#tw gaslighting

[bones-of-a-rabbit]

planning smthn,,

(and by planning i mean i have one(1) page sketched out at all even a little bit period)

but stay tuned,, for a tale of some emotionally unwell robots and their struggle to be normal abt it every time you leave for more than five minutes <3

[rinhaler]

Baby I Know How To Use a Gun (𝒢𝓊𝓃.. 𝔊𝔲𝔫)

✧˖*°࿐ : 18+ only, no minors.    ✧. ┊ toxic!megumi fushiguro x f!reader

Genre: smut Notes: this concept has been making me insane for WEEKS I just had to get it down, it's icky as usual = bon apetit ˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚ p.s. i dont know anything abt guns uwu Warnings: 18+, dubcon, vaginal sex, alcohol consumption, cheating, toxic!relationship (they are both toxic af), gaslighting, manipulation, coercion, co-dependency, gun inaccuracies (probably), gunplay ♡ physical abuse?, pussy drunk!megumi, choking, dacryphilia, daddy!kink, bruising ♡, spanking, masochism, minor dildo use, fingering, dumbifcation, pussy spanks, scratching, breeding kink, calls your pussy ‘she’. Words: 8k (I'm so sorry)

part of my toxic lovers collab

Nothing bothers you when you’re with Megumi. It’s impossible to feel any emotion besides pure, unadulterated lust whenever he’s with you. You were always such a prude before him. Absolutely disgusted whenever you’d see a couple hold hands or peck each other on the cheek.

It made your skin crawl when you saw couples kiss with tongue.

But he’s turned you into something you hate. You don’t care if you’re sitting with a group of friends, you couldn’t stop yourself from straddling him and basically dry fucking his thigh while making out with him. And it was worse when you drank.

So here you are now, in the back of a taxi on the way home from a mutual friend’s party. You haven’t seen Megumi in two days after a particularly vicious fight. You’d think an invisible force was driving the taxi, the way you’re kissing and wriggling around for him. You’ve rolled your hips so much that the uncomfortable driver can see a tease of white cotton between your legs under your little cocktail dress.

Megumi’s mouth is wet. A combination of sticky lip gloss and a mixture of saliva’s. He pulls away from kissing you every so often just to hear you whisper desperately for the feeling to return. He pulls little moans from you as he teases between your sodden folds.

“Knew you’d miss this dick too much to say no.” he grins before kissing you more. You laugh into it, not an ounce of remorse or regret behind it as you feel him against you. “Say you missed me. Tell daddy you missed ‘im.” he demands, grunting against you.

You ignore him, trying to shut him up with a kiss. A perfectly manicured hand traverses from his shoulder to his thigh, a subtle tease to distract him. A noble attempt results in failure when he stops playing with you and grabs your wandering wrist.

“Tell me.”

You avert your eyes, deciding to look out of the window while wiping the spit and gloss from your chin. He watches you, carefully, eye twitching as he tries to deduce what you’re keeping from him. A finger presses into that soft flesh of your cheek bending quickly and forcing you to face him yet again.

“What are you hiding?” he asks, the friendly lilt behind his voice being betrayed by the unamused sneering smile on his face. “Who did you fuck?”

“None of your—”

“Just tell me, you know you’re going to fucking spill so just do it now.” he instructs. You hear an amused scoff from him as you cross your arms petulantly and pout like a child who isn’t allowed a toy from the store. His face gets closer to yours, but you’ve already had enough of him. It’s been two days and you thought you were gonna die if you didn’t see him. But a few minutes in a taxi has reminded you why you didn’t want to see him in the first place. “Did he at least make you cum?” he whispers into your ear.

A soft breath leaves you as his hand slithers down your stomach and under the hem of your dress. You want to protest as you feel him prodding over the damp spot of your panties, but your mouth turns dry. Words turn to ash as he repeatedly tortures you with featherlight touches against your clit.

“Hm? Did your new little boyfriend make this pussy cum?” he wonders, voice a lecherous buzz that vibrates from your ear to your cunt. You fucking hate him. You can’t stand how difficult it is to stay true to your morals and self-respect when he knows every single square inch of your body and exactly which titillating button to press. “Mmm, bet he didn’t. Bet he couldn’t. ‘cause she only listens to me.”

“Megs…” you groan. Your hips involuntarily rolling up into his touch. The teasing barely there presses making your mind hazy, your body instinctively chases for more as the touch feels less and less the harder you buck. “D-Don’t stop, Megu—”

He softly kisses your lips to silence you, still refusing to continue touching you properly. You moan, a chaste sound as his lips stray from yours to kiss along your jaw like he loves you. He sucks at your neck like a fucking vampire before alternating to those sweet kisses again. You hate him, you hate that he’s trying to be something he’s not to get you to tell him your secret.

These kisses are so fucking sickly, like a stranger is forcing himself inside of your skin with each delicate press against your neck. And it’s making your teeth rot. You’re a stupid girl. His stupid girl because you’re falling for it. Your candy-coated tongue is loosening and preparing to bare your entire fucking soul to him so long as he keeps touching you and giving you your sugar fix.

His hand holds your waist, a weight for himself more than you. Two whole days away from your perfect cunt has been hell for him, and not being able to touch you is a fate worse than death. He wants to tease your pressure points until you’re dying for him. He wants your every breath to be agonising without him.

Without seeing him.

Without feeling him.

Without breathing him.

He needs your every thought and whim to be aching for him and him alone. So, he needs to control himself. By showing restraint and fighting his primal urge to make your pussy fucking purr for him, he’s keeping his hand on your waist.

You smirk as he decorates your neck in bruises, you feel the sickening smile sprawling across his fucking face. And again, you want to protest, you want to tell him what you think of him and how much you can’t stand him. But when his hand begins another journey, you can’t. You can’t as your body jolts into his touch as his fingertips tickle your ribs. They don’t stop, teasing traces of his finger cover your body despite being clothed.

How can such a light touch feel so powerful?

You try to stifle yourself as he cups your breast, the flesh and swollen nipple are exposed thanks to your decision to forgo a bra. You still have your dignity, Megumi isn’t that perverse to allow this random old driver the honour of seeing your tits.

You’re just that weak.

They’re covered, entirely, and still his rubbing and tweaking are too much for you. Your attempt to bite your lip is just that. An attempt. A feeble attempt to withhold your pleasure from him which only ends in you mewling harder for him. Your heavy, lust-filled breaths fill the cab as he rubs his thumb slowly back and forth over your nipple. His teeth bite and kiss at your jawline once more, albeit he is barely present either. He’s almost as fucked out as you are, he can’t silence his pleasure. His breathing heavier than you know it to be. His eyes lidded heavier than they’ve ever been.

“Yuuji��” you pant, your body is limp in the back seat as he feels you up. His fingers dig into the supple flesh of your thigh as he kisses your neck and sinks his head until he reaches the top of your breast. “Did you hear m— ow! Megumi!”

“Shut up.” he chides. He sank his teeth into your tit before speaking.

You stare into his emerald eyes as you contemplate his next move. That’s the one bad thing about being with Megumi.

That’s a lie, there’s a lot of bad things, you just choose to ignore them.

But you know you’ll never be as clever as he is. You’ll never be able to fully read him like he does you. He knows every move you’re going to make before you’ve made it. He can read you like a book and it fucking scares you.

“Yuuji couldn’t make you cum… you wanna know why?” he asks, his thumb strokes your earlobe between gentle pulls. It’s too sweet again, you think. There’s no way he’s this calm after finding out you fucked his best friend. He’s always been jealous. You think he’s just possessive but deep down you should know the truth. He’s scared you’ll leave him. He’s insecure and that is why he makes such a show of making it known that you are his.

“Why…” is all you can think to say. And he smiles at that. His fingers no longer toying with your ear. The way his fingers draw along your skin makes your hair stand on end. He feels no sympathy as he sees your arm breakout in goosebumps despite knowing he is the cause. And he feels even less as he wraps his hand around your pretty little throat.

He squeezes tight.

Tighter.

Tighter.

“Because you don’t belong to Yuuji. You belong to me.” he tells you, his grip is bruising. His teeth are bared as he feels your pathetic pawing, desperately trying to pull his fingers from your neck.

He’s going to kill you, you think. His voice full of vitriol and malice as he effortlessly wrings the life out of you with one hand. And the taxi driver doesn’t care. He doesn’t want to intervene because it isn’t his place.

A lovers quarrel.

That’s what he must think. You were all over each other a moment ago after all, maybe you’re just a slut who likes it a little rough.

You are, but that’s besides the point.

He probably doesn’t want to risk sticking his nose in and getting more involved than he needs to be. You know yourself that Megumi doesn’t care. He’d only tell him to mind his own fucking business.

“You think I didn’t know?” he whispers, his breath warming the shell of your ear as he doesn’t let up. “You reek like him… you smell like a fucking whore.” his words, his tone, his breath all dripped with virulence. He lets go of you, practically throwing you to the other side of the taxi as tears spill over your cheeks.

You wipe them, quickly, but the damage is done. The way you’re sniffling and trying to do damage control to your perfectly done makeup is nauseating to him. Silence fills the taxi and the air is thick. You roll down a window, the cold air lashes against your face and dries your tears as you wait to reach your destination.

--

The car pulls up outside of your apartment. You barely wait for him to come to a stop before you open the door and rush out to open the security door. The bite in the winter air has you trembling as you fiddle with your keys. The little dress and lack of coat certainly wasn’t a wise choice, but you’ll always place looking hot ahead of being practical.

But in truth, the weather isn’t the sole culprit. It’s barely bothering you, honestly. Megumi’s casual callousness and unyielding grip around your throat are what has you shaken up. It’s not the first time he’s choked you and you doubt it’ll be the last. But it’s the first time you’ve ever seen him do it with that look in his eye. A look that told you how little you mean to him. How unfazed he would be if you died by his hand.

You’re wrong, though. While you’re fiddling with your keys Megumi pays the driver. He tips him a fair amount and then follows you out, approaching slowly as he waits for you to open the door. His eyes weren’t cold because you mean nothing to him, it’s the opposite. You are everything to him. Why do you think he’s being so cruel to you? To get it through that pretty little skull.

“You didn’t answer me, princess.” he tells you, and by now you don’t even know what he’s talking about. “Did you think you could fuck anybody and I wouldn’t find out? I always do.”

“Shut up.” you tell him, though it’s quiet and meek. Your usual bravado and confidence lodged in your dry throat. You finally slot the key in the hole and turn it, allowing him to enter with you. “You said it yourself… I was always going to tell you I fucked him.”

He scoffs, watching you climb the stairs. Even now he has no shame. He’s unable to stop himself peaking up your dress to see your panties riding up your ass as you walk. You can be as mad at him as you like, you both know you’re too weak to say no to him.

He follows, eventually, catching up with ease. You allow him to take the key from you and walk ahead, unlocking the door like it’s his apartment. It may as well be, he spends so much time here after all. Most of his things are here, you’re here. Though he’s been banished for the last few days to stay at his dad’s house after your latest fight.

The door opens and he makes himself at home. He collapses onto the couch, kicking his feet up onto the coffee table and crosses one ankle over the other. You go inside, slowly, locking the door behind you and looking at him suspiciously.

“… What are you doing? I know you aren’t here for a fucking movie night, Megs, are we going to bed or not?”

“No. We’ve gotta talk first.” he tells you. You roll your eyes and leave him alone to walk to your bedroom. He sighs, annoyed, following you. “Back to being a brat? You only fuckin’ behave yourself when I make you cum.”

“Fuck you.” you sigh. “What is there to talk about?”

“You cheating on me with my best friend springs to mind, baby. We should probably clear that up, shouldn’t we?” he’s talking like it was a silly misunderstanding. Like you almost walked away with his suitcase at the airport that just so happens to be identical to yours. But nothing you do will ever match up to what he does. You can go low; but there’s no sight to the depths he’ll stoop to.

“Fuck! You!” you tell him, pointing your finger in his face like you always do when you’ve had too much vodka. “You are the reason I don’t have any friends anymore because you fucked them all! I broke up with you when I fucked Yuuji so whoever I fuck in that time is none of your business. I—”

“Baby—”

“No, shut up. I forgave you every single time you fucking cheated on me because I’m an idiot and I love you. So, stop talking about Yuuji, it doesn’t matter. We weren’t together. In fact, we still aren’t! You should count yourself fucking lucky that I’m even giving you the chance to fuck me tonight.”

He walks to you, slowly, and you don’t have the energy to be a brat anymore. You let him get closer and closer until you’re looking up into his eyes while his hand rests on your hip and the other cups your cheek. His head tilts, and your eyes instinctively flutter closed as his lips press against yours.

“I know ‘m lucky, princess. Missed you so much baby.” he tells you before deepening the kiss.

You’re too weak to be with a man like him and expect to be anything but a plaything. The hand lingering on your hip wraps around your back before down to your ass. The pudgy softness of your ass swells between his fingers, the white material of your dress warming his hands as he grips you roughly. He smirks against your lips before landing a harsh smack against your supple flesh. The yelp he extracts from you is fucking delectable. He could quite happily gorge himself on the sound and make it his life essence until the end of time.

“Daddy missed his perfect girl ‘n her perfect pussy… didn’t even fuck anyone else. No one compares to you, y’know?” he tells you quietly, almost like it’s a secret only meant for you to hear. He hikes up your leg so it’s settled around his waist, your other instinctively follows so that you’re completely in his hold. He walks you to the bed, his mouth suffocating yours and you can’t think of a single coherent thought as your brain feels starved of oxygen.

You giggle as you fall onto the bed, your shoulder blades against the mattress while he presses his weight fully on top of yours. He keeps a thigh between both of yours, and he revels in how pathetically you’re rutting your hips against it just to satiate the slightest bit of tension formulating at your core because of him.

Your arms wrap around his neck and you slip your tongue into his mouth. The moaning sounds trapped in your throat break free and he devours them as he feels you up in every way he can to make your mind dizzy and drunker than vodka could ever make you.

“Do you believe me?” he asks, breaking the kiss to see how needy you are. Your eyes give you away in an instant, filling with water the minute he pulls away. You feel so in love with him when you have your arms around him like this. When he’s caging you in like you’re his property.

You are.

That’s how he sees you, and that’s how he makes you feel.

No matter how dehumanising or fucked up, you just don’t care. You wouldn’t want to belong to anyone but him, anyone. And isn’t this what the main goal in life is? To find your person? To fall in love and be adored so wholly it makes you insane?

You feel that with him.

He feels that with you.

“N-No…” you confess. You aren’t scared of him; you never really have been. You’re scared of what he can do to you. You’re terrified of how strong he is and how unyielding he is in his pursuit of having all that he wants in the world with a cherry on top for presentation. But he doesn’t scare you, not really. Not enough to hide how you really feel. “Why would I believe you when you’ve cheated so much?” you ask.

He’s a little surprised by your brazenness and resolve. Usually with a little kissing and humping you stop caring about what kind of a person he is and what he’s done to you in the past. You aren’t scared; but you’re making him feel fear.

“Mmm, baby. You really need to cum, hah? Is that why you’re bein’ so dumb f’me? Can’t think because you need to cream for daddy…” he insults you with ease, and your brows knot into a bemused frown. “Awe… you’re s’cute when you’re confused, baby. Jus’ let me touch you, don’t think too hard. I forgive ya.”

“W-Wha?” you hum, the determination to continue questioning him falls silent as he pushes your panties into the crease of your thigh. The breeze rolling through the open window causing a shiver to roll through you and truly feel the difference between your freezing body and the sopping warmth betwixt your thighs.

“You said you didn’t cheat when you fucked Yuuji. So how can I cheat if I fucked other girls at the same time?” he asks. “I didn’t, though,” he spreads your pussy lips open and collects the ever-dampening slick on his fingers. He buries his head beside yours, kissing and breathing against your ear as he swipes softly over your throbbing clit.

“But you—”

“I fucked my fist ‘n thought of you.” he whispers, his fingers not stopping the lackadaisical stroking. “Whenever I got hard… jus’ thought of your pretty cunt swallowin’ me and made myself cum so fast. Looked through your Insta feed ‘n your selfies, imagined cumming all over your face.”

“Fuck.” you keen, hips bucking wildly in search of more pleasure than his modest touches. You fully wrap your arms around him, kissing him passionately and he begins to pick up the pace. “I love you.” you mumble, like the pathetic person you are. He grins and bites your lower lip before kissing you deeply.

He’s got you right where he wants you.

“I love you, baby.” he confesses, though you’ll never know if he really means it. Maybe he loves fucking you and loves having a pretty little trophy on his arm to call his and show off to his friends. Maybe he loves the idea of you and what you can do for him in terms of looks and status.

But is he in love with you?

You can only hope.

All you can do is hope he never lies to you. He never hides his cheating from you, you think he’s always honest with you so is it possible he can actually love you when he says he does? It’s enough to make you cry. Knowing that you’ll never really know makes you feel sick with an excruciating desire to make him.

You have to be his perfect girl.

You have to take all of the negatives that come with loving Megumi Fushiguro.

He stands above you on his knees, reaching over you to grab some pillows to place under your hips. You wriggle and squirm in his absence, awaiting his return to you. But you forgot about the pillows. Your head snaps in the direction he’s reaching as he picks up the two nearest pillows to him. Any attempt to object would be fruitless now that you’re too late.

Your body fills with heat and shame as he lifts the pillows to see a purple, silicone dildo beneath where they once were. The laugh that escapes him is boisterous as he looks between you and the toy. You shield your face with your hands, almost ready to cry, and his laughing doesn’t cease.

“This is pathetic, princess. Did you even fuck Yuuji? Or did you just spend the last two days riding this stupid thing?”

“I fucked him!” you protest. You reach to grab the purple dildo from his hand but he’s too fast for you, still far too amused by this discovery to let up on teasing you. “He did make me cum, by the way—”

“You are a fucking liar.” he snorts. “Bet ya hurried him out of here so fast so that you could stuff this purple cock up yourself and pretend it was daddy fuckin’ you. Bet you were tryin’ so hard to cum and you couldn’t.”

“I hate you.” you sniff, attempting to grab the toy once more to no avail.

