#hinge inquirer

[nightskyfoxyy]

More Fantasy AU cause why not.

Something about giving each other flowers.

[fridayyy-13th]

well i'm having an evening, certainly

[platosallegoryoftherave]

The ladies only like me for my eel facts

[textmel8r]

[ DRABBLE ] 𝐒𝐔𝐆𝐀𝐑 𝐁𝐀𝐁𝐘 ! ( tenth installment ) in which you find toji fushiguro’s number off a sugar baby site .

୨୧˚ part; one. two. three. four. five. six. seven. eight. nine. ten. eleven.

୨୧˚ incl; toji fushiguro

୨୧˚ cw; sugar mommy! reader , sugar baby! toji , profanity , prostitution , drug and alcohol abuse , smut , allusions to hypersexuality , bisexual! toji

୨୧˚ an; okay there is seriously something wrong with my ability to tag people, certain blog names don’t come up when i search them it’s pissing me offfff SO SORRY if you’re on the tag list and you didn’t get tagged😣

୨୧˚ join my discord server ! we share headcanons, fanfic recs, color roles, and more drooling emoji

Thunderous bangs against his apartment’s front door rouse Toji from comatose. He wakes with a sharp inhale, eyes screwing shut because the sunlight that flooded through the bars of his dusty blinds singed his retinas. There’s a beat of silence, one that makes Toji believe his guest has walked off, and he cuddles back into the sofa with solid intentions of returning to dream state, however those plans go up in flames when more aggressive knocking chimes. The man groans, fingers clawing into the scrappy throw pillow his face is currently buried into. 

“Fuck off!” Toji growls. His voice is muffled and crackling with excess exhaustion. He is so not in the mood for company right now. 

“Fushiguro cut the shit, I’m not playing with you today.” Ugh, that voice. “Open the damn door, don’t make me bust it down.”

More pounding, and the rusty hinges creak from the pressure of it. Given no other choice, Toji peels himself off his crappy little couch and sits for a moment, dragging a heavy hand down his face. There’s a half empty can of Coke perched on the coffee table, amongst a plethora of other trash, and Toji snags it. It’s lost carbonation, totally flat and lukewarm, but it satiates his thirst good enough. 

The knob twists, clinking against the lock impatiently. “Untwist your panties, I’m comin’,” He barks before muttering Jesus Christ under breath. It’s no surprise to see Shiu Kong when he draws open his door, standing erect with his arms crossed in irritation. Toji scowls, “what do you want?”

Shiu knocks shoulders to his when he grants himself entrance, much to Toji’s chagrin. “So you are alive?”

“Still kickin’, yeah.”

Shiu stands in the middle of the living room, flitting over the unkempt scene. It’s a mess, littered with crushed cans and hollowed take-out boxes and dirty laundry. Heavy glass bottles lined the floor near the sofa, some filled halfway with translucent, amberish liquid, some bone dry. “I see you been busy,” the man inquired, sarcastic as all Hell. 

Toji sighs. “Yep.”

“You should crack a window or something, man. It reeks like the inside of a flask in here.”

“I’ll do that,” no he won’t, “what do you want?”

Shiu scoffs at his gall, but Toji wants him out of his place as soon as possible. He knows why his handler has come to visit, it’s most likely a work thing. Fuck work. Fuck Shiu for barging in and interrupting his afternoon nap. Fuck his apartment for being embarrassingly filthy. 

“You’ve been ducking my calls. I don’t appreciate that.”

“Y’know, most people would take that as a sign to fuck off.”

“I’m not most people, though, am I?” He takes a seat on the couch. Toji doesn’t follow suit, choosing to stay leaned against the wall. “I’m technically your superior.”

“You think that title means jack to me?”

Shiu ignores the attitude; he’s used to taking shit from Toji for the better part of a decade now. “It should.” Silence cuts in, and he leans down to pluck one of the thick bottles off the floor by its neck. Liquor sloshes around in the constraint of glass, and Shiu holds it up to the light and skims the label. “This is cheap shit.”

Yeah, it was stupid cheap. Toji swiped it off the clearance rack at the gas station around the corner from his complex. They started tagging the alcohol, made it more difficult to steal, so he exclusively bought the least expensive liquor he could find. “Don’t gotta be smooth. Don’t gotta be much of anything, s’long as it fucks me up.” He didn’t drink rum on a Thursday at 3:42 pm for the taste. 

Shiu hums, looking oddly unnerved. Still holding the bottle, he jerks it up in a slight gesture. “What’s the occasion?” Followed by an awkward chuckle. Toji itches the base of his scalp, pushing down his bed hair. 

“Dunno.”

He was just sort of… regressing. Backsliding into the open arms of his beloved vices. Day drinking again, sloshing himself into liquor-induced unconsciousness that puts him to sleep for days. He starts hitting the casinos more frequently, tapping into poker games and betting away money he doesn’t have because the adrenaline of it all is orgasmic. Drugs have weaved themselves back into Toji’s routine as well; he’s been snorting the pricey shit that gets him numb in the face and leaves that nasty taste dripping in the back of his throat. Shit he hasn’t fucked with since his wife’s death. 

Well, he supposes he’s always been like this. Clinging onto some sort of substance to distract himself from the pain of being alive in a Zenin’s body, no matter how damaging or problematic it may be. His childhood looms over him, even as a grown man, and it’s so terribly pathetic to still be hung up on shit that happened over two decades ago. But he apologetically is. Toji is a pathetic, woeful piece of shit who is forever haunted by memories. 

Distractions. They weren’t always mutilating. Not all of them tore apart his body and soul. Sometimes, they were beautiful. 

His tongue twitches in his mouth, aching to curl around a cigarette. 

Shiu huffs, setting the bottle back down near his feet. “You doing okay?”

“Yeah,” Toji nods curtly, licking at his dry lips. “I’m straight.”

“Right,” his handler responds slowly, entirely unconvinced. “You’ve been skimping out on your assignments. It’s fucking me over, Fushiguro.”

Toji hasn’t taken up a job in nearly three months. Not since the night he left your place and walked home in the pouring rain. It was funny—he hadn’t thought it was a bluff when you threatened to call the police. No, Toji expected his apartment complex to be swarmed with officers when he returned but… nothing besides crickets. That night was seared into his frontal lobe, every motion engraved and vivid behind his eyes. Still soaked to the bone, he melted into the couch and stared up at his water-damaged ceiling for hours before slumber pulled him into its embrace. 

Toji hasn’t slept in his bed since. 

“Oh, so that’s why you came to visit. Boss is cuttin’ your pay with me gone.” Toji smiles bitterly, then juts his lower lip out in a mock pout. “Aww, that must be so hard for you, I’m sorry. You can cry about it on the ride home in your fucking Bentley.”

“Hey asshole, this isn’t just a me thing. Your slacking affects both our paychecks.” Shiu rakes a hand through his gelled do, and Toji is acutely aware of the luxury watch glinting on his wrist. “I mean, shit, where have you even been getting your cash from lately? How have you been keepin’ the lights on in this shithole?”

That last question is a mystery to Toji, as well. Truth is, he hasn’t put a penny towards rent since he came back. Eviction was inevitable, he’d ride out the days he had left and then figure out what to do when he received his week’s notice. Only that pink slip of paper never appeared taped to his door. Surely, you weren’t still covering it… Not with the way you and him ended terms so roughly… But what the fuck else could it be? Toji wanted to ask you about it; wanted to use this entire situation as an excuse to contact you, but he couldn’t muster up the courage and resolve. Talking to you again sounded so fucking sweet, but so, so fucking painful. 

Toji didn’t answer, and Shiu grimaced at his quietness. On the couch, Shiu shifted uncomfortably, leaning forward to rest his elbows over his thighs. “You’re not,” he struggles for a moment to find the words, squinted eyes drilling holes into Toji’s. “Tell me you ain’t whoring again.”

Sex was Toji’s grimiest form of escapism. He started fucking other people again. 

Mostly women, with a few men sprinkled in between. Gender was irrelevant; genitalia didn’t matter much to him in the grand scheme of things, Toji only fucked casually for the sensation of a warm body to hold onto. Vying for satisfaction with a partner, competing for release; it became a damn near nightly procedure at this point. Scouring bars in the dark hours for any willing participant, then fucking one out in the filth of the public restroom. His sweaty back against the stall, or him seated on the lid of a toilet. It was gross, he was gross. 

Again, Toji is silent, and it speaks volumes. “God, man.” Shiu holds his face, pinching his brow bone, maneuvering the muscles in his jaw. He doesn’t sound angry or annoyed, just disappointed, and it makes Toji feel unnaturally immature; like he were a child again, getting a scolding from the family’s housekeeper for accidentally knocking the vase at the center of his dining table over and shattering it on the ground. “That’s—you can’t be doing this again.”

“Yeah well I don’t exactly got the resume for a nine to five, now do I?” He was forever tainted by his past. No employer in the country would hire a man with four jail sentences, drug misdemeanors, battery charges, no education, no work experience… the list of Toji’s fuck ups could fill a dictionary front to back. 

“You cannot go back to that.” Shiu looks pale in the face. I’m making him sick to his stomach. 

“Money is money. Don’t hear you whining when you got me playing assassin for you, but God forbid I suck a coupla’ cocks for cash.” Toji pushes off the wall and stalks towards the tiny kitchenette on the far side of this cramped living space; this conversation is irritating him, he needs something to quell his cotton mouth. “Fix your morals, then we can talk.”

Shiu’s argument was mind numbingly idiotic. Comparing slaughter to sex for money, the absurdity nearly made Toji burst out laughing. Sex never killed anyone. 

He’s rooting around in the fridge. It’s practically bare, housing nothing more than a few take out boxes and some lager, but that’s alright. Toji tears a can of beer from the plastic six-pack ring, and when he pops out from the refrigerator, Shiu stands there with his hip against the small counter. “You’re self-destructing.”

The can cracks open. Beer carbonation pops and hisses. “Am I?” Toji sniggers, tossing back a swig. Shiu’s eyes flit to the beverage, nose wrinkling. Toji catches on and nods to the kitchen sink. It’s full of dirty dishes. “Faucet’s fucked. Water’s full of lead. This is the only drink in the house and I’m thirsty, so hop off.”

“You’re self-destructing,” Shiu repeats once more, not matching Toji’s humorous lilt. “I’m serious, Fushiguro. You’re off.”

“What do you want me to say to that besides fuck you?”

It grows quiet again. The air is warm and thick and rife with apprehension; it presses on Toji’s chest like a sleeping cat. “So what?” Finally, Shiu speaks. “That’s it?”

He shakes his head contentedly. “That’s it.”

“You understand this is going to be Hell for me from now on. You’re the best hired gun on my roster, the boss is gonna have my ass if you quit.” 

Toji takes a long sip of beer. “You’re tough. You can handle it.”

“You’re such an asshole,” Shiu breathes, but there’s no real malice behind his words. “If you’re really serious about quitting, then fine. Fucking fine, I’ll—” He groans, massaging his temple, “I’ll handle it. But I’m telling you, this is the best it gets for guys like us.”

The best it gets is killing men. Leaving wives widowed, leaving kids fatherless. “Can’t be.” Toji feels nauseous at the thought. “There’s gotta be more.” There has to be. It’s the only affirmation that stops him from knocking back the whole bottle of vicodin in his bathroom medicine cabinet and calling it a night. 

“This is how the world works. This is us being punished for being shitty people.” 

Toji doesn’t have anything to say to that. He refuses to acknowledge it. 

Shiu rubs at his nape, pushing off the counter. “Look, I only dropped by to get on your ass for playing hooky, wasn’t exactly expecting… all of this. But, uh,” despite their expansive acquaintanceship with one another, they never really got a hang of the whole sentimental bit. Shiu tries for a moment, mouth opening and closing a few times as the words die on his tongue, before finally settling on a long exhale through the nostrils. He tucks his hands into the pockets of his slacks, squaring his shoulders. “Just stay safe, would ya?”

Toji salutes lazily. “Aye aye.”

Shiu ducks his head in a wide nod. “Good, good. And uh, you got my number. So use it if you need to.”

Toji can tell that Shiu is trying to dole out formalities in the most unconventional way possible, so he helps him out by chuckling. “Get the fuck outta my house already.” Then, he drains the last few ounces from his can before crushing the aluminum in his fist, tossing the litter carelessly to the floor. He’ll get it later. Or not. Probably not. 

“Yeah, okay.”

The hotel room is pitch black, not even the moonlight reaches through the window. Toji stumbles through the door first, dragging another person in by the waist. He kicks it shut with the heel of his boot. A woman—mid 20’s, pretty, about two heads shorter than Toji so he’s forced to crane his neck uncomfortably low when they kiss. Some random he found off an anonymous hookup app he downloaded, a consenting body three miles away for him to use. They coordinated a time and place—midnight at this shitty motel—which brings us to the present. 

“Wait—” She struggles to speak in between wet kisses, patting Toji's bicep. “Wh—get the lights.”

He shakes his head. “Leave them off.”

Humidity stickied the air, clinging to his skin alongside sweat. He was coming down from something—some upper he popped hours prior to this—and because of that, a thin tremble rattled in his bones gliding through marrow. It’s so hot. He’s hot everywhere. It almost hurts, the heat.  

She doesn’t put up much of an argument and takes his bruteness like a champ. Let’s him hoist her up and jerk her onto the stiff motel mattress, its blankets coughing a plume of dust into the atmosphere when their weights fell upon it. The scratchy comforter reeked of mildew and clawed back at the jagged callouses sitting in the divots of Toji’s weathered fingers when he grabbed handfuls of bedding. 

He finds himself drafting comparisons in the moment, as he often did. Comparing his present to a better time; when he wasn’t slutting himself out to strangers for a fix of warmth or money, in this case the former. Your bed—God, no not tonight, he shouldn’t be devoting another night to you—smelled of a sweet concoction; your perfume, your laundry detergent, your shampoo, just you. There was no catching or pulling at his marred hands when he clawed at your bedsheets, no, the satin was gentle on his most rough parts. 

“How do you want me?”

Toji blinked in succession, snapping back to cold reality. It was easy to lose himself in his delusions, muddying the lines between his dreamscape and actuality. Maybe the liquor finally seeped into his brain and this was neurosis’s way of knocking at the door. What a hilarious thing to think about. Toji slips a hand beneath her back and maneuvers the smaller body himself. 

“Hands and knees.” He doesn’t want to look at her face.

Neither of them had even bothered to undress—this truly lacked all semblance of intimacy. Hands reach behind herself to inch suffocating denim down past the shelf of her ass, Toji thumbs down his own waistband just past the half-mast erection he sported. Everything felt robotic, it was a wonder he could even get hard in such a lifeless domain. 

“You brought a con—” 

“Yes,” he responds pointedly, eager for the talking to cease. He didn’t care to hear the whispers of a strange woman asking about whether or not he had protection on him. Of course, he had one. It goes quiet again. In the dark, dank air Toji kneels behind a wet, willing hole and yet all he can think of is you when he stroked himself to total hardness. 

“Are you kidding me?” You gawked at him, disbelief evident in the obtuse look you gave him. He was splayed out on your kitchen tiles, ducked back beneath the sink, working at the drain pipe with a rubber-gripped wrench. His ass ached from sitting on hard floors for too long, back groaned under the pressure of being bent backwards, neck stiff and knotted thanks to the awkward tilt he was forced to wear, but seeing the awe scribbled on your face made the pain dull. “I had two handymen take a look, neither of them could find the issue. But you just knew exactly what to do.”

He had to laugh at the ridiculousness. “You’ve just got yourself a fucked supply line. Ain’t rocket science, I’ll get you right.” Toji slips out from the cupboard, looking up from the floor through pin straight bangs. Scratching a brow with his thumb nail, “you hired a couple of idiots.”

You retort in a groan, unable to thrum up a defense. “I’m the real idiot, I suppose. You think they were just trying to scam me or what?”

“Probably.” Back under the sink he goes, wedging the wrench around the circumference of the pipe. Toji’s forearm tenses with each crank of the tool, and he doesn’t stop until the bolt is fastened as tight as his strength can manage. “Doesn’t matter. I’m here.”

Though he can’t see your face at the moment, Toji hears your sheepish smile wrapping around each word. “My hero.” The sarcasm was eminent, tongue-in-cheek and you nudged his foot with your own. He kicks you back, heel to your bony ankle. “Hey!” You’re laughing now. 

“Don’t get smart.” The drain pipe is secure, and he’s satisfied with his labor. Toji pulls himself to his feet, flicking the stainless steel lever on the sink’s tap with a knuckle. Crystal clear water flows out evenly from the faucet, collecting in a puddle at the basin, swirling down the drain. “Watch, look,” Toji points with his toe to the pipe under the cabinet, and he can’t quell the lofty smirk that tugs at scarred lips when there is no leakage. A successful repair; you look astonished for lack of a better word, and it gives the man a strange swell of pride hanging in his belly. 

He did that. He was useful to you in a way he hadn’t been useful to anyone in a long while. He didn’t have to kill, didn’t have to fuck; fixing a leaky kitchen sink seemed beyond good enough for you. Foolish.

“I’m impressed.” You turn to him. “Thank you, Toji.”

You blathered on some more, speaking such things of how generous you planned on being in return. Something about money in exchange for the service, but Toji wasn’t really listening past your declaration of gratitude. It was just straightforward plumbing work of the most basic level, and yet you thanked him like he hung the stars in the sky.

“Sure. It was no problem.” And he smiled back. 

That did it. He’s stiff, cock cradled in his fist with nothing less than a bruising grip. The condom was pre-lubricated and slick with odorless oil. Toji went through the practiced motions—hooking the ringed entrance over himself, pinching the tip of the condom, rolling it down to sheath every inch. 

“Oh,” she gasped, lurching forward at the feeling of Toji’s head sliding up and down between her legs. Between her folds. She’s wet for him. Hips whined back into his groin with avidity. “Put it in.”

He slaps her with an open palm, connecting with an asscheek. She moans again and reaches back to paw at Toji’s navel with blunt nails. Free from any of that fancy acrylic stuff. 

This time around was torturously similar to every other fuck he’s had in recent date. Everything is fast-paced and unforgiving, leaving not much room for anything else. Toji fucks to forget. He fucks to remember, too. 

“Y/n,” he groans shamelessly. There’s a muffled reply, but it’s murky and muffled and unable to be understood because Toji had taken the humble liberty of holding his conquest’s face into the flat, fluffless pillow. He doesn’t care for a response, to be corrected or called a piece of shit for being so inconsiderate as to not remember her name. It was Mandy, he wants to say. Maybe Maddy? Who gives a fuck. 

“That’s rude, you know.”

Toji pouts theatrically, forcing his bottom lip out in a way that has you playfully rolling your eyes. In his hand, a bundled ball of blanket that he’d stolen from you and hoarded to his side of the sofa. “Aww, I’m sorry.”

You sigh, throwing him a scathing glance. “No, you’re not.”

Movie night, or so you said. Sitting in the lonesome of your quiet penthouse just the two of you, watching some new finance documentary that just dropped on Netflix. It sounded absurdly boring to Toji, but you’d been keen on hyping it up all week long, offering him an invitation to view it together. Really, Toji couldn’t give a shit about a bunch of old guys talking crypto-bullshit for two hours straight—but it’s not like that’s what was really going to happen anyway. Toji had convinced himself this was all a ploy to snake your way into his pants at last. Naturally, he accepted your invitation. 

“Just gonna have to sit closer then,” Toji posed gruffly, eyeing down the gap between your bodies on the couch. Sitting at opposite ends like a couple of children who still believed cooties was a prevalent issue. He nods toward you,“come on.”

“You’re terrible.” Despite that, you scoot closer, invading his bubble of personal space and snatching your half of the blanket back. Focused on the Netflix explore page, tongue poked out between two rows of teeth as you enter the title of the documentary into the search bar, you miss the way Toji observes you. Watching. Waiting. 

And waiting. 

And waiting. 

For what? Who knows. Maybe Toji prepares himself  for the inevitable moment when you slip a hand beneath the blanket and drift over to his thigh. Ready for that familiar squeeze at his crotch, the same tango so many other curious hands have danced in the past. But he’d let you proceed without any qualms. He’d encourage you. 

“You’re bored, huh?” You chuckled halfheartedly midway through the film, pressing pause. Bored didn’t even begin to describe his pure disinterest. 

Toji shrugs. “Maybe.” His arm rests on the back ledge of the couch, not quite around you, but so close that it might as well be. He shifts, touches his right thigh to your left one, and tilts his chin down. “Listening to a bunch of rich fucks whine about the stock market doesn’t exactly captivate me.”

Frowning, “that’s only surface level. The audience is supposed to infer—” Fake snoring cuts you off. Toji rolls his eyes shut, hanging his jaw to fake the most obnoxious slumber. His head lolls onto your shoulder. You don’t shy away from the physical contact. “You’re not funny.” He begs to differ, what with the way nasally snorts crack from your sinuses. The shoulder he presses his cheek to stutters with stifled dissipation.

“Stop movin’.” Toji nuzzles closer, facetiously dumping body weight against you if not for anything other than to hear the struggle squeeze at your throat when you wrestle to keep upright. “I’m comfy like this.”

“You’re never this affectionate.” 

He’s not usually. But Toji’s hellbent on his premonitions. You want him. Everyone wants him. It’s been months of banter, months of getting spoiled by financial stability. You give him everything. You take nothing. His nose caresses the junction where shoulder and neck meet. Why won’t you just let him fucking give you something? You swallow hard. “Toji.”

“I constantly feel like I owe you. Like I got dues to pay.”

“Do I… make you feel that way?”

“All the fucking time.” It swelters beneath the blanket you share, and sweat starts to collect at the creases behind Toji’s knees. Bathing in the shared body heat, letting the convection hug his hips. He sighs, backtracking. “I know you got good intentions, ‘s what you keep telling me. And I like it, the way you reassure me. It’s… reassuring.” He titters into your neck, blinking slowly. 

