes a seat on the other side of the couch from Ransom, drink in one hand, and draping his arm casually along the back of the couch. “It was quite a convenient circumstance that even had me nearby to make this social call Ransom. Couldn’t be happier that I’d get to drop in on you for something like this. Ransom and I both went to Yale, you know,” he tosses this part across the room to you and God. “Even ended up in the same fraternity. But he was a senior, I was a freshman. Didn’t spare me the time of day except for the hazing, right?”

His focus shifts back to Ransom, who only gives Lloyd a cold stare, unmoving, clearly not wanting to give Lloyd the satisfaction of any emotional reactions.

God’s hands shift from your shoulders and begin to stroke up and down your arms.

“Why am I boring us all with the backstory though? Old college buddies is pretty typical. You know what’s not typical? Barnes and Rogers putting a bounty out for someone. They’ve got their own guys, and you’re not hard to find.”

The hands move from your arms to your waist, moving up and down your ribs, and still Lloyd keeps talking.

“So, either you’re too important and they wanted the closest person available to pick you up and make a rush delivery to their door, or you’re not important enough for them to want to dispatch any of their own men to deal with you. Outsourcing because you’re still an inconvenience to them, and they can’t let you go unpunished.

Strong hands on your hips.

“Maybe you can prove to be useful tonight, sweetie. How long have you worked for Ranny here?”

You don’t know if you should be surprised that he’s turned his attention to you for questioning, but you do your best to keep your mind focused as you answer him. “I’ve worked for Mr. Drysdale for – oh –” God starts rubbing circles over your hipbones, applying more pressure and pushing you back against a very prominent erection “– a little over seven months.”

“Mr. Drysdale, eh?” Lloyd’s perennial smirk grows, and he tilts his head, tsking again. “You don’t have to pretend like you’re not assisting him after hours, I told you we were in the same frat, so I know what this bastard gets up to.”

Your mouth drops open a little, and Lloyd looks from you to Ransom, whose cold stare has turned into an unmistakable glare.

“Oho! So, she does only assist you professionally?” Lloyd laughs, seemingly out of genuine amusement. “You really are useless, Ranny.”

God is still relentless in touching you, exploring over and even under the clothing, one of his hands sliding down your leg to slip under your skirt to skim up your thigh, and the other stroking just under your breasts, calculated touches to evoke responses but not yet to take or give any more satisfaction.

Both strangers are demanding your attention, and you’re almost evenly divided between Lloyd’s words and God’s actions.

“She probably would’ve slept with you the first two weeks on the job, but now she’s gotta know you’re an insufferable prick.”

Would you have? You don’t think either statement is true. You were never drawn in by Ransom, and since working for him, you’ve only been focused on doing your job well, getting a good paycheck, and going home. Ransom wasn’t particularly demanding compared to other executives, and so you had only wanted him to continue to respect and rely on your assistance so he’d find you indispensable and raise your salary regularly.

God finally speaks again. “We should let the man see what he’ll never have.”

Lloyd sits back in the chair. “I’m not opposed.”

Your face burned. There was no question what he meant, and you did not want Ransom to see you on display, but Lloyd is intimidating and God is intoxicating, so you can do no more than comply as God unzips your skirt and pushes it to the floor.

Next he turns you around and works on the buttons of your shirt, in no hurry, putting your ass on display for Lloyd and Ransom while torturing you with more of the heated, intense eye contact that makes you nearly forget to breathe.

You’re only warned that Lloyd’s behind you when God looks over your shoulder, and you turn your head, but before you can fully face him, his hand has come down against your ass with enough force that you fall against God’s chest. He spanks you again, harder, and you whimper in God’s arms, your head falling against his shoulder with the sting and shock and humiliation.

Then, in another quick turn of events, Lloyd grasps the waistband of your panties with one hand, and you briefly feel the chill of metal against your skin as he slips a knife under the fabric and then slashes them away with two strokes and throws the fabric on the desk.

“Move, God, I want her up on the desk.”

God stands again, and he pulls your shirt off your shoulders as he moves away.

Lloyd could unclasp your bra, but of course Lloyd uses the knife to slice through the band.

“Drop it,” he instructs.

With a deep, steadying breath, you do as he says.

“Turn and sit up on the desk for us.”

You’ve taken hundreds of orders from this office, completing tasks you enjoyed and hated, this can be just another of those.

“Open those thighs for us all to see, sweetie.”

You close your eyes. You know what they will see, and the shame burns in your stomach.

Lloyd taps the flat part of his knife just above your knee. “Now.”

You bite your lip and look at the ground as you spread your legs. Lloyd presses the edge of the knife to the flesh of your inner thigh, forcing you to spread even wider if you don’t want him to cut into you.

Lloyd brings his knife to your chin to tilt your face up to look at him as he traces your wet folds with two fingers. The smirk is gone, replaced by a wicked grin. “Nice and slick for us.”

“God’s handiwork,” the other man is quick to note.

“Sure. A nice little sacrificial offering. Now, Ransom, since you’ve never had a taste, seems a shame not to give you a sample,” Lloyd says.

Ransom shifts and begins to stand, but Lloyd turns abruptly and points at him with the knife. “Stay there, you dumb fuck.”

Ransom sits back again.

“And don’t you dare look away.” He looks to God. “Shoot him if he does.”

God pulls a gun from behind his back that he must have had tucked into his waistband. You watch as he moves to the other side of the room and stands behind Ransom. He plants his gun at the base of Ransom’s skull, then locks eyes with you again. It’s clear he doesn’t want take his eyes off you if he’s going to have to ensure Ransom doesn’t either. Something in your chest stirs under his rapt attention.

Lloyd demands your attention again as he grips your hips and pulls you to the edge of the mahogany desk. He slaps your pussy, drawing a sharp cry from you, then drops down to delve between your thighs. He gives your clit a vicious nip, and you bit back another yelp. His tongue plunders into your cunt, licking and sucking, and your hands are moving to grasp his skull to anchor yourself, but he’s already pulling away. As he stands, he yanks you off the desk, and strides across the room, dragging you with him.

He spits directly in Ransom’s face – a combination of Lloyd’s saliva and your slick that he’s not able to do anything but let drip down his face. Your mouth is agape, truly shocked. Ransom’s entire body radiates rage and embarrassment.

“That’s all you’ll be getting from her, Drysdale.”

Then Lloyd’s shoves you to your knees, putting you on display in profile to the other men. He undoes the zipper of his pants, releasing his cock, no underwear to fuss about.

“Open up,” he demands, and you comply, unwilling to provoke this demon who clearly doesn’t play by any rules.

He slips the angry red tip of his cock into your mouth. “Be good,” he warns. You give a small nod, closing your mouth around him. With one hand, he grips your head and begins to thrust in and out of your mouth. You and gag, and your eyes close as you try to focus very hard on breathing through your nose. He’s hitting the back of your throat with each brutal thrust, and the tears spill quickly down your face.

“Eyes on me,” he grunts, and you force them open and look up at him, knowing what he wants to see. He groans in approval. “You are a pretty little trinket, prettier when you cry.”

Then he abruptly pulls you off his dick and grips you by the chin and turns your head for Ransom and God. “Fucking look at her, swollen lips, gasping for breath, desperate.”

Just as quickly he slots his dick back in your mouth, this time gripping your head with both hands and he fucks your face with abandon. Fast. Hard. Your whimpers turn into sobs, and your hands come up to brace and grasp desperately at his thighs. “You can still take it,” Lloyd growls, undeterred, and you’re powerless to stop him. The tears are not just running but flooding down your cheeks. It’s too much now, and you can’t get enough air, and vision is going black. Finally he throws you off and away from him, and turns to aim his cock at Ransom, shooting his load over his face and shoulders, letting out a hiss that turns into a hum.

You’re hunched over and you wretch – blessedly only once – bracing your hands on the floor, and you gulp and heave, lungs fraught for the necessary oxygen.

Lloyd is talking again. The voice registers, but not the words.

And there are warm hands on you again. One rubbing small circles at the base of your spine, the other pushing your hair out of your face and coaxing you to look up at him.

With enough soothing, God has you breathing evenly again, and you’re still crying a little, but he helps you up onto the couch and sits next to you, very close, and he tucks a hand under your chin and lifts your face up, then he licks your left cheek, then the right, lapping up the tears. You hiccup, not sure how to react. Then he merely strokes your cheek, and the fingers trail down your neck, down your chest, down, down…

“Boring,” Lloyd announces.

You look up at him for a moment, but then God’s questing fingers reach the point he really wants to concentrate his might on, plunging into your wet cunt, and your eyes flutter closed.

“I’m eager to be done here,” Lloyd continues while God continues pumping his digits in and out of you. “We don’t need any more dumbasses showing up for this fool.”

“Agreed,” God says, casually as if he’s not beginning to pull you apart softly but surely. “You take him. I’ll keep her. There’s room for her in the trunk next to the cargo.”

“Fine, I wasn’t fussed about the goods anyway, I only took this job for the satisfaction of humiliating Drysdale, and that’s already exceeded my expectations. I’m sure Barnes and Rogers will give you enough for the recovered inventory even without him, and I’ll do you a solid and not mention the little side piece you’ll be keeping for yourself.”

God moves you off the couch, coaxing you to lean over the coffee table and kneels behind you. “Good.”

You moan as God slowly pushes his hard length inside your cunt.

There’s a thud next to you, and you turn to see a pile of Ransom hit the floor a few feet away.

“I assume you’ve got a way to move this man through down in that passage?” Lloyd asks, dragging the unconscious figure across the floor by his feet.

“Mhmm,” he responds, more intent on the movement of his hips against yours, slowly pistonning in and out of your tight heat.

“Good. This was fun enough, but let’s not do this again.”

God pulls your head up roughly to look at Lloyd just as he’s about to drop into the floor. “Say goodbye to Lloyd, Angel.”

You’re barely able to make the, “Bye,” tumble out of your lips, you’re so full of this man behind you, and his sudden roughness taking you by surprise.

Lloyd chuckles, then disappears.

God lets you drop back down, leaning on your elbows.

“I thought he’d never stop talking,” God murmurs.

It’s bitter, but a laugh actually falls from your lips, but you still can’t form words.

“There’s other things I’d rather do with you around than talk.”

He adjusts his angle from behind you. It allows him to plunge more of his cock into your slick channel, and you groan, but then after only a few thrusts, he pauses, balls deep inside you.

“You took what he gave you, but I think you don’t want me to stop, do you?”

You’re breathless. You can’t speak. You don’t want to speak?

He places his right hand, palm flat, at the base of your spine and presses it slowly up your back, his middle finger trailing up the ridge of your vertebrae, and you can feel the metal of his ring draw a line along your skin.

“You were very good.”

He rocks his hips against you, and you whimper.

“I said I would make you mine if you were good.”

Another rocking. He moves his hand from the nape of your neck around to grip it fully, and he pulls you back up against his chest, and you’re gasping for air for a moment, both hands coming up to clutch at his arm.

He lowers his voice and delivers his next words right into your ear. “You want to be mine, don’t you?”

Your pussy clenches around him, and he presses a kiss against your throat, and you feel the smile of his lips against your skin.

His other hand moves down across your hip, to your vee, and his deft fingers stroke your throbbing clit. He doesn’t move his cock, but he does move those fingers expertly, drawing tight little circles that wind you up to the top until you’re flung off the edge and into pure pleasure.

Coming down from your first orgasm, you sink against him. As your breathing returns to normal, the hand on your neck remains like an anchor, but his other hand moves up to tilt your chin to the side and up to meet his lips. The kiss claims you, and you part your lips for him, just as you’ve parted your legs for him – willingly.

“That was one, but I want a trinity to secure your devotion here tonight. I’m going to fuck you dumb, dress you, and then you’re going to walk out of here like a sweet little angel and get in my car. Then I’ll let you choose. You can sit up front and keep my cock warm or you can crawl in the back of the trunk. Your choice.”

How are we?

I'm ruined.

Restore my health with your lovely reblogs, commentary, comments...

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inthedayswhenlandswerefew · 6 months

Text

When The World Is Crashing Down [Chapter 7: Keep Quiet, Nothing Comes As Easy As You]

A/N: Hello everyone! Thank you so much for reading and loving this fic. 🥰 We are now officially halfway done with WTWICD, can you believe it?! I hope you enjoy Chapter 7. 💜

Series summary: Your family is House Celtigar, one of Rhaenyra’s wealthiest allies. In the aftermath of Rook’s Rest, Aemond unknowingly conscripts you to save his brother’s life. Now you are in the liar of the enemy, but your loyalties are quickly shifting…

Chapter warnings: Language, warfare, violence, the smallfolk having a bad time everywhere you look, Aemond being a menace, serious injury, alcoholism/addiction, references to sexual content (18+), discussions of pregnancy/babies, dragons, murder, some new perspectives! 🥰

Series title is a lyric from: “7 Minutes In Heaven” by Fall Out Boy.

Chapter title is a lyric from: “Nobody Puts Baby In The Corner” by Fall Out Boy.

Word count: 6k.

Link to chapter list: HERE.

Taglist (more in comments): @tinykryptonitewerewolf @lauraneedstochill @not-a-glad-gladiator @daenysx @babyblue711 @arcielee @at-a-rax-ia @bhanclegane @jvpit3rs @padfooteyes @marvelescvpe @travelingmypassion @darkenchantress @yeahright0h @poohxlove @trifoliumviridi @bloodyflowerrr @fan-goddess @devynsficrecs @flowerpotmage @thelittleswanao3 @seabasscevans @hiraethrhapsody @libroparaiso @echos-muses @st-eve-barnes @chattylurker @lm-txles @vagharnaur @moonlightfoxx @storiumemporium @insabecs @heliosscribbles @beautifulsweetschaos @namelesslosers @partnerincrime0 @burningcoffeetimetravel-fics @yawneneytiri @marbles-posts @imsolence @maidmerrymint @backyardfolklore @nimaharchive @anxiousdaemon @under-the-aspen-tree @amiraisgoingthruit @dd122004dd @randomdragonfires @jetblack4real @joliettes

Let me know if you’d like to be tagged! 🥰💜

In the Eyrie, Rhaena is praying for one of the three dragon eggs in her keeping to hatch. In the shadowy ruins of Harrenhal, Daemon and Nettles are bathing in rooms thick with steam, while outside by the lakeshore Baela brings plump goats to Moondancer. In King’s Landing, Rhaenyra’s Master of Coin Bartimos Celtigar is levying heavy taxes on the smallfolk: taxes on wine, taxes on ale, taxes on inn beds and shop goods, even taxes on the bittersweet parody of love purchased in brothels, taxes on every possible distraction from the ceaseless bloodletting that has infected the world like plague. In the North, Cregan Stark is following the Kingsroad towards Moat Cailin and imagining what you will say to him when you are rescued from the clutches of the Usurper: Oh my love, my champion, my savior, my lord. But south in the Reach, Daeron is flying.

Tessarion’s scales are a blue sheen like light on the ocean; the flapping of her wings is a deafening, roaring wind. She is nimble in the air, lethally quick, banking seamlessly when Daeron asks her to turn towards the Hogs Head, an inn from which torrents of men and women run shrieking. They do not run fast enough. Tessarion’s flames are an electrifying cobalt blue like lightning. Flesh melts away, bones are charred black, screams evaporate as lungs are singed, consumed, destroyed. Daeron’s own lungs work perfectly fine; he is cackling, almost loud enough to hear over the wings and inferno of his dragon. After the inn, Tessarion burns the sept, the marketplace, the castle that is the seat of the disloyal House Caswell. There is a stone bridge, after which the town is named, traversing the Mander River. People are fleeing across it. There are children on the bridge, but this does not stop Daeron. Maelor was a child when these traitors ripped him apart with their bare hands. Jaehaerys was a child, and so is Jaehaera, who may be alive in Storm’s End or may be dead but in any case has suffered the decimation of her family, her brothers and her mother and her grandsire. Daeron is burning Bitterbridge for the Greens, yes. But he is also doing it for himself. And in the wake of Tessarion’s fire, Lord Ormund Hightower’s forces pour into the rubble of the town to seize whatever treasures it has left.