“You just told me you love me. So again, you’re fuckin’ lying to me, princess.” he continues.

You feel his body press against yours once more as he cages you in. You just watch him and prepare for whatever he’s about to do. There’s no point in trying to fight him when you know you’ll always lose. You cringe, slightly, as he starts to trace the tip of the cock over your swollen lips. His own mouth widens, a silent action, he’s coaxing you to mirror. And perfectly, you do.

You’re almost certain you see a heart-shaped twinkle in his eye as he softly pokes it in and out of your mouth, enamoured by the way your tongue instinctively swirls around it. You see more of his sharp canines the further he pushes it in. And it’s a full-blown snarl as he shoves it down your throat until you’re sputtering.

“I fucking hate you!” you yell and grab the toy quicker than he’d anticipated, snatching it from his grasp. “Get off me, now.” you command, pushing him off you. You know he let you when he moves away effortlessly. If he wanted to keep you trapped, he would.

“You’re so easy to tease.” he smiles.

You ignore him completely as you stand up. He watches you intently as you pull open the second drawer of your nightstand so hard the entire cabinet shakes. He tries to steal a peak of whatever other treasures you might be hiding in there, but you kick it closed before he can torment you any further.

“Awe, you’re no fun. Not gonna let daddy see what other toys aren’t good enough? Can show you how to use ‘em when you’re missing me.” he grins, he gets closer to you. Close enough to smooth his hands over your sides as you glare down furiously at him. You grab his hands, basically throwing them back at him.

“You are such a dick all of the time. I actually can’t stand you; I hate you.” you tell him, knowing yourself it’s a weak response even for you.

“You’re always such a good fuck when you’re pissed off.” he smirks, he takes off his shirt and throws it aside. You do your best to keep eye contact with him, not wanting to let your eyes wander and rake over his chiselled body. He sees you steal a few glances; he knew you wouldn’t be able to resist. “Stop bein’ such a brat. Don’t be embarrassed, daddy thinks it’s cute that you touch yourself.”

A black silhouette in the drawer is stuck in your mind. Despite your cunt growing wetter and your thoughts becoming cloudy, you can think of nothing else. He is a dick. And part of you does fucking hate him. So, you open the drawer again. He doesn’t watch you, this time, he’s more focused on reading your body language now. What are you thinking? What’s on your mind?

“’m really pissed off, daddy.” you tell him with confidence. His body stiffens like a corpse as you pull a gun from the cabinet. A Glock 40. He does all he can to maintain his composure, to remain control of the situation and of you. But it’s clear he’s worried. He’s never seen you like this before, ever.

But he knows you. He knows what you’re thinking before you even do. He can read every little muscle pulling on your face. It doesn’t matter if you’re trying to look angry, he knows what you look like when you’re really angry. You’re pissed, sure, but you certainly aren’t capable of doing any real damage with that thing. Not on purpose, anyway. And definitely not with the way your hands are fucking trembling.

“You gonna kill me, baby?” he asks.

“I might.” you tell him, you can feel the way your hands are shaking while gripping onto the gun. There’s no question he’s noticed, too. You’ve made a declaration by standing here like this, willing to toy with his life as well as your own. You can’t just put it away and pretend nothing happened, you need to make some kind of statement or you’ll never here the end of it.

He’ll ridicule you ‘til his dying breath.

“How?” he asks, getting closer to you. You back away, but you’re against the wall before you know it. He sits on the edge of the bed, his feet planted firmly against the ground so you know he can lunge at any moment.

“I’ll shoot you…” you speak, he hears an unintentional warble in your voice, and you can see the fucking smirk stretching across his face at the sound. You fucked up, he knows you don’t have it in you. But he’s probably known the whole time.

He grabs your wrist, and you yelp. Your eyes widen in horror as he moves your hands so that the gun is aimed at his chest.

His heart.

“Here?” he asks, and it’s so casual, you think you might throw up. You want to protest, to snatch your hands away and tell him to stop being so stupid. But you can’t, you can’t give into his mind games now. You can’t. Your hands are tremoring as he moves the gun again, resting it right between his eyes. “Hm… here? Probably the quickest. Won’t leave much mess if it gets stuck in my brain.” he explains.

“Stop it.” you mutter, he can feel the way your hands are trying to get free from his hold but he’s much too strong. “I’m s-sorry, stop it, please.”

“Could make me swallow a bullet too, but I don’t think you’re gonna shoot me anywhere.” he smiles, forcing you to aim at his perfect, gleaming teeth. “Where the fuck did you get this anyway? You really are stupid.”

“My dad gave it to me!” you inform him, and you’re aiming at him with new courage and will. “I know how to use it; I have a license.”

“Your pussyof a dad got you this?” he laughs.

You shove the gun against his teeth, not taking kindly to him insulting your father unprovoked. He looks up at you with a heavy-lidded gaze, he’s never been so attracted to you, really. Seeing you do all you can to stand up to him but both of you ultimately knowing you will never truly be a match for him, it’s quite interesting. Arousing, even.

He widens his mouth, allowing you to slot the black chamber between rows of white. The blinding contrast is almost enough to make you consider what you’re doing. Are you sure you want to do this? You are dangling his life in your quivering hands, after all.

“I should make you choke on this.” you whimper a little, a tear finally rolling down your cheek and giving your true cowardice away. You aren’t going to hide it this time. There’s no point in trying to clear away what he’s already seen. And you have no intention of holding a gun with just one hand when you’re already so shaken up.

He grabs your wrist, shocking you, but you don’t falter. You watch him carefully as he sinks his mouth down the chamber until it hits the back of his throat.

You hate him.

You hate how easily he can take any ounce of power you feel over him and turn it to nothing but a grandiose idea. A fleeting thought that you could make him tremble and weep before you. Maybe even apologise and promise to change because he’s the one scared of you for a change. But you should have known he’d never let you have that over him.

Hell, he won’t even let you embarrass him.

“I should fucking kill you.” you start to cry, thinking back to how he’s treated you tonight alone. He hasn’t even broken a fucking sweat. You thought you might be able to humiliate him like this. Making him choke and sputter around the gun like he’d made you with the dildo, just to see heat sear through you and add to the already burning shame you felt having been caught.

But instead, you watch him as he takes the gun as far as he possibly can. His stare is still lidded and hazy with lust and adoration for you. He does it a few times, repeatedly, and somehow still with a fucking smirk on his face.

He holds your hands still, pulling away from the gun as an obscene amount of drool pours from his mouth and down his chin. And then, he finally does begin to hack up choking breaths. Despite it being almost entirely on his terms, the feeling of cold, hard polymer clogging up his airways proved to be too much for even him to withstand for too long.

“Did you really think you could embarrass me like that?” he asks, sincerely. “You really are pathetic.”

“Megumi I—”

“Good thing you’re daddy’s stupid little girl, my pretty li’l airhead.” he grins, snatching the gun away from you. Your back slides down against the wall as you watch him fiddle with the gun, pulling out the magazine with a sadistic fucking snarl on his face. “The safety was on the whole time. And there aren’t even any bullets in here. You’re s’fucking stupid. It’s adorable.”

“I can’t do this anymore.” you sob into your hands. He watches you for a moment, not an inkling of remorse lingering in his body as he sees you crying inconsolably. You feel his fingers dig into your arms and pull you towards him.

Quiet protests die the instant he throws you down onto the bed. You’re underneath him once again, but you feel even more trapped as he shows no intention of letting go of the gun. He aims it between your eyes and you can’t stop crying.

His choking was unrelenting in the taxi.

And now he has a weapon that could end your life in an instant.

But would he? Is he capable?

“I’m sorry… I love you, I’m sorry. I’m sorry.” you weep, you don’t think you’ve ever cried so loudly or so hard in your life. You wouldn’t be surprised if a vein was bulging in your forehead, and you can without a doubt feeling a migraine bursting through your brain. But you can’t stop, you can’t stop crying. “Megumi I love you, I’m sorry.”

You know it’s empty and you know the safety is on because he told you so. And Megumi is always honest with you, isn’t he? And still, you’re panicking. You’re worried that he’ll pull the trigger and somehow wills a bullet into existence simply because he often gets what he wants in life.

He keeps the gun aimed at you until your head is resting on the pillows still remaining against your headboard. He’s donning a facial expression you’ve never seen from him before. A stoic yet somehow manic stare as he watches you cry and plead for your life beneath him like he’s some sort of God.

His expression doesn’t falter as he turns the gun and aims it at his temple. You’re screaming now. You dread to think what your neighbours think. It’s not like they’ve never heard you two fighting and fucking before, but it must be concerning for them to hear.

“Megumi I’m sorry! Please!” you wail, fear stabbing through you as you see him begin to shake. You close your eyes, expecting the worst yet still begging with him to see sense and stop this.

He lowers the gun again, his eyes wander to follow it as he drags the cold weapon between your clothed tits and down your body. You shudder as you feel him use it to move up your dress and exposes your still bare cunt, having not moved your panties back into place.

You feel the chilled polymer dip between your folds.

“P-Please…” you beg, hoping he won’t put it in you. Your eyes screw shut as he moves it, sliding it through your soaking flesh again and again as butterflies soar through your stomach. He pulls the trigger, the vibration almost assaults your clit, despite the empty clacking filling the room. “Hnnff—”

“You’re so wet f’me… or is it just the gun? Is it turnin’ you on, princess?”

“N-No, please. I don’t wanna play with it anymore, d-daddy.” you tell him, each hitched breath you take scratching your throat. Your cries still evident as you gasp and plead with him to finally stop. You should never have pulled it on him, you should have known he’d do this.

He moves from you, opening the drawer you’d taken it from and puts it back inside. Even though it’s gone, out of his reach, you end up crying tears of relief as he places gentle kisses against your forehead and cheeks.

“You’re such a good girl, y’know? Did so well… proud of you, baby.” he whispers, and you hate yourself. You hate yourself because you’re brimming with confidence after he tells you he’s proud. Your heart crescendos to a place you know there’s no going back from now. Even after almost threatening to end your life; you’re still in love with Megumi Fushiguro.

You’re too tired.

Emotionally exhausted and physically defeated. There’s no fight left in you anymore as you feel him carefully peel away your dress from your body. He rolls the top down to your midsection, exposing your breasts to him and your still hardened nipples. He does the same with the skirt, fully revealing your glittering cunt and what a drippy mess he’s turned you into.

No one makes you wetter than he does.

He pushes your thighs apart, and lightly spanks your pussy to steal a quiet whimper from you. It’s not a punishment by any means, he just wants to make sure you’re still here with him. Still relishing this moment. Still honoured by the fact he’s even giving you the time of day to play with you like this. To satiate the burning need to be toyed with until your mind goes blank. He’ll do it for you, and it’ll take no time at all.

He kisses down from your left knee towards the apex of your thighs. He’s admiring his handiwork on your body as he does. Purple bruises he left you before your last fight have begun to turn greenish yellow as they heal.

You love his little reminders of who owns your body.

He hurts you so good. And you wouldn’t feel conquered without the bruises that his tenacious touch bestow upon you. You sink into the mattress as his tongue laves over the doughy skin of your thigh, reminding you where every single bruise is.

You gasp, back arching off the bed as you feel him insert a thick long digit into your sopping entrance. He’s slow, prodding and twisting deeper and deeper. He can make you cum like this, and you think you might gush as he teases the sweet spot buried within.

“What are you—?” you start, watching him push your legs further apart as he suckles at your clit. You feel the fingers on his free hand trace along your skin, the sensitive bruises almost pulsating beneath his touch. The way your head throws itself back seems like an out of body experience. An involuntary response to the way his finger pokes harshly into a particularly nasty looking bruise. “Hnng— fuck, daddy!”

He spanks your clit before swiping over it rapidly with the tip of his tongue. Your fingers lace between black tendrils of hair and pull as you deliquesce into the empyrean feeling that only his tongue has ever offered you.

Your mind is stripped bare as he continues his assault. Manipulative fingers push carelessly yet purposefully into your ageing bruises to extract those ethereal moans from your weak little throat.

“’m gonna c-um, daddy.” you groan, eyes fluttering white as he presses harder into your marked body.

“Show me.” he whispers, breath fanning across your sex as he speaks. “Show daddy how a slut cums.”

Every inch of your body feels tarnished and stained by him. With him. A cloying film embedded to your skin that is purely the work of Megumi Fushiguro. His insults as well as his loving touch. The fear as well as the adoration. Even his eyes ravishing you with nothing but a salacious stare leave their mark on you.

His tongue doesn’t stop as your cunt begins to spasm. He feels how your pretty pussy pulsates against his greedy face. You cum hard and coat the lower half of his face in a shimmering gleam. He’s loud, unable to hide his pleasure as he begins to hump into the mattress at the sight of you coming undone for him. It extends your own pleasure, hearing how fucking noisy he is purely from giving you head.

You hate him.

He’s so vile.

But you can’t help wanting to make him proud.

You can’t stop feeling proud when you’re a good girl for him.

And seeing him like this makes you think that he might actually love you. His eyes are definitely dotted with hearts, now, as he savours the taste from devouring your essence. There are two words lodged in your throat. Two stupid little words that you would do anything to choke down and forget right now. Maybe he won’t care, not when he’s like this. Not when he’s pussy drunk and utterly enamoured by your mere existence.

“Kiss me…” you almost suffocate as you speak, tears spilling down your cheek as your cheeks burn with heat and shame. Your eyes scrunch closed, preparing for a barrage of insults from him. You know he’s going to call you stupid, pathetic. Maybe even an airhead again.

But it doesn’t come.

He finds his strength, holding his body up on his knuckles as he drags his body up yours like a wild beast. He lowers himself, his lips locking perfectly against yours before he cups your cheek. Why isn’t he always so soft and gentle with you? You feel yourself cry more as he swipes his thumb softly across your cheek as he kisses you. His tongue teases yours, licking it and smiling when you can’t quite keep up.

You know he loves you.

Why else would he do this?

Why else would you allow this?

He pulls away, familiar green eyes staring into yours as he studies you. They’re intimidating, clinquant. The most beautiful eyes you’ve ever seen. He wonders if you know he thinks the same about yours.

“You want me to put it in, don’t you?” he asks. He chuckles softly as he notices you nodding before he’s even finished his sentence. Your eyes are pleading and desperate, and he’s never been one to deny you of him when you’re so needy and polite. He stands on his knees again, unbuckling his belt slowly while he examines you. The way your hips roll in anticipation, the way you’re biting your lip and forcing yourself to not allow your fingers to dip between your thighs to toy with your clit. It’s too much. It’s too long to wait as he undoes the button and pulls down the zipper. You’re almost salivating when he finally frees his cock. “Missed me that bad, hm? Missed daddy’s cock, didn’t you?” he asks, ignoring the fact he knows the answer is obvious.

“Y-Yeah…” you struggle to speak. To think as your mind runs rampant with so many sex flashbacks you have; courtesy of the very cock you’re ogling. It’s thick with gorgeous veins and flushed with the prettiest shade of pink you’ve ever had the pleasure of seeing. “Need it— need your daddy cock.” you tell him, your chest jittering with hitching breaths as you try and maintain some semblance of composure.

You’re far from composed.

You’re nothing more than a mammal, burning with a white-hot intensity from trying to control your basic instincts. The primal urge and need to fuck. He’ll help you, though. You never need to worry about those needs being neglected while Megumi has nothing but you on his mind.

The pleasure is blinding as he presses his tip against your entrance. He pushes and pushes until he’s fully sheathed in your welcoming cunt. His cockhead rests at your sweet spot, and you know he’ll waste no time in forcing your vision to white out as he fucks you.

His fingers wrap around your throat, the prettiest necklace you own, and he squeezes tight. It’s not without reason. It isn’t just to give you more bruises or to cut off your air supply. He wants to keep you focused. Focused on him. He dips his head down to slot his tongue inside of your mouth once more. It’s a sloppy, drool induced kiss that shows no signs of stopping as he rocks his hips against you. His cock slamming deep and hard against your g-spot.

You can’t talk.

The only words that swirl around your brain are expletives anyway.

His kiss is suffocating and so is his grip on your neck. He releases you, slightly, giving you the chance to breathe once more. You can barely sense where you are, you don’t know if your eyes are open or closed as the only thing occupying your mind is his cock slamming into you and bringing you to your second release of the evening.

You’re brought back to reality, though, as he lightly taps your cheek a few times before slapping you hard.

“L-Love you, daddy.” you pant, you moan for him again and again until drool leaks from the corner of your mouth. You don’t care, you don’t even notice. And the sight is making him feral as he realises how there’s truly no one for you but him.

There’s no one for him but you, either.

“Fuck.” he grunts, knowing he’s going to cum sooner than he’d anticipated. He could stop fucking you, of course, but he can’t think of a worse fate. He wants to cum. He needs to cum inside of you and flood your pretty insides with his seed. He needs to make his mark on you and remind you who you fucking belong to. “’m cumming, baby, auh—”

“D-Don’t stop!” you warn him, desperate to reach your peak with him. You try to keep him in place, your legs wrap around his back and your fingers claw into his porcelain skin. He groans, quietly, hissing as you drag your fingers across his back deep enough to draw blood. He doesn’t mind, how could he when he leaves you covered in bruises at any given opportunity? If he marks you, he owns you. If you mark him, you own him.

And he wouldn’t want to belong to anyone but you.

“S’perfect… so fuckin’ perfect f’me. Unnff— oh, oh fuuuuuck.” he finishes, still pistoning his hips to fuck his sperm deeper inside. He’d knock you up in a heartbeat if you let him. Not because he wants to be a dad. Not because he wants to have a family with you. But he wants everyone to know you’re his. He continues to moan as he imagines you with a big swelling bump and everyone knowing that he is the cause.

You can’t ever leave him.

He’ll go mad without you.

“Such a good girl… look so pretty when you cum on daddy’s cock.” he tells you. He dips a hand between where you’re joined and rubs torturous circles into your throbbing clit. Your body jolts relentlessly from the aftershocks, unable to withstand the teasing.

His touches slow, and he pulls out as you begin to catch your breath. Your breathing deepens as you feel him part your pussy with two fingers so that he can watch his seed drip out of you and onto the mattress below. He smiles, brimming with pride that he did this to you. That no matter how much you claim to hate him, he’ll always be able to do this to you.