“Then why do you keep doing this?” A ginger hand graces the rear of his skull, not forcing him closer, but not tugging him away either. It just sits there, scritching as calm as your voice. 

“Don’t know.”

This wasn’t the first time Toji succumbed to that shrill, little whisper in his head, the one that told him to spontaneously initiate closeness. It feels like common knowledge by now; to reciprocate in kind to any form of benevolence like a trained dog, because that was the expectation of him. To get on his knees and worship until bruises hammered into his joints and the hinges of his jaw grew sore from overuse. This transaction is familiar. It brings him a twisted sense of comfort, and you ripped it away. For better or for worse, Toji had yet to conclude.

“It’s like muscle memory.” That was the best way to describe it. Toji ached to give you the pleasure that felt long overdue in this affair. To offer some sort of repayment in the only way he knew how. Lips ghost over porcelain flesh—he’s never been so tempted in his life. Sex had always been the most exhausting and emotionally depleting aspect when he dealt with these kinds of unconventional financial relationships, but now as he unfurls his candied tongue and laves a stretch from collar to jawline, Toji has never wanted to be inside of someone more. Deft fingers were quick to pull him back by the scruff.

You studied Toji with unreadable eyes. He stares back, wiping excess saliva from his fatty lower lip with a thumb. 

“I don’t want this for us,” you speak up finally, meandering eyes roaming around his facial features. You look at his lips, then his nose, then between his eyes. “Are you listening? I’ll write it on my fucking forehead if that’s what it takes for you to understand.”

“What if I want it?” Toji breathes.

You’re shaking your head. “You don’t.”

Who the fuck are you to decide what he does or doesn’t want? And how fucking dare you be right about it. Because in all this build up—the panting, the heat, the licking—Toji hadn’t so much as twitched down there. It’s like his mind and body were completely detached, separate entities trying to cohesively navigate through an avalanche of generational trauma. Trying and failing miserably. He palms himself to confirm his limp appendage. 

“Fuck.” A bucket of ice water dumped over his head, washing away the illusion of lust and leaving behind reality in its wake. What the fuck am I doing? “I’m sorry.”

“I’m sorry, too.” Toji doesn’t really understand what you’re apologizing for. You’ve got no need to feel sorry when he was the one who threw himself at you so abruptly. But he doesn’t ask, either. It felt eerily nice to be on the receiving end of an ‘I’m sorry.’ 

You still hold his nape. The film is long forgotten at this point, set on the backburner, and dimmed with the Are you still watching? notification blanketing the screen. 

“Your movie.” Toji cocks his head, beckoning towards the gigantic television pinned to the wall all without tearing his eyes from yours. “Press play.”

This has the beginnings of a coy smirk straining your lips. “I thought it was boring you?”

He shrugs. “It’s not so bad.”

And so you resumed the documentary, if not for anything other than to dissolve the serious tension that palpated in the air. You didn’t force Toji to explain himself, you didn’t hound him for answers about his hypersexuality. You didn’t distance yourself, you didn’t act appalled when his thigh brushed yours again. You didn’t pity him, you didn’t treat him like a child. But you did stroke his neck. You continued to laugh with him. You let him fall asleep on you that night and didn’t wake him ‘till morning. 

You let him trust.

His orgasm doesn’t have any anticipation. It crashes down on him all at once, splitting down the notches of his spine and sending bouts of electricity zapping down to his curled toes, still encased in thick, mud soaked boots. She cries below, contorting in the direction of the pleasure, but Toji holds her down while he fills the rubber.

It’s unsatisfying. 

“Oh my fuck—” The woman pants on her come down, trembling around him. She clearly enjoyed herself, giggling stupidly into the pillow now sopping with drool and tears. Toji pulls out with little grace, sneering at the viscous mess of bodily fluids slicking up his navel. Proficient fingers work the sticky condom off, tying the end in a balloon knot.

It’s gross.

He folds, dropping onto the bed beside her. Sweat glues bangs to his forehead. His chest rises, then falls, then rises again with exertion. Sleep threatens to rear itself, weighing down his eyelids.

It’s tiring.

The body beside him stirs, rolling on her side. “How was it?”

“Good,” he lies through his teeth for the sake of sparing feelings. She smiles, feeling over his chest. 

“It was good for me, too,” she tells him like he asked. “Really good. Oh, also my name’s Maria by the way, not Y/n.” Maria chuckles like it was just a silly mix up. 

She drags him into mindless, post-sex banter. Rambling on about workplace drama, about her two pet cats and about her shity landlord. Mindless rattling that falls on Toji’s deaf ears; he’s disassociated, lying face-up on the terribly hard bed, fixated on the grime weighing down his lap. When an opening arises, Toji hauls himself up and claims the shower.

An intense wave of queasiness materializes in the centerpoint of Toji’s stomach when he closes himself in behind the bathroom door. The aftermath always felt this awful—bitter and lonely and degrading. Toji takes a moment to just be, perching on the lid of the toilet with his head in his hands, swallowing down sickness lest he subject Maria to a concert of his disgusting gags if he retches into the bowl. 

When Toji stands to fiddle with the shower handle, he becomes hyper aware of the weight in his sweatpants. There’s an awkward sag in the fabric, bunching around the object that sits heavy in his front pocket. His cellphone—he never bothered to remove it. Giving a sniffle to the air, Toji fishes out the device and taps the screen with little interest.

Oh.

He looks away. Looks at the sink, then the wall, then the glass door of the shower cubicle. Then back at his screen. Back at the very real notification that sits there idly, begging to be clicked.

Toji’s heart races at a perilous speed, something lethal for an old man like himself. He can feel the beat rumble his insides, blending everything up like a bloody smoothie. 

Yielding, he clicks.

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[loveharlow]

LIVE BAIT

PAIRING‧₊˚  Rafe Cameron x Fem!Reader, Topper Thornton x Fem!Reader (one sided)

SYNOPSIS‧₊˚  [4.1k] Left alone with Topper while Rafe is out, his best friend seems to take a shot at you...

WARNING(S)‧₊˚  non-con/dub-con, smut, swearing, dark!rafe, gullible!reader, sexual coercion/manipulation, deception, cheating, yelling, manhandling, implied murder/attempted murder

A/N‧₊˚ part of my angstober event!

˗ˏˋ rafe masterlist ˎˊ˗

YOU SAT ON THE COUCH IN RAFE’S LIVING IN NOTHING BUT ONE OF HIS SHIRTS, WATCHING TV AS HE EMERGED FROM DOWN THE HALL. He had his phone and car keys in hand, the jingling of the metal causing your eyes to drift from the flashing of digital colors to him. 

“Are you leaving?” You inquired, leaning your weight on one arm as you sat up on the couch slightly.

“Yeah, something came up but it won’t take long.” You frowned as you watched his frame edge closer to the front door of The Cameron Residence, his hand on the doorknob as he turned around to look at your half-dressed figure on the sofa. “Go put some pants on. Topper’s still coming by.”

You wanted to groan at his statement. “Can’t he hang out with Kelce? He always want to hang with you. Doesn't he have other friends?”

“He’s still upset about Sarah leaving him and he thinks she’ll pop up around the house. Look just, don’t say anything about her around him. Alright?”

You huffed and rolled your eyes, mumbling something about Topper being annoying before turning away from him to face the TV once again, fully prepared to hear the slam of the front door signaling his absence. You never heard that confirmation, however. Instead, you were met with the feeling of Rafe’s calloused hand on your jaw just before you registered his quick footsteps, the man using his firm grip to tilt your head back where you were greeted with the sight of him staring you down.

“Drop the attitude. If I have to put up with you, you have to put up with him. So fix your damn face and be nice.” He told you sternly and in a hushed tone before releasing his grip and allowing your face to drop, the strain on your neck easing itself out. You bit the inside of your cheek, trying to ignore the way his words stung in the slightest of ways. You could hear his heavy steps following their path back to the front door, the alarm system chiming and hinges creaking as he opened the door. “And I’m serious, go put some pants on.” Was all he said before you heard the slam of the front door.

NOT EVEN THIRTY MINUTES HAD PASSED SINCE RAFE LEFT. You’d resistantly done as he said, going into his bedroom and finding a pair of shorts you’d left here and tugging them on, despite them being swallowed by his shirt anyway, barely able to tell you were wearing them.

You were on the sofa again, laying on your back as you scrolled through your phone when suddenly, you heard the lock on the front door being twisted, mechanisms clanking against each other and echoing out in the expanse of the room. Head twisting towards the noise, a stream of sunlight welcomed itself in as Topper walked into the home, carefully closing the door behind himself. 

Turning around, he was visibly startled by your face peeking above the back of the couch. “Oh, hey.” He breathed out, realizing it was just you. “I forgot Rafe said you’d be here, too." He spoke absentmindedly. "Where is he, by the way?” He questioned, walking around to stand in front of your outstretched frame.

You politely slid your feet off of the length of the furniture, clearing a space for him to sit next to you. You were both on two opposite ends of the couch and you didn’t miss the way he eyed the length of your exposed legs, tongue coming out to lick the corner of his mouth. 

“He had to do something, said he’d be back soon.” You responded back, mainly giving your attention to your phone as you leaned against the arm of the couch and tried not to look at him. It was mildly awkward in the space — seeing as you’d only ever really interacted with Topper when your boyfriend was around and now that it was just you two, there was a tension that clouded the room. Rafe always served as an icebreaker and he wasn't here to break the ice.

Topper hummed in response. Eventually, you turned off your phone, diverting your attention to the TV and that was when you noticed it — Topper’s eyes fleeting to you every couple of seconds in your peripheral. Your legs were curled up underneath you and his eyes roamed your figure, up and down with little shame. This went on for a couple minutes until he spoke up.

“When did you say Rafe would be back again?”

Your wide eyes drifted to the blonde on the far end of the couch, nervously going between him and the program that was playing low in the background. “Oh, um, I didn’t. But he should be back soon.” 

Only then did you notice Rafe had been gone for a fair amount of time. But it wasn’t anything new. Knowing him he could be back within the next five minutes or five hours, not a care in the world that you were stuck in the house with his best friend who wouldn't stop staring at you. Was there something on on your shirt? Did he want to say something?

“You know, he might be helping his dad. I heard something happened to one of the construction sites. A roof collapsed or something.” He told you, sitting up straighter. “...That could take a while.”

“Oh.” You said apprehensively. “If that’s the case then yeah, he might be a while. I can go to his room so you can have this space to yourself-”

“No, no,” Topper interrupted, dragging himself closer to you across the couch, now only inches away. Your back ached as you pressed yourself against the armrest, his sudden close proximity startling you. “I don't mind. We can keep each other company.” He spoke lowly, eyes boring into yours. One of his hands came up to caress your thigh, his fingers gliding across the flesh as your heart thumped in your chest. You didn't feel comfortable with that.

“It’s just that, I’ve been having a really hard time getting my mind off of Sarah, y’know? I could use the company.” 

“I heard about that…” You mumbled.

The boy scoffed. “The whole island has. She really embarrassed me and it’s just been hard trying to act like I’m okay.” His eyes were on your lips now, eyeing them as he spoke. “But I think you could help distract me…”

You suddenly felt uneasy but also somewhat bad for him. As much as she had the rights to, Sarah had embarrassed Topper to quite the extreme. Not only did she dump him, but she was now dating a pogue who demeaned him at every given chance. It was a rivalry, of course. So, you couldn’t imagine his anger.

“Distract you…how?” Was the first thing that rolled off your tongue, the hand that was kneading your thigh coming up to gently grab your wrist. 

“You could start by solving the problem you’ve created,” He said enigmatically, dragging your limp palm to rest against the crotch of his pants where you could feel a prominent erection poking through the fabric. The action set off alarm bells in your mind, quickly tugging your hand away and pushing yourself further up the couch.

Shaking your head side to side, you spoke a mile a minute. “I think I gave you the wrong idea. I didn't- I don’t think Rafe would be okay with this-”

“He is.” Topper blurted, cheeks turning red.

“...He is?”

“He would be. I’m his best friend, right? You gotta trust me, I know him better than anyone. Plus, he would be proud of you for helping out his friend. I know he would.” The boy explained. 

Topper wasn’t a fool but he knew that you could be. Not a fool necessarily...gullible would be a better phrase. To some people, you seemed bimbo-ish — a pretty face with not a clear thought behind your eyes. He always thought that was why it was so easy for Rafe to walk you the way he did. Rafe had you wrapped around his finger and there was no doubt that he loved you, though it may not always seem evident. 

Topper had always thought you were desirable and secretly admired the way you absentmindedly submitted to Rafe without hesitation, he didn’t know whether it was out of fear or love, or both. All he knew was that look that you got in your eyes whenever Rafe was around, that pleading, doe-eyed look you sported in the presence of your boyfriend was something he’d wanted to see up close and personal for a long time now. You were a craving, a sexual fantasy that Topper could never have. Not until now, anyway.

And if he had to spew a couple little white lies to get you to spread your legs, then he was going to do whatever it took. And Rafe would never have to know. Because he wanted you more than he feared Rafe.

“You really think so?” You questioned the validity of Topper’s claims, the only thing on your mind was the reward you’d possibly receive for helping your boyfriend’s best friend feel just a little bit better in the face of heartbreak.

“I know so. In fact, Rafe...actually suggested it.”

That statement made your gut twist. You didn’t know why, but it just did. It didn't sound like something Rafe would do, but Topper said he knew Rafe better than anyone. You guessed that included you.

“Well, if it’s okay with him then…”

The blonde smiled at this, his hands moving your waist and prying your frame off of the edge of the couch, practically yanking you into his lap. His blue eyes running between your pupils and your lips before he crashed his mouth against yours, wasting no time in slipping his tongue between them. You yelped into the exchange, the frantic neediness of it all catching you off guard.

You maneuvered your legs into a more comfortable position, now straddling his lap as his boner pressed directly against your core through the thin fabric of your shorts. You didn’t know how to respond to any of this — he was so much different from Rafe. You were used to the way Rafe loved you — the firmness in the way he kissed you, the small grunts he would let out in between each one, how he would eventually trail his kisses down the valley of your neck, the valley of your breasts, down your stomach.

Why didn’t he give Topper any kind of pointers when he suggested this? Probably because this is more for Topper than it is for you, you thought. This wasn’t for you at all, actually. You were a distraction. Or so you’d been told.

His tongue roamed the inside of your mouth, the warm muscle circling as it waited for your own to do the same. You tried to focus on pressing your lips against his with the same pressure, but you could never seem to catch whatever wavelength he was on. Eventually, he pulled back, his lips red, wet, and swollen. 

Your eyes tried to catch his but they were laser focused on your collarbone that was peeking out above Rafe’s shirt. His hands balled into fists, balling up the fabric that you wore into them and pulling it over your head and dropping the garment to the floor, leaving the ‘v’ of your breast exposed to him. The bra you had on pushing them up, making them look plump. You didn’t miss how Topper bit his lip as one of his hands came up to fondle one of the rounds of flesh, his hips bucking up into you as he did so. 

His hands circled your back, coming into contact with the clasp of your bra, ready to undo the item and let it fall until he seemingly decided against it, mumbling something about not wanting to make too much of a mess.

He was much more silent than Rafe. Rafe was not one to keep quiet during intimacy, always groaning, or swearing, and whispering something so dirty into your ear that you couldn’t help but moan out loud, arching into him.

The boy stood up with you on his lap, holding you up by your behind as to not drop you. With you in his arms, he turned as he stood up, gently laying you on the couch on your back. He wasted little time in dragging your shorts and underwear down your legs together, leaving you exposed and on display for him, a cool breeze passing between your legs.

“Shit…” Topper cursed under his breath as his eyes were glued to your dripping core. You were slightly confused when his hands immediately went to the button on his pants, undoing the closure and shoving the clothing down his legs, the fabric pooling around one of his ankles as he didn’t even bother to completely remove them.

He propped one leg up on the couch, the other planted on the floor as he pulled you closer by the hips. Using one of his hands, he guided the tip of his cock that was leaking with precum to your entrance. He teased himself before actually pushing it in, rubbing the head of it against the wetness that was dripping from you and onto the sofa, surely leaving a wet patch beneath you. Gliding it up and down, stopping to circle your clit before eventually pushing into you.

You let out a soft gasp, feeling a slight throb of pain as he stretched you out. You watched the boy carefully above you, one of his hands now outstretched as it gripped onto the armrest behind your head, eyes rolling back as his hips stuttered when his dick hit your cervix.

The intrusion didn’t feel bad but it didn’t feel great either. You didn’t know if it was because this was a foreign thing or because he just wasn’t Rafe.

“You have no idea how long I’ve waited to get you like this…” He muttered, almost mindlessly, under his breath. Eyes clouded over with pleasure as he drew his hips back slowly, only to push back in at an equally slow pace.

The statement threw you, prompting you to question his real motives but Topper was a genuine person, right? And he wouldn’t lie to you for no reason, especially not for his own gain…

Right?

He told you that you were just helping him take his mind off of Sarah, that this wasn’t wrong. So, you were taking his word for it. More than his word, actually. Topper wasn’t just Rafe’s friend, he was yours too, wasn’t he?

Topper’s slow pace wasn’t something you were fond of, you quickly realized. Your orgasm not even beginning to build but you kept quiet. This was to help him, not you. He was breaking out into a light sweat despite his slow momentum, biting harshly into his lips concealing any noise he may have made, veins protruding from his biceps as his grip on the headrest grew deathly.

It wasn’t long before he came, not bothering to pull out as he did so, letting his seed fill you up, some of it hitting the inside of your thighs as he pulled out. When he seemed to have emptied himself out, he barely acknowledged you as he retreated away, standing fully from the furniture as he shuffled his pants back up his legs. 

His breathing was shallow and his face was flushed, he didn’t even bother to clasp the button on his pants back together before he was making his way down the hall, presumably to the guest bathroom to get himself together.

You steadied your own breaths, labored from the unfamiliar experience rather than exhaustion or pleasure. Carefully, you sat up straight on the couch, shimmying your panties and shorts back onto both of your legs and dragging them back up to your waist, trying to ignore the way the fabric smeared his cum against your thighs. Topper’s secretion was still dripping out of you, making the fabric against your center uncomfortable — hot, sticky, and scratchy.

Fishing around on the floor, you retrieve Rafe’s shirt that had been abandoned in the beginning, slipping the loose fabric back over the length of your body.

Assuming Topper had gotten what he needed and your job here was done, you headed upstairs, prepared to shower in Rafe’s room.

You tried to ignore that feeling in your gut that had been bubbling since Topper put his hand on your thigh. You just couldn’t put your finger on why you felt so bad about doing a good thing.

BY THE TIME RAFE HAD RETURNED, TWO HOURS HAD PASSED. You’d cleaned yourself up, just throwing on another one of Rafe’s old graphic tees and a pair of sweatpants. When you’d returned downstairs after your shower, Topper was sitting comfortably on the piece of furniture as if nothing had happened. However, when you went to sit down, he’d tried to beckon you over to lay under his arm. You’d politely declined. 

So, you both sat in silence once again. Topper put on a movie to watch while you went right back to scrolling on your phone, getting a text from Rafe about an hour into the movie that he was on his way back.

When he’d finally gotten back, you couldn’t ignore the way it felt like a weight was lifted off of your chest, shooting your boyfriend a giddy smile as he shut the door behind him.

“Rafe!” You practically cheered, hopping off of the couch and skipping over to where he was kicking his shoes off at the door. 

“Hey, I’m sorry that took so long…” He apologized mindlessly, eyes finally landing on you. “I’m glad you’re in a better mood.” He spoke, squinting his eyes with mild suspicion. His gaze drifted to Topper’s figure draped over the far end of the couch, jutting his head in his direction in greeting. “‘Sup, Top.”

“What’s good?” Topper replied nervously, not even able to maintain full eye contact with his friend. Rafe found it weird, making a face of confusion before ultimately letting it go. His eyes shifted back to where you stood in front of him, winding his arms around your waist, similar to how Topper had just hours ago.

Only Rafe’s touch was familiar — more comforting. The dirty blonde leaned down to press his lips against yours, kissing you lovingly for a few moments before pulling back as his eyes looked you up and down. His hands never left your waist as he walked you backwards towards the sofa. “Did you change?”

You glanced down at yourself, forgetting that you probably looked different than you did when he walked out of the door hours ago. You opened your mouth to reply honestly. You didn’t think what had gone down between you and Topper was some top-notch secret. After all, he said Rafe had suggested it. “Um, yeah. I just wanted to clean myself up after helping Topper out.”

Rafe’s face twisted at the statement. It’s not like it was an odd thing but he just had no idea what had happened while he was gone. “What happened?”

Now it was your face that was twisting, confused at his words. You opened your mouth to reply before Topper beat you to it, neck craned dangerously over the back of the couch as he spoke. “Oh, it was nothing, man. She was just being nice and getting me something to drink and spilled it on herself.”

Rafe seemed to take the answer at face value, not pressing any further as he guided you both to sit on the couch before he stopped in his tracks, hands letting go off you to rub at a dark spot on the fabric of the furniture that wasn’t there before he left. 

“Did you spill whatever it was on the couch?” He questioned irritatedly, rubbing and scratching that patch that wouldn’t budge. 

Neither you nor Topper responded as Rafe huffed, making his way towards the kitchen to retrieve something to try and scrub the stain out before Rose, the clean-freak she was, got on him about it. Standing over the sink however, he took notice of something — there were no glasses in the sink. In fact, the kitchen looked untouched from when it had been cleaned yesterday.

If you’d gotten Topper something to drink, where’d you pour it? Into the palm of his hands?

Rafe’s gaze rose to look at the blonde who was lounging on his couch and he’d looked up just in time to see his best friend’s gaze trail up the length of your frame hungrily. 

The action made a thought appear in his mind, a crazy thought. Rafe wasn’t as naive as you, he saw the way his friends looked at you and heard the way they tried to speak to you when they thought he couldn’t hear. He didn’t expect any of them to act on their whims unless they intended to lose their lives.