In the Riverlands, Aemond and Vhagar are setting fields of wheat ablaze and incinerating cattle, pigs, sheep, forests that can no longer be used by the Blacks and their supporters for timber. In the Citadel, white ravens are being sent out to the great houses of Westeros to proclaim the end of summer. And on Dragonstone, the Beggar King heals.

He spars with guards that Larys found, is tended by maesters that Larys recruited from the turncoat houses of the Crownlands, rules over a microcosm kingdom that Larys built for him. Aegon tires quickly, sleeps often, aches and collapses and bleeds, gets sunburned when he is outside too long on those rare clear days. But he always rises again. “Perpetual Resurrection,” he says, grinning through the pain when you caution him to be patient, to be careful. “I’m not dying. I’m becoming brand new.”

You hunt for softshell crabs together on the rocky shoreline, fill a basket with them, bring them to the cooks to serve the skeleton crew of the castle for supper. You walk through the gardens, a pine-smelling woodland of towering coniferous trees, thorny rose bushes, blood-red cranberries, indelicate creatures that can thrive in the thin, inhospitable earth here. You study the books of the castle library—an impossibly vast, ancient collection, safeguarding texts from Old Valyria—while Aegon swims in the ocean with Sunfyre, laughing and diving as the dragon glides around him in large, lazy circles. Sunfyre can fly, but only a very short distance at a time; he is ungainly when he walks on land with his improperly-healed right wing. But in the water, he and Aegon are both unbroken again. Soon they will be ready for battle. Soon they will have to leave this island, this mist-and-smoke haven, to rejoin the war effort; soon they will have to leave you.

You crave Aegon like some people need wine, rum, gin, gold, power, violence, milk of the poppy. He is ecstasy, he is consolation, he is a spell. He is your home; and any place you’ve ever mistaken for home was only an echo of the truth that you would one day find him. Even on that very first night, as the storm raged outside, you whispered to Aegon when you both woke long before sunrise: “I want you again.”

“You’ll be sore,” he warned, a warm murmur against your forehead. “We can wait. I can wait.” But already his hands were moving, and your thighs were opening, and he followed your body and your words when they told him yes, now, and tomorrow, and the day after that, and the next day too.

You smile when Aegon calls you insatiable, but you know that’s not quite it.

You are acutely aware that nothing lasts forever, not even him, not even you.

~~~~~~~~~~

“Are the days getting shorter?” you ask, your bare feet ankle-deep in wet sand. Sunfyre is out in the waves eating dolphins; a slippery-looking grey tail hangs from his snaggletoothed jaw.

“I think you just want the nights to be longer.” Aegon winks up at you. His head is in your lap, his arms linked around your waist. You are weaving his little braid for him. His hair is just above shoulder-length and as choppy as ever. He periodically takes his dagger to it and hacks away haphazardly, determined to never look like Aemond, Daeron, Daemon, his father. He burrows into the softness of your belly and shuts his eyes. “Perhaps winter is coming.”

In more ways than one, you think bleakly, picturing Cregan Stark on the Kingsroad with snow in his long dark hair and dirt on his hands. “We should ask Lord Larys if he’s heard anything.” As the Citadel—and most of the rest of Westeros—believes Dragonstone to be unoccupied, they would not have sent a white raven here. But several times each week Larys receives visitors from Eagle Harbor, and they bring him rumors in exchange for gold coins and promises that when Aegon once again sits the Iron Throne, their faithfulness will be generously rewarded.

Aegon hums agreeably; he is dozing. After a moment he says: “I keep dreaming of her.”

“Who?”

“Helaena,” Aegon says, his voice lethargic and eyes still closed. “She brings me things. Butterflies, crabs, snakes. Things that are reborn. She puts them in my hands or in my bed and won’t take them away when I ask her to. She keeps telling me: Don’t fall, don’t fall.”

You finish Aegon’s braid and comb his unruly hair back with your fingers, soothing him, listening to him. You try not to think of the way Helaena died, crushed and hemorrhaging on golden sandstone. Instead, you picture her living: strange yet gentle, tragic but kind. You see her children as well, white-haired and beautiful and doted on not by their parents but by Alicent and Otto and you…and Aemond. You remember Aemond’s quiet resentment, his simmering and dangerous envy. You recall Aegon’s half-flippant accusation: You’re always developing attachments to things that are mine. Targaryens have wed brothers to sisters since long before the Conquest, but that doesn’t mean they always got the combination quite right. “Aegon, was Aemond…was he in love with Helaena? Did he desire her?”

“No. Not like that. He cared for her, but I don’t believe he had any lust for Helaena. He just thought he would have been a better husband to her than I was. That he would have caused her less misery. That he was more worthy of carrying on the bloodline, of being the children’s father. And he was right, of course.”

“What happened to Helaena is not your fault,” you say. “And neither is what happened to Jaehaerys or Maelor.”

“I’m glad Daeron burned them all,” Aegon says quietly, meaning the people of Bitterbridge, a tale ferried to Larys from one of his numerous, nameless informants.

“I know you are, Aegon.” You can’t bring yourself to agree with him. Does one dead child bring back another? Does each swatch of flesh burned away from a supporter of Rhaenyra replace one that was sheared off the bones of a Green? No, of course not, but the wheel goes around and around and around.

In the sky, another sort of wheel: a sun that burns cool and muted behind a thicket of iron-colored clouds. High above where you and Aegon are entwined on the beach, something crosses in front of the shrouded sun, casting an impossibly large shadow. You gasp; at the sound, Aegon bolts upright onto his palms and knees and follows your gaze. There is a profound, archaic rumbling, something old and intractable like thunder, earthquakes, floodwaters rising.

A dragon, you know immediately. You try frantically to determine whether you recognize its voice. Too large to be Tessarion or Syrax, too deep a roar to be Caraxes. Sheepstealer?? Vermithor?? But no, you have heard this beast before after all, it’s—

“Vhagar!” Aegon shouts, and scrambles to his feet. As the massive swamp-green dragon disappears behind the castle, soaring rather sluggishly, Aegon sprints as fast as he can up the stone steps towards the entranceway. You follow Aegon into Dragonstone and there the visitor meets you both, sailing down a staircase with eerie lightness, his boots hardly making a sound, his long silver hair secured in a single thick braid. Larys arrives as well and stands in the dreary, torchlit chamber, appearing as he always does: face servile and tactfully intrigued, hands laced together overtop the handle of his cane, back stooped as if to make himself smaller, less threatening, more invisible.

“I got to thinking you might be here,” Aemond tells Aegon. He sounds pleasantly surprised. “You look better.” Then he notices you. “Oh. Perhaps that accounts for some of it.”

“Where’s Criston?” Aegon asks. Meanderingly, so it is sufficiently subtle, he takes several steps until he has placed himself between you and Aemond.

“Somewhere near Saltpans.”

“You left him?” Aegon is incredulous, furious.

“Temporarily,” Aemond says. “It is not the first time. Between battles Vhagar and I raze the farms and villages of the Riverlands. Criston and his men are more than capable of fending for themselves. I’ll be back in a day.”

“You’re supposed to stay with Criston,” Aegon insists, speaking slowly and deliberately as if to a child who might have difficulty understanding. “You promised that you would. The war is on the battlefield, not on goddamn farms.”

“And what feeds Rhaenyra’s forces? Is it not grain and cattle? And so if I destroy their food supply—while our own soldiers are still receiving regular shipments from the Westerlands and the Reach—am I not inflicting catastrophic damage to the Blacks?”

“You’re burning…civilian property?” you say to Aemond. “You’re killing women and children and old people? You’re laying waste their homesteads?”

“It’s total war.” Aemond stares at you defiantly; there is no suggestion of self-doubt in his face. “It is a well-documented strategy employed across continents and centuries. We kill soldiers on the battlefield. We endanger their families back home. Many men will desert to return to their imperiled wives and children. Others will starve. All are broken. All are rendered ineffectual to our enemy’s cause. And thus we will triumph.”

You and Aegon gape at him, not knowing what to say, not knowing what is right or wrong in a world where children are slaughtered and grown men murder with impunity. When will this war be over? How can we end it? Will any of our souls survive the choices we’ve made with our backs to the wall?

“My prince, you chose an excellent time to pay us a visit,” Larys offers diplomatically. “I have just received news that may be of interest to you. And you can bring it back to Sir Criston and his men when you return to the Riverlands tomorrow.”

“What news?” Aegon asks.

“Wait,” Aemond says; and he smiles, dark and hungry like a wolf, like a dragon. “I want to see the place where my ancestors made their war plans. I want to sit in Rhaenyra’s chair.”

On the top floor of the Stone Drum, the main keep of Dragonstone that booms and growls during storms, servants light the candles beneath the Painted Table and bring wine, ale, bread, cheese, honeycomb, jam, candied walnuts, red cherries and violet grapes. The map of Westeros, older than the Conquest, is striped with snakes of fiery luminance like lava. Aegon twists the gold dragon ring on his finger, its jade eyes sparkling. You gave it back to him the day after you arrived on Dragonstone; he says that when he wins the war, he will have a matching piece made for you, but with a crab in place of a dragon.

Larys cautions before he begins: “I cannot tell you the perfect truth. I can only tell you what I’ve heard from the whispers that make their way to me.”

“And what have you heard?” Aemond says. Aegon glances petulantly at him, as if debating whether to remind his brother that a prince regent is not quite a king.

“The Dragonseeds known as Hugh Hammer and Ulf the White—and with them, Vermithor and Silverwing—have officially declared for the Greens.”

“Yes!” Aegon beams and raises his wine cup. He refuses milk of the poppy, even on his worst days; he does not want to be senseless, he does not want to leave you unprotected. But he drinks red wine often and grows ill if he is without it for long. Aemond is laughing victoriously. The brothers are momentarily united.

“There was a battle at Tumbleton in the Reach,” Larys continues. “Lord Ormund Hightower was slain by Roddy the Ruin who, allegedly, managed the feat after one of his arms was severed clean from his body. These Northmen are formidable beasts, to be sure.”

Aegon looks at you, a fleeting, fearful look.

“The people of Tumbleton believed the battle to be over, but then Vermithor and Silverwing joined Tessarion in torching the city. All the Blacks’ commanders were killed, along with most of their soldiers. And the city was sacked. There are reports of looting and…well, all manner of indecencies being committed against the civilians of Tumbleton, mostly women and children. Even septas and silent sisters.”

Now an awkward silence settles over the Painted Table. Ruin, heartbreak, agony, death; but somebody else’s. It could have been yours instead. Perhaps tomorrow it will be. Perhaps there is no end to suffering, only a reallocation of it to people who you do not know, do not love. Perhaps the debt can never be satisfied but only passed to another.

Larys goes on: “The people of King’s Landing are petrified that the Greens and their dragons will descend upon them and subject the capital to the same atrocities that Tumbleton experienced. Rhaenyra had to order the gold cloaks to seal the city gates to keep her supposedly loyal subjects inside.”

“The smallfolk’s support for her continues to weaken?” Aemond says.

“It does more than weaken. Many people there detest her. Bartimos Celtigar has imposed heavy taxes upon the city. The smallfolk fear that Daemon has abandoned Rhaenyra, and therefore that they cannot expect protection from Caraxes and Sheepstealer. And…” Larys peers around the Painted Table apologetically.

“…And?” Aegon presses.

“Rhaenyra’s youngest son…Viserys…” Larys sighs, an anemic, perfunctory breed of sympathy. “He is dead. Of illness, it seems. The luckless lad.”

“He was always sickly,” you say, remembering his unwaveringly watery eyes and dripping nose. And you almost say Poor Rhaenyra, but then you remember how the Blacks celebrated Maelor’s death with cheers and rare, bloody boar meat.

“Yes,” Larys concurs. “That is what the people believe, that he perished due to natural causes.”

Aemond is watching the Master of Whisperers closely. “What does Rhaenyra think caused it?”

“She suspects poison,” Larys tells him. “She is convinced of poison, I should say. She raved and she threatened and she spewed accusations. She executed a dozen people, none of whom could be connected to the death of the boy with any certainty. The smallfolk feel she has gone mad. And there is one more crime the people have branded her with.” Larys turns to you.

Your heard pounds wildly, hot blood thuds in your ears. “Has something happened to Everett—?”

“Not him. The Celtigars themselves are safe from her wrath. Bartimos is too near to the throne, and Rhaenyra trusts him. But the servant girl—Autumn, you called her—she went into labor a month early and was delivered of a boy.” Now Larys’ eyes flick to Aegon, whose face goes pale and panicked. “A boy with blue eyes and silver hair.”

Aemond rocks back in his chair and shakes his head.

“Oh,” Aegon moans. “Oh.” He clutches his chest with one hand and looks to you. He says weakly: “I’m so sorry, Angel. It didn’t mean anything. The child…it…it will never really be mine—”

“It won’t be anyone’s,” Larys says. “Rhaenyra had him run through with a sword.”

“What?!” Aemond exclaims. “A baby? An infant? In her own castle, in the Red Keep?”

You are horrified. “Did Autumn witness this?”

“I’m not certain, my lady,” Larys replies. “What I have heard is that Rhaenyra proclaimed it vengeance for agents of the Greens murdering her youngest son. She declared all bastards of the Usurper to be enemies of the realm and thus sentenced to death. She has offered rewards for anyone who brings a white-haired child to her for execution. And the smallfolk are absolutely, viciously appalled by her. The Street of Silk in particular is rife with people plotting the so-called queen’s downfall. She is surrounded by enemies. And she has only two male heirs left.”

“Two more than Aegon,” Aemond mutters.

“Is Autumn alright?” you ask Larys. “Did Rhaenyra harm her?”

“Your brother Everett attempted to advocate for Autumn and the child. He was ignored; your father and eldest brother were vehemently in support of the murder. Shortly after the baby was killed, Autumn disappeared from King’s Landing. I’m sure Everett facilitated this escape. No one knows her present whereabouts.”

“She’s just gone? No signs whatsoever?”

“Nobody ever knows anything.” Aemond waves at Aegon. “They think he’s in Dorne.”

“Seven hells,” Aegon whispers, rubbing his face with his hands.

“Rhaenyra is destroying herself,” you say. “She is doing the work for us. If you try to take King’s Landing with dragonfire raining down on Green supporters who are effectively held captive, there will be ill-will against you in the capital that will last for generations. But if they overthrow Rhaenyra on their own, you can reclaim the city bloodlessly.”

Larys taps his fingers meditatively against the Painted Table. “I do wonder if Daemon would intervene to support her. His present motivations are…somewhat nebulous. To Blacks and Greens alike. But he controls their most powerful assets.”

“You haven’t crossed paths with Caraxes and Sheepstealer in Riverlands, I assume?” Aegon asks Aemond.

“No. We are locked in a dance of sorts. I’m not certain that Vhagar can win against two dragons of that size; they must know that it is almost certain that at least one of them would be killed in the struggle even if they defeated me. This Nettles girl’s dragon riding skills are unclear. Perhaps Daemon is training her, perhaps he is now sufficiently attached that he does not want her in combat. So we avoid each other. But when the girl is gone—when Daemon tires of her, or when Rhaenyra sends assassins to murder her, or when she is removed from the board by some other means—I will meet Daemon in battle and end him.”

“Your priority is protecting Criston,” Aegon orders; but there is trepidation in his large, ocean-blue eyes, there is defenseless worry there. “Wherever Criston goes, you go with him. I’ll be ready to fight again soon. I’ll be able to help you.”

“Daemon is mine. I want to face him alone.”

“I am the king!” Aegon thunders, and you can see the strength leaving him like birds taking flight from cold, bare winter trees. “You will not behave recklessly. You will not abandon Criston. We are winning in the Reach, and we are winning in King’s Landing without even being there, and we will win in the Riverlands too if you don’t sabotage us with your relentless fucking pride.”

You and Larys study Aemond. He examines the flame-colored light of the Painted Table, tracing the etchings of rivers and mountains with his fingertips. “Fine,” he concedes, very quietly.

“And one more thing,” Aegon tells his brother.

With great reluctance, Aemond meets his gaze. “Yes?”

“If you have the opportunity to burn Cregan Stark, take it.”