He collapses by your side. He’s staring up at the ceiling as your bodies shine with sweat and sex. He’s panting, loudly, with the biggest smile on his face you’ve ever seen. You’re staring at him. Trying to understand what actually goes on in that fucked up head of his.

But you never will.

So, you stare up at the same ceiling as he is and keep your thoughts to yourself. Where does this leave you, now? You never said you were back together, but you think he might have already decided.

But it was always going to end up like this.

You kick up a fuss and banish him to his dads house. But he always comes back. Always. And it’s because you want him back. Because you are too weak willed to stay away from him and do what you know is right. You could move on. You could fall in love with someone that doesn’t play mind games and make your life miserable.

But you love him.

You’re so stupid, because you love him.

“I love you, Megumi.” you whisper.

He’s quiet, he’s thinking.

“I know.”

© 2023 rinitxshi

[charliemwrites]

Mean Simon Part 4

CW: non-descriptive panic attack, followed by comfort and gaslighting; please be safe and careful 💕

Simon’s got a bit of a puzzle on his hands. More accurately, you’re a puzzle that’s not in his hands. And getting you there, of your own free will, is only part of it.

Sure, he could just grab you or order you. You would be helpless to his will either way. It would be simple and easy, but it wouldn’t be satisfying. Not as much as coaxing you into the trap by your own volition, anyway.

Once you were just a shy thing, now you’re downright skittish. Quick to bend the knee and bow your head, but you don’t relish in doing so. Johnny has been nothing but adoring and sweet to you, yet Simon notices you still resist flinching and tensing on contact. Never mind if Simon himself were to attempt the same, you’d work yourself into hysteria over a pat to the shoulder. Seducing you would be its own challenge - but that leaves the contradictory matter of training you.

You would be so good. He knows it.

You’re quick to learn, eager to please. But it comes from a place of fear and distrust. The former has its place, the latter its natural offspring - but neither suits Simon’s purpose in this instance. Punishment and discipline would only serve to reinforce the trenches in your mind. To stay quiet and unseen, to avoid Simon at all costs and tolerate Johnny out of self-preservation. That neither of them can be trusted, are not objects for your affection or desire. Only a facsimile with a pretty face, that makes pretty noises, and soothes Johnny with pretty touches. Nothing real; nothing either of them can actually sink their teeth into.

And so there lies the puzzle. He needs (wants) to train you into the sweet doll he knows you can be, but he has to do it in a way fundamentally different to his instinct - or he risks breaking you entirely.

Luckily, he’s a patient man. Your behavior has been acceptable so far with the barest monitoring. He has time to develop a strategy.

“Um… excuse me, Mister?” you soft voice calls.

He grunts, turning his eyes to you. You shift, fingers twisting together tightly.

“I can’t, um… so there’s a light out? In the kitchen?”

He tilts his head, waiting for you to continue.

“And I don’t know where the bulbs are,” you finish.

He tilts his head. “You didn’t go looking?”

You shake out your hands a bit, shifting. “I didn’t know if I, um, if I should? Snooping, and all…”

Simon tries to recall if he’s ever implied that you shouldn’t go through the house. He knows he explicitly warned you not to go in his bedroom and the garage. But you’ve inferred it somehow, likely from those first few months after he got you for Johnny - when he would have had some objection to you treating the house as if it were your own.

You’re well past that by now, though. Spend more time here than either of them, cleaning and cooking and sleeping. In fact, he’s surprised you haven’t stumbled across the bulbs sooner.

“Hall closet by my room.”

You hesitate for another moment. “And is there, um… a step stool anywhere…?”

He blinks. “No.”

“Oh. Uhh…” you jolt a bit. “Oh! I’ll just use a dining chair. Thank you! Um, sir.”

You dart away before he can reply. That’s going to be the first bad habit he breaks, he decides.

For lack of sating himself with you, Johnny’s been especially needy. Simon accounted for this, of course, and despite it being a punishment, he’s not so cruel as to leave Johnny hanging. It’s meant to be a learning experience too.

So Johnny is still allowed to cuddle with you (to some extent) and exchange kisses (in moderation) while Simon takes the edge off the ever-burning inferno that is his libido. Sniper he may be, Simon might have miscalculated regardless. He’s already touched-out for the day.

You’re in the kitchen, prepping for a nicer dinner at Simon’s request before their next deployment. It’ll take a couple hours to cook, so you’re assembling everything early. Or at least trying to - because Johnny will not leave you the fuck alone.

He’s underfoot, making a nuisance of himself. Kissing at your neck and face, wrapping himself around you while you bustle about, stealing ingredients off of cutting boards, talking in your ear nonstop. Most days you wouldn’t mind - or would appear that way, at least. But today is not most days.

Simon is sitting on a stool on the other side of the counter when you reach capacity.

With Johnny still plastered to your back, you try to reach for something (for the umpteenth time) and trip over his feet. You knock over an open carton of stock, splattering translucent brown all over the floors, counters, cabinets, and yourselves.

“Fuck,” you cry, “Johnny.”

Your voice breaks on his name. Johnny freezes. Simon can see fault lines in every inch of your stiff body. How carefully you manage each movement as you disentangle yourself from Johnny and usher him away from the worst of the mess. You’re about to fall apart.

“Och, I’m sorry, hen. Lemme help—“

“It’s alright,” you interrupt, chin low as you pivot, snagging the paper towels off the counter. “I’ve got it. Just… stay there.”

Johnny opens his mouth to protest, about to help anyway, but Simon tuts in disapproval.

The kitchen is smothered in an awful silence as you clean, Johnny growing more shame-faced with each rip of the towel roll.

Unobstructed, you manage to clean up in only a couple of minutes, making an extra pass with a damp towel to wipe up any residue. When you’re finished, you wet another and offer it to Johnny to wipe off. Then do the same for yourself. Always, you keep your face obscured or hidden, body oriented away, tight and rigid.

When you spin to gather up the dirty towels, Simon sees how your eyes glimmer. You remember he’s there too at the same time.

“Sir, I’m so sorry. I d-don’t, um…” you have to take a breath to gather your voice. “There’s not enough for dinner now.”

Simon considers that for a beat.

“Johnny’ll run out ‘n get more.”

You swallow thickly. “Okay. I’m sorry, sir.”

“‘S not your fault. Kitchen only needed one cook, yeah?”

You make a noise that, if he was hard of hearing and listening through earmuffs, could almost be agreement.

“I-I’m gonna go wash off…” you rub your hands together nervously. “If that’s alright.”

“G’on.”

You’re gone in an instant. Simon can already hear you sniffling. He stands.

Johnny turns huge, pathetic eyes on him.

“‘M sorry, Si. Really, I didn’t mean to—“

“But you did,” Simon interrupts sharply. “Because you were being a rude little shit and playing too rough.”

Johnny gulps, looks a bit misty-eyed himself. Simon sighs and scrubs an exasperated hand through his mohawk.

“Go get the stock,” he orders, milder. “And an extra treat for the sweetie. Something actually for her. Understood?”

Johnny always does better with clear instructions. He perks up at being given a mission - and an avenue for making things up to you. He hurries off with a pep in his step.

Simon waits until the door is shut before seeking you out. You’re in the bathroom, as you said you would be. He can hear you muffling cries behind the door.

He taps his knuckles twice against the wood. It goes dead silent.

“Jus’ me,” he calls.

There’s a quick splash of water, the flutter of fabric, and then you crack the door open. Your face is cry-flushed, eyes red-rimmed and still glossy. You can’t look past his chest, mouth curved down.

“I-I’m really sorry about the-the mess, and dinner, and…”

“Stop apologizing,” he says, gentling his voice to take the edge off the command. “If there was something to be sorry for, you’d know.”

You swipe quickly at a tear that squeezes out. He tsks softly.

“Bit strung out today, eh?”

“Just… didn’t sleep well, is all,” you answer. “And I didn’t get a chance to nap.”

Right, he’s noted that, in the back of his mind. That you spend small portions of the day sleeping. Usually an hour or two at a time. But Johnny’s been so high maintenance today that you’ve hardly had a moment of peace.

“Cranky? Is that it?” he asks.

You look more miserable. “Just tired,” you answer.

He hums. Willing to bet it’s more than just a bad night of sleep. Poor thing.

“Sor - I mean… I know I’m not supposed to…” you rub at your eyes, drooping.

He tilts his head. “Not s’posed to what?”

“Cry or-or be annoying or…”

He coos. “You’ve got all these rules for yourself, don’t you?”

You sniffle again, hugging yourself tightly as you shrug.

The hunter in Simon perks. There.

“Look’it.” He takes your chin between thumb and forefinger, guiding your gaze up to his.

You blink slowly, heavily, wet lashes sticking together.

“What sort of terrible world have you built up in your mind, hm?” he soothes. “Never told you not to do any of that, did I?”

You blink, confused and upset.

“N-no, I guess… not.”

“No,” he confirms. “You’re spun up so tight you’re starting to fray, little one.”

You shudder, swaying into him a bit. He used the movement to slide his hand to your jaw, massaging his thumb into the tight muscle by your ear.

“From now on, you only follow the rules I give you, yeah?” he says, low and quiet. “Dunno why you think I’m so mean. I won’t punish you if you don’t know better.”

You squeeze your eyes shut, as if trying to resist the hypnotic lull of letting someone else think for you. But you still lean into his palm.

“How’s this,” he offers, “if you’re ever unsure, you ask me. Wont get mad at you for asking. Yeah?”

And finally, that wire twisted up between your shoulder blades loosens.

“Yes, sir.”

Johnny comes home with a chocolate cupcake. Simon approves it before sending him to you, decompressing on the couch with a cuppa.

You blink as Johnny drops heavily to his knees, placing the packaged cupcake in your hand.

“Lass, I’m sorry for bein’ so rough,” he begins, bowing his forehead to your knees. “Dinnae mean to, but I still upset ye, interrupted dinner when ye were workin’ so hard.” He tilts his face up, hitting you with the full force of his apologetic blue eyes. “Forgive me?”

You mouth parts, genuine shock washing over your features. “Y-yeah, Johnny, of course. I know you didn’t mean to. I was just having a bad day.”

But that doesn’t mollify him.

“I couldnae tell. You were just… goin’ on as usual.”

“I know. It’s okay.”

You set your tea aside to place your hand over his, trying to reassure him. But Simon knows his pup and you’ve just unwittingly put a thorn in his paw.

“I’ll get back to dinner now.” You lean in, drop a kiss to Johnny’s furrowed brow. “Thank you for apologizing. And the cupcake.”

Johnny stands with you. “At least let me help proper this time?”

You smile, though it’s tinged with exhaustion. “Sure. C’mon.”

Simon takes his place at the counter again and keeps a careful eye on you both. Things are a lot smoother this time round. Johnny follows your quiet instructions, happy to be useful. You seem to settle with dinner plans back on track.

Once everything is set to slow cook, Simon herds you and Johnny back to the den.

“Pick a movie, lamb.”

You blink from the corner of the couch you’ve curled up in. “Me?”

“You.”

You seem so surprised that you just blurt out a title. Simon hums and queues it up while Johnny all but interrogates you for the plot. As the opening scenes flicker across the screen, you snuggle in further, even tugging a blanket off the back of the couch to bundle up on.

Johnny shoots you a longing look - you’re too engrossed in the movie - so Simon snags him by the back of the neck and tucks him into his side.

You fall asleep two-thirds of the way through, but Simon lets you. Likes watching you breathe, face soft and smooth. Can’t for the life of him even recall what’s on the telly.

That night, after a quiet (but peaceful) dinner, and everyone’s showers, Simon ushers Johnny to the room he usually shares with you. Hope flickers across the pup’s face, confusion and trepidation across yours.

“In the middle, Johnny,” Simon rumbles. “The little one by the window.”

You and Johnny comply, cuddling in. Simon takes the side closest to the door, grunting a bit when Johnny instantly clings on.

“Is this the new arrangement?” Johnny asks eagerly.

“Go to sleep,” Simon answers.

He grumbles, but settles in. On the other side of the bed, there’s a bit of shuffling. Then your voice whispering, “Good night.”

[on-leatheredwings]

House Arrest

Yandere! Batfam / Bruce Wayne x (Fem!) Reader

For a request, Munchausen's syndrome by proxy with Bruce? Like, he keeps reader sick so she can't leave him or interact with someone outside the family. And maybe the rest of the batfam is in on it?

[a/n: Didn’t know if you wanted this platonic or not so I didn’t specify! In my head its romantic with bruce though lmao]

> word count: 1581

> Tw: gaslighting, munchausen’s syndrome by proxy, yandere-typical behaviors!

You sit in anticipation, foot tapping against the stone floor. There’s an entire miniature hospital set up for you down here in the Batcave. Respirators, diagnostics machines, and other expensive medical equipment that would be better served in Gotham General. 

Helping people recover. 

So patients could some day leave. 

You used to love being in the Batcave. It was the family’s little secret. When you officially joined the family, the Batcave was now your secret as well. But ever since falling ill months ago, bedridden with a sickness whose cause continues to elude everyone… being here is depressing. You now notice it’s damp down here. Dark. Lifeless.

Bruce sits at the Batcomputer, the screen’s light painting over his face in a green wash. You watch his eyes scan line after line of your results. Reminds you of a typewriter. Methodical. Orderly. Nearly inhuman. When he sighs, your heart stops. 

Fuck.

He turns to you, face grave. “You’re still ill.” 

Your eyes start stinging with an onset of tears that you furiously try to blink back. 

“... H-How ill? How bad? Am I any better?” you ask, as if bartering with him will make the situation any different. As if bartering with God ever made any difference for mere mortals such as yourself.

Bruce’s face is still. 

“You haven’t improved.” 

Your hopes crash down around you like glass. You aren’t better at all? Even though you haven’t had a fever in weeks? Even though you’ve been working out with enough energy to keep up with Damian? He was exerting perhaps only 10% of his effort, but still. Your lymph nodes aren’t even swollen anymore. Tim had told you as much, accidentally contradicting Bruce’s insistence that they had been earlier that morning. 

“But I feel better,” you croak. You hear footsteps behind you approach and you swallow drily, nearly hissing at the offender. It’s Dick, and damn him. You don’t want to be placated right now.

“Are you experiencing any headaches? Shortness of breath?” Bruce asks, eyes still trained on you. You try to recall. 

“... I may have had a migraine this morning…” At Bruce’s weary shake of the head, you blurt, “But it’s passed. I’m perfectly fine. And no shortness of breath.”

“... I’m sorry. But if you’ve been having symptoms like that, along with your being immunocompromised…” Bruce doesn’t even have to finish the sentence. You won’t be leaving the Wayne Manor grounds for a long time. 

Fuck. 

Fuck. 

You feel a hand on your shoulder. You look up and see Dick, whose face is somber but offers an encouraging smile. 

“Well, I’m back in town for the time being. We can hang out all the time.” His expression brightens as an idea pops into his head. “And I can call Tim, Jason, Duke–! Maybe even Cass and Steph… We can have a board game night tonight!” He sounds as chipper as you are miserable.

Damian approaches from behind, leaving the shadows. His arms are folded. “If that’s the case, I’ll humor Grayson and let him capture some of my fleet for once.” A popular choice was Risk, perfect for the family who’s entire lives revolved around combat and strategy. But you didn’t want to play Risk again. You didn’t want to have a board game night, no matter how many of the family came. You wanted to see people. 

Other people. Everyone here is your family. 

You want fucking friends again. You wanted a job again – a sentiment you would’ve laughed at even just five months ago. You wanted any semblance of a life again.

Bruce’s eyes haven’t left your trembling form once, two chips of slate-gray peering over steepled hands.

“Thank you, Dick. Damian. But I think she could use some time alone.”

Dick’s hand releases your shoulder, retracting as if burned. None of them are the boss here. It’s Bruce who is my warden, your mind whispers darkly. 

“Right! Don’t want you to feel overwhelmed.” Dick sees himself out, taking Damian with him. “See you tonight.” And that feels like a sentencing to your fate.

Now the two of you alone, Bruce stands, offering his arm wordlessly. You know what this means. You take it, linking yours with his without thought or protest. Bruce liked to ensure you were always within his reach, as if you were prone to fainting spells. This was less humiliating for you than him carrying you through the estate, you suppose. 

“Why, yes, let’s take a turn around the grounds!” you used to exclaim, making your voice posh and British, mimicking the regency romance movies you had been watching all the time. 

Now, months later, you just sullenly allow him to lead you. Your surroundings pass by and you vaguely recognize that you are exiting the Batcave, walking through the manor, and out into the never-ending expanse of a well-kept lawn. 

It’s a sunny, idyllic spring day after months of overcast winter. 

And thank god you could still traipse outside when you wanted, even if fenced in. Bruce told you when you had first fallen ill that he had installed some high-tech, anti-air pollution gadget. Wayne Manor was effectively your own personal bubble. Fresh air was the only thing keeping you sane, lately. 

You two pass by the garden, a labor of love Alfred started. You and Damian tend to it now… and mainly the latter, these days. You haven’t had any energy for gardening as of late. Fatigue is a symptom, you hear Bruce’s voice whisper in the back of your mind. But you don’t feel fatigue… rather, just depressed. But of course, isn’t fatigue a symptom of being depressed…? A familiar brain fog crawls into your mind. Your head was starting to hurt.

You look across the lawn, onto the horizon. Gotham’s dark skyline sits there, enticing. When night falls, it’ll glimmer and twinkle with light. There is a whole world out there. And, God, you love the Waynes, but they aren’t the world. You need to distract yourself. Bruce, ever the lover of pleasant silences, is going to have to distract you from thoughts that make you want to leap off the second story balcony of your bedroom.

Should you ask, “How’s work?” No. You find you don’t care. 

“How’s Jason?” you say instead, feeling Bruce stiffen at the mention of his most tenuous relation.

He wasn’t around as much, but when he was, he was always relaxing with you in your room. You have a whole shelf for the knick knacks he brings. “Don’t worry. They’re clean,” he’d snort at his former mentor, because Bruce required everything to be thrice sanitized before coming into your possession.