He hadn’t even noticed your presence beside him until he felt your fingers on the skin of his shoulder through his shirt, shifting his gaze towards you who was peering up at him. 

“Are you okay?”

The man’s eyes narrowed at you in the slightest, moving so that your faces were inches apart and he spoke in a hushed tone.

“The fuck did you do?” He questioned, tone short and mean. The look in his eyes had you scared and confused.

“I didn’t do anything.”

“Don’t lie to me.”

“I’m not-”

“So, nothing happened while I was gone?”

Your next response wasn’t as quick, mouth opening for a few seconds, eye fleeting between the two blondes before you answered. “All I did was help Topper out because he was sad about Sarah. He said you’d be okay with it, that you’d suggested it even-”

“Suggested wh- what the fuck are you talking about?” Rafe’s face was twisted, tone scolding as if he was upset with a child.

“I don’t know, he just started touching me and saying all this stuff-”

You were cut off when the irritated blonde grabbed you by the arms, slightly shaking you. “Tell me what happened.” He spoke menacingly. “All of it.”

You tripped over your words before you got them out, the blonde boy on the couch paying no attention to you and Rafe as you explained how he’d coerced you into sex only hours before Rafe came back. Rafe listened intently as you told him about his best friend came into his house, sat on his couch, and fucked his girlfriend. And he couldn’t believe that he was still breathing. Couldn’t believe that he sat, laid back on his couch like nothing had happened.

Topper was always telling Rafe how you were just a pretty face and had nothing going on up top. Rafe usually told him off, not allowing him to demean you. He’d never thought his words had any deeper meaning.

“...And I showered after. Rafe, I didn’t think-”

“Yeah, you never think. That’s your problem.” He snapped under his breath, snatching himself away from you.

He knew you weren’t the brightest when it came to reading people. You weren’t an idiot or anything. You did well in school, you were academically gifted. But for some reason, when it came to socializing, you just weren’t there. You never caught on to sarcastic jokes, you didn’t know when people were flirting with you or using you. You were oblivious in that sense.

So when he looked back to see you with your head lowered, looking more shameful and upset than he’d ever seen you, he couldn’t help but sigh, using one hand to pull your head into his chest.

“I didn’t mean that, okay? It’s not your fault.” He felt your arms wind around his waist as your face buried into his shirt.

“I didn’t know. It felt wrong but he said you were okay with it. I’m sorry, I’m really sorry-”

“Shh, stop. I know, I know,” He cooed, pressing his lips to the top of your head. “Why don’t you go upstairs? Hm?” He pulled back, looking into your tearful eyes as you nodded, releasing your hold on one another before you made your way up the staircase, sparing a solemn look to Rafe before you disappeared.

Rafe eyed Topper who looked like he was struggling to ignore Rafe’s gaze burning into the side of his head. He didn’t know if he’d heard any part of your conversation but he could tell that the boy looked tense.

“Yo, Top?” Rafe called, back now turned as he inspected the kitchenware, eyes landing on the knife block before pulling out the chef’s knife. The object was swinging at his side as he turned back to face his friend. 

“Yeah?” He replied, letting his gaze find the man standing in the kitchen. Topper looked nervous, a bead of sweat on his hairline.

“I hope it was worth it.” He snapped at him. "'Cause I'm going to fucking kill you."

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©loveharlow

[bl3upi3]

A Night to Remember | Monkey D. Luffy

Part 2

Summary: In the midst of a disaster at sea, your crew encounters the Straw Hat Pirates led by Monkey D. Luffy. After initial skepticism, you accept their help, and amidst the chaos, a deep connection forms between you and Luffy. The night brings passion, revealing mutual feelings.

Warnings: 18+ Minors DNI. Smut, p in v unprotected (I'm bad with warnings)

A/N: This is straight out of my imagination. I just watched the live action and am thinking of starting the anime so yes, this work is a messy mix of anything and everything. English is not my first language so I'm sorry if there are any mistakes. I tried not to change Luffy's personality as much as I could. (My requests are open if wanted)

As you and your crew sailed through the unpredictable waters of the Grand Line, the tranquility of the day shattered in an instant. A violent collision rocked the sturdy vessel as it struck an unyielding underwater rock, tearing through the boat's hull with a heart-wrenching screech of rending wood. The impact sent shockwaves of fear rippling through your crew, their faces etched with stark dread as they grasped the gravity of the situation.

Chaos ensued as you scrambled to assess the extent of the damage, your hands slick with seawater as you desperately tried to gauge the severity of the breach. Panic gnawed at your senses, every second feeling like an eternity, and uncertainty hung heavy in the salt-tinged air.

As if orchestrated by the very elements themselves, a thick and disorienting fog descended upon you with an eerie swiftness, obscuring your vision and muffling any sounds beyond the boat. It was as though the elements had conspired to further complicate your dire predicament, isolating your vessel in an unsettling cloak of obscurity.

Your heart pounded within your chest as the realization settled in—the lives of your crew hinged upon your quick thinking and resourcefulness. Yet, amidst the silence of the disaster, a creaking sound pierced the air. You yielded your place to a member of your crew to investigate the source of the noise.

As you strained your eyes to peer through the dense fog, a white boat with a sheep-shaped figurehead slowly materialized before you. Your gaze instinctively rose to the flag fluttering from its mast—a skull-headed emblem adorned with a distinctive straw hat—a flag of pirates.

"Hey there! It looks like you could use some help," a figure standing on the edge of the approaching vessel called out.

"Who are you?" you inquired, squinting in an attempt to discern the identity of the mysterious individual.

"I'm Monkey D. Luffy, the captain of the Straw Hat Pirates! The fog swallowed us up, and we stumbled upon your beleaguered vessel, which doesn't seem to be in the best shape," he cheerfully replied.

You and your crew exchanged glances, unsure of how to react to this unexpected turn of events.

With a cautious tone, you responded, "I appreciate your offer, Monkey D. Luffy, but we can't be too careful out here. We've just suffered a terrible collision, and our ship is badly damaged. How can we trust that your intentions are genuine?"

Luffy grinned widely, his boundless energy seemingly undeterred by your skepticism. "I get it; you're being cautious. That's a good trait to have out here. But you've got my word. We're not here to harm you. We're pirates, yeah, but we're not the bad guys!"

As he spoke, Luffy's crew members began to emerge from the fog, appearing on the deck of their ship one by one. Each of them had a distinct look and demeanor, but there was something about them that suggested they were not the typical ruthless pirates one might encounter.

One of Luffy's crewmates, a man with green hair added, "We're just passing through these waters, and we've had our fair share of adventures. We know what it's like to be in a tight spot. We're offering our help because it's the right thing to do."

You considered their words and looked at your own crew. They were still on edge, but the desperation of your situation was evident. Your ship was taking on water faster than you could bail it out, and the fog showed no signs of dissipating. It was a perilous situation, and you needed all the help you could get.

After a moment of deliberation, you turned back to Luffy and said, "Alright, we'll accept your offer of help. But know this, if there's any treachery or harm intended for my crew, we won't hesitate to defend ourselves."

Luffy's face lit up with excitement "Deal! You won't regret it! We'll get your ship fixed up in no time!"

A wooden plank was placed between the two boats, allowing you and your crew to board the white vessel. Luffy spoke with enthusiasm, "Welcome to the Going Merry," offering his hand for you to shake.

You looked around at his small crew, taking note of each member. However, you didn't shake Luffy's hand just yet. Instead, your gaze settled on his comrades. Luffy followed your gaze and introduced them, "This is Roronoa Zoro," pointing to the green-haired guy who had spoken earlier, "This is Nami, Usopp, and Sanji," revealing the rest of his crew whom you hadn't seen yet.

"I hope you're hungry," the blond-haired Sanji said with a smile, "I've prepared a meal fit for thousands."

As your crew members cautiously stepped onto the Going Merry, they exchanged wary glances, still unsure about this unexpected alliance. But the warm smiles and genuine hospitality displayed by Luffy's crew began to put them at ease, albeit slowly.

You finally shook Luffy's hand, sealing the agreement. "Thank you for coming to our aid, Monkey D. Luffy. We appreciate your help, and we'll do our part to assist as well."

“You can call me Luffy” he smiled

"Thank you, Luffy," you replied with a nod. "I'm y/n, the captain of this crew. We're in your debt."

With introductions made and a mutual understanding established, the two crews set to work. Your crew members, alongside Luffy's crew, began assessing the extent of the damage to your ship, while Luffy himself seemed to be filled with boundless energy as he led the charge, making plans and offering assistance wherever needed.

As the day wore on and repairs were underway, you couldn't help but notice the camaraderie among the Straw Hat Pirates. They worked seamlessly together, each member contributing their unique skills to the task at hand. It was evident that they were a tight-knit crew, bound not just by their captain's leadership but by a genuine sense of friendship.

Nami, the crew's navigator, approached you as you oversaw the repairs. "You're lucky we happened upon you," she said with a sly grin. "The Grand Line can be unforgiving to those who sail it unprepared. But don't worry, with our help, you'll be back on your way in no time."

Usopp, the sharpshooter of the crew, chimed in, "And if you ever run into any trouble out here again, just give us a shout. We've got your back."

Sanji, the crew's cook, began preparing a feast for both crews to enjoy together. The aroma of his cooking filled the air, and your crew members couldn't help but be drawn to the delicious scent. It was a welcome respite from the earlier chaos and fear.

As evening fell, and the repairs to your ship neared completion, you gathered with Luffy and his crew around a makeshift table on the deck of the Going Merry. Plates of food were passed around, and laughter filled the air as stories were shared.

It felt so peaceful and normal—it wasn't often that you found yourself enjoying such casual conversation with strangers.

"So, where are you headed next?" Nami asked as she took a sip from her cup of sake.

You shrugged, briefly glancing at your crewmates before responding, "I haven't made up my mind just yet."

Luffy leaned back in his seat, his signature straw hat tilted low over his eyes. "You know, y/n, the Grand Line is full of adventures waiting to happen. We're always looking for new crewmates and allies. You and your crew seem like good people. Ever thought about joining us on the ultimate adventure?"

Your crew members exchanged surprised glances at Luffy's proposition. It was a tempting offer, to say the least. The idea of joining the Straw Hat Pirates and exploring the Grand Line with them was exhilarating, but you knew you couldn't make such a decision on a whim.

You chuckled, trying to defuse the sudden tension in the air. "Well, Luffy, that's a tempting offer, but we've got our own dreams and goals. Maybe our paths will cross again in the future."

Amid the ongoing dinner festivities, you couldn't help but become engrossed in the lively conversation with Nami. It was a refreshing change to find yourself in the company of another woman after what felt like an eternity. You shared an unspoken connection, a bond that went beyond words, stemming from the shared experience of being the sole females in your respective crews. It was as if you both understood the unique challenges and dynamics that came with that role.

Your discussions with Nami ranged from the practicalities of navigation and mapmaking to the more personal aspects of life at sea. You exchanged stories of your adventures, your dreams, and the occasional frustrations that came with your responsibilities. Nami's wisdom and wit resonated with you, and it was clear that you were kindred spirits in many ways.

However, despite your best efforts to focus solely on your conversation with Nami, you felt a steady gaze on the side of your face—Luffy's eyes never left you. He remained leaned back in his chair, contentedly eating and drinking, seemingly absorbed in your every word.

The dinner eventually came to an end, and the crew members of both vessels retreated to their respective quarters for some much-needed rest. You returned to your boat, grateful for the repairs and hospitality of the Straw Hat Pirates.

As you lay in your cabin, trying to find sleep amidst the creaking of the ship and the gentle rocking of the waves, you couldn't help but think about Luffy's offer. The allure of joining his crew and embarking on the ultimate adventure was tantalizing, but your responsibilities as a captain weighed heavily on your mind.

Unable to sleep, you decided to take a walk on the deck of your ship to clear your thoughts. The night was calm, the stars glittering above, and the moon casting a silvery glow over the water.

After your contemplative walk on the deck, you noticed a faint light coming from one of the rooms on Luffy's ship, the Going Merry.

Curiosity got the better of you, and you decided to investigate. The door to the room was slightly ajar, and you could see a warm glow emanating from within.

As you entered the room, you were met with an unexpected sight. Luffy was sitting there,his face illuminated by the soft glow of the lamp atop his desk. His head was resting against the table as he continued to write something down on his notepad.

You cleared your throat, breaking the silence that had engulfed the room

Luffy looked up, his wide grin returning as he noticed your presence. "Hey there, y/n," he greeted, his tone friendly and inviting. "Couldn't sleep either, huh?"

You nodded, stepping further into the room. "Yeah, I wanted to thank you for everything you did today”

Luffy gestured for you to take a seat opposite him, and you obliged, settling into a chair. The room was cozy, filled with maps, navigational tools, and scattered notes that attested to the adventures this crew had undertaken.

"No need to thank me," Luffy said with a shrug. "Helping out is what we do. Besides, it's been fun having your crew around." He then dropped his voice into a whisper having a more serious tone “I appreciated having you around,  y/n."

As you stared into his eyes, you noticed  something in his expression that caught you off guard. His eyes… they were different. In a way, they were filled with longing and desire. 

"Luffy…" you muttered softly, unable to tear your gaze away from the intensity of his eyes. "What's going on? Why are you looking at me that way?"

Luffy sighed deeply getting up of his chair, he walked over to the small window in the room, gazing out at the starry night. For a moment, he seemed lost in thought, as if contemplating how to put his feelings into words. Then, he turned back to face you, his usual carefree demeanor giving way to a more serious expression.

"Y/n," he began, "I don't know how to say this the right way, but I can't help how I feel. Ever since we met today, there's been something about you that's drawn me in. I've traveled to countless islands, faced dangerous foes, and encountered all sorts of people, but meeting you felt different. It's like... like I've found something I didn't even know I was searching for."

His confession left you breathless, your heart racing in your chest. This revelation took you by surprise, especially considering it came so soon after your initial meeting. 

You, too, stood up and approached him, "Luffy," you began, your voice soft but filled with warmth, "I can't deny that there's something special about you. But we both know we will never see each other again”

Luffy nodded, his gaze unwavering. "I know that, y/n. But I've always followed my heart, and my heart tells me that you're special. I don't want to let this opportunity slip away without trying." 

As he leaned closer, his eyes locked onto yours,  his hand reaching forward to cradle your cheek in his palm. Your breathing grew shallow, your pulse quickening, as he brought his lips closer to yours.

Before you knew it, his lips were gently pressing against yours, sending tingles throughout your entire body.  A feeling of euphoria overcame you, and your eyes widened as you realized that what you'd felt was real. The kiss lasted longer than you expected, and when you finally pulled back, your heart was pounding so hard inside your chest.

Luffy smiled brightly, "This was a first time for me, y'know?"  

A blush spread across your cheeks as you laughed lightly in response. "Well, then don't stop" you whispered.

He instently crashed his lips on yours again, this time angrier and hungrier. His hands wandered from your waist to your hips, pulling you impossibly close to him until you felt as if you were melting in his embrace. His kiss deepened,  his tongue dancing with yours as you wrapped your arms around his neck.

There's no need to hold back now, you told yourself. You felt his warm hands caressing your skin, making heat pool between your thighs.

Your hand instinctively reached to remove his hat, but he stopped you, his hand gently grasping your wrist. He paused to look into your eyes for a few heartbeats before releasing you and carefully placing his hat atop your head.

As Luffy's hat settled atop your head, you couldn't help but feel a rush of emotions. It was a symbol of trust, a connection that transcended words, and a promise of something more. You gazed into Luffy's eyes  again, still flushed red with passion and arousal.

"Can I be honest with you?" you asked, your hands still resting on his shoulders.

Luffy hesitated for a second before giving a quick nod in return. "Of course", he replied.

You leaned in, brushing your lips against his again " You're a good kisser" you whispered against his lips. 

His lips curled into a slight smirk as he responded "Thanks".You closed your eyes as his lips trailed down to your jawline, leaving soft kisses along the way. His lips traced down your neck, slowly kissing your collarbone.  Your breathing increased, your mind becoming clouded with lust and desire. As your fingers ran through his hair, you felt him smile against your skin. Luffy's warm breath brushed against your ear as he spoke. "Do you want to have sex?" he asked.

His question surprised you, your mind taking a couple seconds to process the request. After all, this wasn't something you usually discussed with anyone. "Umm, I'm sorry. What?" you stuttered.

Luffy chuckled "Don't worry. There's nothing wrong with saying no if you don't want to."

You shook your head in disbelief. “It’s just…” you began, a frown forming on your face as you tried to gather your thoughts. “Are you sure? Do you really want to?” you asked quietly.

Luffy's smile grew wider as he leaned in, bringing his face closer to yours once again. “Yes, I'm sure.”

Your eyes darted to his lips, which were inches away from your own, hesitating for a moment before you moved forward. With your lips barely touching his, you whispered "Then yes..." 

Luffy grinned as he kissed you, his hands slid from your waist to behind your thighs, lifting you off the ground as your legs encircled around his waist. His mouth moved hungrily against yours as he got to his knees, the wood  creaking beneath his weight causing you to moan when you felt his hardness press against you through his pants. 

Your breath hitched in your throat when he began to move his hips slowly, eliciting a gasp from you as you pressed your pelvis against his crotch, feeling his erection harden in response. You moaned louder as you felt him grind his hips forward.

"You'll have to be quiet, everyone's asleep downstairs" Luffy whispered into your ear, moving one of his hands to cup your breast. 

The sound of his voice sent shivers down your spine, your body heating up as his hand moved to the hem of your shirt, removing it and throwing it to the side. You hurried to undo the buttons on his vest, letting it fall to the floor with yours. 

You slide off of him, your heart skipped a beat when he reached down and started unbuttoning his trousers,  pulling them off and tossing them aside. Your gaze drifted lower, noticing his bulge pushing against his black boxers. When you heard him groan, you glanced up at him, seeing his eyes darken in anticipation.

You took off your shorts and underwear, allowing them to fall to the ground next to his clothes. As you crawled towards him and lowered yourself onto his lap once again, he held you tightly, bringing you so close to him that you could feel his beating heart pulsating against your breasts.

"Oh God!" Luffy gasped, his teeth grinding together as he gripped you tighter, grinding you against him. You reached between your bodies, slipping your fingers into his boxer briefs, rubbing them lightly against his length. He let out a low grunt, his hips bucking upwards as you continued teasing his shaft with your touch.

You set him free from the cloth that separates you, and positioning his member against your entrance,  you pushed yourself slowly down onto him, feeling him tense as he entered you completely.

He grunted loudly, his hands clutching tightly onto your thighs as he thrust himself into you, the sensation of being filled filling you with joy. 

Luffy leaned forward, capturing your lips once again in another passionate kiss, his tongue tangling into your mouth. His hand traveled downwards, stopping above your clit as he slowly stroked it. As he did so, you moaned softly into his mouth, your whole body shaking.

"Fuck! Y/n," he gritted out.

"I thought you told me we had to be quiet" you teased, your voice breathy.

Luffy smirked as he rolled his eyes, shifting you slightly on top of him to allow you to continue to ride him.  Your hips thrust upward and downward, faster and faster until you reached an orgasm. Luffy placed his hand on your mouth as you rode your high, his face scrunched up in pure pleasure.

The moment passed, and you sat yourself up, looking down at him, "Sorry" you giggled. "I guess I kind of lost track of myself."

He snorted, "You mean lost track of my dick" he joked.

You laughed softly while playfully hitting his arm, "Yeah well, maybe I got carried away... or perhaps a little bit too excited."

Luffy shrugged, "Maybe a bit, but we're not going to talk about those kinds of things right now. We're both naked and horny, remember?"

"Mhmmm" you hummed as you grabbed him and laid on your back, pulling him atop of you . He gently took the hat off you and set it down somewhere to the left of where your discarded clothes lay.  He then proceeded to take control once again, pushing his cock deeper into you. Your breathing grew rapid, your eyes closed as you relished in the feeling.

Luffy began thrusting rapidly within you, his eyes staring deeply into yours. In response, you grasped onto  his back as your nails lightly dug into his skin.  Sweat dripped from your brow, and your legs quickly wrapped around his waist, pulling him ever further into you until there wasn't an inch of room between you two.

Luffy looked down at you as his thrusts slowed, watching as your chest rose and fell rapidly as you panted lightly.

 He gave you one last loving peck on the lips before returning his attention to his own actions. He pulled out slightly only to slam back in just as hard. Your back arched, causing you to moan loudly as he drove deeper into you. He buried his face in your neck, his teeth grazing the delicate flesh as you cried out with ecstasy.

Luffy's movements became frenzied as his climax overtook him, he withdraws himself from you before his semen spilled onto your stomach. A gasped escaped your lips as you felt his seed drip onto you.

The two of you fell silent, your eyes locked on each other, your chests rising and falling as you caught your breaths.

"Fuck, I thought it was your first time" you said between heavy breathes as you took a nearby tissue to clean you off

Luffy smiled, laying  down beside you "It is" he said out of breath looking at you with lustful eyes.

You gave him a soft smile,  your fingers running through his messy locks as he closed his eyes and sighed in content. 

The night, filled with passion and tenderness, eventually yielded to the creeping light of dawn. Gently, you stirred from the warmth of Luffy's embrace, feeling a pang of bittersweet nostalgia as you reluctantly disentangled yourself.

With a sigh, you rose from the ground, limbs still tingling from the shared intimacy of the night before. The room held the faint fragrance of your encounter, a lingering reminder of the passion that had unfolded.

As you dressed and made yourself presentable, you couldn't help but steal glances at Luffy, who lay in peaceful slumber, his straw hat resting next to him.

The first rays of sunlight filtered through the small window, casting a gentle glow on the room.A sign that the time had come to part ways with the Straw Hat Pirates. Though the night had felt like a dream, reality beckoned, and your own ship awaited.

You bent down and pressed a soft kiss to his forehead, your heart heavy with unspoken emotions.