~~~~~~~~~~

When Aegon collapses into the bed you share, you curl up against his scarred chest, listen to his heartbeat, breathe in heat and rose oil and the salt of the ocean. He does not ask you what is wrong. He does not speak of Autumn or her child, his child, no matter how indifferent or remorseful he might have been. He holds you knowing that there is nothing he can say to make the world whole again. He can only rest until he is well enough to fly into battle, where he might be further maimed or taken captive or murdered. And what then? What was this all for?

“Somewhere there are people just living,” you marvel. “They’re reading books, they’re having supper, they’re getting married, they’re tending to their crops and their animals. And none of them are thinking about war or massacres or dragonfire.”

“Yes,” Aegon says simply, pulling you in closer, one palm pressed to the small of your back and the other brushing your hair away from your face so he can kiss you, soft and slow. “But they’re not us.”

When Aegon is on the edge of sleep, you tell him that you love him, as you do each day. He has not heard it enough in his life; you are trying to remedy that now. And as always, Aegon does not say it back. Instead, he murmurs something in High Valyrian that you cannot understand. Now you commit it to memory, repeating it silently to yourself again and again until Aegon is sleeping deeply and you can rise from the bed without disturbing him. You go to your writing desk and scribble it down on a small piece of parchment: the way this word sounds in the letters of the Common Tongue. You have no way to translate it. There are books written in High Valyrian in the castle library, but you do not know the alphabet of the language, and you have yet to find a text that can teach it to you. When you ask Aegon for lessons, he demurs and says that he doesn’t know High Valyrian well enough to teach you. You think he just wants a way to say things you won’t be able to comprehend. You squirrel the parchment away in the pocket of your gown and slip out of the bedchamber you share with Aegon.

It is far too early for your mind to stop racing, only sunset. You wander down halls of shifting shadows and iron dragons, fantastically high ceilings and narrow slits of windows. Questions fill your skull like rushing blood in the chambers of a heart: Where is Autumn? Is she alright? Is she safe? Is Everett, is Jaehaera, is Alicent? Are Criston and Daeron? Are any of us?

When you cross through the doorway and onto a balcony that overlooks the ocean, Aemond is to your left. He is nursing a cup of wine and leaning over the stone wall that separates you from a long, treacherous fall onto black rocks that jut out of the sea like the hilts of daggers from a corpse’s back. You whirl away from him and towards the craggy staircase that leads down to the beach.

“Now you’re going to pretend you didn’t see me?” Aemond calls out.

You halt mid-step, consider it, then return to him. “You’re just so undistinguished in appearance. So easy to miss.”

He gives you one of his enigmatic, teasing smirks. His hair blows in the breeze that tastes like salt and sulfur and mist. He wears a dark, lush green. Then he peers avoidantly down into his wine. “I…I don’t think I ever adequately apologized for what transpired regarding the brothel. The Pink Pearl.”

“You didn’t.”

“It is a place…” Aemond pauses. He chooses his words cautiously, like handling something that could easily break, a glass goblet, an egg, a butterfly in an open palm. “It is a place that I associate with great unpleasantness. I made assumptions about where your loyalties lied. I felt that you had hurt me, that you had caused me to suffer. And I wanted you to suffer in return.”

“It was a horrific thing to do,” you say pitilessly. “It was cruel. It was evil.”

“Yes, I’m aware of that now. That’s why I’m apologizing.”

“Then do it properly.”

“I’m sorry,” Aemond says. It takes some effort. “I was wrong.”

“You were.”

“And I’m glad Aegon was able to haul himself out of bed to rescue you. It’s not often that he gets to be the noble brother, the gallant one.”

“It happens more often than you’d think.”

Aemond raises his eyebrow. Beneath his eyepatch, you know, is a winter-cold sapphire in a bed of mangled flesh, a treasure steeped in corruption. “How long have you been here?”

“Two months.” No, more than that. “Two and a half, or thereabouts.”

“And I assume there has been no shortage of…horizontal activities with my brother.”

“Not exclusively horizontal,” you snap, to make him regret being so forward, to make him uncomfortable. “We are more inventive than that.”

It works; Aemond flushes a gory mottled pink. Still he manages: “And you have not yet conceived?”

You glare at him, ice and fire at once. “No.”

“Why do you think that is?”

You shrug, exasperated, dismissive. “Aegon has been through so much physical trauma, perhaps he is no longer capable of having children. Perhaps I never was. Perhaps it will happen in a month or six months or a year. Perhaps it is not meant for us. Only the gods know.”

“You aren’t at all concerned?”

In truth, no; you are so consumed by whether Aegon will survive the war with any vestige of humanity intact that anything beyond this seems hopelessly distant, a constellation, a shadow on the moon, the silvery gleam of a comet. “It’s not something I spend much time thinking about.”

“It should be,” Aemond insists. “If the Greens expect men to go to war for us, for women to give up their husbands and sons to us, we should have a stable succession to offer them in return. Jaehaerys and Maelor are gone. Jaehaera is a girl and cannot inherit even if she is alive and well in Storm’s End. Aegon needs an heir.”

“Aren’t you next in line for the throne, Aemond?” you say cuttingly. “And isn’t that the role you believe yourself best suited for? Being king? Proving how worthy you were all along?”

He is uneasy, perhaps ashamed, evading your eyes. “Regrettably, I cannot begin trying for my own sons until the war is over and I marry Borros Baratheon’s daughter, as I pledged to in return for his support for our side. Daeron will not be able to marry for several years. In the meantime, there is this…disquieting lack of certainty. To complicate matters, Aegon has bastards in King’s Landing, I’m sure. The red-haired girl was far from the first whore to lie with him. If he does not have a trueborn son, claimants will appear to challenge mine or Daeron’s for the throne.”

You search yourself—unspoken longing and ancient cobwebbed fears—for any desire for a child of your own. You cannot find it. You are fond of children, you find fulfillment in caring for them, but the need to carry and deliver one yourself? It is not something you can remember ever yearning for. It always felt like yet another way in which your body would be used to further some man’s legacy, to give him pleasure at your expense. “Can you tell me what this means?” you ask, handing Aemond the folded piece of parchment that you’d tucked into the pocket of your gown. He takes it with one long, lithe hand. “I’ve probably spelled it wrong. I’ve never seen it written, only heard it spoken aloud.”

Aemond opens the parchment. His river-blue eye narrows; thoughtful creases appear in his brow. “Aegon has said this? To you?”

“More than once.”

“What prompted it?”

“Does your translation depend upon the context?”

“Hm.” Aemond skates his thumbprint over the dried black ink. Then he looks at you. “It means: To your misfortune.”

The alarm must show on your face.

“Not like a threat,” Aemond clarifies. “It is a common expression. It suggests that someone has entrusted something of value to the undeserving. It implies naivety. Unwise benevolence. But it is certainly not malicious. It is usually said fondly, like a backhanded compliment.” He returns the parchment to you. You rip it over and over again until it is only scraps that vanish in the wind, Aegon’s voice speaking to you: I ruin causes. I ruin people.

“Why did you kill Luke?” you ask Aemond, not accusingly but with hushed, weary wonder. “There was very little strategic advantage in it. There was great peril as a result. Rhaenyra will never surrender, never negotiate. You will forever be known as a kinslayer. You could have taken him captive. You could have humiliated him, you could have shown the world how weak he was. Why did you have to kill him?”

Aemond says nothing for a long time. He stares out over the ocean where the sun is setting, dolphin fins cut in swift arcs through the surf, Sunfyre dozes on wet sand, the sky glows dream-lavender and blood orange. He sips his wine and contemplates things that are mysteries to you. Aemond keeps his thoughts like untrustworthy animals: in cages, in darkness, turning fierce and feral, snapping jaws and rattling chains. At last he says: “They’re all dead anyway. They were from the moment Aegon was born and my father refused to name him the heir. It’s all of them or all of us. You think there is any scenario in which Aegon reigns as king while Rhaenyra’s children survive? No, no. Someone will always be willing to fight and die for them. Just like Green loyalists would have been willing to fight for Jaehaerys and Maelor.” Something shifts in his face like the breaking of a wave, and for a second you can glimpse the deep well of dark, helpless misery inside him, filling up drop by drop since he was a boy. Then Aemond is steely again. “Luke had to die. So did Jace and Rhaenys and that eternally sniffling toddler Viserys. And all the other Blacks will follow. Unless you care to see Aegon’s blood spilled. And mine, and Daeron’s.”

“No,” you say softly, an agonized little whisper that understands, that surrenders. “No, that cannot happen.”

Aemond takes another swallow of his wine and drums his fingertips restlessly against the cup. “Any heir our side puts forth must have undisputed parentage and Valyrian features. Aegon’s wife is dead. He can marry you. You are a Celtigar, you share our blood, you carry the memories of silver hair and rare magic in the marrow of your bones. These attributes are dormant in you, yet could be passed on to a child. A son of yours could secure the succession and one day inherit the Iron Throne. But the father has to be a Targaryen.”

You turn to Aemond, perplexed and wary. His wording is strange. “Well, it has to be Aegon.”

Aemond is impatient, irritated. You have not been keeping up. He says, his eye on the darkening horizon: “There are other Targaryens.”

You stare at him. You don’t understand, you don’t understand, and then suddenly you do. “What?”