“... Better.”

You’re glad. That’s one good thing, you guess. 

“Bruce,” you croak. 

He looks at you, face alight in expectation. 

“Maybe I should just go,” you say, small and weak. Your eyes don’t leave the sight of Gotham skyscrapers, stretching to the sky. Bruce stills, stopping you both in your tracks.

“What do you mean, ‘go’?” he says carefully.

You remove yourself from his arm and gesture to the city. “Just go. Leave. I mean, I can’t stay here forever.” Bruce looks genuinely confused, as much as he can. 

“Of course you can.”

“No, I can’t!” you screech. Frustrated, you tear at your hair. “I can just be an outpatient somewhere– I can go for hospital treatments every week– or everyday– whatever!

Bruce places his hands on your shoulders.

“You don’t know what you’re saying.”

Rage flares in you and you gnash your teeth at him. By now, that all-too-familiar brain fog has flooded your brain. But you try to fight it. You have to fight it. Like trying to crawl out of rapidly-sinking quicksand, you fight it.

“I-I know what I’m saying. I’m saying–”

“You’re saying to just let you die,” Bruce sharply returns. “To give up, let you die, and leave us to grieve.” 

“No–”

“Stephanie.” 

You meet his eyes again at the name, which are resolute and as blue as ever. 

“Cassandra. Duke.” Your stomach churns, imagining their smiling faces, turned into ash as your hypothetical passing. “Barbara.” 

“Bruce,” you croak, pleading inwardly for him to stop. 

“Damian.” 

“Tim.”

“Jason.” 

“Dick. Alfred.” You duck your head and your eyes meet the ground. The listing of all your loved ones pinches your heart, and you feel nauseous. You weren’t trying to leave them. You didn’t want to leave them at all. 

“... Me.” 

Your eyes sting with tears again. Why did he have to make it sound like that? Like you were seeking some selfish want, rather than trying to improve your quality of life. You feel your ambition and desire wane under the weight of guilt. You feel all sense of struggle start to disintegrate, lost to the fog in your head. Lost. You’ve lost.

Bruce’s eyes scrutinize you.

“As I suspected. You’re acting delirious. Manic. Delusional.”

Any semblance of protest dies in your throat. 

“What?” you say. But Bruce is already leading you away towards the looming doors of Wayne Manor, away from the green of the grounds. Away from the light of the sun, and away from the skyline. He comforts you with familiar lines on the way to your bedroom. 

You need rest. Alfred will brew his tea for you. I’ll call the kids to come tonight. We can play Risk. He pats your shoulder, stroking soft, deceptively warm circles with his thumb.

“You just need some rest.” 

And not for the first time, you believe he may be right.

[yawnderu]

Final Girl — Slasher!Keegan P. Russ x Reader (2/?)

cw: stalking, noncon. Dead Dove: Do Not Eat.

Your life was never meant to be a punishment.

"Are you listening?" The man in front of you asks the moment your gaze starts to drift off for the third time since you arrived at the office.

"Sorry. What did you say?" The dark circles around your eyes make you resemble a raccoon more than a human, the memories of your friends dying and their blood splattered all around the pale wallpapers. Images of nature that were supposed to be remembered as calming do the exact opposite, forever engraved in your broken psyche.

"Do you remember anything about the suspect?" The detective's voice is calm, laced with nothing but pure understanding and compassion, a man too passionate about what he does— and the man you're about to lie to, delaying the investigation of your friend's death just to save your own ass.

"Nothing other than what I've told you, sir. Everything is just so..." The pregnant pause makes him fidget with the pen in his hand, grey eyes focused on the way you look away from him, eyes squinting as you try to recall memories from that night, memories that are so painful he can see it written all over your face, making him feel a pang of guilt.

"It's okay. Call me if you remember anything else, yeah?" His warm hand rests on your shoulder after you get up, trying his best to give you a reassuring smile that is only met with weary eyes, making your way out without saying anything. There's hesitation in your steps, your heart almost beating out of your chest the moment you stop walking and look over your shoulder, briefly meeting his curious gaze.

“He had brown eyes.” Mr. Smith doesn't waste any time on adding the information to his notes, only making the guilt spread all over your insides like black mold, taking over what used to be your soul— it's all his now.

Your life was never meant to be a punishment, yet what do you call seeing the man who killed your friends everywhere you go? He's been taking over your entire life no matter how much you try to push the memories away, no matter how much you try to forget it all happened, only serving as a constant reminder that you didn't do enough.

Dreams colliding with reality isn't something new, yet your nightmares are so realistic that it almost feels like you were there. Even while you were hidden away in a dark closet, you can see your friends struggling against the much bigger, armed man, innocent bodies butchered while they were alive, a mess of limbs spread all over the rented cabin, blank eyes always staring at you, watching you run away and leave them behind.

Were you losing your mind? It all seems so real, to the point you're not even convinced you only saw your best friend die. Are you sure you didn't peek the kitchen the moment you cowardly decided to escape? The kitchen was blocked by a wall, and yet.

Cold water splashes all over your face, feeling the softness of your palm rub the skin, trying to come back to reality, to remind yourself that it's impossible to have seen the other bodies. The crime scene report is repeated over and over like a mantra, serving as a permanent reminder that you weren't there. No, not when only a body was found in the living room.

The person looking back at you in the mirror is a far cry from who you used to be. The dark circles in your eyes resemble more a dead girl walking than a real, healthy body, and perhaps that's what you are. If it weren't for the constant feeling of crippling dread and the tears spilling down your cheeks like a broken dam, you could've fooled a mortician.

The sound of your phone vibrating against the vanity brings you back to reality from your trip to Self-Pity Land, slapping some more water on your sweaty face before deciding to take a peek at the screen.

1:38 PM.

From: Ali💗

Almost there.

It's enough to make you scurry around the room, applying enough makeup to not make your friend worry, knowing that she wanted to get you out of the house just to give you a worthy distraction.

For what seems like the first time in forever, the corners of your lips tilt up into a smile the moment your friend wraps her arms around you, holding you close despite the odd stares you're getting from the people in the diner.

“Hey, you.” Her cheerfulness was contagious, to the point that even if only for a second, you get a sense of normalcy. A sense of community, despite your own feelings about the entire situation.

Your friend can talk for two. Something that you never noticed until now, listening to her ramble about anything and everything for the past hour. In a way, it gave you the chance to dissociate in peace, the words mixing together to the point they barely made sense anymore, completely entering one ear and leaving the other.

“He's looking at you.” Alina says in a teasing whisper, nudging you with her elbow. You give her a confused glance until she looks between the man and you, giving you the look.

Your gaze connects with a pair of baby blue eyes, forcing a sharp pain to cut through your soul. His eyes look too familiar, resembling the pair you see every single day in your nightmares. His entire demeanor screams ''cocky bastard'', manspreading on the seat of the table across from you, his arm propped up on the backrest.

“Awful timing, but I have to go.” Alina says with a small frown, though it quickly changes to a little smug smirk the moment she realizes the man is still looking at you. If she even notices your pleading gaze, it goes completely ignored as she gets up from the booth, giving you a strong, goodbye hug— and the stare from the man makes it clear that it might be the last one.

“Get some.” She teases in a whisper, quickly making her way out of the diner after paying for your drinks. You feel the urge to empty your stomach, yet there's barely anything there, only the slow-growing sense of pure dread the longer you keep staring at each other. Even when you force yourself to look away, you can see him staring at you from the corner of your eye, almost able to tell he has a shit-eating grin plastered on his face.

Leaving a halfway done drink behind, you make your way out of the diner, hoping that being out with more witnesses can save you. Is that really him? You barely got the chance to see his eyes yet you never saw his face, starting to doubt yourself the longer your tired feet drag you around the street. He could be an innocent man falling victim of your trauma, simply looking to get laid— you could probably use that, too, yet his icy stare and cocky grin is carved into your damaged mind.

“Need a ride?” A deep, gravely voice offers, nearly giving you a heart attack the moment your eyes meet his. Your hand goes up to your chest, trying to calm your fast-beating heart even when he gives you a reassuring, charming smile.

“No, thank you.” Your tone is far too polite and kind, still wanting to give him the benefit of the doubt despite the fight or flight screaming at you to flee— to get away from the man you're now convinced is the same masked man who murdered your friends.

“Get in the fucking car, princess.”

The charming smile he was shooting your way is gone within a second, his icy gaze piercing through your soul now that he knows you saw through his bullshit. Your gaze drifts down to the hand lifting a part of his shirt up, revealing part of his dark, happy trail— and his handgun.

There's hesitation in your steps as you walk to the passenger's seat, already feeling the smoothie you drank starting to crawl up your throat, almost making you throw it all up, yet you do your best to hold it in, shakily getting into his car.

“… My house's up ahead.” You purposely give him the wrong address, trying to protect your family and yourself from the deranged bastard. The ride is eerily quiet, almost making you even more nervous than if he was trying to make conversation with you. There's no music playing, no humming— nothing, other than his fingers tapping against the steering wheel and his calm breathing.

“We're here.” Maybe you're reading him wrong, but there's hints of teasing bleeding through his deep voice, his eyes shining with mirth when you step out of his truck, making your way to one of the houses. You reach the front door after what feels like minutes, your hand shaking as you think of what to do. You can hear the engine of his car still behind you, not driving away even when you told him that's your home.

I don't want anyone else to die because of me. If someone opens the door, would he murder them too? He has a gun, and the way he brutalized your friends makes it clear that he's not afraid to get his hands dirty no matter the weapon. His loud laugh makes every single muscle in your body tense up, hesitantly looking back at him, the pure amusement dancing all over his face doesn't ease your fears in the slightest.

“Come back, sweetheart. I'll take you home.” And he stays true to his word, driving back in silence, his warm hand resting on your bare thigh. You don't dare look at it, simply staring out of the window, feeling every single callus on his hand while the scenery gets more and more familiar. The black mold in your soul spreads by the second, threatening to rot you from the inside out, bubbling up into a disgusting brew as he stops in front of your house.

Your eyes briefly meet his, his pupils starting to dilate the same way they did when he was done brutalizing your friends; just like a predator who has never failed to catch his prey. You never gave him your address— in fact, you didn't say a single word since you got back into his truck, yet he still found his way to your house.

It's all starting to make sense. Despite assuming it's all a product of your paranoia, you've been catching hints of the masked man everywhere you go, blue eyes always staring right into your soul.

“Not gonna invite me over for some coffee?” Technically, it is a question, yet you both know saying no to him is not even on the table.

“Sure… I can make you a coffee.” Perhaps inviting a serial killer is not the brightest idea, yet what other options do you even have? He knows where you live and the places you frequent, you're not safe anywhere. His hand drifts down to the small of your back as you open the entrance door, hesitantly letting him back into the only safe space you had, willingly allowing him to invade your life.

“Atta girl.” What should feel like praise from an older man only serves as additional mental torture, the sound of the door closing behind you making all hope of surviving him fade away.

“Come sit on my lap.” He walks to the living room as if it's his own home, not even asking for directions, simply being able to navigate his way around like he's been here before— deep inside, you know he has. Your nose starts to sting as he sits down on the couch and forces you to straddle him, your thighs around his, allowing you to feel all the muscle.

“Don't cry…” He taunts, only now making you aware of the hot tears dripping down your cheeks, your lips trembling as he pushes you closer by the ass, pressing your clothed cunt against his hardening dick. His face is buried on he crook of your neck, loudly inhaling your scent as his starts to grind against you, calloused hands roaming all over your pretty body.

“Wanna feel my cock?” The vigorous head shake you give him is enough to make him laugh, open-mouthed kisses planted all over your neck and shoulders, not caring about leaving any marks. You can barely register the sound of his zipper coming down until he's guiding your hand to his warm, hardening dick.

You're too shaky to even do anything about it, disgust and nervousness turning into a dangerous mix, yet Keegan is a patient man. A patient man who gently makes your fingers wrap around his shaft, guiding your movements to jerk him off, getting even harder underneath your touch. Low grunts and muffled moans are spilled right into your ear, clearly getting off despite your very clear fear.

“You're doing so good, princess…” He murmurs. Keegan's free hand starts to sneak his way inside your shirt, slipping past your bra, his thumb brushing past your hardening nipple. Your brain is able to recognize that fight or flight aren't options anymore, so just like a wild animal trying to avoid a fight; you freeze.

Your shaky breaths mingle together, only interrupted by the low groans he lets out, his hand leaving yours for the first time, leaving you unsure of what to do. Despite the tears falling down your cheeks and the muffled whimpers, your hand keeps moving up and down his shaft, not wanting to die by his dirty, blood-tainted hands.

Keegan's mind isn't broken enough to not know it's wrong, yet it has been broken enough to the point he simply doesn't care. Thrown away by his brothers in arms and the marines, he doesn't have anything else to lose. No life purpose, other than to bring others the same pain he has suffered for years.

A quiet whimper escapes your lips as he moves your hand away from his cock, using his tip to move your underwear aside. His free hand goes to the back of your head, encouraging you to hide your pretty, tear-stained face on the crook of his neck, fully muffling your cries the moment he penetrates you. His dick is way too thick for his own good— stretching you open forcefully, despite the way he's actually going out of his way to make it as painless as possible.

“Shh, it's okay, kid. Just enjoy it.” He whispers into your ear, running a reassuring hand up and down your back, starting to move inside you, as if what he's doing could be even remotely enjoyable. A low, throaty moan makes its way out of his lips the moment he manages to bottom out, your body responding to the forced intrusion by getting you wet, not able to register that you don't want it.

Breaking you apart is the closest thing to religion he's ever gotten. Keegan's lips crash against yours as his hips start to thrust up faster and deeper, growing more desperate by the second despite how wrong he knows it is. He shouldn't be enjoying this, yet he's just a broken, terrible man, the little sobs leaving your lips only making him fuck into you harder.

The human body works in odd, awful ways. You don't want this, yet every single nerve inside your cunt is being stimulated by his long shaft, sending signals to your body that make it feel much better after you got wet. The small moan that gets ripped out from your throat makes him break away from the kiss, amusement written all over his face.

Keegan's forehead leans against yours as his hips rock against yours, his breath hot against your face. From this position, you're able to examine his face, taking note of as many details as possible in case he decides to let you leave, no matter how slim the chances are.

Thick, black eyebrows, buzzcut, dark scruff covering his pale cheeks. High cheekbones, light blue eyes, no visible scars or moles.

You repeat it inside your head like a mantra, trying to use it as a replacement to keep your head occupied from the knot starting to tense in your stomach, tightening up more and more with each thrust. You know for a fact you're hating this, yet your body is betraying you, coating his cock with slick.

He pulls out only to slam himself back in, dragging more pathetic moans out of your lips the moment he hits your spongy cervix. The stimulation is enough to make you hide your face on the warm crook of his neck, biting your thumb hard to muffle your own sounds the moment you start tightening up around him, finally giving in to the stimulation.

Your teeth sink deeper into your skin despite the small whiny moan escaping your lips the moment your forced orgasm hits, barely conscious enough to register the cocky laugh above you, feeling his lips connect against your temple, his breath hot on your skin as he manages to pull out, shooting ropes of thick cum all over your stomach.

“See? It wasn't that bad, was it, princess?” You collapse against him with a loud exhale, not able to hold it together anymore.

“Why…?” It's all you can ask, and you're not even sure about the reason you're asking why. Why did he kill your friends? Why did he let you live? Why is he stalking you? Why did he force himself on you? Why is he caressing your body like you're made of glass, as if he didn't just destroy you into thousands of shards?

“Because I'm not right in the head anymore.”

Taglist: @h0ney-mushroom @bangtandaze @elentiyaiswriting @lollycotton @sleepydang @billiousserpent As always, thank you so much @moosch for the amazing art!! 💗💗 world-building with her has been so fucking exciting and I'm happy to finally be writing about Slasher!Keegan after we've been talking about it for months!!<333

[toxicanonymity]

Apple Blossom. Left in Lincoln, pt. 4

7.5k / dads best friend!Joel x virgin!Reader 

story master list / joel miller master list

His cheeks turned a little pink and his eyes lit up. He handed you the rag.   "What?" you asked. “Nothin',” he said softly and shook his head. “You sure are pretty, darlin’. That’s all.” He dried his hands then gave your butt a squeeze. The moment of domesticity almost made you forget the town was rotting away beneath your feet. 

WARNINGS: I8+ mdni, slow-burn horror w/ potentially disturbing implicit content, big girthy age gap (20s/50s), plot, angst, toxic/dark fluff, gaslighting, manipulation, pressure, grooming, grinding, fingering, oral M receiving, pet names and praise.  Very TOXIC, dark Joel. Impaired editing.

You fell asleep in Joel’s arms and woke up alone in your bed.  The apple blossom was gone from your night stand. You showered and got dressed. You couldn’t find your baseball cap and realized the last time you wore it was in Joel’s orchard.  When you came downstairs, Bill and Frank's bedroom door was open.  Before you could investigate, you heard screeching outside, then cursing. You ran to the door.  Joel was waving his arms and a crow was flying away from him.  He had a screwdriver in one hand. He stood up and smoothed his shirt and a feather floated away from him.  He was wearing Frank's clothes with his hair freshly slicked back from a shower.    

You went outside and looked down at the open vent. You asked, “How’d you get it to come out?”

Joel shrugged with his arms hanging heavy at his sides.  "Nowhere else to go. Gotta be patient sometimes.” He bent one knee and put the hand with the screwdriver on his hip, looking up at the roof of the house. He squinted at the chimney.  “I reckon we left the fireplace vent open the other night.” 

You approached Joel and he extended his free hand for a hug.  He stroked your head and looked at you lovingly.  You were still taking that in -  the fact that Joel told you he loved you.  He gave you a kiss on the head and inhaled your scent.  Then he went to screw the vent back into the side of the house, and your eyes followed his ass.  That was one thing about Joel always having his shirt tucked in - You were very aware of his ass. He was so muscular, almost statuesque to you. His proportions reminded you of classic art. 

Joel glanced back as he bent over and your cheeks burned as you looked away from his body.  

“Can we plant the strawberries today?” You asked.

“Not the season, darlin’. Won’t survive.”

“Ours are still alive," you said. 