As you made your way towards the door, you turned back one last time, taking in the sight of the man who had turned your world upside down in just one night. With a whispered goodbye, you stepped out of the room, leaving behind the memories of an unforgettable encounter.

A/N: Hope you liked it, idk if I should make it a short fic or not. Anyways, don’t hesitate to give other ideas, my requests are open :)

[springsylph]

[mdni]

brain. is dry heaving. hnngh. victorian era reader as the lady of a house on the brink of ruin after a disastrous engagement between herself and a young lord. spreads a nasty rumor that you’ve got a hot temper—you’d do better as a mistress than a wife.

which is untrue, of course. you’ve been dreaming of your happy ending since your mouth had the strength to sound out the words. but new money tends to topple quickly these days, and your last shot at the salvation of your family line hinges on your success as a governess.

enter, kyle garrick. a widower of good repute. wealthy, too, but seldom seen in high society since the passing of his first wife.

by the time you reach the front gate of his sprawling manor, you’ve been turned away from just about every estate you’d managed to scribble down onto a piece of scrap paper. hardly from lack of qualification—no, the tendrils of your former fiancé merely stretch much farther and much wider than you’d anticipated.

which is why you’re a bit taken aback when you’re led to the drawing room with a smile and a slender hand pressed to the small of your back. it’s too good to be true when he takes one look at you before drawing up a contract. a little strange, but you’re hardly in a position to be picky.

when you inquire about your living quarters, the very idea of you living anywhere else seems to be an insult. he won’t have it, he won’t. you deserve the best money can buy.

the very thought makes you tear up. throat sticky, head tight, you thank him. over, and over, and over.

it’s only after the emotions subside that you think to ask about the age of your soon-to-be charge. you don’t recall seeing any nannies on your way in, and the hallways are strangely quiet.

you nearly faint when he tells you that if you’re in a rush, the two of you can resolve that issue now.

(next time, you’ll remember to read the fine print.)

[devilmademewriteit]

Drabble request for dbf!joel getting blown under the table or something while he's having a convo with reader's dad?!?! IDK I just love your dbf!joel!!

You Can Be the Boss

pairing: dbf!joel miller x fem!afab!reader

warnings: rough oral (m receiving); petnames (angel, baby, sweetheart); age gap; choking; hair pulling; (yall this is pure pure daddy issues FILTH, I warned you. I warned you hard).

Hi y’all ty for sending me all ur requests. ummm you guys are insane ! and so am I ! maybe more because I’m actually the one writing these ! this one is so dirty ! don’t say I didn’t warn you !

more to come hehehe. I don’t tag ppl for my smaller drabbles / fics so turn on notifs or whatevs ;)

-em<3

—

“As close as I’ll get to the darkness, he tells me to, ‘Shut up, I got this.’”

- You Can Be the Boss

—

It was still a secret, after all.

Sneaking into his apartment, late nights in alleys, abandoned cars lining the streets of the QZ… you’d managed to keep your joint intoxication with one another under wraps.

Today… today was risky. You usually waited until the wee hours of the morning to even walk by his place, let alone enter, but you’d needed to drop off a sweater that Tess had leant you the previous week, intending to leave it folded up on the doormat before bolting down the hall. Your footsteps were nervous and heavy, which led to the door swinging wide open on its hinges, a gruff “where you runnin’ off to, Angel?” and a set of rough hands pulling you through the doorway.

Then you were spread open against the tattered table cloth of his (busy) kitchen table, underwear shoved to the side, watching a hunched over Joel Fucking Miller spit on his hand and run it up down his heavy, hard length.

“Shouldn’t come here during the day,” as he’d lined himself up, “Can’t fuckin’ help myself.”

That’s when you heard the definite sound of a key twisting inside a lock. Joel’s head shot up — your eyes barely had time to widen before he was shoving you under the table, panties still twisted around your ankles.

A quick zip, then footsteps.

“Oh, sorry man—”

Oh, fuck. Fuck fuck fuck.

“—Tess said you wouldn’t be home.”

It’s your father.

You thank God for your his poor observation skills (and the tablecloth) as Joel responds, “ah, no worries,” frustratingly non-chalant as ever.

“While you’re here though,” and your heart sinks, identifying your dad’s intention to stay, “Was wondering if we could go over the plans for our new routes. FEDRA assholes blocked off another south-east one today.”

Your blood turns to ice inside your veins as both men pull out their chairs, settling into a purely-business conversation. Joel barely hesitates, cool as ice.

Not fair that he gets to be so calm while you’re so… not.

Not fair.

If only there was a way to even out the playing field.

Crunched into yourself, you scoot closer to Joel’s calves, clinging onto his denim and doing your best to make as little noise as possible. When it’s clear, however, that your father’s far too invested in the practicalities of the conversation to suspect or inquire into or even notice anything else, your eyes wander towards the slowly softening bulge, still visible underneath Joel’s belt.

And you get an idea.

The man always tortured you, and you were well aware that what made your arrangement especially enticing — for the both of you — was the taboo-ness, the wrongness of it all.

So your pussy drips just thinking about it.

Slowly, delicately, you slide your hands up Joel’s thighs, feeling his every muscle respond, tensing, turning to stone, or jolting with electricity beneath your playful touches.

It’s hard, quietly pulling down his fly. Still, metal tooth by metal tooth, you eventually succeed, unable to hold back a smile of vindication when his cock springs up, swelling and hardening between your fingertips. Joel covers his choke with a cough.

Just as you duck down to lick a fat stripe up his cock’s dark underside, noticing how the lungs above you constrict — freezing — the conversation changes.

“You been seeing a lot of my daughter?”

Joel takes an uncharacteristically long time to grunt out a “here n’ there.”

You hold in a laugh, both at your dad’s timely question and the reaction it causes. Placing a hand at the base of him, you consider this the perfect moment to start teasing his tip with patient, innocent little kitten-licks.

“Been acting weird,” your old man continues, unphased and unassuming, “Worried she’s been gettin’ herself into trouble.”

Trouble? You’re looking at him.

Your dad’s whole “fatherly concern” (not like he’d ever shown any before) angle makes you bold. You want to make it harder for Joel to deny your father’s suspicion.

You want to make him lie through his teeth.

You part your lips, wrapping them adoringly around the entire head of his cock before gliding down, using your hand to assist you as you please every inch of him.

While he mostly manages to keep it together, his legs don’t, gently parting with desire to allow you better access.

“She-she’s a good girl, man,” Joel manages, and while his delivery borders a groan, he stays surprisingly level (your body doesn’t forget to note his praise, either, aching cunt growing wetter and wetter at his every word). “‘Bit juvenile sometimes, and reckless—” he pauses, and it’s very clear he’s not speaking to your father, “—but good—” you work every inch of him with your hands, throat, and mouth, savouring the feel of his ridges and veins, the taste of his salt on your tastebuds, “—so good.”

You freeze, scanning the room for tension as both you and Joel try to figure out if his desire-stricken tone’s given you away.

It hasn’t.

Of course it hasn’t.

Your dad continues on as if everything were normal, as if Joel’s tip wasn’t kissing the back of your throat. “Just not sure if I’m raising her right—or… or if I was much of a father at all.”

Yeah, probably not. You know, given that I’m under the table sucking your best friend’s dick.

You watch, head still slowly bobbing up and down his length, a hand carving a careful path down his leg. Joel’s fingertips breach your shoulder, his palm slowly graduates to cupping the back of your head.

And he shoves you forward, forcing every punishing inch of himself down your little, gasping throat.

“Just needs a little discipline,” your torturer responds, raising his gravelly voice to mask the definite sound of choking.

“A heavy hand.”

You huff against his abdomen. Just like that, Joel’s taken the reins of your little operation.

Like he always did. Like he always does.

“You’re probably right,” your father responds, sighing with concession. Tears begin to well in the corners of your eyes while your lungs burn for oxygen, mouth stuffed and nose pressed into Joel’s skin. He chuckles, slapping the table. “Give ‘em an inch and they take a mile, huh?”

“That’s right,” Joel responds, a soft coo, tightening his grasp in your hair and somehow forcing more of himself between your lips.

Making his point.

You hold back a whimper, nails hopelessly clawing at his jeans.

Your dad raps his knuckles against the wood, pushing his chair back to leave. Unfortunately for you, Joel doesn’t move, holding you there like a prisoner — suffocating you.

He clears his throat. “I’d walk you out, but, you know—” your eyelids grow heavy, little stars beginning to dance in your vision “—been goin’ hard recently. Wearin’ myself out.”

A huff of understanding and concurrence from the other side of the room.

Eventually, after what seems like an eternity, hinges squeak, goodbyes are uttered, and your father’s left you alone with his buddy again.

Joel’s chair scrapes back — he pulls you along with him, attached to him, out from underneath the table.

Finally, finally, he releases his grasp.

You jump off of him, strings of saliva trailing from your lips, gasping for air as if you were seconds from drowning.

You aim to collapse against his knees, but he quickly grabs you by the throat, presses his big thumb under your chin, and forces your wet, tear-lined eyes up to meet his.

They’re filled with a lust so dark, you wonder if just that look might swallow you whole.

“Prouda yourself?” He speaks, voice low.

Dangerous.

And you just smile, dazed, nodding. Nodding because you know where it’ll get you. Nodding because you just know how much it’ll entice him.

“‘Course you are,” he continues, softer, “Shoulda been honest — shoulda told your old man he raised a fuckin’ slut.”

Joel lifts you up, indelicately shoving you down on the table, right back in the position you’d originally started the visit in.

His eyes darken to black when he sees how wet you are, how fucked-out, needy, and unapologetic you are.

“And you know what, baby?” A deceiving coo as he lines himself up at your entrance, using his other hand to squeeze your jaw — tight.

You look at him with big, begging doe eyes, eyebrows already knitting together from the tantalizing contact.

“I’m really fuckin’ glad he did.”

And as Joel Miller roughly sheathes his cock inside your young, tight cunt, you find yourself agreeing with him.

—

MASTERLIST

TAGLIST

AO3

[medra-gonbites]

A Modicum of Decorum

One shot chapter. Gale and Tav receive the unexpected visit of a guest. Tav is not inclined to let them in.

Pairing: Gale x Fem!Tav

SFW, Fluff, Comfort, Domestic Bliss

Words: 1830

The hinges whined as the door slowly opened, followed by a surprised shout and a subsequent violent slam.  “Is everything ok?” Gale inquired, tensing up and ready to run to his spouse’s side. “Hum… Yes.” She replied, a subtle hesitation in her voice. “Who was it?”  “Nobody!”  The bell chimed anew. Gale frowned and hurried downstairs to investigate. Tav was standing in front of the door. Tiptoeing, she was peering through the peephole and grumbling disapprovingly.  “My love, please talk to me.” With a resigned sigh, Tav moved away and, her hand on the doorknob, turned the handle and swung it open.

Read the rest on AO3 or under the cut

The smell of vanilla was hanging in the air. Seeping from the oven in which the muffins were steadily rising, the scent had flooded the kitchen, and had slowly but surely made its way up and down the spiral staircase. Soon the spicy aroma had engulfed the whole tower; it entered the library and reached Gale’s nose. 

His nostrils started flaring, taking in the fragrance. Despite his fierce focus, and the number of essays he still had to grade, he lifted his eyes from a relatively mediocre dissertation on illusory synesthesia, a paper which frankly was a pain to read as its author had no care for calligraphy. 

Gale rubbed his brow and took a long inhale of air, relishing in the fact his study now smelled like a bakery. His stomach growled. Nature’s call was as literal as can be; his hunger had won. He discarded his quill and headed for the kitchen.

Tav, had been a little bored after their return from their adventures and as a result had taken up many different hobbies to try and fill the emptiness of a sudden domestic life. Clay had not been her cup of tea, which she had tried to make and which would sadly always leak. There had been attempts at gardening but nothing conclusive besides many dead plants, and empty pots (which she had made also and which durability was questionable). 

Baking seems to be more up her alley; she was quite good at it. Gale did not complain, although he sometimes feared it would eventually impact his form. To prevent such a thing from happening, he would often share with his students. A clever way to bribe them into carrying their enrollment in his class semester after semester. As he watched the gleaming dough cook into a firm golden bun, he started salivating. He thought back to the last paper he had been reading. To think they were rewarding him with such undistinguished reports…  Maybe this batch he would keep for himself.

The doorbell rang. A sharp chime that had Gale startled, pulled away from the mesmerizing patisseries that were getting his whole attention. Tav’s voice raised from downstairs.

“I got it!”

The hinges whined as the door slowly opened, followed by a surprised shout and a subsequent violent slam. 

“Is everything ok?” Gale inquired, tensing up and ready to run to his spouse’s side.

“Hum… Yes.” She replied, a subtle hesitation in her voice.

“Who was it?” 

“Nobody!” 

The bell chimed anew. Gale frowned and hurried downstairs to investigate. Tav was standing in front of the door. Tiptoeing, she was peering through the peephole and grumbling disapprovingly. 

“My love, please talk to me.”

With a resigned sigh, Tav moved away and, her hand on the doorknob, turned the handle and swung it open. 

Before the entrance, a familiar silhouette stood, wrapped in a carmine and royal blue robe, a pointy hat covering a head full of white, long hair. A frown was creasing above a pair of sharp blue eyes.

“Gale, my boy!” Exclaimed Elminster upon seeing the wizard. 

As he moved forward in an attempt to enter, Tav stepped in front of the doorway, blocking it with her body.

“And Tav…” he sighed, his annoyance barely concealed on his face.

“Elminster! How nice of you to visit us!” Gale proclaimed.

“Pleasure…” Tav hissed. 

She stood crossed armed, firmly between the man and the tower. Gale placed a hand on her shoulder, a subtle request for her to move away. She did not budge. Knowing her, she would not.

“What brings you to our humble abode?” She resumed, without a smile.

“Why, I thought I would visit my dear old friend and hopefully catch up.” He addressed Gale directly, “I am sure you have many stories to tell; epic tales of your adventures and the feats you have achieved since your return.”

“He’s fine.” Tav snarled, “And by that I mean intact. Not blown to smithereens.”

Gale looked at Elminster. His mentor was uneasy, shifting from one foot to the other. He seemed not particularly happy with Tav’s comment but did not attempt to talk back as he knew she was not in the wrong to be mad. Gale would have been telling a lie had he claimed this wasn’t satisfying to witness. If he had forgiven Elminster and even Mystra, it was not the case for Tav. 

She was not mean or evil-spirited, but she could be extremely petty and she had great memory; a dreadful combination for anyone getting into an argument with her, as he had come to realize over time and at the occasion of some rare quarrels. 

He wanted to defuse the situation and he would eventually, but for the time being, it felt good to see her stand up for him and hold a confrontation he did not wish to have himself.

“Yes well… It seems to me that I have already apologized about this sorry passage in our history.”

“Try one more time. It does not hurt…”

Elminster’s gaze turned to Gale, looking for a helping hand. The young wizard shrugged, there was nothing he could do against his stubborn wife. This was the reality of things; even if he would want to he could not. It turns out he did not want to anyways, but that was a moot point. 

Out of Elminster’s sight, Gale’s hand subtly and gratefully grazed Tav’s waist, squeezing her hip. He wanted to wrap his arms around her and kiss her face all over. But he needed to keep an ounce of composure. Besides, he also needed to maintain the illusion that he disapproved of her treatment of his old mentor. Which he did. Slightly.

“Are you even real, wizard?” She asked, “Or is it another one of your elaborate puppets?”

She reached towards Elminster’s shoulder and pinched it as hard as she could. The mage yelped and jerked his arm back.

“Young lady! I will have you know that I could turn you into a toad with a flick of my wrist if I please!”

“Make it one of these venomous ones so I can take you out on a leap!” She retorted.

Now was the time to intervene, Gale thought. He gently squeezed passed her side and came to stand between her and the irritated mage at the door.

“Tav, show more decorum towards our guest !... Please.” Gale pleaded, laying a friendly hand on the recently pinched and sore shoulder of his former master.

“What guest? This man is not welcome in our tower.”

Gale glared at Tav. As grateful as he was for his wife’s protective side, her hard head could  sometimes become a threat to diplomacy. 

Elminster was by no means perfect but he had been there for most of his life. He owed him his education and many of his current talents. Yes, he also partly owed him his most devastating heartbreak but he could not blame the man for following their goddess’s words. Such was the burden of a chosen.

He turned towards his old friend and gave a slight bow, a hand over his heart.

“Apologies. Truly.” He assured, “Let us find a nice pub in the city and I will tell you all there is to tell about my travels and latest adventures.”

Elminster pouted in response. He leaned forward, his nose creasing as he sniffed with fervor.

“It’s only that… sniff sniff… Something smells so terribly tasty in there… Perhaps some tea with whatever is exuding this lovely fragrance would be a good way to make peace.”

“It would, wouldn’t it?” Tav said plainly, widening her stance to reiterate her unwillingness to let the mage in.

From up the stairs a shrill voice called out.

“What is this commotion downstairs?” Tara asked.

Without taking her eyes off the intruding wizard Tav shouted back.

“It’s Elminster. He thinks we’ve got nothing better to do than receive him.”

There was a short pause before Tara finally replied.

“Tell him Gale’s not here.”

“Oh for the love of…” Gale breathed. 

Elminster’s expression had gone from an annoyed irritation to a sort of disappointed sadness. Gale ushed the old man away from the door.

“Please, let me take you to the Yawning Portal. The ale is fresh and the cheese selection exhaustive!”.

Elminster begrudgingly turned around, not without a last dagger-filled glance towards Tav. 

The two men took a few steps, before a performative cough stopped them. Gale froze.

“Excuse me.” He said, turning back.

He walked up to Tav; her arms finally uncrossed and her brow no longer furrowed, she smiled softly at him. He gently nuzzled her cheek and she gave a small chuckle. Grazing the tip of his nose with hers she planted a gentle kiss on his lips. As she was recoiling, Gale could not let her go. He grabbed her waist and pulled her closer, pressing another kiss on her mouth. Less chaste, he deepened the embrace and lifted her off the ground. She let out a moan. His hands began to descend from her waist to her lower back.

It was Elminster’s turn to insistently clear his throat, pulling Gale away from the sensual embrace of his spouse. Breaking the kiss, he rested his forehead against hers for a moment.

“I won't be late.” He promised.

“You can give the old fart a muffin later if you want…” She whispered.

“Maybe…” He murmured in her ear, “If he can refrain from talking about Mystra, I might.”

“Oh Gods, the man will starve.” She giggled.

He graced her brow with a small peck before returning to his mentor, standing in the street waiting for him. Tav went back inside the tower, presumably to resume her baking. 

As the two men walked away, Elminster grumbled, still outraged by Tav’s reception.

“Quite the woman you’ve gotten yourself my boy!”

“She’s quite something isn’t she?” He answered enamored, thinking back to the face that could always bring him joy.

“Well rude is what she is…” The old man grunted, “But… she sure is looking out for you.”

“Always has been.” Gale added  simply.

“And these baked goods?”

“Delicious.”

“I see.”

Elminster pondered. He looked back at the tower. He too had longed for a domestic life; a clean tower which smelled of spice and cake. A partner with whom to spend his time and enjoy the simple pleasures of life. He had dreamed it, time and time again, over the centuries of his long life. Yet he never took the plunge. His devotion for his goddess had always stood in the way of such mundane goals. 

His eyes laid on Gale. He seemed serene. Happy. Full. No longer burning with the ever hungry ambition that had caused him so much trouble. A faint smile stretched the lips of the venerable wizard as he wrapped his arm around the shoulders of his former disciple.

“Keep her close.” He urged.

Gale smiled. He intended to.

[babiedemon]

MISERABLE MAN . . . haymitch abernathy / reader

genre . . . fluff, post-war

warnings . . . age gap, mentions of war, swearing, sexual themes

inspired by miserable man — david kushner

haymitch was a drunk. he was a miserable old man with a bad temper and a lifetime worth of pent up trauma. even with the newfound peace, the end of the rebellion, the birth of a fair nation. you knew no matter the time, the level of freedom, he’d forever be a miserable old man.

you mulled over this as you approached his home, a looming tower of a house in the shambles of district twelve. you’d taken the train there, what was once a capitol luxury now a simple means of transportation. the gravel of the deserted district crunched beneath your designer boots, ricocheting off empty buildings of the desecrated town.

there was no response to the heavy knock you left on his door, or one of the side windows, or the back door. you’d almost given up hope, prepared to break the door off the hinges, muttering angry words to yourself as you rounded the side of the house, when you caught sight of a moving figure in the distance. you couldn’t mistake that mop of black hair for anything else in the world, the long hair of the former face of rebellion.

“hey, katniss!” you called over the wind rushing in the space between you. she brought her hand up to wave, a pair of squirrels dangling from her fingers, a slight smile on her softened face.

“hey, eagle eye!” she shouted in response, an echoing reminisce of your rebel nickname. “what brings you to twelve?” she was closer now, close enough for you to pinpoint where her eyes sat over her nose, the once hardened stone color softened to a plush storm cloud. she stopped a few feet before you, eyes giving you a onceover.

“here to see the drunk. any idea if he’s home?” you inquired, lifting your eyebrows. katniss tilted her head to the side, squinted against the piercing rays of the setting sun.

“knowing haymitch, he’s probably drunk off his ass right about now. he usually leaves a window cracked in the front if you wanna try getting in that way,” she suggested, switching the tails of the squirrels from one hand to the other in favor of scratching her eyebrow.

“thanks a bunch, kat. i’ll be sure to pay you a visit sometime before the week ends. lord knows i’ll have my hands full with mitch,” you hummed, slowly backing away as you spoke. she bid her silent goodbye the same way she’d bid her welcome, lifting a single hand as she parted ways toward her towering home.

you found the crack in the window almost as soon as you’d reached the top of haymitch’s stairs and pried it open, the metal frame squealing in protest as you forced the pane of glass wide enough for your body to fit through.

getting in was much harder, your body falling on the floor and taking out half the items displayed crudely on his windowsill. you were certain that you’d gained at least a few bruises from the tumble it took for you to reach the hardwood floor, a grimace on your face as you inspected your exposed, aching elbows.