This is not the reaction Aemond had hoped for. He gulps down the last of his wine, leaves the cup on the stone wall, storms down the staircase to reunite with Vhagar and resume burning the noncombatants of the Riverlands to ash.

~~~~~~~~~~

He finds her at the shore of the Gods Eye, rippling blue like a vast mirror. The Isle of Faces—forbidden, undiscoverable—is a faint mirage in the distance. Moondancer is circling overhead. Baela is perched on a large rock by the water’s edge and fishing; she is intrigued by tales of the strange creatures that dwell here, the hungry currents, the way this corner of the world has only a translucent, threadbare veil between our world and the realm of spirits, ghosts, demons. She has always been curious and bold by nature. She has always been his most beloved child.

“You found your way out of Nettles’ bed,” Baela pitches, a jest but not a judgment. She is already developing an appetite of her own that renders monogamy woefully lacking. She mourns Jace, but not the woman she would have had to pretend to be for him. “I’m shocked.”

Daemon smirks, tilting his head to the side like a wolf does as it’s listening. “You know how sheets have a way of getting tangled. Around ankles, around wrists…sometimes it is difficult to free oneself.”

“You were fighting hard, I’m sure.”

“Yes, all morning.”

Baela chuckles, reels in her fishing line, recasts it. She cares deeply for Rhaenyra and is loyal to her still, but Baela shares her father’s pathological aversion to weakness. She feels that Rhaenyra has driven Daemon away with her moodiness, her melancholy, her unmooring from the fearless, ardent woman she once was. Daemon says that being with Nettles is like being with a young Rhaenyra again. It would not be just to condemn him for seeking out what Rhaenyra took from him and has no intention of returning.

Daemon says: “I want you to go to Dragonstone.”

Baela is aghast, betrayed. “You are getting rid of me?”

“I am entrusting you with a vital enterprise.”

Now she is intrigued. Now she is considering it.

“Moondancer is too small to fight Vhagar, Tessarion, Vermithor, or Silverwing,” Daemon says. “If Caraxes and Sheepstealer meet Vhagar in battle, you cannot go with us. Nor should we leave you here unprotected. And I know you have been impatient for an opportunity to play a more…consequential role in the war.”

“I long to be useful,” Baela agrees. “More than anything.”

“Go to Dragonstone,” Daemon says. “It is vacant, it is safe. But it must remain under the Blacks’ control. Patrol it and ensure the Greens do not try to take the island and find riders for Grey Ghost or the Cannibal. Rhaenyra will return to Dragonstone if she is ever forced out of King’s Landing. I have tasked you with making it ready for her.”

“And I have permission to execute any traitors who might appear there?”

“Yes. You may swing the sword yourself. Or feed them to Moondancer, whichever you prefer.”

Baela smiles, a slow, toothy grin that spreads across her face like plague, like fire. “When can I leave?”

#aegon ii targaryen #aegon targaryen #aegon ii #aegon targaryen ii #aegon targaryen x reader #aegon x reader #aegon ii x y/n #aegon ii x you #aegon ii targaryen x reader #aegon ii x reader

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lincolndjarin · 6 months

Text

Oh Honey. ✩ Chapter 3

chapter three : we're all mad here

series masterlist ao3 kofi main masterlist

a/n : thank you to everyone who has waited patiently for this ily all. not much to say here other than that this chapter gets a lil buck wild so read the warnings. also this chapter is just a shitty whirlwind of things whoops

pairing : monster!joel miller x mortician!reader

rating : 18+ mdni - explicit content, read all warnings

word count : 11.9k

summary : bunny and joel are in a tough spot but hey couple fight, i'm sure everythings super chill and normal

warnings, etc. : angst, language, smut, dubcon (reader and joels relationship is relatively unhealthy and mostly just sex at this point. basically sex is reluctant or angry most of the time), oral m!receiving, crying after sex, toxic relationship, these two aren't doing well, readers mental health isn't in a great place, gaslighting, grave digging, typical oh honey description of corpses, general sense of dread, fear, feelings of despair, violence, gore, body horror, just in general a lot of bad shit happens in this chapter and i definitely missed tags so proceed with caution. this is a monster fucker fic - proceed accordingly

“It’s okay, it’s just me.”

Joel, Joel, Joel.

The only thing that consumes your thoughts.

The nightmare that’s still there after you wake up.

Neither one of you moves, he just watches you as your chest heaves, your hands shaking as the dam finally breaks and you crumble entirely. The overwhelming fear that has plagued you for weeks now finally consumes you entirely.

And you cry.

Not just a few stray tears, or some sniffling.

You cry.

Big, salty tears and full body sobs because you are just so fucking afraid.

Afraid of the woods, of the monster, and of Joel.

And despite that fact, you let him hold you because you aren’t just afraid, you’re tired. You stop putting up a fight when he pulls you into his arms, and you let him soothe you because there is no one else.

You don’t have anyone here.

(You don’t really have anyone anywhere else either.)

Except Joel.

So you press your face into his chest and you let him lay down with you.

You let him hold your ear against his sternum until your heartbeat matches his.

You let him kiss your forehead.

And you let him rock you back and forth until you fall asleep once more.

You don’t remember any more dreams that come your way but you know that you don’t sleep well after that, at least two more times you wake with a jolt. And you’re rocked back to sleep every time a fresh flood of tears threatens to rush from your eyes.

“Can we talk about last night?” Your eyes are still shut when you feel the heat of the sunrise against your face, his chest rumbles against your cheek when he whispers. “I know you’re awake.”

“I don’t wanna talk about it Joel.” You mumble, your eyebrows furrow, eyes still shut as he rubs your back.

“Please?” He sits up on his elbows, holding you to his chest still, the blanket sliding down his stomach and you’re suddenly reminded of the lack of clothing between the two of you.

You sit up with a groan, stretching your arms above your head before holding your comforter up to cover yourself, as you stare at the scene before you. The morning light is seeping in through the windows, turning his dark curls almost copper. Your eyes trail across the sheets until they settle on the large rips exposing your mattress.

“I said no.” You grumble.

“Bunny-”

You grab the blanket covering him, yanking it down as you yawn. You crawl between his legs letting your own blanket drop as you take his soft cock in your hand, watching him swell against your palm. He gasps at the suddenness of it all but when he doesn’t push you away you keep going.

“Sugar, I’m beggin’, let’s just take a second to talk.” He puts his hand over yours, trying to slow you but you just slide down onto your stomach, pulling him between your lips, wasting no time to drag your tongue along his tip. A long, unbroken groan falls from his lips. You take him deeper, savoring the way your eyes water and your jaw aches. It keeps you grounded. It keeps you here.

“Mmm.” You moan around him, god, why can’t he just be a normal man? If he was just a man he wouldn’t feel like velvet in your mouth, and he wouldn’t taste like sweet coffee first thing in the morning.

You know that now.

He isn’t just a man.

You don’t actually know what he is, but you have a few theories. A lot of theories that don’t work because the monster you saw in the woods wasn’t Joel.

His hips involuntarily rock forward and you groan as he hits the back of your throat. You smooth your hands over his bare thighs to push him back down as you relax your throat.

“Bunny- ah-” He stammers out as you work yourself back down his length, trying to ease him in at your own pace. “Slow down gorgeous, m’gonna come too fast if you keep this up.” He runs his knuckle across your jaw but you just hollow your cheeks and push on, pulling a strained groan from him.

You swallow around him, it’s on the verge of painful as you struggle a bit to breathe but you have no desire to stop. No amount of fear is going to change the fact that he soothes you. With his cock in your mouth it’s easy to forget about everything that’s happened to you this past week. It’s easy to just drink him in, and taste the warm caramel of his skin. You let one of your hands slip between your own legs, your fingers drag through the slick there before focusing on your aching clit.

You concentrate on syncing up the movements. Running your tongue along the underside of his cock as you swipe your fingers against your bud, practically humping your own hand after a few minutes. You keep it up for a bit until you feel his balls tensing and you pop yourself off of him.

You pull yourself into his lap, straddling his thigh as you wrap your hand around his twitching prick, both of you panting as you grind yourself against him. He grabs you by the back of your neck and pulls your lips to his as you groan into his mouth, he grunts against you until you feel him pulsing against your palm, streaking his stomach with his cum. After another moment you feel yourself clenching around nothing, finishing against your other hand.

You collapse against him, resting your head on his shoulder as you catch your breath. You take a moment to briefly run your fingers through his spend before sucking them into your mouth.

Just like frosting, a sweet vanilla taste coating your tongue.

He watches you like he’s about to pick up where he left off before you distracted him but he shakes it off when you give him a desperate look. He pulls you into an embrace.

“If you won’t let me talk about it, at least let me redress your wounds.” He murmurs before kissing the top of your head. You give him a small nod, too tired, and too afraid to object as he peels back the bloody gauze, carefully cleaning every cut before wrapping them once more.

When he’s finished he goes through and gives each one a small kiss, as if that could erase the terror around their origins.

“I gotta go to work, are you gonna be okay today?” He whispers as he leans forward to give you one last kiss on the cheek.

“I’ll be fine.” You give him a weak smile, content to act as if everything really is fine for just a few more moments.

“I’ll stop by for a few minutes after work, then I gotta go get Ellie.” He starts collecting his scattered clothing, dressing himself as you lay back down. “I’ll see you tonight.” He murmurs, giving you one one last sympathetic smile before he’s gone. Just like that.

And you’re alone with your thoughts.

What the fuck are you gonna do?

There’s a monster loose in the woods and Joel is clearly going to be no help. And of course there’s the issue of not being able to break up with him, for several reasons, one of them being that you simply don’t want to. Anything that happened last night doesn’t matter because at the end of the day you really like Joel, but more importantly you don’t think you can break up with Joel. It doesn’t really seem like your body will let you, whatever the invisible, inexplicable force is that drives you two together might not allow such a separation to happen.

So you’ll stay with him.

And you’ll use him to your advantage, it’s clear he knows something about what you saw, why else would he have gotten so defensive about it? He can’t be perfect forever, eventually he’ll slip up. You just have to wait for it.

You can wait.

Turns out you’re not as okay as you thought you were.

You spend the rest of your day cleaning up around the camper, just sort of taking care of things and everything seems fine. Joel texts you a few times, mostly just asking if you’re okay. And he comes to check on you after work, you’re just getting out of the shower when it happens, you had just stepped out of the bathroom in your robe, drying your hair with a towel.

His truck is old, he keeps it in good condition and he takes care of it but the engine is still pretty loud.

That was all it took to send you under the table.

Something about the roar of the engine just as it was turning off set you off. You closed your eyes, just for a moment and all you could see was the thing from the woods and you were curled up in on yourself, tucked away under the table with your hands over your ears. You didn’t hear Joel bust down the door and you screamed when he pulled you out from your hiding spot, thrashing and kicking at him. It took a while but eventually he calmed you down, sitting on the edge of your bed with you wrapped around him, trembling in absolute terror.

When you finally calmed down enough to quiet down he continued to hold you close, humming a song softly as he rubbed your back until you decided to break the silence.

“You have to go get Ellie.” Your voice was raw from screaming and he sighed.

“I can stay.”

“Go get her, I’ll be fine.” It took a lot of insisting but eventually he relented, but not before making sure you ate the take out he had brought you. The two of you sat in silence until he couldn’t stall anymore and had to go.

“Text me before you go to bed.” He mumbled, giving your hand a soft squeeze before he left.

You did as you were told.

That was when you became vaguely aware of just how bad things are right now.

You thought you were up for this, monster hunting, mystery solving business. But you’re terribly afraid, almost to the point of being useless. You can’t just let innocent people die though, no one believes you, so you have to be the one to do this. The thought makes you sick but what else can you do?

So you endure.

You wake up from restless sleeps, haunted by monsters you cannot escape from even in your dreams, and you go to work. You let Joel pick you up each morning and you let him kiss your cheek and put his hand on your thigh as you drive. You work as if everything is normal, and you only work on bodies that have died of natural causes for the rest of the week.

Night time is when things get tricky.

Joel wants to talk.

He wants to ask if you’re okay and he wants to talk about what happened that night you saw the beast but you know that if you do that you’re going to fall apart all over again and you’re starting to worry that one of these times you aren’t going to be able to put yourself back together.

So you do the one thing you know will distract him.

You fuck him.

He comes over after work each night, bringing food as if he knows you won’t eat unless he makes sure of it. He’ll ask you how work is and you’ll tell him the truth. That you’re busy and Maria’s busy with all the funerals.

And every night he tries to talk about it, usually starting by reaching out to you and holding your face in his hands. But you know better than to let him get more than a sentence out, so once he starts you drag him to bed.

The first time you executed this plan you were a little worried about what was going to happen after the sex. You couldn’t fuck him again. (Actually you probably could, but that’s beside the point.) So you needed to formulate a plan for afterwards, but once you’d started you got a little lost in your efforts and by the time you were done you had nothing.

It’s a good thing you solved your own problem when he pulled you against his chest and you suddenly burst into tears.

So yeah, you aren’t really all that okay.

You’ve developed a habit of crying after sex and you haven’t gotten any new information out of Joel. But at least you aren’t getting worse, at least it feels like you aren’t. For a week and a half the routine doesn’t change until finally on Wednesday he comes to pick you up after work.

“Should we go to dinner?” He wraps an arm around your waist as he pulls you closer.

“Let’s just get takeout.” You rest your head against his shoulder as he walks the two of you out to the truck.

“You don’t wanna go out?”

“I just wanna stay in tonight.” He hesitates for a moment, giving you a troubled look as he helps you into the passenger side. Once the engine hums to life you punch the number into your phone, ordering for the both of you, having it delivered to the camper.

And you ride in silence.

For a brief moment you wonder if he’s mad at you.

You can’t really find the will to care, it’s not like he isn’t gonna stay. He’s just as stuck as you are. You aren’t sure you can keep this up for much longer though, he knows what you’re doing at this point and he’s starting to use it against you.

You want him to snap again.

That’s sort of the goal right now.

To have him lift you as if it’s nothing. To tear something to shreds. You’ve been trying to make it happen all week, you’d think that with all the sex he’d lose control at some point.

But he’s careful now.

Somehow you always end up flat on your back and before you can gain any sort of semblance of control over the situation he’s got you coming your brains out. It’s clever really. Fighting sex with sex.

You get him to stop talking by starting it and he keeps you from doing any real investigative work by playing you like a fiddle each and every time.

No one wins. And no one loses.

You know you can’t do this forever but for now it works.

Work, sex, cry, sleep.

You decide you need to search his house, maybe find some evidence. You’re getting nowhere with your investigation and even though there haven’t been any mutilated bodies you know it’s only a matter of time. You need to take preventative measures.

The only problem is you don’t know where it is, you’ve always stayed in the camper and you’re struggling to think of a way to invite yourself over without raising suspicion, after a few days it comes to you.

“Can we talk?” You stammer out the moment you hear him pick up the phone, he doesn’t even bother hiding his sigh of relief.

“Of course we can, right now? Or should I just come over tonight?”

“I was thinking maybe we could go to your house, I’m hoping a change of scenery might help me open up.” It’s a bullshit excuse but you know he’d do anything to have a conversation with you right now.

“That’s more than fine, I’ll pick you up around six? We can have dinner and then we’ll talk.” He sounds so happy you almost wish this was real. That you could give him this thing he wants so desperately but you know that he won’t admit to anything he knows, so you just need to find proof, something he can’t brush off or ignore.

“Sounds perfect, I’ll see you then.” You hang up before he can respond, staring at the wall in silence, barely noticing when the sun sets outside the window. You don’t snap out of it until headlights flood the interior of the camper and you stand, grabbing your bag before rushing out to meet him. He jogs around the front of the truck to wrap an arm around your waist and kiss your forehead before opening the passenger door.

“I hope you don’t mind, we’ve got a little company tonight.” He raises his eyebrows at you, closing the door before you can ask any questions, when he pulls himself up into the driver's seat you open your mouth to ask what he means but he speaks first, turning to stare into the backseat. “Do you know who this is, little monster?” He turns the cab light on and you see Ellie strapped into her car seat. She appraises you for a moment before all of her limbs straighten out as she yells.

“Girlfriend!” She shrieks and you can’t help but smile for the first time in a while as Joel gives you a lopsided grin.

“We worked on that the whole way over, she was supposed to say your name but that’s close enough.” He gives her a mock look of disappointment that has her bursting into a fit of laughter as he turns the light off, pulling away from the camper and back onto the road. Joel turns up the radio, both of you sit quietly as Ellie sings along behind you, making up her own words to a pop song you vaguely recognize. “Hope you don’t mind.” He reaches over, taking your hand while the other stays on the wheel. “I haven’t been able to spend a lot of time with her recently.” He nods towards the back as you smile politely.

“I don’t mind at all.” It’s more than true. You’re rather fond of Ellie. He gives your hand a small squeeze and when you look his dimple is prominently visible on his face.

It’s about a ten minute drive to his house.