“Really?” he asked skeptically. 

"Yeah, they just never fruited."

“Show me.”  Joel finished screwing the vent back into place then stood up and brushed off his knees.  

You led him to the failed strawberry patch and showed him the plants. 

“Well I’ll be damned,” Joel said and squatted down to finger the leaves.  "You wanna bring’em, guess we can try it."

You were excited to surprise Frank and Bill with fresh strawberries. Once they fruited, maybe you could transplant them somewhere at home too. 

"Grab a spade and bucket outta the shed. Some of that cloth, too." 

You returned with the requested supplies and Joel said, "Alright, I’ll work on this and you can pick some veggies to take with us if ya want." 

“We’re not coming back today?” 

“Not ‘til we figure out what’s goin’ on, darlin’.” He put his hands on his knees and stood back up with a groan.  “Anything else you wanna plant from here? Arugula?”  

You were still processing the idea of leaving home for multiple days.  “Sure. Wait, what if we get the computers back up to check the cameras?” you asked. “Then we can see if it’s safe.” 

He wiped his brow with the back of the flannel sleeve.  “Just looked at ‘em. All static. Lines must've been cut.  Been down at least a few days." 

"What??" A pit formed in your stomach.  This whole time, you should’ve been even more scared than you were.  Joel sensed your fear. He stepped forward and put his arm around you.  He cradled your head against him.  He smelled a little like Frank.  

“It’s okay, baby. I’m not leavin’ you again," he reassured you.  The low vibration of his voice in his chest was an extra layer to the hug. 

You tried to shake off the dark mood that fell over you. "Can we make apple juice?” you asked.  

“Sure we can, peaches.”

-

Joel uprooted some strawberry and arugula while you picked vegetables then brought them inside.  You got out the empty apple juice jar to take with you and took the cider jar out of the fridge, too.  

Joel walked in and froze. “You’re not drinkin’ that, are ya?” 

“No,” you said, but you didn’t want to offend him since he brewed it.  “Not right now.”

“But you did?” He stepped forward and looked so serious.  Your face went cold.

“Well, no-”

"You shouldn’t be drinkin’ without me, darlin’.  It’s not safe.”  There was an air of judgment in his  voice. You were embarrassed, but shouldn't have been.  You were old enough to drink and your house was full of wine. You could have a drink alone if you wanted to.  Joel extended his hand and looked at you sternly. “Gimme that.”  You felt defensive as if you had done something wrong. Even knowing you hadn't.  You suddenly realized you had no idea where his bottle of whiskey was that he left there days ago.   He might have thought you drank it, too.  You were mortified. 

“I was just gonna pour it out so we could use the jar,” you explained as he opened the cider.  Joel's face softened and he poured it out in the sink. 

“Got plenty of jars at home, baby. Good idea though."  He rinsed the jar then patted the back of your head tenderly. It wasn't enough to soothe the feeling of being scolded, but the feeling would fade. You had bigger things to worry about anyway. He just wanted to keep you safe. 

-

On the walk to Joel’s house, you told him all about the night before.  How Abe didn’t come by, then you heard Abe's truck, but didn’t see him.  You told him about the songs playing on the radio station, which gave you chills to even think about.  

Joel heard the distress in your voice and stopped dead in his tracks, disturbed.  “Sorry I wasn’t there, darlin’.  Never shoulda left ya." He took a deep, ragged breath in. He cupped your cheek.   “Guess I didn’t wanna be a bother if ya didn't want me stickin' around.” 

You felt a wave of guilt for sending him home each night.  You imagined him walking alone in the dark worrying about you, thinking he was bothering you.  

"It's okay, Joel," you reassured him.  "I should've asked you to stay." 

"It's not okay, baby.”  He shook his head at himself, then looked at you with grave concern.  “What if somethin' happened?" 

"Well, I guess it didn’t.  I'm okay," you said. 

He sighed and cradled the back of your head.

"But I'm worried about Abe," you added. 

Joel dropped his hand, and looked off into the distance, jaw muscle flexing.  

"What if he's in trouble?" you asked. 

Joel took a deep breath and looked in the direction of Abe’s property.  "Tell ya what, darlin'. I'll go check on him today, how’s that sound?”

The distress melted away from your face. “Thank you,” you gushed and wrapped him in a hug.  He kissed the top of your head.

A bird cried and both of you turned toward the sound.  It was a crow.  It followed you the rest of the way to Joel's house, squawking obnoxiously.  

-

It was your first time being in Joel’s house.  It was about as neat and clean as you expected for the most part.  It smelled woodsy and nutty, like pine and almonds, and faintly of apples.  He led you upstairs to a spare bedroom and left you there to get settled in. He said to let him know if you needed anything.  

You walked around the room and picked things up. There was a dresser, a vanity, and a mirror.  On top of the vanity was a jewelry box and a hairbrush.  A stationary set.  There was a stool at the vanity and a box fan on the floor.  

Everything was so perfect and comfortable. It was what you imagined a hotel might be like. Clean and cozy. You sat down on the neatly made bed and took your shoes off. Joel came back a few minutes later and stood in the doorway, leaning against the frame. He looked around the room then nervously put his hands in his pockets.  He asked, "What do you think?" 

"It's amazing." 

He looked relieved.  He came over to sit next to you on the bed.  "Good," he said.  He smiled and his eyes scanned your body.  He caressed your neck and planted a kiss on your cheek.  

"Can we pick apples to make the juice today?"

"Not today, darlin'. Not 'til we're sure it's safe." He raised your hand to his mouth and kissed it.  "Got some apples in the kitchen, though." 

-

Joel made lunch and told you about the different improvements he made to the house and orchard in the past few years.   You asked for a tour and he said you could have one after he knew the community was secure.  He got up and took the dishes to the sink.  He turned on the water to wash them and you got up and volunteered to do them instead. It seemed only fair since he made lunch. You stood next to him at the sink and reached for the rag. His cheeks turned a little pink and his eyes lit up. He hesitantly handed you the rag with a slight smile.    

“What?” you asked. 

“Nothin',” he said softly and shook his head, looking at the floor.  He looked back up at you and sucked his bottom lip.  “You sure are pretty, darlin’. That’s all.” He dried his hands on a clean towel, then gave your butt a little squeeze. You smiled and giggled silently.  The moment of domesticity made you forget the town was rotting away beneath your feet. 

Joel moved to stand close behind you and put his hands on your hips.  He spoke softly into the crown of your head.  “I'll go take a look around the neighborhood and check on Abe.”  

You turned your head and nodded, “thank you, Joel.” 

His voice got low and serious, but remained gentle.  “Stay here. Don't go outside.” 

You nodded again. 

“You don't answer the door for anyone but me.  Real important, okay?"

You put down the dish in your hand and turned around to face him fully. "Okay."

"Even if you think you know 'em. Don't know who could be infected." He swallowed regretfully. 

You nodded in agreement, "Okay."

His hands on either side of your hips casually caged you against the sink.  He gently pressed his hips, then his lips into yours.

“Back before sundown,” he muttered. 

He put on a jacket, went down to the cellar, and returned with two firearms. He handed you a pistol, put on his jacket, and kissed you goodbye.  He winked as he left, then locked the door behind him from the outside.  

-

While Joel was out, you got curious and bored. You  walked around the house.  The first door you tried to open was locked.  The second one led down to the cellar.  You took a few steps down and tried to reach the light string that hung from the ceiling.  it swung away.  After another step down, the door behind you began to close.  You panicked and lunged up the stairs to keep it open.  That was stupid. You could have gotten locked in.  You scurried up the stairs back into the living room.  Once you caught your breath, you shut the door behind you and didn't go back.   

Another door was a closet.  Jackets, hats, boots. You saw an old Red Sox hat and your heart skipped a beat.  Your first thought was Jesse.  Your heart pounded in your chest and you weren’t sure why.  It was probably yours.  Joel must have scooped it up when you left it in the orchard.  It could have faded from the elements.  You had the strongest urge to touch and smell the hat, but you didn’t dare disturb it.  Joel seemed like the type to know exactly how things were. You didn't want him to know you were snooping.  

You didn’t try any more doors after that.  You went back to the kitchen.  You opened the pantry and there were two crates of jars, one of them locked. You looked around the opposite counter from where you had been doing the dishes.  A basket of apples, a jar of apple seeds. A fresh branch in a vase of water with a budding blossom.  You held up the vase and smelled the bud. 

You were startled from the moment by a faint scraping and clinking sound outside.  You fumbled the vase and almost dropped it but caught it.  Your pulse sped up and your eyes darted to the window.  You put the vase down and walked to the kitchen door which looked out into the backyard and orchard.  You put your hand on the knob, then changed your mind, Joel’s cautionary words fresh in your ears.  You stood at the window and looked.  You didn’t see anything.  You heard it again. It sounded like it was coming from the back of the orchard, which you couldn’t see.  All you saw was dirt, grass, a fire pit, neat rows of tree after tree, dead leaves tumbling across the ground with the wind.  Maybe it was the wind.  

When you heard it again, you were unsettled enough to step away from the window.  You went back up to the bedroom, figuring it was the safest place.  You covered yourself in the quilt and hugged one of several pillows, waiting for Joel's return, hiding, praying no one was around.  Hoping no one could possibly know you were there.  Grateful you weren't home alone at a time like this. You kept the bedroom door open so you'd be able to see trouble if it came. 

-

You dozed off and awoke when the back door to the kitchen unlocked downstairs.  Your heart raced and it took a moment to remember where you were.  It was almost dusk outside.  You quietly slid out from under the quilt and prepared to cautiously venture downstairs, assuming it was Joel who just came in the house.  A door closed downstairs, then the water heater turned on. You pulled the quilt back over you and turned off the light, waiting in the dark. After about ten minutes of lying there slowing your heart rate, the water turned off. A few minutes later, a door opened downstairs again. You wished you could fast forward to the next time you'd be in Joel's arms. 

You felt a presence.  "Joel?" It came out far quieter than you intended, but you were too afraid to repeat it louder. The stairs quietly creaked with padded footsteps. The creaking got closer and closer, then stopped.  You sat frozen, looking at a looming shadow in the hall, trying to make sense of it as Joel’s silhouette. The shape looked jagged, angry, nothing like him.  

“Peaches?” his voice made you jump; it was much closer than you thought.  Your hand came to your chest as he stepped into view and asked, “You okay? Thought you might be nappin', didn't wanna wake ya up.'” 

"I'm okay," you said and took a deep breath. "What's going on?"

Joel approached the bed and sat down with his hand on your knee. He was freshly showered and dressed in his own clothes again.  

"I think Abe left, darlin'."    

"Left?? Why??" 

"I dunno, sugar. It was like he just packed up." 

You were stunned. Abe couldn't possibly have packed up and left. This didn't explain anything at all.  You'd have to see it to believe it.  

"No. He wouldn't just leave," you said and got de ja vu. You were quiet. Nothing felt right.  You spent the whole afternoon scared and alone, and now this?

"Sorry, peaches. Didn't know you were close."

"We weren't. I just - I'm surprised. He didn't say anything this week, did he?"

"Sure didn't." 

"Just like Jesse,” you whispered. 

Joel inhaled through his nose as though calming himself. 

“I don't understand it," you said. 

Joel was quiet for a moment.  "People leave, darlin'. But I promise you I won't.  Not ever." 

You mustered half a grateful smile and indulged him. “Promise?”

"Never.”  He looked gravely serious.  “Not unless I take you with me,” he said softer. 

“Thanks,” you said. 

He shook his head.  “I mean it, peaches.  Nothin' in this world could take me away from you." He stroked your thigh and leaned in for a much-needed kiss. 

Then he put his arm around you, rubbed your shoulder, and leaned his temple against yours.  You sat side by side on the bed in silence for a minute, then Joel said, “been a rough day or two, huh?" 

You nodded pensively. 

"I know what we need." 

"What?" 

"How 'bout a special dinner?” he lifted your chin with his finger and your eyes met his affectionately. "There she is." 

"Okay."

"Put on somethin' nice, I'll get cookin'."

“Oh, I didn’t bring much,” you said, embarrassed. 

“Let's check the closet,” he said with a wink. "See what got left behind." 

He kissed you on the head and stood up. It was a shallow closet that rolled open from two doors to expose a single rack of clothes.  He rolled open the left door and there were five or six dresses. They didn't look like anything Ellie or Tess would wear and you didn't know who else could have left them behind. Whoever lived there before, you supposed.   

Joel pulled out two coathangers. A floral wrap dress and a low cut burgundy sweater dress. "See what ya like," he said softly with a sparkle in his eye.  "Take your time. I'll get cookin'." He winked and put the hangers back in the closet before leaving you to the task. 

You stayed seated on the bed and stared into space for a while, thinking about Abe.  Then you got up and put on the burgundy dress. It was a perfect fit. You stood in front of the vanity as the smell of fried rabbit wafted upstairs. You primped yourself and touched your neck, looking yourself in the eyes.  You wanted to be happy, but your eyes were sad.  You opened a dresser drawer looking for socks.  Sure enough, there was a small drawer full of socks and stockings.  Another drawer full of underwear, and even the same type of fabric washable pads you had to use for your period. You dreaded your period coming in a few days. That probably wasn't helping your mood.

-

Joel served a candlelit dinner at a card table in his living room. He said it was safer away from the windows at night.  He wanted to give it another day or two to make sure the community was safe.  He was walking to the table with a bottle of wine and stopped dead in his tracks when he saw you in the dress. He put down the bottle and said. "My lands, peaches." He wet his lips. "C'mere, gorgeous." He rubbed your forearms with his thumbs and looked you up and down. "You're so goddamn beautiful," he whispered. 

"You look nice, too," you said. He chuckled. He wasn't wearing anything out of the ordinary but he always looked nice. He took your head in both hands and kissed you softly.  Then he looked at you again, wrapped his arms around you, and kissed you harder with an "Mmm," into your mouth. 

He pulled out your chair for you at the table. He poured your wine, served you salad with no cucumbers, rabbit, eggplant, and applesauce. The salad dressing was incredible. He made it himself. "secret's in the basil" he said proudly. "Gotta mash it up real good, let the flavor out. If ya like it, we got more to plant out back.  Rosemary, too. Make us a little herb garden.” You smiled. The applesauce was amazing, too. 

He got up and retrieved a stone bowl from the counter. "Fresh cinnamon sticks.  I crush’em up dry first. Then add just a little apple to the cinnamon, mash it up so it’s all wet, then add that to the rest at the end."  He tasted the cinnamon mixture with his finger.  “Kinda spicy.”  He dipped his pinky for more and held it up to your mouth.   "Go on," he said.  You held eye contact with him as your tongue met his pinky. The cinnamon was strong.  Delicious.  He took a deep breath as you sucked his digit clean. "Good girl," he whispered, watching you in a trance. He put the bowl back on the counter.  “Use it for cobbler, too. We can make some if ya want.”  You never knew Joel was such a good chef.  

-

You ate quietly. You wanted to let Joel’s nice dinner take your mind off things, but it didn't.  You didn't want to grill him about Abe's house or say anything negative at all since he put so much effort into the meal. He put so much effort into making you feel good in general.  So you tried to pretend you were okay, but he sensed your mood.  

After cleaning up from dinner, the two of you sat down on his sofa in the living room.  He brought whiskey and a bag of pills and put them on the coffee table with two glasses. “Need a good night’s sleep,” he muttered as he sat down and poured a glass.  “How ‘bout you?” 

You didn’t say anything. 

“What’s wrong, peaches?”

You were quiet, but he didn’t let you off the hook.  He looked at you, expecting an answer.  Finally, you blurted out, “I’m lonely.”

Joel looked confused.  “We’re together now, baby."

The tears welled up over your eyes.  “Not right this second. I mean in general.”

Joel swallowed, then nodded.  “Must get lonely on your own.  Why don’t you stay here with me?” He took a sip, put down his drink, and scooted closer.  He rubbed your back.  

You ignored his offer, frustrated that he didn't get it or didn’t care. “Everyone's gone,” you said and started to cry.  “Everyone left.”

Joel’s face darkened and his jaw clenched. His body tensed and he stopped rubbing your back.  He sank back into the sofa and clasped his hands in his lap.  You turned around to face him, expecting more comfort, but he didn’t look at you or open his arms.  

“Not sure what to say to that, peaches," he said flatly.  He took another sip of his drink.  "You mean the world to me, and it sounds like I’m nobody to you.” 

“Of course not,” you said.  Your heart dropped at your foolishness.  Here was the one person you had left.  The best person who could possibly be left.  Someone who would take care of you no matter what it took.  Someone who cared more about you than anything or anyone else.  And instead of being grateful, you acted like he was nothing. 

Joel nodded slowly, looking down with a scowl.  He swallowed. 

You said, "I just miss them, that's all."

His eyes intensified and he took a deep, calming breath. 

“Bill and Frank, I mean,” you clarified, desperate not to make it worse. 

"I know ya do," he said in a near whisper, still looking down.  

You continued, your tears slowing but not stopping.  "It doesn't feel right here with everyone gone." 

“Doesn’t feel right here,” he repeated.  He raised his eyebrows and bit his tongue, sticking it into his cheek. 

You looked away, sensing that you hurt him but unsure what to do.   You sat in silence for what felt like several minutes, both of you looking straight ahead. Your back felt so cold without him comforting you.  

When you looked back at Joel, his eyes were glistening.  “You're enough for me, peaches.” His voice cracked.  “You’re all I need in the world.” He dabbed his eye and your heart broke. "Nothin' feels more right than bein' with you. I love you that much.”

No one ever made you feel that way before, like you were their entire world.  His affection overwhelmed you.  It felt like he cared as much about you as Bill and Frank, just in a different way.  

"I love you too, Joel." You squeezed his thigh reassuringly. 

“No, darlin'.  I’m in love with you. I don’t care about anything else.” 

You turned toward him and tried to meet his eyes.  “I’m in love with you, too.” 

He finally stroked your back.  “You might think so, darlin’.” He sighed.  “And I ‘preciate you sayin’ it. . . But when you say,  ‘it doesn’t feel right here’. . .” He dabbed his eye again.  “I gotta wonder.”

“I do, Joel.” 