“what the hell are you doing here?” haymitch sighed, his voice carrying over to the foyer from his place on the living room sofa. you couldn’t see him, and you doubted he could see you, but you guaranteed from your loud entrance he could deduce it wasn’t his usual visitor.

“is that how you greet all of your long distance girlfriends?” you asked dryly, pushing yourself up from the floor with a few grunts. you rounded the foyer into the living room, spotting haymitch’s salt and pepper curls from the entryway.

“‘s how i greet everyone, sweetheart. get used to it,” he muttered, making quick work of pouring himself another glass of liquor. his hands trembled violently, likely due to the withdrawal contorting his face, liquor splashing over the edge of his glass and pooling on the mahogany coffee table. you sighed as you seated yourself beside him, took the bottle from his hands, and shot him an unimpressed look out of the corner of your eye.

“how many have you had?” you asked, studying the hazy sheen over his stormy eyes. he tutted, lazily rolling his eyes, his body sinking into the cushions.

“only three today. woke up about six hours ago, so i’d say that’s pretty tame,” he remarked. you suppressed the agitated sigh and tipped the bottle, pouring a hefty amount of whiskey into his chosen cup.

“i thought for sure when you didn’t answer the door you were passed out in your own piss and vomit again,” you murmured, voice softened as you regarded him. he was aging, his stubble shining with a number of grey strands, the curls atop his head beginning to gain more of his eye color with every visit. he’d gained back a bit of weight in his cheeks and stomach since you’d last seen him, his face and gut now rounded out a bit more.

“i figured if it was important, whoever it was would find their way in,” he spoke, voice gruff, a pause interrupting his sentence. “i was right about both. it was important, and you did find your way. besides, i’ll have you know i happen to have cut back on my substance abuse, thank you.”

“you know i’ll always find a way to come pester you,” you mused, reclining next to him. you felt a bit of pride swelling in your chest, a smile growing on your lips as you processed his minor recovery from years of raging alcoholism. haymitch’s arm slid easily over your shoulders, an almost inaudible chuckle leaving his lips, the rim of his glass snuffing it at the source.

“you definitely are a pest,” he hummed, tongue lapping up the remnants of whiskey on his lips. “what brings you here anyways?”

“i was hoping we could spend some time together. i’ve missed you,” you spoke softly, your cheeks heating up with your admission. haymitch hummed, his nose brushing the top of your head, the smell of alcohol wafting off of him. you’d come to enjoy the bitter scent, associating it with the man you’d fallen for over the course of your teens and now early twenties.

“missed you too, doll face,” he muttered, letting his head loll against the back of the sofa. his fingertips, ever as tremorous, came to scratch at the itchy stubble spotting his chin. “got some geese around back if you wanna check ‘em out.”

“when the hell did you get geese?” you inquired, face lifted in amusement as your eyes traveled haymitch’s exposed windpipe. the skin there was red, flushed from his consistent substance abuse, and a few scratches laid about from his incessant scratching. your fingers reached to trace the raised lines, smoothing them over with your thumb.

“not that long ago. decided i needed a hobby. shit’s boring around here,” he grumbled, watching you curiously. he realized the source of your focus after a few seconds, clearing his throat embarrassedly. “my hands shake too much to shave now. can’t cut my hair either.” he gestured to the top of his head, where his curls fell unkempt to his chin. you tilted your head to the side, running your fingers through the knotted ends of his dark locks, a smile on your lips.

“i could always trim you up, mitch,” you muttered, picturing different cuts and styles framing his face. if only one thing benefited you from your days as a capitol stylist, it was the cosmetic knowledge. you got free cuts, free colors, free hemming. “i think you’d look pretty good with a shag. your curls would suit it nicely.”

“do whatever gets it out of my goddamned eyes,” he gruffed, grumpy as ever, prompting you to begin your search for his razors and scissors. for a reason you couldn’t place, you’d begun cleaning as you searched as well. you’d washed his clothes, polished the kitchen, dusted the paintings and tables, all whilst he lingered in every doorway with a bottle and glass in hand, eyes watching you with burning intensity.

“you look good cleaning,” he remarked, the devious smirk on his lips hardly hidden by his whiskey glass. he slunk towards you, footsteps slow and wobbly against the hardwood floor.

“you’re only saying that because i’m bent over scrubbing your toilet,” you muttered, standing straight up upon feeling his hips meet yours. he looped an arm around your middle, your heart beating out of your chest as you turned your face to let your gazes meet. his eyes, grey and clouded, held a heady desire you hadn’t seen in months. his body pushed yours partially forward as he leaned, settling his drink on the toilet lid in favor of taking full hold of both your hip bones.

you gulped, face red as you turned in his loose grasp, letting him back you until your hips met the bathroom counter. his hand settled beneath your chin, guiding your head up until your eyes settled back on his, his other palm settling on the marble beside your blushing body. his gaze was honed in on your parted lips, eyebrows furrowed and concentration painting his flushed face.

“haven’t seen you in ages,” he mumbled, voice breathy and depraved as a slight smirk quirked the corner of his lips. you let out a shaky laugh, looping your arms around his neck, toying with the greying curls jutting from the nape of his neck.

“i’m starting to think you missed me more than you let on,” you breathed, pupils dancing over the space between his eyes and mouth. his fingers slid, igniting a fire beneath your skin, thumb caressing your jaw and palm cupping the side of your neck. he let out a soft chuckle, leaning in just barely close enough for his chapped lips to brush the gloss from yours.

“that is the understatement of the century.” his eyes fluttered shut as he pressed a fleeting kiss to your buzzing lips, pulling away much too soon for your eager impatience. you sighed, breath fanning over his scruffy face, eyes squeezing shut as the smell of his musky body soap twisted with the stench of his preferred beverage.

“i’m supposed to be cutting your hair.” you chuckled airily, prying your eyes open to meet his lusted stare. he took a moment to process, no doubt distracted by the touch of your fingers to his exposed collarbone.

“you’ll have to wet my hair, right?” as he spoke, voice husky and eyes dropping to your body, he made agonizingly slow work of undoing the top few buttons of your dress shirt. you followed his train of thought, chest heaving against his fingers, eyes darting to the shower standing to your right.

“i like the way your pretty little head works.” you gripped the collar of his shirt, pulling him down to your level, lips taking his in a short lived, rough kiss. “strip, then.”

“you don’t have to tell me twice, sweetheart.”

you couldn’t help the boisterous laughter tumbling from your chest.

[via-the-cryptid]

Eddie is beginning to regret his decision to bring the gremlin into his hideout. On the one hand, she let him bandage her wounds and has been trying to come up with legitimate answers to every riddle he’s asked her so far, but on the other… well. There’s green and red spattered all over the floor, an alleged ceiling ghost judging him, and he’s currently got a terrible headache from trying to comprehend anything she says.

What he’s gleaned so far is, unfortunately, just the basics. Her name is Ellie — short for Danielle, not Eleanor (he asked), she’s fourteen and not ten or eleven like he’d assumed, she tried to tell him her eyes were blue even though he can very clearly see that they’re green, and she does not want to go back to where she was before.

She’s mentioned two names a few times, Danny and Vlad. The first seems to be in a good context, but the second… not so much. Eddie can’t help but wonder just what sort of situation she escaped from before landing herself in Gotham, but she’s made it rather clear that she’s not going to expand upon that.

Still, there are things that don’t add up. Her appearance, her mannerisms, her abilities… she has to be a meta, but what exactly can she do? Is it limited to going through solid objects? Is there anything she can’t go through? How did she get like this? Perhaps that’s why he brought her here — Eddie never could stand to leave a question unanswered, and this kid is practically a treasure trove of mysteries. He can’t help but want to know more.

She’s talking again, this time to the ceiling and not to him. It almost seems like she’s having a legitimate conversation with done invisible person, which only makes him wonder more about toxin and hallucinations. The Joker’s poisons can do far more than induce uncontrollable laughter, after all, and not even Eddie knows the full scope of the Joker Toxin’s effects. For all he knows, sudden vivid hallucinations are a part of that list.

“Yes, I know that, but it can’t be a safe box, those have keys and lids.” Ellie insists. “And probably hinges. I don’t know, I’ve never seen one.”

Silence falls for a moment as Ellie presumably waits for an answer. Then, she huffs.

“I can still make an educated guess. How would they put anything in without a key?”

More silence.

“No, that’s not right, there’s nothing gold in it… but you could put something in it! Hey, green beans, I got the answer!”

He’d given her an easy one this time — easy if one knew the pop culture reference, that is. Ellie, apparently, did not. Yet another odd thing to add to the list of facts about the gremlin currently sitting on his counter: nearly every time he brought up something that was common knowledge, she didn’t have a clue what he was talking about.

Maybe he needed to revisit that theory about government labs and human experimentation.

“A box without hinges, key, or lid, and yet inside, golden treasure is hid,” Ellie recites. “I think it’s a vase full of coins.”

“…A vase full of coins.”

“Yes.”

“May I inquire as to why you guessed that?”

“No hinges, no key, no lid, but it’s not open on top like a bowl, so you can hide things inside if you want. The golden part is the coins.”

How unconventional. Not the answer he wanted, but not technically wrong, either.

Fascinating.

[97ify]

♡ . . .⠀ ⠀THAT PUSSY KiLL BE SO ViCiOUS! ❜

TOJi FUSHiGURO x FEM READER ✶ .ᐟ

❝ SUGAR!BABY TOJI who's so obsessed with you that he'd do anything just to fuck you, let alone touch you. ❞

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀˖ ࣪⭑

❪⠀ᥫ᭡⠀❫ featuring : toji fushiguro (w/ a brief mention of gojo) !

❪⠀ᥫ᭡⠀❫ contents : MDNI. porn with plot. established relationship. femdom!reader. businesswoman!reader. homeless!toji. unprotected sex. riding. begging. crying. dacryphilia. overstimulation. oral fixation (f receiving). cock warming. gagging. pet names (precious). slapping. dry humping.

❪⠀ᥫ᭡⠀❫ requested by : n/a !

❪⠀ᥫ᭡⠀❫ song playing : often — the weeknd !

❪⠀ᥫ᭡⠀❫ word count : 6.1k+ !

EVERYONE was an utter and complete mess. Assistants and receptionists were answering all of the phone calls that were being forwarded to them—at best attempting to please the reporters with evident lies spewing from their lipstick-caked mouths. 

The air in the building was filled with a mixture of tension and confusion, none of the employees fully understanding what the matter at hand was—their boss only informing them to defend the owner's name even if it was the last thing they did.

It was a bustling night for the city of downtown Tokyo, Japan. News had got out about the heart throb of the country, Y/N L/N, having a plausible significant other due to the paparazzi snapping quite a few pictures of a broad shouldered man stepping out of one of her vehicles. The only way they were able to decipher the fact that it was indeed her car was due to the fact that the license plate had a Puerto Rican frame around it. 

The woman was infamous for representing her home island on all of her belongings, everyone knowing that fact.

She was a strong, independent business woman who allowed no man to step on her shoes, or even five feet within her red bottoms. Everyone always bowed to her, whether they liked her or not. Her presence alone had men scurrying to their nearest female associate, so they could deal with her on their own. 

Her entire persona was built on her not needing a man in her life whatsoever, so when news got out that a man was driving her vehicle, journalists went wild to spread the information. However, they weren’t that stupid, so they made sure that their names were unknown. For their own safety.

The notorious woman in mention sat at her desk, high atop the 25 tier building she owned—one of many that were in her name. Irritation would be a rather simple way to describe how she felt. There was a vein protruding from the side of her neck, the woman breaking her fifth pen that rested between the slither of her fingertips—remains of it flailing to the desktop, clustering with the rest. 

She couldn’t believe how reckless Toji was, exiting her car in broad daylight? Let alone in public? 

[Y/N] scoffed at the thought,

Men. They always have to ruin good things with their enlarged egos.

She could just tell that Toji probably thought he got away with it, the man unable to afford his own cellphone to know what hell he put her through while she was trying to enjoy her lunch peacefully. 

Yet, she couldn’t even do that because the moment she took a bite of her Empanada, her assistant almost broke her doors off their hinges, rushing to her to show her the article that’d been going around all afternoon.

“Miss L/N w-what should we do? Calls keep racking up on all of our lines?” [Y/N]’s secretary, Chiaki Anzai, inquired while scurrying all around [Y/N]’s office, the woman’s annoyance growing from the sound of Chiaki’s heels clacking against the polished flooring.

Alas standing from her seat, [Y/N] waltzed around the large desk—her tall fatigue shadowing Chiaki in the process. She made her way towards the doors that led into her room, never once uttering a word in response to the woman’s question. 

That was, until she placed her hand on the door handle, tilting her chin as she peered behinder herself,

“Burn ‘em. Burn every last one of ‘em.” [Y/N]’s tone was rough, Chiaki feeling the woman’s gaze boring into her back even though her eyes weren’t even on her to begin with. 

The frightened secretary eagerly nodded her head, her fingers already tapping all over her IPad screen far before her ears could register all of what [Y/N] said. The woman never questioned [Y/N]’s orders, far too fearful to even think about doing so. She’d rather blindly do something [Y/N] ordered her to than to face the woman head on by second guessing her actions.

When [Y/N] stepped out of her office, the door slamming behind her, she was met with the uproar of her highest ranked employees scampering all around their cubicles, paper copies of newspapers and magazines flying all over the place from the workers trying their hardest to discard them. What caused them all to abruptly halt in their actions was the boisterous sound of [Y/N]’s office doors slamming behind her, all of their heads turning to face them the instant they did.

“Hello, Miss L/N,”

They had all jumped from their seats, bowing to the woman whilst her piercing gaze wandered around the entirety of the 25th floor, her eyes peeking through her eyelashes—no one daring to move from their position until she left. Her footsteps boomed throughout the floor, the silence so sharp it could pierce through thin air. 

The pure vexation that coursed through her veins was ricocheting off of her body like some sort of perfume, everyone sensing it the minute she stepped into the room. The way she carried herself—as if she was ready to slice someone’s head off, had sweat beads trickling down her employees’ faces. 

[Y/N] never paid any mind to the people at hand, her attention locked on the one and only man who caused the mess, Toji Fushiguro. She kept her gaze firm and focused only on the elevator door that remained on the opposite side of the floor, one of her employees hastily rushing towards it so they could press the button for [Y/N]. 

“Thank you.” the woman stated vaguely, her tone brief while the worker just nodded their head in response, a faint ‘your welcome’ dripping off their tongue as she entered the elevator. 

The minute the door closed behind her, everyone felt like dropping to their knees—only a few doing so. They all wasted no time in returning to their duties, knowing that if they didn’t have the rumors completely wiped from the internet by morning that they’d all be in for a hell of a work day.

When she had finally exited the building, the woman tried her hardest to ignore the press that were being held back by her security guards. It was humorous to see only female reporters trying to get to her, [Y/N] found comfort in the fact that men were still intimidated by her that they had to send their female counterparts to do their dirty work. It surely was a sight to see.

“So, a partner, huh? I thought I was the only man for y- AGH!” 

Well, there was one man who liked pushing his limits with [Y/N]. It was none other than Satoru Gojo himself.

The man in question draped an arm around [Y/N]’s shoulders when she walked out of the building, walking alongside her with his annoyingly whiny voice raking in her ears like nails on a chalkboard. After only a moment of being next to the woman, [Y/N] raised her arm and curled her fingers into a fist, bashing the back of her knuckles into the man’s nose. 

She could’ve sworn she felt a crackling sound against her skin from the impact, Satoru’s head snapping back whilst he stumbled on his feet and held his now intensely bleeding nose with both hands. A smirk tugged at the crevice of [Y/N]’s mouth, continuing her venture to her car as all of the attention was now on Satoru who acted like a big child in front of the cameras.

Leave it to Satoru Gojo to cause a big scene for the paparazzi.

It was the reason he and [Y/N] met. The man child desperately wanted to talk to [Y/N], however, she wanted nothing to do with him, knowing his reputation—let alone how ungodly annoying he was apart from that. The pair made headlines for weeks, [Y/N] being rumored to be lesbian due to the fact she didn’t drop head over heels for the Satoru Gojo.

And her comment on the man didn’t help the situation either. “He’s like an overgrown toddler who didn’t get attention from his parents. I have no association with that… thing. Now remove my name from any sentence that has anything to do with him”

It surely caused an upheaval in the media, the women disliking [Y/N] for months due to her comment about their precious Satoru. The men were unsure if they liked the woman, admiring her hatred for the man who continuously stole all of their wives and girlfriends hearts, but also conflicted about whether or not she truly was a lesbian. 

Yet, none of that mattered to [Y/N]. She only focused on her business and expanding her company, using the newly found popularity to her advantage and organizing more serious business deals. 

The woman in question had already driven herself home, deciding on using the backroads to avoid any and all interaction with the paparazzi that surrounded her company grounds. She knew that she was on her last straw, so a single wrong breath from a reporter would’ve caused her head to blow off instantly.

Gear shifting her car into park, the woman stepped out of her vehicle and tossed her keys into her purse, slamming the car door behind herself. Far too many rampacked thoughts clouded her mind for her to comprehend. Whether it was how she was going to handle Toji when she got upstairs, or how she would go into work the next day if her team didn’t get the shit show underwraps in less than 24 hours.

Her red bottom heels clicked along the polished staircase—getting louder with every step she took. There was nothing in the world that would be able to calm her down, her annoyance level far stronger than her anger.

When [Y/N] opened the door that led into the second floor of her three story home, she noticed Toji reclined on the couch. His sock covered feet were crossed and perched up onto the coffee table, his arms intertwining behind his head whilst he enjoyed whatever brain damaging reality TV show he’d found.

His laugh that [Y/N] once found slightly enjoyable was now far worse than Satoru’s as it boomed all throughout the building. The sound of [Y/N] kicking her foot back and slamming the door shut caused the man to jump from his seat, taking a moment to process that it was [Y/N] who had entered the home so carelessly.

When he saw the woman a bright smile spread across his face, Toji walking around the couch to make his way up to the woman whilst she irritatingly approached him. He held his arms open to engulf the woman into a hug, but was met with something he could have never predicted.

A numbingly prickling sensation unraveled throughout Toji’s cheek. His head had snapped to the side due to the blunt force with a crimson cast broadening on his skin. His mouth was left hung open ajar, the man instantly bringing his hand to his jaw while soothing the irritation. 

[Y/N] had slapped him.

The back of her hand contained a similar stinging feeling, the woman glaring down at the man who stood before her. When Toji averted his eyes to look up at [Y/N], he could suddenly notice the raging fire that flared behind the woman’s eyes, gulping at the sight.

“How could you possibly be so fucking incompetent? Using my car and then exiting it without checking if you were being followed? Are you a mad man?!” [Y/N] held nothing back, unleashing all of her pent up anger that she’d been withholding for the past few hours.

Toji was a bit lost on what she was talking about. He was aware of the fact he used her car throughout the day whilst [Y/N] was at work—having no knowledge of his actions. However, he was stunned that she knew, and she was this mad about such a thing.

“W-What’re you talking about?” the man inquired, furrowing his eyebrows as the once overbearing sting that lingered on his cheek completely vanished in an instant. 

[Y/N] couldn’t help but scoff at his obliviousness, rolling her eyes as she reached into her purse and pulled out a magazine, throwing it at his face and causing Toji to flinch from the sudden action.

When the piece of paper dropped into his hands, he flipped the booklet around to see exactly what [Y/N] was enraged about. The minute he did so, his entire body tensed on cue, his grip on the paper tightening when he saw himself plastered on the cover.

[Y/N]’s infamous pink convertible remained behind his tall fatigue, a small circle around the censored license plate to show the Puerto Rico frame that outlined it. 

Toji knew he fucked up, he had one rule and that was to remain hidden. [Y/N] gave him anything he asked for as long as he followed that simple task. And, the one time he had a craving for something that couldn’t be delivered, he was caught red handed and screwed everything up.

He'd never come back from it. The luxury he lived under [Y/N]’s roof was shattered within the span of a few hours thanks to his foolishness, and a few camera clicks.

“I’m sorry. This wasn’t supposed to happen. I just wanted some fire noodles. Please, I-I’m so sorry Y/N.” the man pleaded, crumpling the pamphlet up as if his gesture would fix everything.

All [Y/N] could do was scoff yet again, pushing past the man who continued to beg for her forgiveness. He didn’t know what he’d do without her. The luxury she’d given him lasted months, if she were to kick him out he’d have nowhere to go, and hated the lifestyle he used to live. It was rugged and dirty, unlike anything he’s had recently. 

Heading in the direction of her kitchen, the woman was followed by Toji who seemed like a lost puppy following its owner. All he could do was pry the women for her forgiveness, unsure if there was anything else he could do except for that. there ‘s never bee a time where he fucked up so badly, distress roaming all through his body. 

“Please, Y/N, I-I’ll do anything. Anything you want. Just- just please let me stay. You’re all I have.” The grown man’s pleads were a pleasant surprise, [Y/N] completely taken aback by his actions.

However, it still wasn’t enough for her. His cries for her forgiveness surely wouldn’t fix the upheaval that is the media. And it most definitely wouldn’t get Satoru to leave her alone.

A groaning sigh escaped past the woman’s lips whilst she leaned forward over the kitchen island counter, resting her elbows along the polished granite top with her hands covering her face. All the while she did that, the only things that were roaming Toji’s head were schemes that he could use to his advantage in order for [Y/N] to allow his residency. 

He was aware of how narrow minded the woman was, knowing that fact good and well from the moment he met her. Nothing could get past her, nor could she be easily persuaded. Her word was final, so it was shocking to Toji that she was even allowing him to stay long enough to beg her like a needy child. He’s never been able to beg her about something for such a lengthy time, not even in bed. 