It doesn’t even look like he has neighbors. He pulls into a driveway between the trees and tucked away is a small ranch style house. You don’t know what you were expecting. Maybe something a little more sinister? But this is quite lovely, lots of space in an outcropping in the trees, a pretty cream colored house with dark oak accents and a tire swing hanging from a nearby tree.

Secluded.

You step out, staring at the pretty little place as he unbuckles Ellie, who immediately breaks into a sprint when he sets her on the ground, running up onto the porch and jumping to grab at the door knob.

“S’locked, honey.” He yells as he takes your hand, chuckling while he retrieves the key from his pocket. “She’s been excited since I told her we were gonna have you over, she loves showin’ people the house.” You both step up onto the porch as Ellie stares at him impatiently.

“What a lovely house you have, miss Ellie.” You crouch down in front of her as she gives you a grin, she’s clearly much less reserved around her father.

“Thank you.” She smiles proudly, when Joel opens the door she grabs your hand, pulling you inside as he flips on the lights. “We’re home!” She yells into the empty house. You give Joel a nervous look but he just laughs.

“She does that everytime we walk through the door, it’s just us here tonight.” He whispers reassuringly as Ellie immediately drags you deeper into the room.

It’s startlingly average.

It’s simply a house. No claw marks or blood on the wall. Just a surprisingly well kept little place, a well lived in family home. The walls are lined with photos of Ellie and a girl you assume to be Sarah, the fridge is completely covered in drawings similar to the ones you’ve seen Ellie do before. It’s just a house, nothing more.

Ellie pulls you into the living room before tugging your hand and pointing up at the wall until you scoop her up. Joel’s already working in the kitchen on dinner as you walk Ellie around the room. She’s more talkative then you’ve ever heard her be now that she’s got a clear line of sight to Joel, clearly more comfortable as she points out each framed photo, having a seemingly infinite number of things to say about each.

She babbles on endlessly, you don’t understand her well, you can really only make out names in her mess of gibberish but it sounds like she’s telling jokes. She points at each photo, looking at you as she says something incoherent before pausing, when she speaks again it comes off like a punchline, a single short burst of words before a shriek of giggles. You feel truly happy for the first time since that night. You feel normal.

You carry her over to where Joel seems to be putting toppings on a pizza.

“I thought you didn’t know how to cook?” You set Ellie down on the counter.

“I don’t know if buying pre-made dough and putting things on top of it is cooking.” He chuckles, handing her a piece of pepperoni. You feel painfully normal. This feels normal. It feels good, holding Ellie, and sneaking her another piece of pepperoni. It feels good to listen to the music softly filling the kitchen from the radio in the corner as Joel puts the tray in the oven before turning to smile at the two of you. “Did you show her your room yet El’s?” He grins at you and Ellie urgently grabs the sleeve of your sweater.

You pick her back up and she directs you towards the first door on the left once you turn down the hall. You set her down and she runs in, jumping up to turn the lights on as she scrambles to the toybox.

“Oh wow…” You can’t hide your surprise as you look around. The walls and ceiling are painted a navy blue with constellations drawn onto them, each one is outlined and labeled. Her bedframe is a wildly detailed miniature spaceship, hollowed out to hold her mattress. You walk forward, running your hand along its outline. “You have a beautiful room Ellie.” She turns and looks between you and her bed.

“Thanks, daddy did it.”

“Your father did all this?” You tilt your head as you carefully poke the solar system mobile hanging from the ceiling fan.

“Mhmm.” She’s still busy digging through her things until she produces a few plastic dinosaurs, seemingly forgetting your presence entirely as she begins smashing them together, growling and snarling. You watch her until Joel calls you back and she scrambles to her feet, running back out. You take a moment, looking at the other three doors in the hall. You can hear Joel talking to Ellie in the other room so you take the opportunity to look around. You try the door across from Ellies, pushing it open. It's a completely average bathroom, when you check the other two you find them both locked.

You don’t get a chance to make any attempts to get into them before Joel is calling you.

When you walk back into the kitchen they’re already sitting at the table, the seat next to Joel is pulled out and you take a seat.

And you get to be normal for just a few more minutes. This is what you wish it was with Joel. You wish you didn’t have to shut him up with sex every time he came over. You want dinners with Ellie. You want to watch her scramble to pick out a movie and you want to relive the look of content on Joel's face when his daughter chooses to sit between you two instead of just beside him. You want to hear Joel laugh at shitty jokes in a Disney movie and you want to watch Ellie struggle to keep her head up, alternating between leaning against you and leaning against her father.

But you can’t have this.

At least not after tonight.

Ellie yawns, her head slowly tilting to rest in the crook of Joel’s arm as she struggles to keep her eyes open. Joel taps you on the shoulder, nodding down at the sleeping toddler.

“I’m gonna put her to bed.” He mouths before scooping her up and carrying her down the hall. You sit by yourself for a moment, soaking in the quiet ambiance of the movie when you suddenly hear a tiny pair of footprints as Ellie runs up to you. She’s in her pajamas now, a pair of striped pants and what looks to be one of Joel's old shirts. You think for a moment that she might hug you as you give her a soft smile but she just pats your knee a few times.

“Good night.” She mumbles before running back to her room.

“Good night Ellie.” You call after her. After another moment you stand, curiosity getting the better of you as you walk down the hall as quietly as possible, leaning in the cracked open doorway. Ellie is in her bed with Joel sitting on the edge of it, he’s bent down to properly fit into the spaceship as he tucks her blankets in around her.

“What can I get for you tonight, little monster, story or song?” He whispers as he hands her a stuffed dinosaur.

“Song please.” She yawns, rubbing her eyes.

“Comin’ right up.” He reaches outside of her bed, grabbing the guitar you hadn’t paid much attention to earlier, you had been enraptured by everything else at that point. He tunes it for a moment as she gets comfortable, pulling her blankets up to her chin as she stares at him, her eyes already struggling to stay open. “What song do you wanna hear tonight?”

“Hmm… the rabbit song?”

“That’s a very good choice, Eleanor.” He nods as he slowly begins strumming a series of chords.

Run rabbit, run rabbit, run run run.

Bang bang bang bang goes the farmer's gun.

Run rabbit, run rabbit, run run run.

You rest your head on the doorframe as he strums softly, looking up every once in a while to see if she’s sleeping yet, he repeats the song about two times until he finally looks up and her eyes are shut. You rush back to the couch when he stands.

“Took her a while to calm down, sorry about that.” He rubs the back of his neck as he walks back into the room.

“Don’t worry about it, it’s more than fine.” He sits beside you, your thighs touching as he puts an arm around you.

“You’re really good with ‘er.” He whispers, turning to rest his forehead on your temple.

“She makes it easy.” You run your hand along his thigh, trailing it up until he gently grabs your wrist.

“We gotta talk first, bunny.”

Absolutely not. You didn’t find anything so the next course of action is to fuck or leave.

“Why don’t we go talk in your bedroom?” You roll yourself into his lap, straddling his waist and he frowns.

“Let’s just talk for a few minutes.” You start trying to tug open his shirt as he sighs. You lean forward, kissing him but he doesn’t reciprocate, keeping his hands at his sides, when you pull back he’s scowling.

“Come on…” You whine softly.

“You can’t keep doin’ this.” His southern accent thickens as he starts becoming visibly upset.

“Doing what?” You mumble.

“Shuttin’ yerself away. Pushin’ me away. You can’t keep using sex to end conversations you don’t want to have.” You continue fumbling with the buttons on his shirt as he purses his lips, finally just grabbing your wrists, pinning them down. “Would’ja stop for one damn minute?” You can feel him glaring at you but you just keep staring at the buttons on his flannel, silent.

“I don’t want to talk.” You exhale, pulling your wrists free.

“Bullshit.” He grabs you by your jaw, no forcefulness behind the action but he makes you look at him. “I’m worried about you.” His tone softens immensely as he gives you a pleading look.

“I’m fine.” You push his hand away but maintain eye contact.

“You aren’t. We haven’t had a conversation in weeks, and you cry everytime I see you, I don’t even know why you keep askin’ me to come around, at this point I’m allowed to be worried.”

“I don’t want to talk about this.” You start to get out of his lap but he grabs you by your waist and pulls you back down.

“Well I do. I’m serious, somethin’ is wrong with you, this isn’t normal.” When you try to get up again he doesn’t stop you, just putting his head in his hands as he groans. “There’s something seriously wrong with you bunny, we need to get you help.”

“I don’t need ‘help,’ I’m fine, now drop it.” He can’t do this, he can’t just call you crazy when he’s the one who drove you to this point.

“You aren’t fine, you’re the furthest thing from it. You’re a mess, you’ve become a mad woman.” You’re about to just grab your bag and leave when he leans back. “Does it run in the family or something?” He mutters into his hand and you freeze in place.

“Excuse me?” You don’t conceal the hurt or the venom in your tone.

“I’m sorry I shouldn’t have-” He gets to his feet but you put a hand up when he takes a step forward.

“Don’t.”

“Please bunny. I’m just so frustrated I didn’t mean it, please.” His expression is full of desperation but it’s too late, the damage is done.

“Fine Joel, you know what, let’s talk. Let’s talk about how you think I’ve got whatever ‘Ditsy Darlene’ had.” You raise your eyebrows at him, taunting him as you sneer. “Let’s talk about what’s wrong with your batty little bunny.” You hiss the end of the sentence and his eyes grow sad.

He stares at you, silence ringing through the living room for a moment before you finally just grab your bag and make a beeline for the door, unfortunately he beats you to it just as the angry tears start pooling in your eyes.

“Where do you think you’re going?”

“I’m going home.”

“Like hell you are, it’s miles away, and it’s the middle of the night, I’ll give you a ride.” He grabs his coat but you just shake your head.

“I’m not getting in the truck with you. Besides, Ellie's already asleep.” He pinches the bridge of his nose, muttering under his breath once more before reaching into his pocket, scrolling through his phone for a moment, you’re about to just push past him and leave when he brings it to his ear.

“Can you come over? I need a favor.” He grumbles into the phone, you hear a rather irritated voice on the other end until Joel stops them. “You owe me.” There’s a beat of silence before he gets a response that has him nodding and hanging up, looking back at you. “Tommy’l be here in a few minutes, he’ll take you home.” He mumbles before leaning against the counter, you take the opportunity to sit at the table near the door.

Neither one of you so much as moves until headlights illuminate the dim kitchen. When Tommy walks in he’s rather disheveled. His hair is pulled back but most of it still falls around his face, from the looks of it he’s only wearing sweatpants and a jacket.

“This better be important, I haven’t seen Maria in days. So help me god if this is your way of getting back at me for-“ He immediately points an accusatory finger at Joel, sounding extremely irritated.

“She needs a ride home.” Joel interrupts him quickly, nodding over to you before making his way over to Tommy rather quickly, grabbing him by the collar of his jacket and yanking him back out the door. “We need a second.” He yells back in your direction and before you can object he slams the front door leaving you alone.

Almost immediately you watch the blinds shudder as something slams against the kitchen window. You don’t hesitate to stand, rushing over and pressing your ear up against the wall, you don’t even have time to feel bad about eavesdropping. You haven’t found anything damning yet and this might be your only chance. They’re a bit hushed but you can hear them pretty clearly.

“She’s perfectly fine, unlike some people I can control myself.”

Tommy.

“Perfectly fine? She’s a fuckin’ mess Tom. You’d have my head if it had been Maria.”

Joel.

“Maria never woulda found herself in that situation because she knows better, maybe it’s time for you to take care of that.”

“You say that like it’s easy.”

“It is. I told Maria on our second date, you know why? Because it doesn’t matter. There isn’t a damn thing you could tell that girl that would make her leave you, I know it, you know it, hell, she probably knows it.”

Does Tommy know what the thing that plagues you is? The thing that keeps you from staying away from Joel?

“She doesn’t know anything and it’s gonna stay that way.”

“She knows enough. You’re doing more harm by keepin’ her in the dark. What happens when you finally lose that famous self control a’yours?” Another slam against the window has you jolting backwards but you quickly lean back in when you hear Joel snarl.

“I would never do anything to hurt her.”

You want so badly to believe that.

“We both know I’m a hundred times more calm than you and Maria doesn’t even let me stay in the house most days. She needs to know so she can protect herself. What’s gonna happen when you don’t get outta town fast enough one of these days? You’ve been getting dangerously close these last couple of times, you’re gonna break her if she doesn’t know.” There’s a moment of silence and you worry they’re about to come back inside when Tommy speaks again, softer now. “What happens when she goes back into those woods? If she’s in the wrong place at the wrong time?” Another beat of silence. “I’ve seen the two of you, you can barely keep your hands off of her as is, what happens when you catch a whiff of her in the forest and can’t help yourself?”

“I wouldn’t hurt her.”

“I didn’t say you’d hurt her. I said you’d break her. You can’t keep lying to her and telling her she’s crazy, if she finds out on her own she’ll lose it Joel. You want her to end up like our old man?”

You already feel broken.

“This is different.”

“I think it’s exactly the same.” There’s another beat of silence before Tommy speaks again, angrier than before. “If you don’t tell her I will.”

“You have no right-“

“Would’ja quit shovin’ me. She’s gonna come out here if you don’t stop. She has every right to know. I’ll give you a few more weeks but I won’t leave her in the dark forever.”

Maybe you should just ask Tommy to go get coffee or something. From the sounds of it he’ll sort it all out for you.

“Fine.”

“Fine, I'm gonna have to deal with this?”

“Fine, I’ll deal with this.” You barely have enough time to run back to the table and sit before the door swings open again, only Joel comes back in, his expression goes from furious to apologetic when he looks at you. “Tom’s out in the truck, he’ll get you home safe.” The tone he speaks to his brother with is unrecognizable compared to the tone he uses with you. You nod before grabbing your bag keeping your head down as you rush out the door, he catches your arm as you cross the threshold. “What can I do to fix this?” His voice cracks on the word fix and you turn to stare into those brown eyes that threaten to swallow you whole.

You take a moment just to fight the urge to forgive him all together, to act as if all of this is perfectly fine just so you can stay with him.

“You can stop lying.” You whisper before yanking your arm free and running to the passenger side of the truck. You strap yourself in swiftly, not so much as glancing at Tommy.

“Ready to go?” He sounds chipper as ever as you nod, giving one last look to Joel, standing in the doorway watching you depart.

A soft country love song plays on the radio as he heads back towards your camper, a part of you longs to ask him for answers, wondering if he’d actually give them to you. It sounded like he wanted to, a lot of that conversation left you more confused than ever but also rather worried.

You decide it’s better not to let him know you were listening. At least for now.

“You have fun with the little monster?” He breaks the silence, making you jump a bit.

“Ellie? She’s a delight.”

“She’s the cutest, I’m glad Joel has her. He was pretty broken up when Sarah went to college.”

“She still visits, right?” You do your best to not stare at the trees, focusing on the dashboard instead.

“Oh yeah, on holidays and special occasions, she’s only a state away. But you know how it is when you’re in college. She loves her dad but she needed some space to find herself and Joel just got lonely.” He flips on his blinker, turning down your road. “Ellie’s good for him. She keeps him busy.”

“Do you and Maria get to watch her much?” You’re hoping to catch him in a lie.

“Quite a bit yeah.” Damnit. “Joel’s always busy doing Joel stuff and it’s good practice for us, we haven’t decided on kids yet so we settle on just watching Ellie.”

Well this is going nowhere.

You sit in a mostly comfortable silence for a moment.

“She called me girlfriend today, Joel was trying to teach her my name.” You both laugh a bit until he speaks again.

“I’ve been trying to get her to say ‘Uncle Tommy’ for months now, damn kids not sayin’ it just to spite me. She’ll say ‘Auntie Maria’ clear as day.”

You genuinely like Tommy.

Outside of the fact that he wanted to tell you whatever truth everyone seems hellbent on keeping from you.

He’s easy to be around.

“Then what does she call you?” You say with one last laugh as he pulls up towards the camper.

“Most of the time she just calls me Tío.” He gives you a grin as your mouth goes dry, when he gives you a hug goodbye you’re acutely aware of the fact that he smells like cinnamon.

You feel relatively sick the rest of the night.

Tío.

You had almost laughed; it had shocked you so deeply.

It had been Tommy in the woods that day.

You’re sure of it now. It explains everything and fills in all the gaps. The Miller brothers are both haunting these woods. You’re left to stew with that the rest of the night.

You aren’t crazy.

Joel isn’t just a man.

And according to your book that’s why you can’t get away from him. You’re mates. Something about finally knowing you’re right helps you sleep soundly for the first time in ages. You don’t even dream.

You’ve got several notifications from Joel when you wake, a slew of apologies and missed calls which you ignore as you step into the shower. You manage to keep it together long enough to wash yourself, rinsing your hair out, tugging your fingers through the tangles.

You pat yourself dry, wrapping a towel around yourself as you step out of the bathroom, pouring yourself a glass of water as you take a seat at the table, scrolling through your texts.

[ can i come over tomorrow night? ]

[ i’m sorry, i didn’t mean it. ]

[ we can do whatever you wanna do. ]

[ bunny please. ]

You’re already feeling your Joel withdrawal, you should text him, does your body somehow know you plan on depriving it of him? You’ve only been without him for a few hours and you’re exhausted after a full night's sleep. You sit with your head in your hands for a moment, massaging your temples as a headache settles there. After another moment you pinch the bridge of your nose, standing up abruptly.