“I dunno if you understand love, darlin’.  Or you wouldn’t say that.  And you wouldn’t feel lonely.” 

You were overwhelmed and confused.  It didn’t make sense to you. “I wouldn’t miss my parents?”

“Course you’d miss’em,” he conceded.  “But you wouldn’t feel lonely.” 

“Guess that’s what I meant,” you said.  He nodded and his face warmed slightly. "Plus, I'm worried about Frank," you said and started crying again. Something was tugging at your gut.  You felt worse, not better.

Joel started to say something, but didn't. He rubbed your back. “I know, darlin’. He poured you a glass of whiskey and composed himself. “They’d be proud of ya, how you’re doin’.”  

You laughed through your tears. “Sorry,” you sniffled. “I didn’t mean I was lonely. I’m not.” 

“Okay, darlin’,” he whispered

You couldn’t tell if he really forgave you.  Your whole face felt tense. 

-

Joel looked at you and a look of deep concern washed across his face, realizing how bad he made you feel.  “Hey, hey. . . . c’mere. . . “  He rubbed your back.  You scooted closer and hugged him from the side.  He brought your far leg into his lap so you were twisted over him. “Shhhh,” he said and kissed your forehead, but something was still off about him.  “It’s okay, baby.”  He softened but still felt more distant than usual, like he wasn’t sure he could believe you.  The distance made you panic. 

“I love you, I really do,”  you said.  

He drank the rest of his whiskey and bent forward to put the glass down, then stretched his arm out on top of the sofa.  You tucked one leg under yourself and rested the other leg over his lap.  He draped his hand on your knee, but didn’t make a move to pull you closer.  You climbed into his lap, suddenly more concerned about his feelings than anything else.  

You wanted to be closer to him, as close as possible.  You wanted him wrapped around you, inside you.  You wanted to be a part of him and for him to be a part of you.  You kissed him on the cheek.  He smiled but didn’t look at you, not really.  He looked at your eyes but it felt like he was looking past them.  “Joel,” you whined, eyes welling up at the lack of validation.   You cupped his face in both your hands and kissed him.  His lips pressed softly into yours.  You looked back and forth between his eyes, trying to connect enough to show him how much you meant it. 

“I wanna be with you,” you whispered.  “I don’t care about anything else.” 

Something behind his eyes flickered on.  “You mean that, peaches? You don’t care about anything else?” 

You nodded and pressed your lips into his again. 

He asked, “You sure?” 

“Yeah, I’m sure.” 

His hands embraced your back and the affection returned to his eyes full-force like it was in the morning.  He wet his lips. 

“Good,” he whispered.  “It’s you and me, darlin’. We only got each other.” 

You nodded. 

-

He looked from your eyes to your mouth and back, closed his eyes, cradled the back of your head, and kissed you deeply.  He held you and kissed you, the taste of whiskey fading after a few seconds as your mouths combined.  He pulled you closer into his lap and his jeans hardened against your dress and panties, making your core tingle.  He moaned into your mouth and your panties moistened rapidly.  His cock was big, and feeling it get so hard just for you made you feel special. Earlier, when you said you wanted him inside you, he said you were still being shy with him.  He said you hadn’t even touched it yet, that you weren’t giving him everything.  

You wanted to show him you could give him everything.  His big hands pulled you close and his hips lifted your body as he licked into your mouth. His hard cock pressed perfectly against your clit as his hips moved.  You reached down and unbuttoned his jeans, then tugged his shirt up and he let you untuck it.  He was truly in the moment.  He was yours.  You gently grabbed at the bulge in his jeans – it was more than a handful – and he thrust into your palm with a sigh. 

You broke the kiss to unzip his jeans, and he watched you like it was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen.  You slid your hand into his pants and softly gasped as you felt the stiff outline of his cock through his boxers.  His hips lifted into your hand with a soft grunt and he said, “Givin’ me everything, aren’t ya baby?”

You nodded earnestly.  He slid his hand between your legs, ghosting your clit over your panties, making you moan.  

“Wanna make you feel good,” you whispered, groping his hard cock and feeling a wet spot at the tip.  

“Always feel good when I'm with you, darlin’.” 

“Want it in my mouth,” you said.  

He inhaled sharply. “Fuck, darlin’.”  His eyes widened. “That what you want?”

“Yeah,” you nodded and got down on the carpet. 

You got out of the way while he took his jeans off for you.  

He spread his knees again and pulled the waistband of his boxers down below his balls.  He wrapped his fingers around the shaft with his thumb at the tip.  Butterflies swarmed between your legs at the sight of his strong hand holding his cock at attention for you. You nestled yourself between his legs.  

“You sure?” he asked and looked you over. 

You wet your lips and nodded without taking your eyes off his imposing cock. 

“Alright, darlin’.” He looked at you with pride and curiosity. 

You held his cock at the base and opened your mouth, hovering over the tip. 

“Just a little kiss,” he murmured. 

You pressed your lips against the tip and kissed it, sucking the salty precum into your mouth. 

“Good girl,” he sighed. “Now a little at a time.” 

You wrapped your lips around the tip and licked it, looking up at his face for approval.  The look on his face made you wet.  Joel sighed and tried not to lift his hips. “Good. Doin’ great, baby.” 

You sucked a little more of him into your mouth. He was so big, the head alone seemed to stretch your jaw. 

“Good, baby.  Nice and slow, not too much.” His velvety tip grazed the roof of your mouth.  You throbbed between the legs, wishing so badly to have him there instead.  But you had to show him you could give him everything.  

You braced the shaft at the base and the humidity of his salt and pepper hair made you throb more. You sucked and tongued his shaft and looked up at him for approval. 

“Good girl,” he nodded.  His validation made you slurp more of him into your mouth, a little too much, and you started gagging. 

“Easy, darlin’, hold on,” he chuckled.  “Take a breather,” he said.  

You were a little embarrassed.  “I wanna do it,” you whispered. 

“Okay,” he smiled.  “How ‘bout you lick it, get it real wet for us.” 

You salivated at the sight of his cock in his hand and licked him from base to tip three times -  once on the underside, and once from each side.  

“Now use your hand, darlin’.” You hesitantly wrapped your fingers and thumb around his shaft and he swelled into your hand.  His cock dwarfed your fingers, making you wetter. You were salivating.

You asked, “Are you sure you don’t want my mouth?”

“Darlin’, I love your hands.” 

He covered your hand with his and stroked himself with it. 

His hips thrust into your hand and it was so easy to imagine yourself impaled on his cock, it was all you could think about.  

“Give it another kiss, baby.” 

You brought the tip into your mouth again, then licked his cock from base to tip and sucked the head again, curiously tonguing the salty slit. You left as much saliva as you could.  

“Good girl,” he murmured and took your hand in his again. 

You ached to have him inside you. You wet your lips thirstily. 

He watched your face as his breath grew heavier. “Whatcha thinkin’ bout, peaches?”

You had a feeling he knew.  You looked down at his cock then back up at him, then away.  

“Don’t be shy, baby.” 

You looked up and made eye contact. “Putting our bodies together,” you said breathily and watched his face melt into a puddle of want. 

He inhaled through his nose, then murmured, “Want that real bad, don’t ya?” 

You nodded.

“Why’s that, darlin’?” His lips glistened and his eyes were half-lidded. 

“Wanna feel you inside me.” 

He breathed heavier as your hands slid up and down on his shaft.  He asked, “How ya think it’s gonna feel?” 

“I’m gonna be full of you. Attached to you.” 

“Yeah, you will,”  he nodded.  His grip tightened around your hand as he stroked himself. “You’ll be so full of me, baby. ..” 

“I really wanna be,” you whispered. You wanted it so bad you could cry.  “I need to be.”

“You will be, baby,” he said soothingly.  “You want your mouth filled up now?”

“Yeah,” you hovered your mouth near his cock again.  

“Go ‘head, baby.  Take it, it’s yours.” He took his hand away and put it gently on the back of your head.  

You sucked the tip of his cock into your mouth again and made eye contact as you sucked.  

He groaned and his thumb stroked the nape of your neck, then he lifted his hips and erupted in your mouth.  His warm, salty spend hit the roof of your mouth, then the tip slid back along your palate, and he pulsed again.  More cum hit the back of your throat.  Your eyes watered and you swallowed. 

“You did so good, baby.” 

-

He tucked his cock into his boxers and spooned you on the sofa.  

“Why’s it feel so good, doing that?” you asked.  

“Doin’ what?”

“Just having it in my mouth.”

“S’posed to, baby.  Your body’s gettin’ ready for mine.” His words sent a pang of desire between your legs. “Turns you on, right?” He reached under your dress and stroked your panties from the outside.  He felt the dampness and murmured, “Guess it does.” 

“A lot,” you said.  He began stroking your clit rhythmically over the cotton.  Your hips started to move on their own in his hand. You moaned softly. 

He slid his hand into the front of your panties and thumbed your soft curls.  “It’s ‘cause your special parts think I’m fixin’ to put mine right here.” He dipped his middle finger into the pool of wetness hanging at your entrance. 

“I wish you would,” you sighed.  

He groaned softly at those words, the blood already flowing back to his loins.  “You really do, huh?” His voice was low and soft. “You really wanna be full of me.” He wet his fingers with your slick and began gently circling your clit. “Attached to me.” 

“Yeah,” you said. “More than anything.” 

“Love hearin’ that, peaches.”  He held you tighter. 

“I wanna give you everything,” you said. 

“Gotta be ready, darlin’,” he said into the crown of your head.  

“I’m ready.”

“Your body too, angel.” You could hear the smile in his voice. 

“My body wants yours so bad,” you whined.

“Wantin’ it’s not enough, baby.”

You groaned in frustration. 

“Well. . . you tell me, darlin’.  You’ve had it in your mouth now.  Think it’ll fit in this sweet little hole?”  he swirled his finger around. 

“I dunno,” you sighed.   Your body didn’t care, it wanted whatever he would give you. “I’m sorry,” you muttered.

“For what?”

“Not having my body ready.” 

“Oh peaches, I’m glad you’re not.  It’ll be a privilege gettin’ you there.” He gently circled your clit. 

“Really?”

“Of course, darlin’,” he said softly. “Sometimes they bloom late for a reason.” He dipped his finger into your wetness again. “And this one’s just for me, ain’t it?”

“Yeah,” you whispered.  

“We’ll get there, baby.  We’ll get there in time.” 

“Okay,” you sighed. 

“Let’s see how much you can handle,” he said. “See what it’ll take to get there.” 

“Yeah,” you said.  “Please.” You lifted your thigh to make more room for his hand.

He slowly slid half his middle finger into your tight, wet heat. You moaned at his first intrusion. 

He sucked air in through his teeth.  “How’s that feel, baby?” 

“I want more.” 

He took a deep breath and pushed his finger all the way in.

You whimpered, “yeah,” as your body adjusted. 

“God damn,” he whispered as your cunt hugged his digit. 

He curled his finger just slightly and you moaned again. “It’s so thick,” you said.  

“See? Got a long way to go.” His cock twitched against your ass.

“No, it feels good,” you said as he slowly moved his finger inside you.  “I want more.”  

“You sure?”

“Yeah,” you answered impatiently.  

“Just one more.”  You squinted in frustration.  Why just one more? 

He took his middle finger out and flattened it alongside his ring finger.  He slid them up and down your slippery seam before slowly plunging them inside together. It was a tight squeeze.   “God damn,” he breathed. He paused half-way in. 

“Feels so good,” you panted.  “Keep going,” you begged. 

“Don’t wanna hurt ya.”

“Doesn’t hurt at all.”

He slowly sank his two fingers into you completely.  “Real snug,” he muttered. “You sure it doesn’t hurt?”

“Too snug? Is that bad?”

“No, no, not at all, baby. But it’s gonna take time to be ready.” He began to move the heel of his palm against your clit and you grinded back against it.  

“God, Joel,” you sighed. 

“Gonna take time,” he repeated.  “‘fore you’re ready for this,” he said with a thrust of his hips, grinding himself into your ass, already fully erect again. He thrust against you again with a soft grunt. 

You asked “You want it too, don’t you?” 

“Course I do, baby,” he panted. “Gotta feel good for both of us, though. Gotta do it right.” He kissed your head and curled his fingers inside you, digging the meat of his hand against your clit again. “Gotta be real special.”

Your clit twitched against his hand and he said, “C’mon, baby,” moving his hand at a slow rhythm. “Every time you come, gets us closer to what we want.” 

“Really?”

“Yeah, sugar.”  He breathed heavily with his body enveloping yours, pumping his fingers deep in your cunt, pressing his palm against your clit. 

You let your hips grind back unrestrained. 

“There ya go, darlin’,” he said, pressing his hard cock against you as he moved his fingers.  “Yeah, just like that.” 

You closed your eyes and pretended his fingers were his cock. You knew his cock would feel even better. 

“Can’t wait to be inside ya, baby,” he whispered. “Nothin’ I want more.” He slowly pumped his fingers deeper into you as your body opened up for him.  “Wanna slide into this tight little hole,” he panted, his cock rutting gently against your ass.  “Want you wrapped around me.” He rubbed his palm against your front. “Yeah. . .wrapped so tight around me, baby. Like ya can’t pull us apart”  Your hips grinded into his hand with your climax in sight. “Gonna have you so full of me,” he breathed, then he moaned with a harder thrust against you.   “Joined together,” he added. “Forever, baby. It’s forever,” he whispered in your ear.  “Me and you.” You whined on the edge of your climax.  “C’mon, baby,” he whispered, pumping his fingers, rocking his palm, grinding against your ass. 

He thrust against your ass with a grunt, and his grunt in your ear was enough for you to see stars.  “Joel,” you whined. 

“Yeah,” he said as your climax seized you. You whimpered as you came. “Yeah, I got ya, baby,” he whispered.  “Good girl.” He kissed your head. 

-

He held you and caressed you as you bathed in the afterglow. It gave you clarity on how wrong you were earlier.  You felt the things he felt.  You realized how hurt you would have been if he said the same things – That he was lonely, that it didn’t feel right there.  

“I’m not lonely,” you whispered.  “And of course it feels right, bein’ with you.”

“Okay, baby.”  He kissed your head.  

“Guess I meant the town didn’t feel. . .”  You meant the town. Your stomach dropped as you realized it.

The town. If Abe was really gone, you and Joel were the only two people left in Lincoln.  Joel was the town.  You couldn’t put your finger on why, but you felt like you might be sick.  

“I know, darlin’,” he said obliviously. “But in a way, it’s nice we have this time together.”  His arms tightened around you. “Silver lining.  Right?”  He sighed. “We’re together, don’t care about nothin’ else.” 

“Right,” you whispered and tried not to think about it.  You shivered and Joel rubbed your arms.  “It’s chilly down here. Let’s get you tucked into bed.” 

-

Joel showed you the restroom and your toiletries and towels.  He offered you a painkiller to help you sleep. You didn’t want to take it, but he left it on the nightstand with a glass of whiskey in case you needed it.  “Know it’s weird, sleepin’ somewhere new,” he said. He took a nightgown out of the dresser for you.  He kissed you good night, then shut your door behind him.  

You woke up in the middle of the night when you heard something metal clang then rumble outside.  You felt safer with Joel in the house, but you wanted his arms around you. Maybe he’d let you climb in his bed.  Surely he wouldn’t turn you away.  He was being a gentleman, offering you a bed of your own. You opened your bedroom door as quietly as possible and gathered the courage to go downstairs.  

Downstairs, you pushed his bedroom door open.  “Joel?” you whispered. He didn’t answer. “Joel?” There was a flickering glow outside his window, which made it harder to see the inside of the room until your eyes adjusted.  

He wasn’t in bed.  Not the bathroom, either.  You sat down on his bed and smoothed your hand over his pillow.  You dipped your nose into the cotton and inhaled his scent, closing your eyes.  It gave you a rush of comfort.  A metal clang jolted you back to the moment and the flickering light brightened for a moment.  Your heart raced.  You carefully peeked out the window and faintly saw what looked to be the silhouette of Joel standing over a burning barrel.  You felt like you should go back upstairs, as much as you wanted to curl up in his bed, inhaling his scent.  

Your heart was beating too fast to get back to sleep, and you didn’t know why.  You paced around the room and looked out the window.   You sat at the vanity.  You looked in the drawers.  You were waiting to hear the door open downstairs.  Then you could pretend to come down for the first time.  Joel would comfort you, kiss you, cuddle you to sleep.  But the door didn’t open downstairs.  You paced more and sat on the bed.  You opened the closet and looked at the dresses again. You held one up in the mirror. 

You opened the other closet door and something caught your eye.  In the back, on the very last hanger, there was a dress that made your breath hitch.  White with lace sleeves.  The longer you looked at it, the more butterflies gathered in your chest.  Maybe your eyes betrayed you.  It was too dark to tell.  You closed the closet, took the painkiller, and got back in bed.  You listened out for the door and tried to conjure the feeling of Joel’s arms around you. That was all you wanted. 

-

Thank you so much for reading and engaging! Thank you for your patience, too.  I love you guys!!!

I'm not sure if there will be one more part or two; I have to see how it writes. I feel like probably two, but it could be one long one with a little bit of a time jump.

-

All Joel: @ethanhoewke @silkiers @eiviea @evyiione @xdaddysprincessxx @queerly-anxious @chernayawidow @ambassadortotrilliusprime @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog @jasminespringtime @romanarose  @fandomsfallnomore @djarinxore @lokanda @blackvelveteen1339   @manazo @wolvesandvampires  @taeslarityy @str84pedro @kyloispunk @filthfairy @fieryglutenfreechickennoodles @harriedandharassed @moonlightdivine @worhols @fan-fiction-floozy @cutesyscreenname @weddingfairy @pedropascal-whore @spideysimpossiblegirl @feministfanboi @gracieispunk @prettypartyfavor 

Lincoln: @fan-fiction-floozy @ivyblxnde @lhymer1995 @sugarspiceanthrax @isimpforfictionalmen @zynbsblogg @swedishscumfuck @sadgirlstoohightocare @steveharringtonswh0re @skythighs @aoziety @leeeesahhh @jupitersmoon-cal @peekymoon @dtfawn 

(ct'd in comments or reblogs)

[akindplace]

mentalhealthceo

[strawberrycat18]

When other people say they’re dizzy, they mean ‘phew! My equilibrium is a bit off! In a just a few moments I’ll be fine!’