When [Y/N] grazed her calloused fingers along the skin of her cheeks, Toji hesitantly rested his hand on her forearm, his rough skin coming in contact with [Y/N]’s causing the woman to slowly blink and peer in his direction, the fire behind her eyes—swirling like a tornado in a forest fire—leading to Toji gulping in response.

“A-All this drama and bullshit has to be extremely stressful, Y/N. Why don’t we relieve some of it, huh?” Toji’s bold statement only earned a dreadful stare from [Y/N], the man swallowing the lump that’d formed in his throat whilst he was building up the courage to ask the question.

It was true that the pair hadn’t had sex in quite some time, yet that didn’t stop [Y/N] from boring a hole into the man’s face, watching as he slowly crumbled from just her gaze alone. Rolling her eyes, [Y/N] swatted Toji’s hand off of her, pushing herself from the counter top.

The woman pivoted on her heels—the stems clacking across the polished wooden floors—making her way towards the master bedroom that was situated in the back of the large penthouse. With Toji following her lead, much like a puppy on a tightly held leash, the duo bypassed the grouping of windows that encompassed the entirety of the south wall, giving a perfectly illuminated view of downtown Tokyo. Along with the sight of the paparazzi bombarding the front of her complex building, the security barricading the front entryway.

The outlook was humorous to [Y/N], knowing that with her well-attained guards, no one would be getting in anytime soon.

When [Y/N] and Toji entered the large room, [Y/N] stood across from the foot of her bed, gradually peeling her coat from her body all the while. The action alerted Toji, causing him to attempt to help the woman, however [Y/N] was not having it and abruptly shook his hand from her shoulder. All she did was side-glare the man as she laid the jacket along the bench that remained at the end of her bed frame.

“Hands off. Or, it’ll be the last thing you ever touch.”

Her statement wasn’t anything less of a firm threat, venom dripping off the tip of her tongue as she spoke brutally. 

When she spun on her heels for the final time, she sat on the edge of the mattress prior to removing her pants, placing them alongside her coat. Her legs were spread open a bit with her laced underwear in full view for Toji whilst he stood before her. 

“Kneel.” she demanded simply, peering up at Toji through her lashes, tilting her head ever so slightly as she spoke.

The moment the words even slipped off her tongue, Toji was quick to listen as if his life depended on it. Which, in this case, it most certainly did. His eagerness was delightful, an unrecognizable smirk converting across [Y/N]’s mouth at the sight. It was a bit comical how he listened to her every word, much of a lap dog.

[Y/N] leaned back with the palm of her hands pressing into the mattress, lifting one of her legs and placing the flat of her foot against Toji’s forehead—her head tilting yet again while leaning back at the same time.

“If you can prove that you’re good enough, then we can have some fun, understood?” the woman inquired rigidly, Toji immediately nodding his head in response due to the fact he could already feel his growing erection through his tightly fitted pants. 

“Yes ma’am.” the man replied back instantly, a pleased grin spreading across [Y/N]’s face while Toji grabbed a hold of her heel, trailing a line of kitten kisses from her ankle all the way to her inner thigh.

The man’s rugged hands dragged all along the woman’s skin, making sure to not leave a single place untouched while his lips worked against her leg. The way his hands kneaded at her skin was exhilarating, his fingertips delving just enough for her to tug her bottom lip between her teeth. She ran her fingers through his shaggy hair, entangling them between his curls with her nails clawing at the top of his head.

While one of his hands had a firm grip on [Y/N]’s knee, Toji’s opposite hand was softly pushing her other inner thigh open, giving himself more head space between her legs. The minute his lips reached her clothed clit, the man wasted no time in placing a warm kiss upon it, earning a small smirk in response from [Y/N]. 

He slid one of his thick fingers behind her underwear, looping it around the fabric before completely ripping it off of [Y/N]’s body and tossing it aside with the rest of her clothes she previously removed. Her now exposed cunt had Toji’s pants tightening more than they already were, the man scooping one of her legs onto his shoulder and enclosing it with his wiry bicep. His large hand rested alongside her thigh, gripping it firmly.

Toji wanted nothing more than to push her onto the bed and fuck her relentlessly, being utterly and completely pussy-whipped for the woman who towered over him. He’d do anything to hear her moan his name just once. For her to beg him to fuck her til dawn. For him to have her pressed into the mattress with his dick so deep in her pussy that she couldn’t utter anything other than his name, her nails leaving his back a bloody mess.

Yet, it was the opposite. 

He was the one who was a moaning mess anytime she rode him. He was the one who continuously begged the woman to let him come so many times she left him drier than the Sahara Desert. She was the one who had him sunk into the mattress, towering over him while she worked her hips against his own, her pussy sucking his dick in anytime she dropped herself on him.

The man may have had a larger build than [Y/N], but she was taller. Smarter. More powerful. Whatever she said, he did. Whatever she wanted, he had it at her fingertips. If she wanted him to eat her out, he’d make sure it was the best head she’d ever received.

With that being said, Toji was nose deep in her pussy, her liquids already tainting his skin as it trickled down the sides of his mouth. His lips were attached to her clit, sucking, and very lightly, tugging on it every so often. His tongue dragged along her folds a few times before he slipped it past them, sticking it into her cunt with his mouth gulping down every last droplet of juice that came out. 

[Y/N]’s hand still remained atop the man’s head, her grip never faulting while she watched Toji work his magic, her bottom lip being caught between her teeth. Her eyes never steered away from him, observing his every move as he sent an electric tingle all throughout the woman’s body.

She could feel her hips subconsciously moving on their own, very vaguely grinding against Toji’s face any time she felt him push his tongue into her. The fondness was enthralling, [Y/N] feeling her back slowly arching forward anytime Toji took a moment to softly suck on her clit. 

The man couldn’t get enough of her taste, yearning for more every time he’d slurp up her liquids that’d spilled all over his face. Each time the base of his tongue would tug along her soaked slits, Toji found himself faintly moaning under his breath. 

It was torture for the man to not touch himself while he pleased her with his mouth, only being able to enjoy the endurance of appealing the woman. 

“I see you’ve gotten better, huh?” [Y/N] teased, licking her lips as she tilted her heat to the side, her fingers caressing through the man’s hair.

The subtle breeze she felt whenever he pulled away from her had the woman jumping whenever she was met with his warm lips against her own. Each time he flicked his tongue against her sensitive clit, [Y/N] found herself jolting a bit.

“Please.. Please let me touch myself, Y/N” Toji begged, feeling his pants becoming damp from the precum that spewed from his tip.

A sly grin curled at [Y/N]’s mouth, the woman basking in the adulation of Toji sucking on her clit while also whining for her to allow him to please himself. It was a sight for sore eyes, that’s for sure. 

However, she wasn’t one to let people off the hook so easily. Shaking her head no, the woman only pushed his face deeper into her pussy, her grasp on his hair tightening all the while. 

“No. You decided to be an absolute fucking idiot, so now you must suffer in silence, precious” the woman cooed devilishly, her stoic eyes brewing a fire within them whilst she peered down at Toji.

She could feel herself on the verge of her climax, her legs slowly beginning to shake the longer Toji sucked and licked at her clit. It was all so gratifying, the build up creating a firm knot in her stomach the more he prolonged it.

The minute Toji stuck his tongue into her, [Y/N] released all over his mouth, the man slurping and licking up every last inch of her whilst she shivered in delight. Tossing her head back, [Y/N] let out an open mouth sigh of relief, her back arching with her grip on his head remaining.

Closing her eyes, the woman bathed in the longing pleasure she desired so dearly, Toji continuing to suck on her clit throughout her release and making it last a while. 

“Mmh, so good for me. You did so well, precious, ‘m so proud of you,” [Y/N] praised the man, earning a groan in response to her skittish remark.

Lifting Toji’s head by simply guiding his chin with her index finger, [Y/N] softly pressed her lips onto his own, the man eagerly kissing back whilst his hands sunk into the mattress around her. Ravenously, Toji placed his lips against [Y/N]’s as the woman let out a breathy chuckle into the kiss from the unexpected action.

[Y/N] found his neediness quite humorous.

It was adorable how he couldn’t get enough of her, [Y/N]’s hand trailing up his leg until she palmed his bulge, earning a whiny groan from the man who was kissing her as if she were his last meal. A snarky smile dragged across her face at the reaction, the woman continuing to knead and grip at his erection whilst she stood to her full height and towered over Toji. 

“Get on the bed” she ordered, Toji not wasting another breath before he abided by her demand.

He rested against the headboard, his legs sprawled open along the mattress while [Y/N] walked around it, standing in front of her side table. 

The abrupt sound of metal clanking against one another had caught Toji’s full attention, and before he knew it, his wrists were bound to the top of the backboard. His eyebrows weaved together, confusion building up on his face all the while he tugged on his wrists and watched [Y/N] crawl onto his lap.

“W-What’re you-”

“Just shut up” the woman stated briefly, latching her lips onto his yet again while her exposed cunt planted right onto Toji’s dick imprint. 

Subconscious moans and whines escaped past the man's lips as he returned [Y/N]’s kiss, both of them moving their lips in sync with one another. [Y/N] had her hands gently placed along Toji’s cheeks, pulling his face closer to her own despite him being tied to the bed frame. 

Each time she’d roll her hips against his, her slick folds would drag across his erection, leaving dampened marks all over his pants. The friction from the fabric was a surprisingly pleasant feeling for the woman, [Y/N] gaping and humming in satisfaction anytime a slight chill traveled up her spine.

“P-Please- Y/N-.. please just fuck me. I-I can’t take it. I need you.” the man whimpered between kisses, his actions only broadening [Y/N]’s already engrossed ego.

“I-I’m sorry. Please, I’m sorry. I’m so fucking sorry. I won’t do it again.. Please-” he proceeded, his cries doing absolutely nothing good for her arrogance. 

His pleads were halted mid sentence due to [Y/N] swiftly pulling his dick from out of his pants, her thumb gliding through the slit on his tip. Her abrupt movement earned an eye rolling, room shaking moan from Toji, the man left a heaving mess whilst his eyes began to well up.

“O-Oh, fuck-! Please don’t stop- fuck! D-Don’t stop, Y/N, please” Toji adjured, his body jolting from the absolute euphoric endurance he was overwhelmed with. 

The more she grazed her finger through his tip, the more of a mess the man became, unraveling into a crying disaster for her. The way her calloused fingers gently wrapped around the base of his length, her thumb pressing into his tip with just enough force to have his leg trembling. Precum was already spurting out, leaking onto [Y/N]’s skin after trickling down his sides.

The sight was picture perfect, [Y/N] enjoying herself a little too much when she was the one doing the pleasing.

Removing her hand from his dick, the woman brought her fingers to her mouth, sucking the juices from her skin whilst she crawled closer to Toji’s face, grabbing it with her free hand and forcing him to look at her as she hovered over him.

When she pulled her hand away, a string of saliva connected the two. The woman instantly locked her lips onto Toji’s, making him taste himself while she pushed her tongue into his mouth. The man easily obeyed her unspoken command and moved his lips against her own as if it was exactly what she asked him for without uttering a single word.

What the man didn’t pick up on, was her distraction tactic. So, amidst their intense kiss, a gaping moan spewed from his saliva coaxed mouth, the feeling of [Y/N]’s throbbing pussy sucking in his dick as she sat on him causing the man to toss his head back. The whites of his eyes were visible as he rolled them, mouth hanging ajar while he felt his tip prod at her cervix.

His thick length stretched the woman out, [Y/N] finding herself humming a few groans to herself the more she took in. the veins that protruded along his dick rubbed against her walls with ease, gliding against them and causing a shiver to run down each of their backs. Every time [Y/N] would clench around him, Toji found himself letting out puffs of air, his wrists snagging on the hand cuffs that held him to the headboard.

He sunk his teeth into his lip in an attempt to bite back his moans, however, that plan went to shit  the minute [Y/N] started to move on his dick. 

He wanted to touch her.

No, he needed to touch her.

He needed his hands to grope her ass while she bounced on his dick. His hands needed to knead and caress her breasts as she worked her hips against his own. He needed his arms to wrap around her waist so he could hold her in place and fuck into the tight cunt of hers, wanting to hear the sounds of her juices welsh and mix with his own as he abused her pussy tirelessly. 

“Y/N- please. Let my hands go. Please, let me touch you. God- fuck! Please, oh my- fuck,” Toji begged yet again, his eyes wandering down to watch how her juices spilled all over his lower abdomen.

The view of her riding his thick length only made him harder, his pries at trying to get his hands free only growing rougher the longer he was bound. He knew she wouldn’t listen. This whole thing was a punishment for him. Yes, it was pleasurable, of course, but it was still a sort of punishment. In a very weird, and sexual way.

All [Y/N] did was silence him with her lips yet again, the sounds of them smacking against one another filling the empty room. 

Her hips rolled and bounced as she rode his dick, engulfing in the pleasure she had been desiring for a few days now. The way he filled her up completely was intoxicating, [Y/N] craving it just as much as he craved her. She loved how he was a perfect fit for her, the tip of his length protruding her womb with every thrust and grind, his thick base rubbing the specific spots in her cunt that made her grow feral with every movement made.

They were both getting drunk off the ecstatic aroma that was each other. [Y/N] may have loathed his stupidity, but he damn sure was an amazing fuck. If it weren’t for the fact that she was his sugar mommy, she’d most definitely have an on & off toxic relationship with the man, hating how much of an idiot he was but also loving how he felt inside of her.

When [Y/N] had pried her lips from Toji’s she immediately replaced them with her thumb, sticking it into the man’s mouth and watching as he sucked on it, much like a dog listening to its owner. She relished in the fact he listened to her every move.

Planting her free hand onto his chest, [Y/N] sped up her pace, observing Toji’s expression melt into a doe eyed one the minute he felt her do so. The sight caused her to smirk to herself, feeling the same knot tighten in her stomach much like earlier.

Toji could sense his release growing closer as well, his whines and whimpers being muffled against her finger as he tossed his head back. They were both reaching their climaxes in unison, the build up becoming excruciatingly everlasting. 

It was the fastest they’ve ever felt themselves already done. [Y/N] couldn’t decipher whether it was the tension that she entered the home with, or the traction that slowly built up when she was inside. 

Typically, they’d go at least two to three rounds before sleeping at the crack of dawn. Yet, this time they were both craving the other, their feelings getting the best of themselves.

“F-Fuck, ‘m gonna cum, Y/N” Toji groaned out in pleasure—his words mumbling against her thumb, the man trying to thrust up into her without any sort of stability, strictly relying on his lower body strength.

It was surely a struggle, that’s for sure. However, he was able to meet [Y/N] halfway anytime she lifted herself to drop on the base of his dick. The gesture stunned [Y/N] a bit at first, but soon enough she was humming in delight with her free hand groping her own breast, her teeth sinking into her bottom lip all the while. 

Her cunt greedily welcomed his length with every rut thrust he gave her. His swollen tip repeatedly rammed against her cervix, earning a couple eyerolls and sighs of relief from [Y/N] in response. It was all so enrapturing, Toji adoring how tight she clenched around him and [Y/N] loving how much of his thick erection filled her up.

“C’mon, precious, cum for me. Fill me up with every last drop you have” [Y/N] taunted, firmly pressing the pad of her thumb onto Toji’s tongue and watching as the man choked and gagged in response.

Her prodding words did no good for the pathetic man that lied beneath [Y/N], Toji’s dick twitching from the slyness that enthralled her tone. She knew how he felt anytime she spoke to him in that specific voice, the woman extremely familiar with his kinks and how to perfectly make him feel a certain way.

It was a gift, and a curse. [Y/N] using it to her advantage whenever she wanted the man to do something, Toji undoubtedly listening to her every word like a lost puppy. 

With one last thrust, Toji couldn’t help himself anymore, his seed spewing straight into [Y/N] who met him with her own release, both of their juices mixing together and dripping out of her overly stuffed pussy, directly onto Toji’s lower abdomen.

Sighs of relief and gasps for air gradually filled the room, both of [Y/N]’s hands now pressed flatly on Toji’s pecks, her fingers dragging down his perfectly toned abs before she lathered her finger in their essence. Placing her finger into her mouth, she sucked on her finger, getting every last drop that stuck to it. 

Right before Toji could even react, or utter a coherent sentence, [Y/N]’s lips were already placed onto his, her hips moving yet again as she led the man into another round for the night.

97IFY :: if you would like a part two, please do not be shy to ask through my inbox! i'm always happy to accept requests !!

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$$. 000 ll header edit creds. @//missingnuts on tt.

← back to jjk masterlist — 97IFY. do not steal my work. all rights reserved. likes and reblogs appreciated !!

[philistiniphagottini]

Hello! It’s SleepyPriestess, I was wondering if I could request some NSFW content with Hashirama Senju x Reader where they grew up together and she had a habit of scolding him. This time he decides that they’re adults and he’s too old to be being scolded by her? :) Thank you for your time!

Hi! Thanks for dropping by and sending a request. I had tons of fun writing this. I got a little carried away and wrote a lot of words, lol. Hope you enjoy :)

NSFW below the cut.

"Knock, knock~"

Not even bothering to wait for a reply, you decided to invite yourself into the Hokage's office. You nudged open the ajar door with your foot, the hinges groaning lightly in protest as you entered. You were pleasantly surprised to see that there was no one else in the room besides the Hokage, a pile of papers scattered in front of him as the soft scratching of a pen filled the room. Hashirama peered up at you from behind his desk, a beaming smile stretching his lips when his eyes met yours.

"Come in, come in my friend" he greeted with a hearty chuckle.

You offered him your own smile, balancing a plastic container in both of your hands as your hip knocked the door back in the other direction. The door shut with a soft click. Hashirama's paperwork was immediately abandoned as he focused all his attention on you, wide grin still plastered to his face as you approached.

"Working hard?" you asked, gesturing to the small pile of papers.

Hashirama nodded with a soft hum, tucking a long lock of his dark hair behind his ear.

"Just a few forms that need my signature. The pile seems to never end."

You made a small noise in the back of your throat as you rounded his desk, carefully setting down the container you had brought with you. A small sigh blew past your lips at the sight of paper strewn across his desk, brows furrowed as a small frown tugged at your lips. 

"It'd help if your desk wasn't such a mess" you commented. 

Without even asking you reached for the papers, mind already set into sorting mode as you cleaned up the mess. Hashirama chuckled at the sight, finger idly scratching at his cheek.

"Sorry about that. Didn't really notice the mess."

You pointedly rolled your eyes at his breezy laugh as you stacked a bunch of papers into a neat pile, the smell of fresh ink tickling your nose with each deep inhale. As you continued to file the papers, you caught Hashirama's gaze as his stare lingered on the container that you had put aside. He cocked his head, trying to get a good look through the clear top and see what was hidden inside. 

"What did you bring?" he inquired. 

"I brought some afternoon refreshments" you replied. "Freshly made by yours truly" you added with a dramatic swish of your head.

Hashirama's eyes lit up as he reached for the container. Before he could lay a finger on the cool plastic, you swatted his hand away, shooting him a disapproving scowl. Hashirama immediately retracted his hand, a small noise of protest falling from his lips like he had just been stung.

"Wait" you told him.

His brows pinched together as a small pout formed on his lips. He offered his hands up as a sign of defeat with no further complaint and tried to patiently wait for you to finish sorting through his mess before you relented. Once you were satisfied you pushed the large pile of papers to one side of the desk, crisp pages balancing precariously at the edge. You slid the box of treats in Hashirama's direction.

"They're all yours" you said. 

Hashirama’s bright smile returned as he clapped his hands together, eagerly reaching for the box of sweets. He peeled the lid off, eyes shimmering in the afternoon sun as he raised the box to his face and took a deep breath.

"It smells amazing."

You slowly trailed closer to Hashirama’s side, your thigh bumping against the arm of his chair as you rested your weight against the edge of the desk. You had been making and baking snacks for Hashirama long before he had ever become Hokage. You had known each other since you were kids and were practically inseparable since the day you met. Hashirama’s younger brother, Tobirama, loved to complain that you two were joined at the hip through much of your life. Where one showed up, the other was soon to follow. The off-handed comments never really bothered you.

Just before your mind could slip into memories of days past, your attention was drawn back to Hashirama once more as he dug his hand through the box and snatched a treat. You raised an eyebrow at the way he devoured it one bite, the soft sounds of his chewing filling up the space of his office.

"Wow, these taste so good" Hashirama complimented, crumbs spilling from his lips as he continued to eat.

You let out a long sigh. "Don’t talk with your mouth full" you lightly scolded before crossing your arms over your chest. "I don’t know how many times I’ve had to remind you."

Another habit you had picked up from your years of knowing Hashirama. The first Hokage could be quite loose and carefree with his actions and you were forever chewing his ear off when he did something impolite or just plain stupid. Another thing that Tobirama liked to point out on occasion. You two argued like an old, married couple. And today was no different. Hashirama swallowed his bite to eat before he huffed loudly, eyebrow twitching in irritation as you continued to yap, face leaning closer to his.

"Honestly, I’ve been telling you to fix that bad habit since you were a kid" you said with a sigh of exasperation.

"We’re not kids anymore. Aren’t I a little bit too old to be scolded?" he shot back, subtly moving his body forward as he addressed you.

You rolled your eyes so hard they almost disappeared into the back of your head. "Oh please, Hashi. I won’t have you making excuses to justify your own bad habits."

Your body was now directly in front of his, arms crossed firmly over your chest as you stared him down. The Hokage easily matched your stare, sitting so far forward in his chair that if he were to suddenly stand, he would crash right into you. Your faces were only a scant, few inches apart and when he spoke, you could feel the warmth of his breath on your skin.

"If it bothers you so much, then why don’t you make me stop?"