“Fuck! Ah-” You catch your foot on the uneven board under the table, slicing your heel open on an exposed nail. “Dammit…” You mutter under your breath as you lift your leg, examining the cut. It's small, barely even bleeding but it irritates you wildly, your mood growing more and more sour. You sit on the floor, turning on your phone flashlight as you examine the floor, hoping to fix whatever the problem is, you realize quickly that the entire board is loose. “What the hell?” You pull it back completely, staring confused at the cubby. There’s a small space under the table, when you reach in you find a tote bag in surprisingly good condition. When you free it from its confines your eyes go wide when you see a laptop case.

Darlenes.

Everything’s in the bag, case, laptop, and charger. You set everything on the table, covering the floorboard and making sure nothing sharp is still exposed before taking a seat. You plug the charger in quickly, giving it a moment before opening the laptop and turning it on. You’re delighted when the screen illuminates, a small startup chime playing. Hopefully learning a bit more about your aunt will help you take your mind off things.

Shit.

Password.

You think to yourself for a moment, pondering and trying to come up with a few guesses before you start typing.

Honey

West Virginia

ABC

Darlene Wilson

Ditzy Darlene

You try your own name and your birthday and nothing happens, you stare for a moment, seemingly there’s no limit on guesses so you just keep going. Eventually you just start typing whatever you see, it’s better than nothing.

fridge

shower

laptop

You glance down at your phone.

Joel

Nothing.

You sigh for a moment, running your fingers across your scalp.

Fuck it.

bunny

Your eyes go wide as you stare at her desktop.

Fucking, bunny.

You don’t dwell on that too much, too captivated by the mess of folders in front of you, you start clicking through things, confused by everything you’re seeing until you finally realize what it all is.

It’s everyone in town, and from the looks of it, every adjacent town.

She was keeping profiles on the townsfolk.

It takes a bit of searching but after a few more minutes you find a folder within a folder, within a folder labeled Millers.

Five documents are inside.

Joel M.

Thomas M.

Maria M.

Sarah M.

Eleanor M.

You open Sarah and Ellies first, both are pretty scarce, mostly just schools and such, a few dates in Sarah’s file are highlighted. Maria’s is the same except for a small section noting the increase in unexplained deaths when she officially changed her residence to Honey.

Tommy and Joel are where it gets complicated.

Endless pages of information, enough to fill a book. Most of it seems to be mundane information, more a diary than anything else. Notes on things she found out through the internet, a lot about how they moved around a lot as kids and kept up with that lifestyle up until Sarah, there’s no information on her mother but from the looks of it, the Miller clan settled in Honey six months before Sarah was born.

There’s just too much on them, even simple things like how Darlene saw them in the grocery store, detailed calendars of their whereabouts were being kept by your aunt. You try to skim through a lot of it but there doesn’t seem to be anything highlighted until the last page.

Not to be overlooked.

Did she fucking know?

Darlene may have been ditzy in some ways but this was clearly not one of them. A second highlighted sentence underneath that one catches your eye.

To be investigated in case of my untimely passing.

Your stomach drops.

There’s no way.

You close the files, trying to push away the implications of what you’ve read. But you can’t seem to keep it down.

You never asked anyone how she passed.

Work after the laptop incident is uneventful at best.

With no bodies there isn’t much for you to do.

You clean and you take care of the occasional elderly person you get but that’s about it, you spend a lot of time with Maria, sitting in silence and doing paperwork. It’s as if she knows that you aren’t exactly doing great and just doesn’t want to stir the pot.

You haven’t texted Joel back.

And you feel like shit.

Just in general things haven’t been all that great since you and Joel fought. Being away from him makes you feel shitty and it’s made your mood shitty, you’re irritable and impatient and by the time Maria finally breaks the silence two weeks later you’re ready to explode.

“Are you feeling okay? You seem a little down, you know you can talk to me whenever you want.” It sounds genuine enough but you know better by now than to trust any member of this family.

“I’m fine.” You can’t find it in you to care if it comes off as rude.

“Are you sure?” She’s filing papers on her desk, freezing in place when you speak again.

“Did you do my aunt's service?” You look up at Maria.

It’s a terrible question.

You probably shouldn’t even be asking it but you need to know.

She sits in stunned silence for a moment before clearing her throat.

“I did.”

“How did she die?”

Somehow an even worse question, this is a terrible example of mortician etiquette.

“They told me it was old age.”

“Who told you?”

She swallows loudly.

“The police.”

“Why did the police declare the cause of death? Isn’t that your job?” This might cost you yours but what have you got to lose at this point?

“The police found her.”

“Why were the police even at her house?”

“Christ, I don’t know! You sound just like her, with the questions and the accusations!”

“Accusations? I wasn’t accusing you of anything, what did you think I was accusing you of?”

“I think you should go home, take the rest of the day off.”

“Why would I do that?”

“Because you’re acting crazy.”

You aren’t crazy.

Fine. You’ll take the night off. You’ve got some things to take care of anyway. You can’t keep doing nothing, you owe it to Darlene.

“I’ll see you on Monday.” You stand, hastily grabbing your things.

She calls your name as you’re leaving.

“Take care of yourself, please.”

You don’t respond, closing the door as you step into the misty afternoon air.

You aren’t crazy.

And you’re pretty sure Darlene wasn’t either. Something about Maria’s story isn’t adding up, maybe you should have started by interrogating her, she isn’t as good at lying as Tommy and Joel are. Nonetheless, you need to do your own research now.

That’s what you tell yourself to justify what you’re doing as you walk into the police station. It’s tiny, as expected, there’s no secretary so you just let yourself in, approaching a woman with a name plate reading Sheriff.

“Hi, I’m Darlene’s niece.” You don’t bother giving a last name, everyone knows everyone in this damn town.

“Oh! I’ve been meanin’ to stop by and introduce m’self.” She gives you a toothy grin as you nod. “I knew yer aunt pretty well, we used ta joke that I should give er a punch card fer the station.” You thought Joel had a thick southern accent but this woman is on a whole different level.

“She was here often?”

“Nearly twice a week. She would come in ‘ere, poor thing, spewin’ about monsters in the woods. But she was harmless, I didn’t have anything better to do so I’d listen, y’know, ‘take ‘er statement.’” She does air quotes with her fingers and you fight the urge to frown. “Hell of a storyteller that one.”

“Could you help me out with some information regarding her passing?” No sense in being coy about it, seems like this woman will talk for hours if you don’t interrupt. “Maybe I could talk to the officer who found her…” You look around the room at the empty desks before looking back at her, she has a sympathetic look on her face now.

“That would be me. I was first on the scene after we got the call.”

“Call?”

“Well yeah, it was the Miller brothers that found ‘er.”

What the fuck.

“Joel and Tommy?”

“You’ve met ‘em? Who am I kiddin’ of course you’ve met ‘em, they probably knew her better than anyone else, real saints those two.”

“Darlene? You probably know her better than I do.”

That’s what he had said.

“I didn’t realize they spent so much time together.” How much has Joel lied to you about?

“Oh yeah, they were over there several times a week, Joel even named his daughter after her, Darlene’s middle name was Eleanor.” There’s a sour taste in your mouth as you let that sink in.

“So… Tommy and Joel found her?”

“Unfortunately, they had come over like they normally did on Sundays to help her with any house work and they found her in her camper, said she went in ‘er sleep.”

“Wait, they said she went in her sleep? You never saw the body?”

“I- I couldn’t bring myself to look… I cared a lot for Darlene, I considered her a very good friend. Joel and Tommy wrapped her up for me, I escorted them to the home and Maria took care of the rest. Declared cause of death and all that.”

That’s all you need to hear.

Now you have to check, it’ll eat you up inside until there’s nothing left if you don’t. You mumble a goodbye before making a hasty exit.

Tonight you’re going to the cemetery.

Dig or leave.

You need to make up your mind, you can only stand in a graveyard with a shovel for so long before you’re arrested. It’s already ten at night and you need to start as early as possible.

There’s just a lot going on here.

Darlene Eleanor Wilson

More important than the Eleanor of it all is the fact that you’re faced with two tombstones, Darlene’s clearly being a lot fresher than the one beside it.

Benita Isabella Wilson

Both tombstones are labeled the same, beloved wife, and friend

Wife. You’d been told she’d never married.

There was no indication in the camper of such a thing yet here it is, clear as day. From the looks of it Benita passed nearly eight years ago. When you look closer you can see how well kept her tombstones have been. You make a note to pick up where Darlene left off and come back to clean both.

After you do what needs to be done.

You take a deep breath before finally driving the shovel down into the dirt. There’s no time to be squeamish about this, you know better than anyone how long this is going to realistically take to get done so you need to work fast if you want to be out of here before the sun’s coming up.

So you dig.

And you sweat, and you ache but you don’t dare stop.

You dig, and you dig, and you dig.

Until finally the sun is coming up, the sky is dimly lit when you finally hit something other than dirt. You work as quickly as possible to unearth the top half of the coffin and just as daylight breaks you manage to do it. You’re actually a bit thankful for the sun's rising, because you have no time to hesitate, you have to do it and you have to do it now before someone finds you.

So you grit your teeth and open the coffin.

And you meet Darlene.

Your poor, poor aunt Darlene.

Aunt Darlene, who’s cause of death was deemed ‘multiple organ failure, natural causes.’

She’s only been in the ground a few months. A normal person might blame her state on that fact but this isn’t decomposition. Decomposition doesn’t tear half of a person's face off.

When she died she was missing over half of her face, from the looks of it her nose was torn clean off before she got anywhere near a casket.

You swallow your vomit, not wanting to further desecrate her grave.

Your brain is moving at a million miles an hour yet you’re also struggling to form a single coherent thought as you take in the sight of her until finally something just snaps.

Staring at the corpse makes something shift inside of you. As if you’ve been pulled taut for weeks and you’ve finally split in two. Something deep inside of you that you’d never felt before, you sort of wonder if this is how normal people feel when they see a corpse.

You don’t even laugh.

There isn’t fear, or anger, or hate, threatening to burst from you, forcing that all too familiar laugh from your chest.

There’s nothing.

Just you and a corpse.

A mangled corpse, with no one to mourn her, and no one to realize something was horribly wrong until long after she was dead.

You don’t remember much after that. You don’t remember closing the casket, or covering it with dirt, but you know you did. You don’t remember walking to the hardware store, open surprisingly early, you don’t remember making any purchases, and you don’t remember going home.

Yet you’re there when you come to your senses.

You feel terribly hollow and suddenly you’d give anything to fill the camper with one of your nervous laughs but it never comes. You shake your head a bit, trying to focus.

You’re in the camper.

The sun is up.

And you’ve got two rather heavy plastic bags in front of you. You pour the contents out onto the table before methodically grabbing each one, tucking them into your empty backpack, making yourself a mental list of everything while trying to remember why you bought them in the first place.

Several armfuls of rope, and chain, several rolls of duct tape, a new first aid kit, more padlocks than you could ever possibly need, paper towels, bleach, and a rather gaudy souvenir mug, scribbled on the bottom is some print telling you that it’s microwave and dishwasher safe, and shatterproof, it’s obnoxious and absurdly heavy, a decal on the front says ‘Sweet as Honey, West Virginia!’

You stare at your now full bag, blurry memories of your train of thought coming into focus as you slowly but surely remember your intentions.

You were going to visit Joel.

And sort out this whole mess.

Finally have that talk he’s been wanting to have so badly.

If everyone is gonna keep treating you like you’re gone mad then you’re going to act mad.

You wait two days to go visit Joel.

You’ve started to track your cycle so you know exactly when to go see him. When the day comes you tuck yourself into the trees adjacent to the funeral home. Deep enough in the woods that no one can see you but not so deep that you’re filled with the familiar dread the woods typically give you.

It is tempting though.

The concept of getting to feel something again.

Ever since you saw that corpse you’ve just been empty, there isn’t anything left of you.

Joel's truck pulls in as you tilt your head to the side.

You watch as he lifts Ellie out of her car seat, letting her run the distance to the house where Maria waits for her. They talk for a bit before Joel kisses the top of Ellie’s head, making his way back to the truck. The moment he begins backing out of the driveway you begin your walk towards his home.

It’s about a three hour walk but you don’t get bored.

You’d have to be able to feel something to feel boredom.

So you walk, because there’s nothing else for you to do. You walk until you see the tire swing swaying in the cool night air. You walk around the house to the sliding door in the back, and you peer inside through the blinds to find the living room and kitchen empty, when you push the door it gives way immediately.

No reason to lock a door when you’re the scariest thing in the woods.

When you step in you hear the faint sounds of the shower running and you quietly make your way across the room once the door is closed behind you. You take your bag off one arm so you can reach inside, retrieving the novelty mug before zipping it shut and putting it back on.

You don’t even feel nervous.

Your skin buzzes as if you’re anxious and you tap your foot but the wave of anxiety never comes. You fill the mug with water, sipping slowly until you hear the shower turn off and you dump out the contents, tucking yourself behind the fridge and holding your breath.

He moves around for a bit, you hear him moving throughout the house until finally the sound of his footsteps travel down the hall and into the kitchen, when you peek around he’s leaning against the counter, staring into the living room while drying his hair with a towel, dressed in only flannel pajama bottoms.

It’s now or never.

“Could’a swore I shut those…” He grumbles as he tosses the towel onto the back of a chair, you know he’s about to close the blinds so you step out before he can even get off the tile, standing directly behind him as you inhale sharply.

“I’m sorry.” You whisper, shutting your eyes tight just as he turns around and you slam the ceramic mug against his temple.

Please don’t be dead, please don’t be dead, please don’t be dead.

You pray silently to yourself as you finally kneel beside his crumpled form. After the initial strike you’d turned around with a small squeak, terrified of your own actions, hearing the sound of his body hitting the floor. It took you five whole minutes to finally turn and look.

Still breathing.

That’s all that matters.

You throw your backpack down on the counter before crouching down, rolling him onto his back. His chest rises and falls as if he were asleep but a small amount of blood is pooling from where you hit him, the skin split just below his hairline. You brush a curl away from his forehead to look closer, it’s a superficial wound, not too deep but still bleeding profusely. It could be worse, you tell yourself as you stand again, searching through your pack, eventually just grabbing it by the bottom and dumping the contents onto the counter. First things first you need to bandage his wound, this will all be easier if he isn’t bleeding everywhere.

You grab the bandages you bought for this very purpose, along with the paper towels, dabbing up the blood now streaking through his hair.

This is fine.

Everything’s fine.

It takes a bit of effort but once he’s all cleaned up you manage to get him into a chair and it’s easy from there. You know how strong he is so you’re rather generous in your use of each restraint. Using most of everything you’ve got securing him, rope, tape and chain. When you’re finished you take a step back.

He won’t be able to get out of it.

You’re certain.

You aren’t sure what’s next honestly. There isn’t really anything for you to do until he wakes up so you find yourself just staring down the hallway.

He was just in his room, it probably isn’t locked anymore.

Curiosity gets the better of you as you make your way down the hall, Joel’s bedroom door beckoning you. You twist the knob, slowly pushing the door in as your hand fumbles with the wall beside it, trying to find the lightswitch. You stare into the darkness before finally finding it, flinching a bit as a single light fixture hanging in the center of the room flickers on.

Huh.

This is what you were expecting to find the first time you came over. No wonder he always wants to sleep in the camper.

It looks like a room you’d only see in a horror movie. The walls are mostly bare, the wallpaper is torn off in large chunks and against the far wall you can see a few polaroids taped up. The only furniture is a mattress on the floor in the center of the room. Your breath hitches as you walk to the closet, pulling open the door. It looks like he keeps all of his belongings in here, shoved into the small space, clothes, personal items, and boxes fill it entirely. You shut the door, you don’t have nearly enough time to go through all of it so you go to investigate the photos instead.

Five polaroids are pinned up.

One is a photo of Joel holding a tiny baby with a shocking mess of brunette curls atop her head. Her big brown eyes are identical to Joels.

The second is a pretty recent photo of Ellie. A slightly blurry photo of the little girl holding the camera in front of a mirror, Joel is barely visible in the background, you can see his signature dimple as he holds her up.

The third photo is of two people you don’t recognize. A man with a vacant stare sitting in a rocking chair with a woman perched beside him, kissing his cheek. Both look to be in their sixties, the man bares a striking resemblance to Tommy, the woman has the same frenzied curls as Sarah.

The fourth was taken in front of the funeral home, Tommy and Maria are pictured standing underneath a ‘Grand Opening!’ banner.

The fifth, and clearly most recent photo is of you. You have no memory of it being taken, how could you, your eyes are shut. You look peaceful though. Happy. The morning light shimmers against your lashes, you’re tangled in the sheets with your arms wrapped tightly around his abdomen, from the angle he’s holding the camera at you can see his head turned down, giving you an infatuated look.

You run a finger along the edge of the photo, lost in thought until you hear him coughing, you turn the light off, rushing back out into the kitchen, his eyes are glued to you immediately.

“Bunny…” His tone is low and cautious.

“Don’t do that, don’t talk to me like I’m crazy.” You make your way across the kitchen, pulling up a chair and sitting across from him.

You know how this looks but that doesn’t give him an excuse to be condescending.

“Of course you aren’t crazy, I know that, I just need you to let me go.” His voice goes soft, as if he were speaking to a cornered animal.