When I say I’m dizzy, I mean something very different.

I mean that I can see black spots in my vision, and I can’t tell if this is going to be the time I pass out.

It means that the world is swimming underneath my feet, stretching and distorting like an obstacle course even when it’s just a straight, flat path.

It means there’s so much pressure in my head and not nearly enough.

It means that I can feel my heart speed up and beat harder, trying to adjust to the new gravity, just because I’ve shifted slightly.

It means I can feel the nausea rising in my stomach and the bile come up my throat.

It means that walking is a challenge. Getting a snack is a challenge, going to the bathroom is a challenge. Sitting up is a challenge.

So, when I say I’m dizzy, I’m trying to dumb it down so that you can understand a fraction of what I’m feeling. Not that I’m not feeling it. On good days, it’s a hindrance. On bad days it stops me doing anything. Stop telling me that ‘just being dizzy’ doesn’t make me ‘that disabled’. You barely know the half of it.

[pynkgothicka]

Hey!

I love ur blog and ur writing they

Soo good can I request a yandere husband taehyung x reader where it's the typical wife worship husband kind lf thing also can u pls make him really dark too with a non-con

Sorry if it's too much

Love ya

Ｍｉｌｌｉｏｎ Ｄｏｌｌａｒ Ｍａｎ ＫＴＨ

Pairing - Dark! Husband! Kim Taehyung x AFAB! Reader

Featuring - None!

Word Count - Around 1.8k

Tags and Warnings - Domestic Violence, Non-Con, Breeding Kink, Mentions of blood, forest sex scene, Dead Dove Do Not Eat, Allusions to kidnapping

Authors Note - Late Valetines Day story! This is my last req!! Sooo some more personal inspiered stuff coming soon! Also please let me know if you guys like the longer more descriptive fics.

A friendly reminder that all my works are dark fanfiction! Please if you do not like that do not read them! These depictions don't pertain to reality. This is your final warning before hitting the keep reading button!!

He was your world, your everything.

Or at least that’s what he told you.

Soon, you found yourself having to repeat these thoughts, constantly reminding yourself of them, almost blinding yourself to the harsh reality of just how miserable you had become.

You cut potatoes, sprinkling herbal seasoning on top. You put them in a pan and cover them with virgin olive oil. Placing the pan in the oven, you set a timer.

The beep reminded you of the constant threats and warnings he provided. He required dinner to be prepared by the time he returned home from work every day. Especially today, Valentine's Day. The day you are supposed to be the most appreciative of what Kim Taehyung has given you.

During your cleanup, you suddenly felt a pair of hands encircle your waist, and a broad nose press against your neck. You instinctively leaned into the touch, fully aware of who it was. "Hello, my love," he murmured, his warm breath gently caressing your neck.

"Hello, how was your day at work?" You inquire, speaking softly with a touch of sweetness. He grunted, wrapping his arms around your waist tighter. "Did you have a tough day?”

Taehyung uttered dismissively, "They were just bothering me, honestly. All I wanted was to be back home with you." He says, planting a kiss on your neck once more. You could feel his cock harden against the curve of your back. You shivered noticeably. His black hair brushed against your neck. "Are you cold baby?”

You glance downwards and shake your head. "No... Your hair just tickled me a little bit.”

Taehyung nodded to himself as he responded, "I brought you some beautiful roses and your favorite chocolates." He lamented slightly, his hips pressing against your back. You stayed quiet. "What do you say?”

“Thank you… I-I’m making dinner… I’m sorry I couldn't get you anything more.” You apologized. But you both knew the reason why.

You had no access to your funds.

No access to a vehicle to leave.

No knowledge of where you lived.

Not even the luxury of owning a phone or the login to any of the house's computers.

Yet Taehyung cooed. “It's okay, I know you love me. I don't need all that stuff.”

Shit. Not even light gaslighting could make him feel sorry and give you more privileges. You nod in agreement as he speaks. “I’m going to get cleaned up for dinner. Don’t wait on cleaning, you know I hate having a dirty kitchen.” Taehyung walks away, gesturing towards the mess on the kitchen counter.

“It’ll get cleaned. I promise.”

💲

After dinner, you prepared to go to bed. You'd expected Taehyung to be asleep by now, but he was up. Book in hand he lay in bed, his nightwear glasses making him look as sophisticated as ever. You gulped, walking towards the bed and crawling in. Crawling into bed next to him, you asked, “Aren't you sleepy yet?”

“No, I can't calm my mind," he stated abruptly. You could tell he was upset at something. It was something you had to pick up on, being with him. He was too emotional, his mood swings frightening you at times. “Where is my laptop?”

Of course that's what it was.

Desperation drove you to try and access Taehyung's laptop. He had left it unattended and you saw it as a chance to try and discover your location. The day you married Taehyung, he had swept you off your feet and whisked you away to an unknown place, leaving you with no knowledge of where you were or how to escape.

The house was nestled in a dense forest, surrounded by trees as far as the eye could see. Sometimes, you would gaze out the window, searching for signs of life in the distance. But all you ever saw was the endless expanse of darkness, an eerie stillness that only made you fear Taehyung more.

The computer taunts you with every failed login attempt, each one feeling like a slap in the face. Frustration and desperation build as you frantically try every password you can think of until finally, with a loud beep, the screen displays "Access Denied." Fury bubbles up inside of you as you realize you've been locked out. Trembling with anger, you snatch the computer and hide it away, unable to face another rejection from this merciless machine.

The silence between you two is deafening.

He flips a page in the book he was reading, seemingly calm but you know better. You can feel his eyes boring into you

"Why are you so quiet?" he questioned, flipping a page in his book. "I know you did something - you turned off the cameras. I received a notification on my phone.”

Quietly, you mustered up the courage to reply. “I-I wanted to…”

"What did you want? To abandon me? On Valentine's Day? After everything I've done for you? After everything I've sacrificed for you?" Taehyung bombarded you with questions, and you couldn't make sense of them. He slammed his book shut and got right in your face. His hands aggressively pulled at the bottom of your nightgown, as if trying to search you for something. You let out a gasp and fought back by kicking at him.

Then you got him. Your foot connecting with his face.

Taehyung jerked back, sitting up abruptly. A metallic taste floods his mouth as he runs his tongue over his now split and bleeding upper lip. “Won't you look at that…”

“T-Tae… I-I’m sorry. Please, I didn't mean it. I-I can pa-” But before you could finish, his hand wrapped around your throat, cutting off your words and squeezing tightly. The impact of your head hitting the wooden headboard sends a jolt of pain through your skull, but it's nothing compared to the fear that grips you as one of his hands grips your throat, his face twisted in a violent rage. Taehyung's grip tightened as he knelt over you, both hands now grasping at your neck.

“What was that for huh? I thought I broke you in… but obviously I didn't do a good enough job huh?” With each point he wanted to get across, he lifted your head and slammed it into the bed. You tried to fight him off, desperately scratching at his arm with your anxiously bitten nails. With each brutal blow, your vision became spotty and distorted until you spotted the vase of roses nearby. The ones he had just brought for you. Without hesitation, you grabbed it and brought it down upon his skull, shattering the delicate glass and sending shards and water flying.

You had only a few seconds to get away.

Your feet thudded against the soft carpet as you sprinted out of the bedroom. Gasping for air, you knew there was no time to stop and catch your breath. Every second counted as you tried to make up for what had been lost.

Racing to the living room, you shoved your feet into house slippers and tore out of the door, darting into the dense woods that surrounded the home. Branches whipped and sliced at you, as you climbed over fallen debris. The idea of stopping flashed through your mind, but you knew you had to follow through.

Trying to see through the minimal amount of light was nearly impossible. The darkness consumed the woods, with only the moon's glow and the trees creating harsh shapes on the forest floor. "Baby! Where did you go? I'm sorry!”

His voice. It was too close, sending a chill down your spine. You quickly ducked behind a towering tree, heart pounding in your chest as you tried to steady your ragged breaths. One hand clamped over your mouth to stifle any noise, the other clenched into a tight fist. "Fuck," Taehyung's voice taunts, followed by the sound of his footsteps approaching. "You got me good, but don't worry. But I can be better okay? We can drop this entire thing and go back to bed…” Taehyung's voice was next to you.

But you aren't falling for that. He wanted you to feel bad. Taehyung's predatory steps echo behind you, coming closer and closer until a vice-like grip seizes your hair, yanking you down to the ground. “I thought we talked about this? This running away shit,” he spat.

"Tae, please, let's just go home... I'm sorry! I promise I won't run again, just please-" Your pleas fall on deaf ears as Taehyung circles around you, his imposing figure casting a looming shadow, pinning you to the dirt and making you feel utterly helpless, the dirt making you feel grimy. You could hear him pull down his pajama pants and you began to cry out. As you struggle to break free, Taehyung's grip tightens and he slams your shoulder back into the ground with a sickening thud. Tears stream down your face as you realize there is no escape from this nightmare.

His hand went to his mouth as he sucked on his middle and index finger. With his other hand, he roughly yanked up your gown until it tore at the seams. You screamed and cried, squeezing your eyes shut in desperate prayer, hoping against hope that this was all just a twisted nightmare inflicted by cruel and malevolent gods.

A shrill cry escapes your lips as your husband rips off your panties and plunges his fingers inside you. They skillfully find your sweet spot, causing you to moan in pleasure. “Already creaming around my fingers, fuck, that's so sexy,” he growls, a mix of desire and dominance in his voice. His head lowers to kiss you messily, leaving a trail of spit on your frightened face. His tongue invades your mouth, despite your attempts to protest.

With the sudden absence of his fingers came the sudden intrusion of his length.

The force of Taehyung's thrusts feels like a battering ram, relentlessly pummeling into you until your body is split in two. Your gasps turn into desperate cries of shock and agony as he continues to ravage you, his lips locked onto yours in a twisted display of affection.

It all left you gasping for air.

Your screams of agony were muffled by Taehyung's unrelenting kisses as he pounded into you mercilessly. You claw and beg for him to stop, tears mingling with the dirt beneath you as he continues to take what he wants from your menatlly broken body.

He persisted, driven by his ultimate goal to finish inside you. His desire was to take control of you, impregnate you with his child.

As you rolled your eyes back in pure ecstasy, Taehyung's cock became coated in slick, sticky cum. The sight only heightened his own arousal and soon he was filling you to the brim with his hot release. Taehyung had a dazed yet blissful look on his face as he gazed at you.

“Don’t turn off those cameras again.”

Let me know through a dm or ask to be included in my official Taglist- @darkuni63 @captainengineer-trixie @chimmisbae @iloverubberduckiez-blog @mageprincess7 @looneybleus @whipwhoops @mayvalentine33

[strwbi-laces]

Sirius always insists he has a terrible memory. "Really terrible," he'll laugh. "Actually, what was your name again?"

Remus doesn't see it though. Not when Sirius always knows exactly where James left his socks, or what obscure extracurricular Pete's packed into his schedule now. Especially not when he learnt the dates for every full moon in the next fifty years when researching lycanthropy.

"You know, I don't think your memory is as bad as you say Padfoot," he mentions while they're alone in the dorm. Remus doesn't have a clue where James and Pete are but Sirius wouldn't even have to check the map.

"What're you on about? It's literally rubbish."

Remus raises a brow. "You had every single possible quidditch infraction stuck in your brain - before James did!"

"Yeah well," Sirius shrugs. "That's quidditch. It's just for stuff I care about."

Reaching over and grabbing the nearest textbook, History of Magic: Year 3, Remus flips to a random chapter. "Really? You cannot convince be you care about, hmm," he clears his throat and in his poshest, most snooty voice, says "Changes in potion composition during the French occupation of England." No one could care about that. Not even he did and he actually liked History of Magic.

At least the voice made Sirius giggle. "Shut up. History is easy, it's just dates."

"Then what isn't?"

"Uhh, I don't know," Sirius goes quiet more a moment, then laughs again. Though this time it doesn't quite reach his eyes. "See, this is what I mean."

Remus waits while Sirius works his tongue into words.

"I can't really remember much from my childhood. Sometimes my mum will say something, like 'you were such a difficult child, remember when you did so-and-so' and I pull up a complete blank. Merlin that's bad of me, huh? Forgetting how I hurt people."

Sirius' fists ball up in his lap and Remus wants nothing more than to take them between his hands and smooth them out. He settles for shuffling closer and pressing their sides together.

"And I make things up. That feels like a memory thing too. It's not out of thin air but in my head I'll make something my mum said seem a lot worse than it was. Or I'll forget what prompted it so she seems like the bad guy. Usually I'd call her a lying cunt y'know, but even my dad and Reg agree that it's something I do a lot. Making myself the victim."

He's shaking now, Remus can feel his tremors ripping through him as well. "Sorry," Sirius sniffs. "I'm doing it right now-" he tries to say but Remus cuts him off.

"I think," he whispers, taking hold of Sirius' hand in his palm and tracing the heart line with his finger, "that you're a far better person than you give yourself credit for. And maybe your mum is a bit of a lying cunt."

[spop-romanticizes-abuse]

oh, and did i mention attempted murder?

as you can tell, i'm gonna be using this meme format a lot

[starsub]

imagine someone making you so fucking confused… even when inside you know you’re right and they just say “no baby, it’s okay to be confused you don’t need to think about that, you’re too small to understand..” 🥺🥺 then carry on gaslighting you like it’s nothing

i need

[shaisuki]

｡‧˚ʚ°ɞ˚‧｡ ─── A SENSE OF SECURITY

"i'm protecting you."

you scoff at him with tears threatening to spill from your eyes. throwing the hoodie in the couch and the embarrassment seeps through your whole being, remembering the earlier dilemma rin bestowed to you.

"protecting me? are you out of your mind?! that man hadn't done anything to me!"

"yet. a little gratitude from you wouldn't hurt." he quips at you. removing his coat and hangs it.

"gratitude? do you think you deserve it from what you'd done, rin?" your voice raising a bit at him and rin only gives you a side eye glance with a raised brow.

"i sure deserve it, I did it for you and you should be grateful for it. no one but me will ever be able to protect you from harm's way."

"what the fuck you talking about rin? harm? that's it? i sure don't need protecting. i'm a fucking adult rin!" you snapped at him. you can't believe sometimes at rin. his reasonings and outbursts at things are a little over and it ends up hurting you without him realizing.

now, you were being stubborn and as much he don't want to use the word. you were being a bitch but he doesn't say it aloud. he knew how much the word weigh and being the stable and the reasonable one in the relationship, he's going to give you a piece of his mind.

that includes pinning you in the couch. his body hovering above yours and his hand squishing the cheek, putting enough pressure to hear him out.

"you're an adult. a oblivious one. i'm telling you right now. you're the unreasonable one. what would you do if he continued touching you or did you want him to continue? tell me." he firmly says. challenging you and the tone of his voice it was condescending. as if it was telling you, you were the immature one in the relationship and you need from protection in which he thinks.

you can't believe what you were hearing coming from him. staring at those teal-colored eyes of his who swirls with coldness and seriousness that there's no care for you in those gaze of his.

"no." defending yourself from his accusations at you. "why would i like him touching me and..." your words dying out and you can't find yourself to defend your point. mind becoming jumbled and conflicted. you tried to find your voice and with rin looking at you like you were the biggest mistake of his life.

the tears came rolling and it wouldn't stop. his expression seems to soften. you were helpless sometimes and naive. not knowing how many filthy fuckers had tried to make a move for you and you should be glad. you have him. itoshi rin. your boyfriend who would gladly burn the world if it means to protect you.

"i told you so. i'm just protecting you." he coos at you. caressing your cheek with his thumb.

well, he got point. a voice in your head told you. he's right, you were being unreasonable. too oblivious to pick up what things may come to you. be it to bring peace of harm to you and rin was just protecting you. in his own little ways.

"i'm sorry." you began to apologize to him. holding his hand in your cheek. the tears continuously falls and breaking out in sobs.

"i'm sorry. i'm sorry.i'm sorry.i'm sorry." you repeated like a broken record. begging for his forgiveness. the tears blurring out your vision.

rin's cold but he's no heartless. deciding you earned his forgiveness. he comforts you that only can him do to you. letting you cry yourself out until it reduces to hiccups and sobs.

pulling you closer to his and placing your head to his chest. wiping the dried tears in your round cheeks. his fingers drawing patterns in your back.

"i'm sorry, rin."

"ssh. it's fine now, okay? you're forgiven."

kissing your forehead and rin's assured. you won't be doing anything to upset him. maybe. just make sure he's around to correct you.

[music-viber]

Summary: You and your ex best friend reconnect at a secret Demi-god party literally.

Summer ended months ago and so did you friendship with your best friend Clarisse.

Warning: sexting,bullying,underage drinking,kissing,jealousy,toxic.

Friends to enemies

“Now we’re up against

The wall and she’s

calling me baby”

You were at school and you could’ve sworn it was the hottest day of the season

Odessa got a notification on her phone ( you’ve been invited to camp half blood celebration)

You had one thought “Those people will call anything a celebration” You raised your eyebrow as you read more into it. You did wanna catch up with your friends to gossip and talk shit after not seeing them for so long. But you didn’t wanna see…her

Last summer

Clarisse had been acting fidgety the whole morning

She only spoke to you once but it seemed like she was being distant the whole week. She’s been on her phone constantly sending selfies to whoever being all secretive. I walked in on her sending someone a picture of her in a bra that I gifted her because it suits her better. She brushed off the topic just saying she was sexting a guy from her school and that I should drop the whole thing.

Weirdo.

You guys were at breakfast when she suddenly checked her watch looking straight at you looking guilty. “I’m gonna be right back, the food is passing right through me.” She said looking at our friend group.

“Do you want me to come wait with you?” I offered

“No, I’m fine go back to eating or something fatty.”

She always made jokes with the girl but this one seemed more personal because she didn’t laugh as she usually did after. I put my breadstick down and stared at her in disbelief as she walked away and out of the dining hall. “I wonder Who’s up her ass today,” I say but it’s inaudible to others. I moved my food away from me and sat there looking at my other friends. I’m fucking hungry and she ruined it.