You have no idea what possessed you after you heard those words. Perhaps it was the underlying challenge lacing his tone that got under your skin. Or perhaps it was how close his face was to yours, the sudden tension in the air palpable. But the second your eyes strayed from his and landed on his lips, it was all over for you. There had always been some underlying tension between the two of you that had been going on for months. Years, possibly. It had only been a matter of time before everything, eventually, decided to boil over. Whatever witty remark you had formed was scattered to the wind, the tatters flying straight out the open window of the office like a leaf dancing on the breeze. You decided to lean forward and Hashirama met you halfway.

You took a deep breath, eyes immediately falling shut when you felt the press of his mouth on yours. The scent of sandalwood and the rich smell of earth tickled your senses, the powerful aroma making you take a step back. You squeaked when your back hit the edge of the desk and you were nearly sent toppling over when Hashirama’s lips chased yours. He was standing now, hands placed firmly on the desk and trapping you between his arms. His lips were hungry as they devoured yours, your nose scrunching up when his teeth clacked against yours and his tongue invaded your mouth. You could feel your blood simmering in your veins when his tongue touched yours, a pleasant heat creeping down your spine and pooling into the pit of your stomach. Your fingers tangled in his robes, hands placed against his chest and feeling his thunderous heartbeat racing as you parted from the kiss.

You stared at each other in a daze, eyes glossed over and lips parted as you tried to steady your breathing. As you continued to stare into the depths of his eyes, it felt like a spark was shared between you, a single brainwave connecting your thoughts. You had been friends since childhood. So why did it feel so oddly…right?

The tips of your fingers were starting to tingle from the harsh grip you had on Hashirama’s robes, nails catching in the fabric and threatening to start tearing at it. Your eyes followed the movements of Hashirama’s tongue as he traced it over his lips, your taste still lingering on the tip of his tongue. He swallowed thickly before clearing his throat.

"That was a little…"

"Unexpected?" you offered.

You also cleared your throat, eyes flicking away briefly as you tried to stave off the heat rising on your cheeks.

"But not unwarranted" you added.  

Your remark made Hashirama’s eyebrows raise with amusement, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "Oh? Do tell."

He leaned closer, trailing butterfly kisses across your jaw as you stumbled over your words. You tried to think of something to reply with but your thoughts were currently jumbled, too distracted by the way he left open mouth kisses against your burning skin and the feeling of his hot breath fluttering against your hammering pulse. His hands slid around your waist, finding purchase on the small of your back as he continued to litter your skin with kisses. You huffed, resolve slowly crumbling as you chewed on your bottom lip.

"Is this your way of dodging my scolding?" you inquired.

Hashirama hummed, the vibrations thrumming across your skin and making your toes curl into the soles of your feet. He pressed his lips to the shell of your ear, your skin erupting in goosebumps as his voice came out as a husky purr that made your knees weak.

"Perhaps you should be the one that gets scolded for goading the Hokage."

When Hashirama pulled back, he didn’t miss the flustered expression that flashed across your visage. You bit your lip harder, trying to contain the quiver as the tips of your ears burned as hot as a raging inferno. You restlessly started to rub your thighs together, trying to alleviate the dull ache that formed in your core. You were so embarrassingly turned on, the material of your panties soaked through and the back of your neck prickling with sweat. You caught the coy smirk that tugged at Hashirama’s out of the corner of your eye and you were so tempted to wipe it off.

"Could it be that you-ahh!"

You threaded your fingers through Hashirama’s hair, fiercely tugging on the locks to silence him before another word could slip unabashed off his tongue. You tried to ignore the sound that bubbled up the back of his throat, spine tingling in delight as every hair on the nape of neck stood up in anticipation. You tugged his head closer as you gave him a stern look.

"Shut up and kiss me again."

You may have sounded intimidating of your voice wasn’t so breathless. If he kept pushing your limits, you were possibly going to end up combusting on the spot. Hashirama sealed his lips, another carefree smile lighting his features as he leaned down to kiss you again. It was much slower this time, no sense of urgency in the way his mouth brushed against yours and savoured your taste. You felt his hands start to explore your body, fingers tracing down your sides and slowly mapping out your curves. A small noise tickled the back of your throat as he grabbed the back of your thighs, lifting you up like you weighed nothing and depositing you on top of the desk. The sudden moved caused the legs to abruptly scrape across the floor and the stack of neatly piled papers to scatter haphazardly to the floor. You huffed loudly at the sorry state, a small smile tugging at your lips as your eyes twinkled with amusement.

"You did that on purpose, didn’t you?"

Hashirama rolled his shoulders in response, fingers looping into the waistband of your bottoms and teasingly dipping under the back to feel your skin.

"Another bad habit that you can scold me for later" he teased.

He paused for a moment, looking down at your flustered and needy form sprawled out on the table beneath him. There was a sudden moment of clarity, a break in the fog that was clouding his senses. There was obviously no going back to being just friends after this. That much was clearly obvious to the both of you. And it seemed like you didn’t care about that. But he still had a question itching at the back of his skull, one that popped up when he had remembered exactly where the two of you currently were at the moment.

"Are you sure you want to do this here? Right now?" he asked.

You nodded vigorously, fingers playing with the ends of his silky hair as you twisted and twirled a strand around your finger. You were well aware that there was a chance that at any moment, someone could discover you in this compromising position. But the small thrill only made it seem much more tantalising. You didn’t think you could hold out much longer. You needed to sate this hunger that gnawed at your insides and there was only one man for the job.

"Can’t wait" you replied, breathing rough as your heart felt like it was about to burst out of your ribcage. "Need you now."

You could taste the desire in the back of your throat as you swallowed thickly, fingertips itching as you started to impatiently tug at Hashirama’s robes. A small laugh breezed past his kiss swollen lips.

"How insatiable. Naughty little imp."

You could tell that he really enjoyed the effect his words had on you and you were probably never going to hear the end of his goading from this day forward. You lifted your legs as Hashirama started to pull your pants off, waiting until he threw the article of clothing aside before wrapping your legs around his waist and drawing him closer by his hips. Your feet dug into the dip in his back, fingers knotting in the sash of his robes and hastily unfastening it. Your hands froze when you felt Hashirama drag his fingers over your wet panties, fabric rubbing against your aching clit and setting every nerve in your body on edge. You hissed through clenched teeth, trying to stifle the loud noises that wanted to break free.

"Huh, you’re really enjoying this, aren’t you?" Hashirama commented.

Your eyes lit up as you were finally unable to untangle the annoying sash, your eyes flicking up to his face as you gave him a cheeky smirk.

"I could say the same about you" you cooed.

A hint of red crept over Hashirama’s cheeks and his infectious smile did not waver. It made your heart flutter, pulse drumming so loudly in your ears you could barely hear anything over the incessant ringing. Your breathing waved as your panties were pushed to the side, exposing your most private parts to the cool chill of the room. You squirmed under Hashirama’s intense gaze, eyes focused on the glistening pearl at the top of your puffy pussy and the way your arousal dripped down your trembling thighs. He breathed in sharply, fingers tickling against the skin of your thighs as he caressed your body with reverence.

"Beautiful" he uttered with content.

A soft sigh escaped your lips as his hands continued to caress your legs, your skin burning hot under his touch as he trailed his fingers to your centre. You immediately clamped a hand over your mouth, muffling your lewd noises into the palm of your hand. He drew his thumb over your throbbing clit, sending a spark of electricity spiralling down to your core as your legs tightened around his waist. Your eyes fluttered, threatening to slip close as the bliss set into your bones. Your hips twitched forward as he teased your opening, an obscene amount of slick coating his fingers as he experimented with his touches. Your ears burned when a finger slipped inside of you, a loud and wet squelch abruptly cutting through the silence as you moaned into your hand.

"Hashi" you moaned; voice muffled into your skin as you tipped your head back.

He buried his finger up to the knuckle, twisting and curling the digit before making room for a second one. Your breath hitching, teeth catching in your skin as you bit back the loud moan worming its way up your throat. Your head felt dizzy from the pleasure, hot coil winding tight in the pit of your stomach. Your nails dug into the wooden surface of the desk, scratching at the waning polish as the coil wound tighter, the tension in your muscles growing with each blissful moment. You were finding it increasingly difficult to silence yourself, hips shaking as Hashirama rubbed his fingers against your plush insides, brushing against your soft spots and making stars waver in your vision. You didn’t know how much longer you would last, pussy gripping his fingers like you never wanted to let go yet craving to be filled with so much more.

"Hashi, hurry" you urged, panting against your skin as sweat dotted your brow.

Time was scarce, as was your patience. And though Hashirama would have loved to indulge you for a bit longer, he realised how desperately you both needed this right now. He could make it up to you later, if you would allow it. He removed his fingers from you with a loud pop and before you were left mourning the loss of warmth and friction, you were being filled to the brim with a different kind of heat. Your hand fell from your face, jaw slack and eyes rolling as Hashirama’s cock pierced your centre, the stretch both uncomfortable and comforting at the same time. Hashirama was quick to seal his mouth over yours, swallowing your hungry cries of ecstasy as he buried himself inside your pulsing warmth, your walls snug around his drooling cock.

"Hhng, so warm" he groaned against your mouth, tongue lapping at the drool clinging to the corner of your bruised lips.

You couldn’t find the words anymore. You could barely form a coherent thought. All you could do was cling onto the Hokage with waning strength, hips moving lazily as he rocked his hips against yours. His stomach clenched, rippling muscles glistening with sweat and tempting you to trace your fingers over the beautiful dips and lines of his toned body. Long locks of his hair tickled your skin and spilled over your shoulders, the featherlight touches making your skin extra sensitive and receptive to his addicting touch. He drove his cock deeper into your pussy, the desk creaking in protest from the sudden, jarring movements. Your hands clung onto the back of his neck, your breaths mingling every time your lips met in sloppy, unrefined passion that drove the heat inside of you to boiling point. You could feel the head kissing your sweet spot with every push of his hips, walls fluttering around him with every slow drag of his cock against your plush insides. You could feel him throbbing as you whined into his mouth, teeth catching his bottom lip as you whispered his name.

"I’m so close" you slurred.

It felt like fireworks were crackling to life on your stomach and it was almost too much for you to handle anymore. You could barely focus on anything other than Hashirama and the way he made you feel. His hands curled around your hips, fingers digging into your plump body as he shoved you down on his cock harder. The sound wrenched from your lips was so loud it vibrated against his skin, his jaw tense and brow furrowed as he rushed you both towards release. Your walls spasmed around his girth when he hit just the right spot, your vision turning white for a few brief seconds as you tumbled over the edge.

The coil inside of you shattered into a million pieces, flooding your veins with white hot euphoria that made your head spin. You bit your tongue to stifle your loud moans and mewls of bliss, walls undulating around Hashirama’s cock as you coaxed him into his own release. The pressure snapped as he buried himself to the hilt inside you with a loud grunt, balls tight and cock kicking with each heavy spurt of his cum. Warmth blossomed across your abdomen, pussy gripping his cock and squeezing him for every last drop. His movements started to taper off, riding out the last dregs of your pleasure high as the ends of your fraying nerves started to become overwhelmed.

Your limbs felt like the consistency of jelly as you finally relaxed, the tension melting away and being replaced with a warm, satisfied feeling. Your lungs burned as you greedily gulped down air, eyes in a trance as you stared absentmindedly at the ceiling. You could feel Hashirama rest more of his weight against you, hands rubbing at your hips to soothe the aching of your joints. He was struggling to catch his breathing as well, hair falling into his eyes when he dipped his head to look down on you.

"How are you feeling?" he asked, voice coming out in a husky murmur. "I didn’t hurt you, did I?"

You gently shook your head, brushing his bangs of his eyes and tucking them behind his ear. "No, you didn’t. I feel…actually I feel really good."

Hashirama chuckled as he pressed his forehead against yours and left a chaste kiss on your nose. "I feel the same."

As much as you would have loved to bask in the moment for a little longer, you had to separate before you got caught. You gently pushed on Hashirama’s shoulder, gaining his attention once more as you tried to move him off. He refused to budge, softening cock still plugging your centre and stirring a pleasant tingle in your stomach.

"Come on Hashirama, we need to move."

"Hmm, I think gravity is increasing on me" he mumbled against your neck, arms wrapping around your waist as he held you.

You pointedly rolled your eyes. "Don’t be such a baby. We can do this later. If your brother catches us like this, we may never recover from the scathing remarks he would make."

[maraudering-times]

Have a snippet!

Still writing this Twister AU fic but figured I'd share the part I'm writing rn. Enjoy!!!

This is my first Marauders fic so... 🥺🫡

Also. I still want someone other than @marauders-brain-rot to beta read this when it’s done so any serious inquires would be great 😊 my dms are open

---

“It’s okay. We’re okay.” He whispers into his ear. It’s barely audible over the wind and now pelting rain. Thunder claps and lightning strikes. All the while, James keeps whispering ‘it’s okay, we’re okay’ like a mantra. 

That car with its blaring alarm goes quiet then, probably swept up and tossed away. Despite the ever present stickiness of the floor, their bodies are dragged across and hauled against the bottom of the counter. 

The walls creak and groan. 

Booths and tables quake.

James keeps talking in Regulus’s ear.

In the storage room behind them the door is ripped off its hinges along with the ones in the dinning area. 

James keeps talking in Regulus’s ear.

The counter their bodies are against starts to tremble.

James keeps talking in Regulus’s ear.

The roof splinters and peels back like a tin can. Rain falls inside.

James keeps talking in Regulus’s ear.

[of-teeth-and-tenderness]

Bound

M Werewolf x F Reader (NSFW)

Summary: A planned encounter with a supernatural captive tethers the two of you together in more ways than one.

Warnings: Kidnapping, drugging, body horror, complicated noncon for both parties, fuck or die scenario, painful sex (and not painful sex), forced breeding, multiple orgasms, knotting, blood, gore, minor character(s) death.

~~

The echoing tap of boots on stone brings you to the surface of consciousness. Chain mail jingles in time with the dizzying sway of your heavy body. Your ears seem as though they are stuffed with cotton, every sound muffled and distant. Painfully, you swallow, your parched throat crying for water.

Slowly, pure sound returns. Keys rattle. A heavy lock thunks. Rusting hinges squeal. The stink of rotting iron, mildew, and heady musk assaults your senses. Snuffling, frantic inhales bounce off a low ceiling.

“W-What are you doing?” a deep but tremulous voice inquires. The fear behind the words gives you the strength to crack your eyes open.

Darkness is all you can see at first. Momentary panic grips you—have you lost your sight—but rapid blinking brings a stone floor into focus.

Before you can even begin to orient yourself, you’re slung from the shoulder of the man who had carried you here like a sack of goods. Pain erupts in your shoulder and hip when you crash to the floor, a weak cry tearing from your chapped lips.

A strained groan sounds from across the room, followed by gasping breaths and frightened begging, “No, no you can’t do this, you can’t do this! Please, for god’s sake, please—

“Quiet, dog! Isn’t this what you wanted?” a second voice snaps, condescension dripping from every word. “All that moanin’ and blubberin’ I’ve had to endure. Finally gettin’ your way and now you turn your nose up at it? Oughta be thankin’ me.” Cruel laughter ricochets off the ceiling. You wince and curl in on yourself. Darkness pulls at the edges of your vision, unconsciousness yearning to claim you once more.

A heavy door slams. The lock clicks.

“No, no, no, no….” the first voice chants, a despairing whisper. Deep, shaking inhales, then, “M-Miss…darling…I—please look at me, there’s no time….”

Groggily, you groan and force your eyes open. Focus, you will yourself. You push to your elbows, eyes quickly scanning the small room—a prison cell—before they fall on a man shackled to the far wall.

A small, barred window set high up into the wall allows just enough weak starlight into the cell to make out his features. The soft glow falls on dark, shoulder length hair. It’s wild and disheveled; that combined with the dirt on his skin and the thick stubble peppering his jaw tells you he hasn’t seen a bath or a razor in some time. He’s gaunt, like he’s been starved, and a sheen of sweat covers his body and glistens in the low light. His skin…. It’s completely unmarred, not a blemish in sight save for the thick purple scar covering his right shoulder. It is in the shape of a semi-circle, but you can make out nothing else in the low light.

You realize suddenly the man is naked, save for a thin cloth covering his groin. Even in the darkness you spot the erection straining under fabric. You gulp, bewildered and embarrassed, and meet his gaze. He regards you with wide, startlingly golden eyes. They dart to the window and back to your face. His nostrils flare like he’s scenting the air.

The question of how and why you’re here in this cell with this poor prisoner burns in your mind, but you remain quiet. You have a feeling this man will be your answer.

“That’s a good girl. Tell me your name?” he asks. His voice is strained, like he’s forcing himself to stay calm, or to calm you. You bite your lip hesitantly, your gaze flicking to the locked iron door and back again.

Your own voice breaking when you speak, you tell him your name as you push up to sitting. The room spins and you clench your eyes shut as nausea churns in your belly.

The tea.

They’d taken you—two soldiers in armor, armor with no sigil. They’d abducted you on your way home from town. They waited for you on the path you take through the forest, like they had known your route.

It was planned.

They took you to a nameless fortress hidden on the mountain. The dingy stone walls had oozed despair. They held you prisoner for several days in a room similar to this cell, though you’d been given a bed and a table and food. One night, flanked by soldiers—different soldiers, how many were there—a wizened old man had visited your room.

The old man told you he was a doctor. He made you drink a cup of foul tasting tea….

It was drugged, you realize now. Why? Are you still in the fortress? Why are you here now with this shackled man? And why is he so scared?

He repeats your name with a nod. “I am Callum. Listen…. I’m sorry, I’m so sorry there isn’t more time to explain. You—

Callum suddenly grits his teeth and tenses, his back arching away from the wall. You watch his toes curl and rake through the straw covering the floor beneath him. He whimpers and slumps forward, the shackles catching against his arms and digging bleeding groves into his skin.

Alarmed, you push to your knees, intent on helping in some way, but his eyes fly open and he shouts, “Don’t! Don’t, please don’t come near me. Your scent, gods, your scent….” He trails off, shaking his head and flexing against his bonds.

Audibly, Callum swallows and lifts his head to fix you with his intense stare. “The full moon is rising. I can feel it. I’m—I’m about to transform into…into something you’ve only ever heard tell of in stories. Something….” He trails off and shakes his head. “They…” he glares toward the door, “They left you in here with me as-as an experiment. I told them! I told them what would happen but they don’t listen. He has to see it for himself”.

Heart hammering against your ribs, you watch him, trepidation and confusion only increasing with his words. “I-I don’t understand,” you stammer, trembling fingers clutching the front of your dress.

“You will.” he whispers, eyes raising to the window again. They gleam in the light, tears brimming in his lashes. They trickle down his cheeks when he blinks and looks back to you. “I might hurt you, but I won’t kill you. Not this time. You’re-you’re going to be used for something else. I can’t control it. I wish—oh—how I wish I could. I’m so sorry, I wish it wasn’t like this, I’m sorry—

Suddenly, Callum stiffens, his body going ramrod straight. Golden eyes fix on the window, unblinking. He’s frozen in place, a statue. He doesn’t even breathe.

An agonized scream erupts from his mouth. You jolt and scurry away, your back hitting the opposite wall. Callum bows forward, more cries and groans leaving his quaking form. Joints snap, bones crack, and your eyes widen in shock at the sickening crunch.

With one, brutal tug, Callum cleanly rips the shackles from the wall. A shriek leaves you as he falls to his knees, dust and twisted metal raining down around him. His back curves when he falls forward and looses another blood-curdling scream.

Flesh tears. Terror sticks a scream in your throat when you watch the skin of Callum’s back split along his spine. Instead of bloody tissue and bone beneath, black fur emerges. More snapping, more shredding. Limbs elongate. Fingers grow heinous claws. Legs contort. Screams turn to snarls, sounds so deep and guttural you feel them in your chest.

Feverish panic surges through your muscles and you scramble off the ground to race to the door. You bang your fist on metal, frantically pleading through the small window with the man standing guard on the other side. He merely chuckles and shakes his head.

“Get comfortable, Missy. You’ve got a long night ahead of you. He’s in his rut, that one.”

Rut…?

Long, bony fingers wrap around your ankle and yank your leg out from under you. You squeal in surprise, barely managing to catch your weight and stop your face from smashing into stone. Hastily, you whip around, your entire body seizing in abject horror at what you find.

Staring back at you through the darkness are two golden eyes that burn with unnatural fire, glowing in the gloom. Black fur covers a monstrous snout. Moonlight glints off long, dripping fangs. Pointed ears flick to and fro, listening to your frenzied breaths.

It is a wolf, mostly. The long arms and legs and the ten grasping fingers, however, are unnervingly human. And the sheer, hulking size of it…. No normal wolf is this big. You know of this creature, heard your father speak of it once with the other carpenters.

He spoke of entire flocks of sheep slaughtered on a full moon night, their shepherds eviscerated and torn limb from limb. Yet, nothing was consumed. The culprit had only craved the hunt, the carnage. You had nightmares for weeks after, the name this man turned monster ever present in your fears:

Werewolf.

From the creature’s maw comes a rumbling growl, one that spills icy fear into your blood. You thrash and claw at the ground, but the monster easily captures your other ankle and pulls you across the floor.

Hot, viscous drool patters across your bare thighs, your skirts having bunched up around your hips during the slide. The wolf looms over you, its nose twitching this way and that as it scents the air. Scents you.

Shakily, you whimper when the wet snout dips to your neck—the teeth are so close, one bite and you’re dead—and snuffles along your skin to your ear. Its breath reeks of carrion, of death. You can’t stop your trembling as it travels down your chest and your abdomen before nuzzling into the apex of your thighs.

You yelp and squirm, but fall still when the beast growls again, more insistently this time. Claws catch in the fabric of your undergarments and tear, the sound of ripping fabric merging with your startled screech.

You’re bared to it now and can feel its hot breath ghosting across your slit. Drool spills from its mouth to drip onto your mound. Clawed hands leave your ankles to grip your thighs so it can wrench your legs further apart.