“Stop it.” You frown at him. “I’m completely coherent right now.”

“Okay.” He nods slowly. “Look, I know things haven’t been easy for you recently, just let me go and we can forget any of this ever happened, okay? We can just go to bed and deal with it in the morning.” The funny part is that you know he’s telling the truth, if you untie him right now he’d carry you to bed as if nothing happened and he’d hold you until you forgot about the whole thing. “Please don’t do this.” He speaks softer now. “Think about Ellie. Don’t leave her without a father.”

“I’m not going to hurt you, I’m not a monster.” The offense is apparent in your tone.

“Then what’s the plan here, bunny.”

“We’re going to wait.” You sit back in your chair, crossing your arms in front of your chest. “I should be getting my period tomorrow.” You tilt your head to the side a tiny bit as the color leaves his face. “We will wait here for forty eight hours, if nothing happens I’ll untie you.”

His face suddenly turns to an expression of concentration, you’ve got plenty of time to grill him over the next forty eight hours, you decide to let him be for now. Neither one of you says so much as a word for well over an hour when suddenly his hand spasms. A nervous tick of sorts, his fingers flexing outward before his knuckles go white as his hand forms into a fist.

“Let me go.” He whispers.

“In forty eight hours.”

“Now.”

You shake your head no.

Almost simultaneously you watch his jaw twitch in an almost inhuman way.

“Then you need to get out of here.” His voice is strained now as he gives you a look of pure desperation.

“I’m staying right here.” You raise your eyebrows at him definitely but lose any of your bravado when he snarls, his muscles rippling briefly as you watch the tape tear, some of the ropes split in different places as he flexes. You tumble out of your own chair as you recoil.

“Iron?” He growls out, when he looks up at you now his eyes are bloodshot, you’re incapable of doing anything other than staring in horror as you hear the screech of metal as one of the chain links bursts. “Are these- are they iron?” His voice shifts down an octave halfway through the sentence and you shake your head frantically.

How were you supposed to know they needed to be iron? You aren’t exactly experienced in holding eldritch horrors hostage.

“You- fuck, you need to get out of here.” When he stares up at you there’s another groan from the strain against the metal but you can’t move. You’ve fallen flat on your ass as you stare at him with wide confused eyes, your legs splayed out uselessly in front of you while your arms prop you up just enough to watch the nightmare before you unfold. “Now.” You recognize the voice that speaks now as Joel’s, despite the fact that it isn’t his at all, it’s just a low bellowing sound now that shouldn’t be possible for a human to make. Your breath is starting to quicken as you tremble.

You’re nearly hyperventilating when the chains all simultaneously break, the metal shrieking as it rips. But it isn’t anywhere near loud enough to cover up the horrific sound that echoes throughout the house.

Bones, breaking.

A sickening crunching and snapping as Joel's flesh ripples as if the ocean is just beneath his skin. Joel is big, he’s always been broad, sturdy, but this is something completely different. He isn’t just big, he’s hulking. His body twists and tears and it hurts to even look at but you can’t turn away. He’s falling apart, his flesh and bones tear and bleed as they reshape themselves into something beyond your comprehension.

This isn’t what you came across in the woods.

This looks like the kind of thing that eats what you came across in the woods.

His body curls in on itself, crouching down onto all fours and he’s still taller than you. If he had been wearing a shirt you assume it would have torn when his spine realigned itself. Each vertebrae popping itself out, separating and lengthening until his body shudders, the skin pulled taut over his stretched out form. The entire process probably takes less than a minute but it feels like hours pass as you watch, your eyes wide.

Until finally he stills, panting, staring at the ground before tilting his head up a bit.

“Little… rabbit.”

It speaks.

He looks at you like a meal and your breath hitches at the sight, there’s a burning in your abdomen as you stare into his eyes, he’s searching your gaze for something but he doesn’t find it. Almost as if you can read his mind a word comes to mind.

Repulsion.

He’s searching for disgust, or loathing, but he won’t find it, after all this is what you wanted. You don’t hate him for this, you won’t look at him like he’s ugly because he isn’t, even if you’re afraid. There is something horrifyingly gorgeous about him, even if every one of your base instincts tell you to get as far away from him as you possibly can.

He’s beautiful like this.

The deep brown of his eyes takes over the whites as his eyelids pull back, his eyes must be the size of baseballs now. Enormous and dark, sparking with intrigue. The hook of his nose now stretches to fit his new face, halfway down it bends and breaks a bit. His hair looks a little longer, more appropriately framing his face now.

Does it hurt?

Is the question that comes to mind the more you take him in. Despite how large his maw is it still tears a bit at the cheeks, holes where it looks like the skin was pulled too tight, revealing the jagged teeth within.

A growl bubbles in his throat, pouring out and snapping you out of your assessment as he crawls forward a bit until he’s practically hovering above you, his head turns, shifting from side to side as he gives you several small sniffs, almost like a dog assessing a stranger in it’s home.

It makes the hair on your arms stand straight.

Run rabbit, run.

“Bunny.” He rumbles out, almost as if he’s acknowledging recognition.

And you fucking laugh.

With your entire chest.

It’s the first time you’ve felt anything in days, it’s almost a relief. Everything comes bubbling to the surface as you burst into a fit of hysterical, nervous laughter.

You have never been this afraid in your entire life.

He exhales sharply, the force of it has your hair rustling a bit, your senses suddenly overwhelmed with the smell of peppermint. You don’t dare move, freezing in place when he leans down, only a few inches away from you now, his arms pinning you in. God, he smells so fucking good right now and you hate yourself for noticing.

Curiosity killed the rabbit.

Is that a saying? It will be after tonight.

You swallow loudly, and try to close your legs as subtly as possible but his gaze follows the movement immediately and you freeze once more. Fuck, fuck, fuck, your stomach burns so hot it’s painful as you stare up at him.

His head tilts almost knowingly as he inhales deeply and his eyes darken.

Fuck.

Can he smell how turned on you are?

i no longer have a tag list !! if you want updates for this fic follow @lincolndjarinnotifs !!

a/n : have a love hate relationship with this chapter bc i hate that i love it. but like straight up lemmie know if this chapter was a bit scattered bc that's my big worry rn. i jumped around a lot but also these chapters are so long sometime i feel it's best to just expedite some scenes yknow? idk.

#lincolndjarin #joel miller #tlou #the last of us #joel miller x reader #joel miller smut #joel miller x you #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller fic #tlou hbo #joel tlou #the last of us hbo #monster fucker #monster lover #monster romance #oh honey #fic : oh honey

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rayslittlekitten · 9 months

Text

Can I?

A/N: Okay y'all. It's here, it's done. Y'all voted on this a while back and it was a bit challenging as I made the mistake of starting to write it with Will in mind so I had to make adjustments, but I think I figured it out. Thank you so so much to @musings-of-a-rose for taking a look at this for me. You are a doll!

Rating: E (18+ ONLY)

Word Count: 6,033

Pairing: Benny Miller x BFF! F! Reader

Plot: A night of unexpected events occur when you and your best friend innocently test out sex toys you had drunkenly purchased for shits and giggles.

WARNINGS: This is the first fic I am NOT including warning tags because I don't want to spoil anything. There's nothing typically potentially triggering like dark stuff (i.e. CNC) but still I wanted to keep it a mystery going in. SO PLEASE PROCEED WITH CAUTION! YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED!

Your friends were supposed to watch the fight with you tonight but they had bailed with some excuse or two except for your best friend. You thought that his brother would at least still be joining as they usually do everything together - like you wouldn’t be surprised if you found out they hold each other’s dicks while the other pisses - but it’s just going to be you and him tonight. Instead of going to the bar like originally planned, you both decided to pick up a case of beer and hang out at your place. It’s cheaper and less crowded.

There’s a rap at your apartment door and you go to open it. As expected, it's your best friend with the supply.

“Hey, Benny! Just in time!”

"Hey, you got a package," Benny says as he hands you the beer. He bends down to pick up the small brown box off the floor by your door. "What did you order?"

"I have no idea what that is," you reply as you make your way over to the kitchen to stick it in the fridge. "I don't remember ordering anything. Where does it say it's from?"

"The return address just says Warehouse, in Ohio," he replies, inspecting the non-descript package and following you further into your apartment after shutting the door behind him.

He hands you the cardboard box before taking his jacket off and making himself at home. You rip open the package and after seeing the contents, you laugh out loud.

"What's so funny?" he asks, walking closer to you.

"This was a drunk purchase. I totally forgot about these!" You reach in to pull out the items and show him your new purchases.

"What are those?" He looks perplexed.

“This one is a vibrator I keep seeing on Instagram, but it's supposed to be like, amazing," you answer.

"How the hell are you supposed to use that?" He takes one of the packages from you and inspects it, looking at the pictures on the box.

"Well, one way you can use it is you insert this side into your pussy and this part is supposed to sit on your clit," you point and explain to him. "It also comes with a detached remote so someone else can control it.

"I don't know if that's a terrible time or a great time."

"The vibration is supposed to be very powerful but quiet," you add. "Supposed to be discreet. They try to sell it by showing women supposedly wearing it in public under their clothes without anyone apparently knowing and their partner has control of it and she's like losing her shit."

"I'm curious now."

"For science!" You declare as you snatch the package from him. You start opening it up and pull the contents out. "Shit, it needs AAA batteries. TV remote!"

You head to the living room and he follows you. You take the batteries out of your TV remote and shove them into the new toy. After turning it on, it buzzes lightly in your hand, moving subtly.

"Let's see how crazy it can get." You start playing with the buttons until it goes up to the highest setting and Ben's eyes get wide as saucers watching it flop around in your palm, practically jumping out of your hand.

"Jesus Christ!" Benny hops back.

"Yeah, now imagine that between your legs."

"I'm not sure I want to. Looks like it would scramble all the sperm inside my balls. Besides, I don't think it was made for my body parts," he points out.

"You just don’t have an imagination," you jab. "Hmm, should we test drive it?" you suggest as you shut it off.

“What do you mean?" he asks curiously.

"See if the hype is real," you answer. "Especially that other one." You point to the other toy that's still in its package.

"That one's supposed to feel like your clit is actually getting sucked on."

"I didn't even know such toys exist," he confesses.

"There are soooo many sex toys out there, you don't even know. Why don't you go get us some cold ones while I figure these out?" you suggest.

"You really wanna do this?” He checks again.

"Yeah, why not? It's not like we have anything else better to do except watch two grown men beat each other up," you state. “Come on, this isn’t any different than the time we accidentally found Will’s porn stash and you got a boner.”

“Yeah, but I didn’t jerk off.”

“You totally did. Not in front of me, but you were not discreet when you snuck off to the bathroom with one of his magazines to ‘take a shit’,” you look at him knowingly.

“Okay, fine,” he shrugs and adjusts his forward-facing cap. “You have a point.” He heads back into the kitchen to grab some beer.

When he comes back with two opened bottles in hand, he finds you reading the manual and reviewing the other toy.

"So how exactly are we testing these?" he asks, settling down next to you on the couch and taking a gulp of his beer.

"Well, I'm not gonna stick it down my pants if that's what you're thinking. Would that be too weird?” You scrunch your nose while looking over at your best friend who looks just as clueless.

"I don't know. That's why I'm asking. It ain't going down my pants. No amount of alcohol is gonna get that to happen."

"Okay, I didn't think this through. I mean, I guess we can just test it on our arms or something," you shrug cluelessly, thinking of the first thing that comes to mind and then going back to the manual.

"How would that work?" Benny asks as he takes the remote sitting next to him, inspecting it.

As you begin to answer, he starts randomly pressing buttons and you shriek, jumping in your seat. Benny also jumps back, spilling some of his beer as he reacts to your sudden outburst.

"What the hell?!" He looks over to you.

You instantly reach for the vibrator that happened to be sitting between your legs, snug against the front of your pants and toss it at him. Benny tries to dodge it like it's a dead cockroach, but it lands on his lap and he immediately launches himself off the couch. The vibrator continues to bounce around the cushion of the couch until Benny finally shuts it off.

"What the hell was that, man?" Benny looks over at you.

"It was between my legs when you turned it on, you ass!"

“Well, what the hell was it doing there? You said you weren't gonna test it that way."

"I wasn't! It just happened to be there while I was reading on how to operate the other one. Why'd you turn it on?" You shoot back.

"I don't know what the hell I'm doing!" He shouts. "This shit is like rocket science! How do you women even use these things?"

"Men use them too," you correct him.

“Well, clearly I never have," he admits and returns to his seat, flicking the vibrator towards you to make room for himself.

"You're such a prude. It's not like I was wearing it," you say, grabbing it away from him.

"I'm not a prude! You freaked out so I freaked out." He takes another gulp of his beer.

"Whatever," you mumble, still feeling a bit flustered and embarrassed by what had happened. You turn your attention back to the other toy.

"Wait, you've never used any sex toys before?" you shift your attention back to him.

"Nope," he shakes his head.

"Not even with a partner?" You raise a brow.

"Well, one time this girl wanted to make things interesting and suggested a dildo, but it wasn't for her," he starts. "She wanted to stick that up my ass and I was not about that. Especially not after what I had for lunch that day."

"Aww, no peggy for Benny?" you exaggerate a pout.

"Hey, you should think twice about who you're poking fun of.” He shows you the remote in his hand and turns it back on, spooking you when the vibrator goes off between you and Benny.

"Okay, you're having too much fun with that." You reach over to grab the remote from him but he moves it away from your reach.

You lean in further, but his long arm prevents you from getting access to it. At this point, you’re practically climbing on top of him.

“You’re right. This is fun,” he laughs.

When you get close, he transfers the remote to his other hand so you shift yourself but lose your balance, landing back on the still-on vibrator. You shriek and Benny laughs at you. He turns the setting to the highest as you try to get away from it in your awkward position.

"Benny! You can't just go from 1 to 100 instant—" You finally roll off of it and give yourself a moment. With your eyes closed and teeth digging hard into your lower plump lip, you try to get yourself together.

“Are- are you okay?” Benny asks as his laugh dwindles. “Did you have an orgasm or something?” he jokes.

“No…” you start. “But maybe I almost did - maybe!”

His laugh finally dies, but a smirk remains on his face.

“Seriously?!” His eyes grow wide, turning his body towards you.

“That toy is no joke,” you point to it still wriggling on the couch. “And now I really wanna know what it can do.”

Benny shuts it off and his eyes shuttle between the toy and you.

“Uh… like, now?” He questions.

You stare at him for a few seconds, contemplating.

“That would be weird, right?” You ask with a squinted eye. “Never mind, forget it—”

“Have at it,” Benny interrupts. “Now I wanna see what this thing can do, too.”

“Really?” You ask with a raised brow, surprised.

“Yeah, like you said, what else is there to do? For science!” He brings up his beer bottle to celebrate it.

“Dork,” you chuckle, snatching the toy.

“Also, maybe I can learn a thing or two from it,” he replies. “Not that I need any help in that department, but I’m always open to learning new things,” he adds.

You roll your eyes.

“Hey, I’m a fighter and a lover. And I’m great at both,” he winks.

“Are you done stroking your own ego?” You look at him, unimpressed.

“I’m sorry. Yes, you can go on to stroke yourself,” he answers, trying to keep a straight face but ends up cracking a smirk.

“You’re so dumb,” you roll your eyes again and try not to crack your own.

“But I gotta be the one in control.” He holds up the remote in his hand.

“Benny-“

“I may never have the opportunity to ever do this again,” he says. “Besides, isn’t it what makes this fun? Someone else controlling it?”

You stare back at him and think about it.

“Okay, fine, but-“ you point a finger at him.

“I promise I won’t go from zero to 100, okay? Scout’s honor.” Benny brings his three middle fingers up.

“You weren’t a boy scout,” you point out.

“Fuck you. I was one for like a month,” he corrects you. “So are we doing this or what?”

“Turn around,” you tell him.

“What? I can’t watch?”

“Not watch me put this on. Turn around,” you repeat.

He rolls his eyes and turns his whole body around so the back of his head is facing you. You keep an eye on him as you wrangle your jeans and slip the toy inside you until it fits snug. Benny takes a sip of his beer as he waits patiently. He hears you fumbling around and finally you tell him he can turn back around.

He turns to face you and he looks confused.

“What?” You ask him.

“You have it on? Under your jeans?”

“Yes. I wasn’t gonna let it all hang out willy-nilly,” you tell him. “If you don’t believe me, turn it—“

Before you can finish your sentence, Benny flips the switch and you seize up. He can’t hear it, but your reaction confirms you have it in. He watches you as you stay still and quiet for a few moments.

“Can I up the speed?” He asks.

“Is this the lowest setting?” You calmly shoot back.

“Uh, yeah I think so.” He looks down at the remote to see if there’s any indication.

“Okay, go up one notch. One!” You glare at him.

“Okay, here we go.” He turns it up and you twitch.

You start shifting around in your seat until you feel the vibrator is in optimal position.

“How many speeds does this thing have again?” You ask out loud, reaching for the instruction manual and scanning it. “TEN?”

“Well, here’s number three,” Benny says as he ups the speed.

“Ben— ohhhhh…” Your scolding got cut short when the vibrator starts to really hit the right spots.

The tip of the dildo part tickles your g-spot as the outer part flickers over your clit. You close your eyes and bite your lower lip, trying to concentrate and keep your composure.

“Shit, shit, shit, shit,” you mumble.

“Uh… how are you doing?” He asks, not sure what else to do.

“I’m… “ you freeze up for a quick second and then relax, letting out a heavy breath. “Jeeeesus,” you hiss.

Benny remains quiet as he watches you slightly gyrate against the couch. You close your legs together and cross your knees, trying to recalibrate yourself for the ideal position. He notices your breathing has gotten heavier.

“Higher?” He asks quietly, afraid to interrupt your flow.

“I’m already slipping all around,” you answer without opening your eyes, almost forgetting you aren’t alone.

“That’s not a no…” he points out.

Your teeth digs even deeper into your lower lip as you contemplate whether you want to chase your impending orgasm or not. You hate that at the current setting, it’s only enough to edge you and need a bit more to get you over the top.

“Okay,” you finally say. “Do it.”

Benny takes it to number four and you yelp instantly.

"Oh my god," you start giggling. "This is fucking crazy!"

Your thighs tightly clamp together and your back arches off the couch. You throw your head back as your jaw drops open, letting out a silent scream. Your hips rock against the vibrator, trying to get to the finish line.

"I'm not gonna lie. This is getting me hard."

You open your eyes and glance over at him to see him palming the front of his jeans and rubbing himself through the denim as he watches you trying not to lose your shit.

“How close are you?" he asks.

You feel your face get really warm all of a sudden. His baby blues pierce your eyes and you're suddenly feeling more vulnerable than you already are, like you just got caught doing something you shouldn't be doing, but at the same time, it’s kinda hot seeing Benny turned on watching you to the point where he’s quasi-touching himself. Noticing your state of shock, he amps up the vibration and you let out an uncontrolled moan.

"Oh, fuck!“

Your hips buck off the couch as your orgasm comes crashing down on you. You continue to moan as you ride the wave and try to catch the next one, grinding down on the couch. You don’t even care how silly you might look to Ben right now. All your focus is what’s going on between your legs. Suddenly the vibrator gets stronger again.

“Ben, stop! It’s too much!” You shriek.

You’re relieved when the torture stops, but it also feels odd as you feel the residual buzzing between your legs.

“So… how was it?” Benny breaks the silence. “Was it all your hopes and dreams?”

You take a moment to yourself to process the experience before answering.

“This shit is… I don’t think I ever want to experience the highest setting on this thing,” you tell him. “This thing is like a torture device. It feels like I pissed myself.”

You turn to look at him as you catch your breath and you’re reminded that Benny’s having his own fun with this, bringing you back down to earth. He scoots a bit closer to you with his hand still over his crotch. This new tension is clearly mutually felt as you both stare at each other, waiting for the other person to say or do something first. Your eyes ping pong between his face and his crotch, which he is still lazily rubbing.

“So uh… what now?” Benny asks, licking his lips. “Round two?” he brings up the remote still in his hand.

“N-no! No, no! Don’t you dare-“ you reach for the remote again, but he pulls it back behind him.

You chase after it, lunging towards him and end up getting right in his face.

“Benny!” You try again, but pause when you catch him staring at you, his face no more than a few inches away from yours.

It may be the post-orgasm bliss or the awkward position you both found yourselves in, but you’ve never noticed how easy on the eyes your best friend is. He swallows hard as his eyes scan your face.

“Can… can I kiss you?" he asks suddenly, leaning in and nudging your nose with his, testing the boundaries.

You lick your dry lips and swallow as you glance down at his mouth, seeing it slowly closing the distance. He ghosts his lips over yours, stopping short of actually putting it on yours, waiting for your permission. You answer his question by closing the gap, slotting your mouth over his.

He kisses back, gently at first, matching your energy. When you slip your tongue into his mouth, he cups your face and returns the gesture. You’re both now devouring each other as he turns his body towards you to get into a more comfortable position, adjusting himself to accommodate the bulge in his jeans.

You both continue to make out with more urgency. Benny’s hands start cautiously exploring your body, placing a hand on your waist at first. It wanders down to your hip and he gives it a squeeze. Your own hands start roaming Benny’s body, touching his hard chest first. His warmth is welcoming, making you twist your body and lean into him. Feeling bold, Benny’s hand wanders to your thigh, his fingers brushing the inside, but far from your wet patch.

“Can I touch you down there?” He mumbles between kisses while moving his mouth to the side of your face and down your neck.

“Wha-“ You let out a loud sigh when you feel his soft wet tongue on the side of your neck, shivering when he grazes a sensitive spot.

“Can I touch you down there?” Ben repeats, pulling back, his lust-filled eyes looking down into yours.

His fingers barely scrapes your inner thigh, but you feel the jolt of his touch travel up to where the vibrator is still sitting.

“Please?” He squeaks out as his fingers travel up higher and his breathing gets heavier, matching yours.

Even though the vibrator isn’t on, it still brushes against your clit every time you shift and it’s only making you want Benny more, to help you get some relief. Even though you’ve already cum, you are hornier than ever right now.

You simply nod before capturing his mouth again. You moan into his mouth when you feel his hand cupping you, rubbing small slow circles with his fingers. Your hips twitch when he drags his middle finger up and down the thick seam of your pants that’s pressing directly down the center of the outer part of the vibrator which is sitting directly on your clit. He’s barely putting any pressure, but you’re hypersensitive right now and it feels like torture.

Now impatient, you start undoing your pants, trying to quickly get them off. You break the kiss to take a few seconds to focus on ridding your jeans. Benny watches you as he palms himself again, touching himself like he did with you. When you finally get your jeans off, tossing it over the couch, you reach into your underwear to remove the bane of your current existence - the vibrator. Without much effort, the vibrator basically falls out of you. It is drenched in your arousal, a thin sticky string still connects you to it.

It made an audible noise when it slipped out of you, as did Benny. Before you can discard the very used toy, Benny’s hand is back on you, his fingertips teasing the band of your underwear. He keeps dipping further and discovers how slick you really are.

"Jeeeeesus Christ, you weren't kidding. That shit got you so fucking wet," he comments while teasing your opening, slowly dipping his fingertip in, putting light pressure against it but it took no effort to penetrate you.

An audible squelch can be heard when he enters a second finger. You moan, feeling his thick fingers filling you and stroking you inside. He’s definitely reaching places the vibrator couldn’t. He hums watching your face distort when he pushes in further.

Your hand grips his strong forearm, feeling his veins raised and his muscles flexing underneath your palms as he pumps his long fingers in and out of you. The tip of his tongue darts out and licks the corner by his upper lip as he starts curling his fingers up, reaching for that soft spongy spot at the roof of your vagina. Your legs open up wider for him as his fingertips rub your g-spot over and over again. Your senses are heightened watching him watching you with darkened eyes. His thumb starts rubbing your clit as he massages your g-spot and it doesn’t take long for your orgasm to peak. You rock your hips against his fingers as your muscles continually clench and release over his fingers.

"Holy sh-shit," you tremble, feeling the aftershocks.

He pulls his fingers out, dragging them over your clit along the way, making your body twitch at the sensitivity.

“I think I made you cum faster than that toy did,” he jokes.

You crack a half smile but you don’t have the brain power to conjure up a verbal response. After a shared moment, he leans in to give you a quick peck on your lips. As he gets up off the couch, Benny takes his cap off to adjust the position of it, switching it backwards before settling between your legs.

The front of your thin cotton panties are completely drenched through. He can see your outline as the damp fabric clings to your puffy lips.

“Can I taste you?”

His puppy eyes peek up from between your legs. Your brain is mush so you simply nod.

He bunches the top of your underwear in his hand and yanks it up, causing it to brush across your clit. Your hips twitch and as he continues to rub the fabric over you, seeing your reaction to it and drawing out the tease. You moan and gyrate your hips when he puts his mouth between your legs over your underwear. He laps up your juices, licking and sucking as he continues to tug at your panties taut against your dripping cunt, putting pressure on your sensitive nub.

"Ben…" you pant as you push his cap off and run your fingers through his messy dirty blonde hair.

His scruff brushes the insides of your thigh as he continues to eat you out. You gasp when you feel the tip of his tongue breaching your opening, forcing your underwear aside and exposing your core. He puts more pressure with his tongue, slipping in deeper inside you and tasting you. Your hips start rocking against his face, but his tongue can only go so far. He shifts his attention to the swollen bud a little higher, scrunching your panties aside. He circles your clit with the tip before pressing the flat of his tongue and then his mouth over it, hollowing out his cheeks as he sucks hard. Your thighs clamp around his head and his eyes focus on your face as his tongue continues to play your clit like a fiddle. He grips your hips and holds you down.

“F-fuck…” your breathing becomes irregular as your orgasm builds.

With his mouth still attached to you, he slips his finger inside you to try to find that spot again. You thrust against his face when you feel your third release breaching. Benny intensifies his sucking and fingering, feeling you clench around him. You cry out when the dam breaks and you convulse around him. He doesn’t stop until you still. As you’re coming down from your high, body slouched from being spent, he withdraws his fingers and licks them clean.

“So you wanna try that other toy now to see how it compares to the real thing?” He asks as he stands up and wipes his mouth.

He was right about him not needing any help in the bedroom department. You can barely form words right now. Never in a million years would you think your best friend can eat pussy like an expert. Taking from his brother who he regularly competes with, he always strives to be the best in everything he does, but this is on a whole different level. And now he wants to use another toy on you? You don’t think anything can top what he just did to you.

"W-what?" you ask cluelessly, still recovering the most mind blowing oral sex you have ever received.

Your eyes follow him as he reaches for the suction toy to show you. He tries to figure out how to turn it on as he kneels down, returning between your legs.

"You gotta help me out here--"

He's suddenly interrupted when you grab his face and smash your lips against his, tasting yourself. He abandons the toy somewhere and moves up to the couch next to you. You reposition yourself to straddle his lap as you continue to make out. As your hands wander down to the buttons of his jeans, he grabs your ass, squeezing them in his large hands.

When you successfully get his jeans undone, he lifts his hips and helps you pull down his bottoms until he springs free. You look down and reach for his thick cock, warm and soft to the touch. You jerk him as he’s already hard as a rock. Your thumb brushes the underside of his head.

“Fuck,” he hisses.

Now it’s your turn to torture him. You slide off his lap and on to the floor, kneeling between his knees. Once in a comfortable position, you grab his length, licking a trail from the base to the tip, maintaining eye contact the entire time. When you get to the top, you wrap your lips around him, wetting the head a bit before inching down to taste the rest of him. Your tongue swirls around his smooth and salty skin, lubricating him as you bob up and down.

“Shhhhit…” He throws his head back against the couch.

Feeling frisky, you try to deep throat him and he grasps within arms reach whatever he can as he groans. He looks over when a hand grabs something unfamiliar to him. It’s the vibrator and an idea comes to his mind.

“Wait,” he reluctantly stops you.

You pause and see him holding up the vibrator.

“Put this on while you suck me. I think it’ll be fun.”

You look at the vibrator for a moment and then back at him.

“I promise I won’t put it so high,” he reassures you.

“Fine,” you agree and you take it from him and slip it inside you, orienting it the right way. “You try anything and I’ll bite your dick off,” you warn, drawing a small chuckle out of Ben.

You get back into the position you were in before and put your mouth back on him. As you go back to sucking him, you yelp when Benny turns the vibrator on at a low speed. The noise you made sent a delightful vibration down his cock, making it twitch. He turns it up a notch and your hips move against the vibrator. You start moving up and down on him a little faster, stroking the base where your mouth can’t reach. You deepthroat him again until you gag, but you keep on going, sending your spit dripping down his cock and lubing him up.

“You look so fucking hot,” Benny pants.

His breathing is getting more labored. His hips jerk up and he places a hand on the back of your head. He’s not putting any pressure, but he fists your hair. He doesn’t pull on it, just moves with you as you fuck him with your mouth. You start quickening your pace feeling the vibrator getting stronger, trying to match it. Feeling the beginning of an orgasm forming, you rock your hips and suck him harder.

“Fuck, I’m gonna cum,” he warns you.

Not changing your rhythm, you watch him come undone as he pops in your mouth. He thrust into your face as his moans echo in the small space and grasps the remote in his hand, accidentally jumping it up another level, but it’s what you needed to push you over the edge. You grind against the toy as you moan with him still deep inside your mouth. He spills out of the corner of your mouth as his hips slow down.

When he stills, you suck him clean and swallow the load that remained in your mouth. You reach down to pull the vibrator off and toss it onto his lap. Benny jumps in his seat and shuts it off. You wipe the corner of your mouth and chin with the back of your hand as you get up off your knees. He looks back at you with tired eyes as he tries to catch his breath, cock twitching. You squeal when he grabs your wrist and pulls you into his lap, careful with his half hard cock. You straddle his lap and he kisses you, his tongue thrusting into your mouth, tasting a bit of himself. The two of you lazily make out for a bit until Benny pulls back. You lick your lips and smile, looking down at him.

“We should start making this a regular thing, ya know. The toy testing,” Benny suggests, breaking the awkward silence and lightening the mood.

“Well, I do have a dildo I haven’t tried yet,” you half-joke.

He looks back at you with narrow eyes.

“You’re not putting that in my ass,” he states.

“Not what I was thinking,” you chuckle as you shake your head. “I’ve always wanted to know what it felt like to be double penetrated,” you explain.

Benny stares at you with a blank expression, but you see his semi twitch in your peripheral.

“Gi-give me maybe fifteen minutes—“ he finally says, pointing to his softening cock.

“Whoa! Hold it there, cowboy,” you stop him. “Why don’t we just think on that? Besides, I don’t have any condoms or lube for that to happen.”

“Yeah, okay. Sure,” he shrugs. “I-I had a good time, if that’s what you were wonder—“

You silence him with a tender kiss before grabbing the vibrator to remove the batteries and toss them at him.

“I’m gonna clean up. Why don’t you put the fight on? I think It’s starting soon,” you tell him as you dismount him and grab your jeans off the floor while Benny pulls his bottoms back up.

“Look what the guys missed out on. Coulda had an orgy,” you joke.

“If everyone showed up, we’d be at a bar,” he points out, then swishes some beer inside his mouth.

“Fair. Okay, a Miller sandwich then,” you switch it up.

Benny chokes on his beer.

“Kidding!” You chuckle awkwardly. “Kinda. Sorry, you probably don’t wanna think about you and your brother fucking the same person at the same time,” you snort before finally heading to the bathroom.

When you get back, you find Benny putting his phone away and relaxing on the couch like he was before any of the sexy stuff had happened, with the TV on. The awkwardness returns. He hands you your beer as you sit down next to him, settling in. You both quietly watch the fight as it starts, but you steal glances at each other every now and then. At one point, you do a double take.

“Dude, are you smelling your fingers?” You look at him incredulously.

“What? I washed them, but I can still smell you.”

You grimace at him.

“Don’t look at me like that. You smell good,” he shrugs. “It’s actually getting me hard again.”

You watch him adjust himself. The both of you stare each other down, trying to read each other until a knock on your door breaks the trance.

“Who the hell is that?” You ask, but Benny shrugs.

You get up to open the door and find the other Miller brother on the other side.

“Hey, sorry I’m late! I had trouble finding parking. Did the fight start already?”

You look back at him confused.

“Uh… are you gonna let me in?” Will asks. “I brought goodies.” He shows the case of beer and grocery store bag in his hand with a party sized bag of chips peeking out.

“Sorry, I just thought you weren’t coming,” you tell him while letting him in.

“I texted Benny telling him plans changed last minute. Did he not get it?”

“Uh, I-I don’t know. He didn’t tell me anything.” You lead him into the living room where Benny almost looks surprised.

“Did you not tell her I’m coming?” Will asks his brother.

“Oh, sorry, forgot. I was uh, a little preoccupied,” he apologizes.

Will looks at both you and Benny suspiciously.

“It smells… interesting in here,” he comments, his eyebrows furrow with curiosity.

“Oh my gosh, I’m sorry Will. Let me take that from you.” You quickly change the subject, taking the bag and beer out of his hands.

“Wait-” Will starts.

“Get comfy. I’ll bring you back a cold beer,” you tell him before whisking away.

You stick the beer in the fridge and when you remove the party sized tortillas to pour some into a bowl, you notice some unexpected items in the bag. You take them out for a closer inspection and your eyes widen at the bottle of lube and a box of condoms. Maybe he bought these before his initial plans got changed.

You shrug, throw them back into the bag and return to the living room with a bowl of chips, cold beer and the grocery bag of personal items. When you walk into the living room, the brothers turn their attention to you, eyeing you like they’re expecting something other than the beer and chips. You look back at them suspiciously as they’re both very laxed and spread out on the couch on each end, leaving a space for you in between. As you walk over and settle in next to them, their gaze follows you.

“Here Will, I think these are yours,” you hand him a beer and his bag of items.

He takes them from you as he smirks.

“Thanks. So,” Will turns his body towards you. “Benny tells me you’re curious about some DP action.”

You almost drop the bowl of chips in your hands. Will is usually very reserved and diplomatic so you’re a bit shocked at how straight forward he is right now. You glare at your best friend who shrugs helplessly.

“I had to tell him what he missed out on.”

You glower your eyes at Benny, but then put two and two together, your focus now bouncing between the two brothers and realize that no one is probably going to watch this fight tonight.

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