Pink tongue lolling from its mouth, the monster dips down and drags the slippery muscle across your folds. You’re so shocked you arch and gasp, unexpected pleasure jolting through your belly. Any attempt to twist your hips away only digs the creature’s claws further into the flesh of your legs. You’re trapped, a prisoner to its ministrations.

The werewolf begins lapping away at your cunt, its golden eyes slipping closed as if in rapture. Every pass of its rough tongue has your toes curling and your nails scraping against stone. You clench your jaw, mortified by the sounds aching to escape.

Distantly, through all your racing thoughts, the memory Callum’s words float to the forefront of your mind: “You’re-you’re going to be used for something else….”

Something else…. Did he mean…?

Climax hits you like a runaway horse. The tight coil of want deep in your gut snaps and pleasure rolls through you in molten waves. A strangled cry spills from your lips, your thighs twitching in the wolf’s grip.

Panting, dazed, you stare in disbelief at the low ceiling and curse your traitorous body. Later, think later. Get out, get away.

You move to wriggle away, but claws seize you around the waist. The room tilts as you’re flipped onto your front. One paw between your shoulder blades keeps your chest pinned to the floor, while another on your hip raises you to your knees.

Heart slamming against your ribs, there is now no doubt about what comes next. Straining, you peer back over your shoulder and catch sight of the creature’s thick red cock, hard and free from its sheath. The size of it renews your struggle, desperation to escape overriding the pain of claws pricking your flesh. It’s pointless, you realize, as the tapered head, slick with desire, slides down your rear and prods at your entrance.

“C-Callum, please don’t,” you plead, praying to the gods above the man inside the monster will hear.

Pointless.

The beast’s length eases past your opening and burrows into tight, slippery muscles. The incredible stretch takes your breath away and leaves you wide eyed and slack-jawed. Uncontrollable shaking wracks your form and you whimper pathetically, filled to your limit.

“T-Too-too much,” comes your tremulous gasp. Your nails carve bleeding divots into your palms. Behind you, the wolf rumbles in satisfaction. The fur of its chest brushes against your back when it curls over you, bringing with it the scents of earth and musk.

You feel its powerful thighs tense for the first, hard thrust, but just one is not enough. There is no slow start, no paced rhythm until you’ve adjusted. The creature snaps his hips with fervor, battering you into the floor. Wet slapping fills the tiny cell, the sound only overshadowed by your screams.

The screams, however, are not ones of pain, at least not completely. There is discomfort in the stretch, in how deeply and thoroughly your cunt is pummeled. Yet, there is no denying the pleasure, the ecstasy that takes control of your voice to make its presence known. You can’t contain the mewls, the moans, the high pitched keening.

“Please, p-please, please,” you whine, no longer certain if you beg for it to stop, or for more. Your knees ache and your cheek burns where you’re repeatedly pressed into the floor, but you hardly notice over the hot, sticky rapture spreading through your core.

The next climax takes your breath away. Your mouth falls open in a silent cry as your cunt squeezes the girth within you, demanding payment. The wolf snarls, drool splattering onto your back to soak into your dress. Something hard and bulbous, thicker than its length pushes against your slit.

What—

With one vicious thrust, the beast’s knot pops into your spasming channel. Its cock tunnels deeper still, deeper than you could have imagined possible. You shriek and arch, eyes crossing, overwhelmed tears spilling down your cheeks. You cum again, your vision whiting out, euphoria roiling in your gut.

More warmth floods your insides, so copious it overflows and leaks down your trembling thighs. Through the pleasure-haze you realize it is pumping you full of its seed.

Breeding you.

The werewolf slumps a little, pushing you further into the floor and covering your back with warm fur. It pants in your ear, its heaving chest mirroring your own. The great snout nuzzles your cheek, wet tongue lapping at your tears and sweat. An experimental twitch of your hips tells you you’re firmly locked in place where you are joined.

Those heinous teeth so near your head frighten you. You pray Callum’s promise about not killing you holds true. Even if it doesn’t kill you, it could still bite and pass its curse onto you.

Long minutes pass where the both of you simply breathe in the other’s air. The wolf hovers over you, its massive body and long arms like a protective cage. Weariness takes hold of your shaking limbs and your eyes droop despite the setting and company.

Gradually, the swollen base of its cock begins to shrink. The creature pulls free, a deluge of spend pouring from your hole and splattering to the floor. Your knees give out and you collapse, a sticky mess.

You expect the monster to retreat, to curl up and sleep, but instead it startles you by grasping you around the middle and rolling you onto your back. Your eyes go wide, your stomach dropping when you see it is fully erect once again.

“W-wait, wait I—

Claws dig into your hips and lift. The wolf surges forward and spears you on its cock a second time. The cry you loose burns your throat.

The frenzied pace starts up again, white hot jolts of arousal arcing through your belly with every thrust. Jarring movement causes your dress to slip off a shoulder, your breasts spilling free. Eagerly, the beast dives forward and laves its tongue across a nipple. You choke on a moan, fingers unconsciously tangling in coarse fur.

It becomes increasingly apparent as you are stuffed full of seed, flipped on your side, and fucked into once again that this ordeal, this long night is far, far from over.

You won’t rest until the moon does.

**

Your cheek nestles against thick fur. Blearily, you blink and realize you had dipped out of wakefulness for a moment. You’re still, no longer rocking with the movement of pistoning hips. You think you might still be seated on the wolf’s girth, but it is difficult to tell, numb as you are.

The creature beneath you stirs, a long whine leaving its throat. In your peripheral, faint light shines through the window bars. The sun….

The cracking of bone heralds the change. Claws retract, limbs shorten. Fur falls away to be replaced by skin and human body hair. Low growls morph into pained groans.

You don’t have the strength to lift your head. Your cheek, buried in fur not a moment ago, now rests on a sturdy chest. Callum’s heart hammers in your ear and his haggard breaths jostle you. No longer held inside by the wolf’s knot, spend pours from your abused cunt to coat the both of you.

Quietly, he sobs. Trembling arms wrap around your limp body and his lips find your crown. Timidly, he croaks out your name. You don’t know what to say, too dazed and exhausted to even think. You remain silent.

Carefully cradling you to his chest, Callum moves the both of you off cold stone and onto straw bedding. He gingerly fixes your clothing, pulling it back in place and covering you as well as he can. You sigh heavily, too weary to care. Your only desire is sleep’s comforting embrace, nothing more.

Rest comes, however lightly. You doze, drifting in and out of that liminal space between waking and sleeping. Perhaps it is the way your hips ache that keeps you from slumbering deeply, or the way you can feel your heartbeat between your bruised thighs. The more time passes, the more your body begins to twinge.

Voices rouse you. Your eyes flutter and you listen, focusing on their words. Both are voices you recognize.

“…took the poor wench, if all that screamin’ was anythin’ to go by.”

“Is she still alive?” You frown. It’s the old man, the doctor….

“Dunno. Haven’t heard her in a while. Maybe not.”

“Did he knot her?” Your cheeks burn at the question.

“How the fuck would I know? Wasn’t in there taking notes, was I?” The lock thunks. Your eyes fly open only to meet molten gold.

A thrill of fear races up your spine. Callum’s human eyes are identical to those of the wolf. You suck in a breath and will your racing heart to calm. He’s still human.

Callum holds a finger up to his mouth, hushing you. Hastily, you shut your eyes and pretend to sleep. Hinges squeal.

“You don’t understand! If he claimed her as his mate, you have no idea the danger you’re in!” Boots on stone, louder voices, rattling of chainmail and keys. “His protective instinct will be ferocious—

“Quiet down, old man. Looks to me like he fucked himself into a stupor.”

Instantly, the heat of Callum’s body disappears from your side. There’s a grunt of surprise, a wet gurgle, then shocked silence. You risk a peek and your hands fly to your mouth to muffle your horrified gasp.

The guard who had spoken so crudely—the one who brought you here—clutches wildly at his neck. Scarlet gushes from a chunk of flesh that has been torn from his throat, flesh that now rests between Callum’s teeth. Little drops of gore, crimson rain, patter onto the stone around their feet, more violent red peppered across the front of Callum’s bare chest.

The soldier topples over, the noisy crash breaking the trance of the second guard. He rushes Callum only to receive a powerful kick to the chest. The man crashes into the far wall and collapses in motionless heap.

Callum then turns his attention to the old man cowering near the door. Pathetically, he cries out and moves to scamper from the room, but Callum is faster. He grips the doctor by the throat, fury burning in his golden eyes. The old man paws at Callum’s wrist, his mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water.

Callum squeezes. A gut-wrenching crack echoes around the room and the old man goes slack in his grip, eyes rolling back into his skull. Unceremoniously, the doctor is tossed to the side, a lifeless rag doll crumpling into a pile.

Callum spits the blood from his mouth and hurriedly kneels next to the first guard. He strips him of his breeches and boots and dresses himself. Reaching for the sword, he pauses and peers closely at the handle. He must not like what he sees because he leaves it to stand.

Then, he turns to face you, face bloodied and eyes alight with righteous fire. You’re momentarily frozen in half-formed panic. He won’t hurt you, will he?

But you couldn’t flee if you tried.

His expression softens and he races to your side. Gently, he grips you under the arms. “We must hurry. More will come soon. Can you walk?”

You steel yourself and push your fears aside. Escape must take precedence. “I-I can try.” Wrapping your arms around his neck, he hauls you to your feet. You stagger into his side, your knees buckling, the deep ache between your legs growing unbearable.

Callum wraps an arm around your waist and ushers you from the tiny cell. You stumble along as well as you can, every step reminding you of your list of hurts.

Before you lies a hallway. He lifts his head and sniffs the air. “This way,” he murmurs, steering you to the right. Together, you rush, stepping as lightly as you can, your padding footsteps and labored breaths like a cacophony in the quiet hall.

Over the rush of blood in your ears you hear voices up ahead. Your heart leaps into your throat. Frantically, you look up at Callum.

He wastes no time. As though you weigh nothing, he lifts you clean off your feet. Backtracking, he slips into a nearby stairwell and presses flush against the wall. Callum crushes you to his chest and the both of you hold your breath.

A pair of guards approach, boots stomping, chainmail jingling. They laugh about some shared joke, their chortling filling the hallway and echoing down the stairwell. Please pass by, please pass by….

You slowly release the air trapped in your lungs as the soldiers continue forward past the stairwell. Though, you won’t have long before they discover the grisly scene in the cell and sound the alarm. Callum must understand this too.

He darts back up the stairs, sets you on your feet, and continues onward, more urgency in his steps. You stumble along, fingers digging into this shoulder while your other hand clutches desperately at the arm around your waist.

Down a set of stairs, through another corridor you go. Ahead lies a heavy wooden door. Callum shoulders it open just as a bell begins clanging from the guard tower.

Daylight blinds you both. You nearly tumble down the short set of stairs in your rush to throw a hand up over your face. The arm on your waist steadies you.

Hurry, down the steps, hurry.

You grit your teeth, every step jolting sore limbs. Dull aching becomes sharp stabbing. Push it down, ignore it you tell yourself as you rush through the grass. Just head is tree cover.

Your knees buckle. You crumple, a strained cry leaving you as you crash to the ground, grass dirtying your palms and your dress. Morning dew still clings to the blades to soak your clothing.

“I can’t, just—

Callum doesn’t let you finish and instead scoops you up off the ground to carry you bridal style. How he can run right now, carrying you and exhausted from the previous night is beyond you. Still, he sprints into the trees, gracefully leaping over brush and fallen branches.

Soon, however, he begins to slow. Sweat beads along his brow and his chest heaves. There is such weariness etched in his features; in the light you can see the dark circles under his eyes, the sunken cheeks.

“Callum, stop,” you urge, your palm gently resting on his chest. He blinks and looks down at you as though he’d been in a trance. He staggers and falls to his knees, dead foliage crunching beneath. You clamber from his arms and help him lay on his side as he sucks in laborious breaths through his teeth.

Hastily glancing about, you find a moderately sized branch. Using your remaining strength, you haul it behind Callum, half concealing his shivering frame. It will have to do. You can manage no more.

Next to him, you collapse, your body riddled with pain and fatigue. Never have you experienced weariness down to your very bones.

You don’t think anything of it when you curl up against Callum’s chest. It seems the natural place to be. The arm that wraps around your body and pulls you close is meant to be there. Your vision blurs, merciful darkness encroaching.

Finally, sleep takes you.

[zablife]

Mary the Helpful Housekeeper

Requested by @appare--vestigium for my 2K celebration An Evening at Arrow House. Warning: This is a dark fic 💀

You woke with a splitting headache, the blinding sliver of sunlight peeking through the curtains only adding to your pain. You reached out for your cigarettes, but your body was sluggish and unresponsive to your commands, only succeeding in knocking over the Bible the staff had given you as a wedding gift. With a huff of frustration, you fell back against the plush comfort of the feather down pillows, wondering if it had been the copious amounts of wine at dinner or your late night of passionate lovemaking causing your fatigue. Placing a hand over your eyes, you called out to Tommy to see how he was faring, but received no answer.

Your eyelids slipped close once more, too heavy to keep open and suddenly a bizarre dream resurfaced from the recesses of your mind. You flinched at the haunting memory of an intruder which now seemed unquestionably real. You were certain you’d witnessed a shadowy figure scurrying forth from the darkness to loom over you and Tommy, a pleading voice whispering in your ear to repent. 

Before you could bring forth any other details, you heard the door of your bedroom creaking against its ancient hinges and you gasped loudly, eyes snapping open in fear.  A slight figure rounded the corner with a breakfast tray, tilting her head to examine you curiously. “Is something wrong, ma’am?” Mary asked, placing the food at your side.

“No…yes,” you corrected yourself rubbing your temples in tight circles. “I’m not feeling very well. My head is aching and I’ve had the strangest dream,” you confided, though you weren’t sure she was the right person to tell. Where Tommy saw professionalism, you perceived nothing but coldness in her demeanor.

“Oh, what about?” she inquired, busying herself opening the curtains. 

“Nothing….nonsense really,” you admitted, dismissing the ludicrous idea the moment the soothing warmth of the tea cup radiated against your palm.

The rhythmic clicking of Mary’s footsteps against the hardwood stopped abruptly, her voice straining a note higher as she advised, “I wouldn’t be so quick to forget. Your dreams can tell you a great deal.”

“I doubt that,” you snorted.

Mary drew the last curtain back with more force than necessary. The golden rings holding the heavy drapery crashed against the rod with a harsh clang, forcing you to turn. “Mary!” you exclaimed in shock and annoyance.

“My apologies, ma’am. I do hope you recover from what ails you,” she said in somber monotone before hurrying from the room.

You rolled your eyes at her unsympathetic tone, a long sigh escaping your lips as you attempted to move the heavy tray. Wincing in pain, your eyes fell to your left arm and the bright red mark that had seemingly appeared overnight. You traced the tender flesh at the crease of your elbow with your fingertips, wondering what sort of insect could have bitten you. It left you disgusted at the thought of something in your bedding and you demanded the room be given an immediate cleaning. Of course, Mary deemed it unnecessary, stressing her thorough routine.

Despite winning the battle of wills, you felt a certain unease that would carry through the day until you were tucked safely beneath your husband’s arm at bedtime. Only then did you give an account of your unusual morning and the difficulties with his housekeeper. 

“Tommy, honestly, I don’t know why you keep her around,” you grumbled.

Tommy shrugged as he leaned over to extinguish his cigarette in the ashtray. “She’s loyal and hardworking, Y/n. Not to mention a skilled nurse. She patched up Arthur and me more than once without saying a word to the coppers,” he noted. “And she never complains. Always answers the bell, no matter how late,” he added with a satisfied nod.

“So she’s in love with you,” you teased, looking over at him with a wicked smile and playfully raised eyebrow. “The maid who answers the bell after midnight is always in love with the master.”

“Is that right?” Tommy asked, mischief dancing in his eyes. “It’s after midnight now, Mrs. Shelby, would you care to see to my needs?” he countered, moving your hand down his toned chest toward the growing bulge in his shorts. You giggled as he leaned down to kiss you, pushing every thought of insubordinate servants from your mind. By the time he’d finished with you, you were thoroughly exhausted and fell into a peaceful slumber by his side.

The next thing you remembered, the clock in the hall chimed four, a chill blowing through the room. Your heavy eyes struggled to open, nonetheless you swore there was something at the corner of your vision, moving stealthily toward you. You felt your heart knock against your ribs urgently and you willed yourself to scream, but found your tongue caught in your throat. Likewise, your limbs remained stuck and lifeless by your side. Tommy, Tommy, Tommy…please wake up, you silently pleaded, wishing he could hear your desperate thoughts.

A whisper drifted toward your ear, hissing like a serpent ready to strike. “But if they confess their iniquity and the iniquity of their fathers in their treachery that they committed against me, and also in walking contrary to me, so that I walked contrary to them and brought them into the land of their enemies-if they then their uncircumcised heart is humbled and they make amends for their iniquity then I will remember…” Words tumbled out, one upon another as your eyes adjusted in the darkness.

Then a leather bound book came into view, held by bony hands. You felt fear clawing at your spine as a pair of bulging blue irises peeked over the edges of the volume in an icy stare. The recitation stopped the moment your eyes locked, a hint of recognition flickering like the flame of a candle before it was snuffed out. A sudden blur of motion overtook your senses as the figure turned in haste, leaving you to fall back into a tunnel of confusion, haze descending upon you like a thick fog.

The next morning, your headache returned and with it intense paranoia. Luckily, Tommy was there to tend to you. He stroked your cheek with his thumb, a pained look upon his brow as he studied you with concern. “We’ll get a doctor if you need to speak to someone about your nightmares, love,” he reassured you. 

“They’re not dreams, Tommy! What I've seen is real!" you insisted. Biting your lip you added hesitantly, "I think it’s Mary. I swear it was her last night,” you said, clutching onto his sleeve, needing to be close to him.

“Where, darling?” he asked, beginning to worry for your sanity. 

“Here! In our room, standing over our bed,” you stressed, tugging on him insistently. You searched his eyes to see if he believed you and found nothing but a blank stare.

Tommy shook his head gently and hushed you as he pushed the hair from your face. “You’re overtired. All the preparations for the party,” he reasoned. “I’ll stay in the guest room tonight. Give you a chance to rest,” he said, placing a kiss to the top of your head with such tenderness you began to cry.

“Tommy, please don’t leave me,” you sniffed. “I’m afraid,” you confided in a whisper.

“Of Mary?” he asked with a chuckle. “Now I know you could use some sleep. Who could be afraid of a little old woman, eh?” 

—————-

Two weeks later…

“What’s wrong with her? Thought you was going to have a party?” a gruff voice echoed down the hall. 

“She’s not well, brother,” your husband rasped, concern laced in his voiced. 

“What’s she got?” his brother demanded.

“I’m not sure,” Tommy replied, exhaustion evident in his tone. “But she says Mary's to blame.”

“Mary? She’s a good Christian woman, Tom! What’s she got to do with this?” 

Tommy sighed, “I wish I knew.”

Although you tried to prop yourself up on the pillows to hear the rest of their conversation, you were unable to manage it. You’d become far too weak in recent days. Your arms were now covered in tiny red blemishes which were beginning to scab over. You shifted the blankets to cover them, ashamed of the indelicate way your skin had bruised by whatever was afflicting you.

When Tommy opened the door to your bedroom, you offered a weak smile when he asked, “How’s my girl?”

You didn’t feel like his girl anymore, you knew dark circles painted the hollows of your eyes and your cheeks sunk in unattractively, but you tried to put on a brave face for the man you loved. “I’m alright,” you said, attempting a small smile. Your visits with Tommy were the highlight of your otherwise drab and listless days.

“That’s good. You get to feeling better and we’ll start to discuss our wedding party, yeah?” he offered encouragingly.

“I’d like that,” you answered, though the hope of returning to a normal life seemed to be slipping further from your grasp with each passing day.

“I’ll have a maid draw your bath,” Tommy said, placing a kiss to your lips before turning to leave.

“Not her!” you reminded him, voice as loud and clear as you could manage.

Tommy stopped at the door, one hand on the frame as he exhaled loudly. “No, of course not.”

“Thank you,” you called out, feeling like a burden and a disappointment. 

——————-

With the steam from the bath having dissipated and the water turning tepid, you looked over your shoulder for your favorite silk robe. “Clara, could you help me?” you called out, settling back against the edge as you waited. 

Eyes closed in one last moment of peaceful solitude, you inhaled the soothing lavender bath salts, leaving an arm extended for your towel. Just then a hand grasped your forearm immobilizing you, a momentary sting caused you to thrash in the water. As the crashing waves spilled onto the tile floor, you were only vaguely aware of the splash as it hit. You felt your body sink into the water, arms slipping from the porcelain edges as your muscles went weak. The piercing blue irises from your nightmares watched you, but this time you were lucid enough to attach them to a body, the ginger haired woman you’d suspected all along.

“M-mary?” you mumbled, lips and tongue tingling strangely. She held a hand over your mouth, her eyebrows twitching with fury.

“When will you ever listen? You sinful woman,” she berated you in a low voice.

You searched her eyes, but the effect of whatever she’d given you was quickly altering your senses. You watched as her face began to melt into a blur, using all your effort to concentrate on her words.

“Mr. Shelby was turning his life around before you came. The orphanages, housing for the poor,” she explained, voice cracking with emotion. “But you’ve distracted him from his work. All he speaks of now are hedonistic pleasures. Your influence, no doubt,” she hissed.

You let out a muffled cry, barely able to breathe, and she jerked her hand away as though she were the one who had been harmed. She looked at her hand fearfully. “I’m no murderer. I’m here to save your soul,” she said with a vigorous nod of her head.

She stood, smoothing her apron as if reminded why she'd come in the first place. Taking a small Bible from the bathroom sink, she licked her index finger before finding her place from the night before.

She cleared her throat so as to compose herself, standing straight as an arrow, chin held high. “Leviticus 18…” she began in a controlled voice you recognized from your nightmares. Your eyes slipped close, a tear running down your cheek as you realized it had been all too real.

-----------

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