Then I decided I’d had enough of her odd behavior and I was gonna tell her to fuck off. I looked over at my distracted friends who were watching some new boy named Percy, “Guys I’m gonna go catch up with Clarisse.” One of them spoke “Yeah sounds good” They were just distracted by him so I left.

Odessa walked out of I dining hall and looked around for Clarisse as she saw Clarisse about to enter the wooded area looking to see if anyone saw her Odessa hit behind a cabin. “Where is she going?”

Clarisse entered the woods looking sketchy as hell

I followed behind her closely as she looked paranoid she walked for 5 minutes and then suddenly stopped in an empty area I hid behind a bolder as she just stood there looking at her watch. I quickly got tired of being hidden so I wanted to just get up and talk to her but that’s when a familiar boy walks towards her. “That’s my fucking ex,” I whispered under my breath. Clarisse smiled at the boy “Took you long enough.” She walked towards him. Odessa wanted to scoff at this interaction but remained quiet. There was no way in hell her best friend would’ve snuck off to see her ex behind her back

They had been best friends since they were kids there’s no way in hell that Clarisse would do anything to disobey her friend's trust like that.

Then she watched as their lips connected.

“Oh” she whispered under her breath.

My Clarisse with Luke castellan . I hated them both.

Things escalated quickly when their camp shirts were thrown across the ground. If felt wrong to stay even if it was an act she felt was against her. Clarisse had her legs wrapped around Luke’s torso as they made out

“Tell me I’m better than her” Clarisse had told the boy to say. Luke smiles “You better than Odessa,” he says breathlessly

Odessa had had enough and snuck out of her spot and carefully walked towards their shirts taking them and crawling away from the area heading back towards the camp. The girl had thrown their shirts in the ocean, watching as they floated away.

She couldn’t believe what she just saw. She wasn’t shocked just disappointed in her best friend. Out of all the guys at camp, why did it have to be her ex-boyfriend and her Clarisse? “Fuck this feeling.”

She wiped her tears and fixed her face to go into act two Playing dumb. She walked back into the dining hall and towards their friend group. She put on a fake worried look. “Guys I think something happened with Clarisse she isn’t back yet, I went to go look for her but I can’t find her. I said fake panicked. My performance got the attention of the group. The friend group told everyone to go around camp and look for Clarisse. They listened. It was a lost camper after all just sat outside near the campfire while people comforted me as I put on my pretended to be in distress. They said things like like. “Don’t worry we will find her” “I bet she’s gonna turn up” or “We know how much she means to you” She doesn’t mean jack shit anymore, all those years of friendship are over.

I turned to look over at a stressed topless Clarisse coming out of the woods others stopped their search. others ran over as she covered her chest with her arms “Clarisse what happened are you okay?” I hear them say. “I just stood there in front of her quietly. I have nothing to say to her.

She finally spoke after 10 questions “I’m fine does anyone have an extra shirt?” Our friends run into a cabin and get her one. “Did you enjoy it?” I whispered to her while people were distracted. “What?” She said a bit worried as if I knew something. Our friends came back to hand her a shirt. She put it on Luke came out of the woods. That’s when people whispered and stepped back.

Luke then spoke “she got lost I was helping her?” He states “bullshit.” I say at pointing at him people then put two and two together “oh did you guys just…” another councilor asks. “That’s like kinda evil.” Another person states. I looked the girl dead in her face “You are dead to me.” I stormed away into the Aphrodite cabin. I didn’t talk to her for the remainder of camp.

Our friend group forgave her after a while because they felt bad, but then again it wasn't their exes she hooked up with so I didn't blame them

Months later and a new summer is about to start I texted my friends that I was going to the party

I needed to get out more anyway I don’t care if Clarisse la rue had been there she wouldn’t be the reason I chose to stay inside for the rest of my life because she was a backstabbing two-faced-

Odessa walked through the doors for the party the first thing that was seen was two guys sword-fighting for a bag of Sour Patch Kids. The girl rolled her eyes and went to find her friends. She saw people looking at her from the corner of her eyes she was stunning and she knew it too. Her too was a cropped black top that almost looked like a bra with some dark blue low-rise jeans showing off her hips perfectly with some fuzzy black boots matching her top. Her hair was done into a bun with a side swoop with curly pieces falling in front of her face

She don’t bring a bag because 1. Things get stolen

2. She only needed her phone with was in her pocket.

Her lip combo was pink with red lip liner and some cute lashes/mascara she smelled amazing from using her strawberry body oil from TikTok shop.😏

She looked hot like always all she was missing was her friend group *she found them doing shots in the kitchen one by one in a contest she looked down the line of people laughing at how silly they looked

Then her eyes met hers for the first time in months

The curly-haired girl was also watching their friends from across the counter but now her eyes were on you. Looking into your soul as if she knew what was behind it. You returned the favor staring straight at her. She started to look at what you were wearing her eyebrows knitted at your shirt as she walked towards you “What the hell are you wearing” she laughed. You gave her a bitchy look “I took inspiration from you” Odessa said smiling in her face. Clarisse was confused but then remembered the day they stopped being friends. Clarisse scoffed “I think I wore that bra a bit better than you huh?” Clarisse said referring to the time you gifted her a bra set that she wore for your ex. That’s when Luke came up behind her handing her a drink. You weren’t jealous you could never be jealous… as if could ever be… Jealous. Odessa scrunched her nose. “How cute, I’m gonna go barf now” she indicated as she pretended to put her finger down her throat walking off as she made eye contact with The other woman who was just in front of her face

Hours into the party everyone was either buzzed or drunk people ate like there was no tomorrow. Odessa’s friends handed her a vape but she declined knowing it would lead to her being hungry. She didn’t want to eat too much knowing her stomach was out in the open. She started to worry about her weight after Clarisse had made comments when they were friends. She then took out her phone and opened a notification from a random Snapchat user she added earlier. Spiteful_goddess. She opened the snap from them which read “Meet me in the bathroom” showing a picture of a bathroom from the second floor. Her friend Annabeth looked over at her phone “That could either be a serial killer or a hot hookup waiting to happen.” You looked at her confused “Is there no in-between?” You ask “No.” She said leaning back as she ate a slice of pizza. “Well, I trust you to tell my story? Of how I lived a good life and all that” you tell her walking away to find whoever sent you the text

You heard a group of guys whistle when you walked up the stairs and ignored them all guys are pigs

You asked the person to send another snap of the bathroom because there were about 3 upstairs you spot one of your friends making out with her boyfriend and going into one of the bathrooms.

“Not that one.” You got a notification on your phone looking as you saw the bathroom was connected to a bedroom you walked into the only one open and looked for the bathroom. She then opened to door slowly half expecting to get stabbed. She looked around the dark bathroom confused

She turned on the light to find a gorgeous girl sitting on the countertop of the sink. A voice spoke to her “Hey bestie”

You weren’t surprised only someone obsessed with you would make a whole new Snapchat account and make you chase them around a house of drunk horny teenagers. She hopped off the counter and shut the door behind you to keep you from running off. You stare at her blankly. “Clarisse did you wanna check up on me and see if I had another ex you can steal or?”

I asked her sassily. She rolled her eyes “Listen I get it what I did was shitty but you don’t get it Odessa.” She said as if she had the right. Now she was making me mad “ I don’t get what? you backstabbing me? Because you’re fucking right I don’t get it!” I yelled in her face “People use to compare us 24/7 I got tired of it it was always, Odessa is better than Clarisse at this or even Odessa has a better this and all that bullshit” she yelled back “So yeah maybe I hooked up with your ex just to see if I was better than you in some ways than others, so forgive me for trying something new” she continued.

I gave her the most unapologetically pleasing face “ You can try new anywhere with anyone and chose fucking Luke? Why? What did I ever do to make you hate me?” Tears threatened to leave the girls eyes as she yelled at Clarisse again. “He always praised you like you were his most prized possession. “I wanted something like that.” Clarisse said softly. “Something like what?” You asked her she looked you straight in your face “Something like you… a prized possession” At this point she backed you into the wall her hand on your hip and the other reaching towards your phone. “What are you doing?” Odessa asked the girl. Clarisse grabbed your phone and set it on the counter looking back at you. She wiped your tears and kept her hands on your face “I know you saw us in the woods the day.” She stared into her eyes “I’m not mad about the shirt thing either. And I’m sorry for what I did to you… to us and our friendship.”

“I just don’t know how to handle my feelings towards you and I come up with dumb shitty ideas that are not right in any way whatsoever,” she says

You look at her in shock “Did Clarisse la rue just apologize to someone?” You ask. She looked at you seriously “She did.” She looked at her eyes “Are you drunk?” You ask in a hushed tone. Clarisse looked at your lips then your eyes “No.” Her hands brush your hair out of your face as she leans in to kiss you. It was a passionate kiss she held you like she never wanted to let go and this would be the last time ever she would have to touch you again. She wanted to make it last. She moves her leg towards the girl's heat, not breaking the kiss. Odessa gasped allowing access for Clarisse to slip her tongue in •

She felt intoxicated by the kiss moving her hands to rummage through the other girl's hair and pulling it Clarisse let out a breathy moan Clarisse pressed her leg harder against the girl's heat as she did this Odessa let out a quiet moan As they kissed and fought for dominance. Odessa opened the bathroom door leading them into the bedroom the fell onto the bed breaking the kiss Odessa was straddling Clarisse looking down at her

As they reconnect lips the door bursts open a random guy enters “PARTYS BEING RAIDED” he yelled as he ran out of the room. Both girls looked at each other confused as they looked in the hallway of people running wild trying to either hide or get out of the house. I grabbed Clarisse's hand “We should leave.” They Ran out of the room and through the back door pushing through drunk teens yelling that the police were outside they laughed as they made it out and a block down, Still holding hands.

“That was a shit show” Clarisse says

“You’re my shit show” Odessa replies

[toxicanonymity]

The cold, cold night. Left in Lincoln, part 3

6.9k | dark!dad's best friend!Joel x virgin f!Reader

story master list / joel miller master list

You slid under the quilt face-down, half on top of him, not waiting for him to make room. You kissed his cheek and he smiled with his eyes. His hair was messier, and you liked it that way, but when you touched it he bristled, then raked his hand through to straighten it. "I love it," you said. He sighed with a twinkle in his eye. "Well, if she loves it."

WARNINGS: I8+ mdni, slow-burn horror w/ disturbing (implicit) content, big girthy age gap, "plot," angst, pining, toxic fluff, gaslighting, manipulation, pressure, fingering, oral F receiving, unsettling P in V sex dream, use of pet names and praise, trapped animal. Very TOXIC, dark Joel (psychological dead dove do not eat). Too long but didn't feel I could break it up. Smut may have edging properties sry just wrote what felt natural.

You tucked yourself into bed and admired the special apple blossom from Joel's orchard. You slowly rolled the little stem between your fingers, feeling guilty for making Joel walk home alone. He was so patient with you. So understanding. All he wanted was to be close to you. You hoped he wouldn’t get the wrong idea. You wanted to be close to him, too. You weren’t sure what was holding you back.

You put the flower on your nightstand and stared at the spot on your ceiling, trying to feel Joel’s arms around you. Soon, you were thinking about his stiff cock against you, between your legs. You ran your hands down your sides and thought about his hands guiding you up and down. You could hear the echo of him talking you through your orgasm. You touched yourself but didn’t get there. You wondered if he could teach you. But more than anything, you wanted to feel him against you, then inside you. Maybe you could have, if you hadn’t sent him home. You drifted off feeling guilty and regretful.

-

You dreamed of Joel. You were back on top of him, straddling him with your arms around his neck. You moved yourself up and down, gliding slickly and firmly against his shaft, doing it all on your own this time. You were grinding against his hard cock, his hands resting on your back. But something felt off. His face was clean-shaven and vacant. Void not only of enjoyment, but of recognition. He was in a trance, looking through you. He didn't speak at all.

You dragged yourself up his shaft one more time, and his cock stayed upright as you claimed the head. His eyes watered, but he remained perfectly still. You sank down on him, sliding easily into his lap. It didn't hurt. You felt nothing but full of him, filled to the brim, and it felt so right. He didn't blink. You pushed yourself up and started riding him. He finally looked at you, just as a clatter shook you awake in real life.

Your heart pounded in your ears. You got up and went straight to the window. Finally, the stillness in the air was gone, replaced by a howling wind. The clatter was most likely nothing sinister. Anything could have been bowled over by the wind. Regardless, you looked forward to putting your mind at ease the next day by looking at the surveillance footage with Abe. You left the curtain open a little to avoid pitch black darkness.

You needed to sleep. This was becoming unsustainable. You couldn’t have every noise jolting you awake, making you look over your shoulder. This fierce independence, it was a valiant effort. Bill would be proud, but you were tired of torturing yourself. You considered asking Joel to stay over in the future. You told yourself next time, you'd at least let him tuck you in. But something still held you back. You could feel it, even as you told yourself you should do it.

-

You slowly blinked awake when light poured in between your curtains. The apple blossom on your nightstand was wilted and discolored, the edges dark, but you couldn’t bear to throw it away. You wished you had put it in water. It was the most special flower in the world and you just let it shrivel. If you let Joel tuck you in, he would've taken good care of it.

By the time you got dressed, It was almost afternoon. The wind brought with it a cold front. You put on jeans, a flannel shirt, boots, and a jacket to do some chores and groundskeeping. You stayed close to the house so you wouldn’t miss Abe when he came. You tended the garden, evaluating what you could harvest before protecting it from the cold. The cold brought other challenges, too. You were nervous about using the heater for the first time on your own.

You looked up at your bedroom window, curious how much someone could see from outside if you were to open your curtains all the way. As you were looking, you heard a similar sound to the rustling you heard at night. With a slight echo, yet somehow quieter. You tried to sense where the noise was coming from and spotted a vent on the back of the house, close to the ground.

You stood up and brushed the dirt off your knees as you slowly walked toward the house. The closer you got, the louder the sound. You crouched down and looked at the vent. The noise subsided. You laid down on your belly and inspected the metal, trying to look through the slits, but you couldn’t see anything. You would have to get a screwdriver if you really wanted to look.

You got back up on your knees and sat there listening for a minute, fingering the cool, metal flaps of the vent. You planted one foot on the ground to stand up, then the vent shook violently with an echoing crash. Your heart jumped and you instinctively hit back at the vent. The loud metal bang from your hand further startled you. Your heart raced. When you looked at the ground, there was a small, black feather. You went to the basement to get a screwdriver, but the door was locked. You darted inside but couldn’t find the key.

There had to be another screwdriver somewhere. Knowing Bill, the house was probably full of them, but you knew of one other place for sure. Since the noise had been tormenting you, the task felt urgent. So you went to the place you were sure of - a small, wooden storage shed next to the meat curing one. The shed was about the size of a small bedroom and there was something about it you didn’t like. Notably, one time you got a face full of spiderwebs.

It’s a vivid memory: You screamed and thrashed, even tore your shirt off over your head. Frank came running outside in a panic. You asked him to hose you down but instead he got you to calm down long enough for him to get all the webbing off. Then he held you still with his hands on your shoulders and told you to breathe. He took a big breath in with you then let it out. He said, “we’re gonna get through this, honey,” and he couldn’t finish the sentence without laughing. Once you could breathe again, you laughed too. All three of you referred to it as The Spider Shed after that.

The Spider Shed still wasn’t a happy place, despite the warm memory. Your palms were sweating as you got closer, and you wiped them on your flannel shirt. The door wasn’t all the way shut. There was a trick to shutting it and it came undone easily. It was on Bill’s list to fix. No spiderwebs in sight today, from the outside at least.

You were only a foot away from the shed when a big gust of wind made the door flap and creak. You took a deep breath, trying to slow your heart rate. Then you grabbed the metal handle and opened the door. Your breath hitched when you saw what looked like a thick cobweb. Once your eyes focused, you could see it was just a net trap. Fortunately, the tool box was right there, so you didn’t have to look around, much less go inside. You opened the box and got a screwdriver and flashlight. You pressed the button on the flashlight and it didn't work. You smacked the bottom and it flickered.

You went back to the vent, but the sound was gone. You unscrewed the corners of the metal plate anyway and carefully took it off. There were more feathers and a couple of sunflower seeds, but no sign of the bird. You weren’t sure what the vent was for, or how long you could leave the cover off, but you left it open while you finished the garden work, keeping an eye on any critters to make sure they wouldn’t meet the same fate. You were relieved to know the source of the sound.

–

You decided to make a little snack for you and Abe. Having company was so rare, and you wanted to show your appreciation. You sliced up some vegetables and homemade bread. You got out two glasses for drinks. It was too early for wine in your understanding.

You looked in the cooler and you were out of apple juice but there was still some cider left. The fact that it was from Joel made you want to taste it, but you weren’t clear on how strong it was. When you unscrewed the lid, it smelled weird which gave you your answer. No thank you. Maybe if Joel was there - you couldn't imagine you would have tried the whiskey without him.

Thinking about the apples made you feel warm and fuzzy for Joel. Thinking about the whiskey made you yearn for his touch. You badly wanted to go over there and make apple juice together, but you didn't want to miss Abe when he came by, so you stayed home. But as the day went on, there was still no sign of Abe. Even as it became late enough for wine.

-

You finally thought to turn on your radio. You turned it to Abe's station, and Call Me by Blondie was playing. It was on one of your favorite tapes. Frank always called it the gigolo song, which made you laugh. But your warm memory was soon overtaken by dread when you remembered the radio code. Eighties meant trouble. Someone might have breached the perimeter. You weren't sure which would be worse - Infected or people. Bill always said desperate people were more dangerous than anything, but Infected terrified you.

Next on the radio, the same song played again. Unsure if you forgot how long the song was, you brushed it off. But when it began to play a third time, your stomach turned. You opened the tape deck to make sure it was in fact the radio playing. The tape deck was empty. It was the radio, and there was no telling how many times the song had played before you turned it on. Twenty seconds into the fourth time you heard it, the music slowed down. Low and distorted, “Color me youuurr colloorrrrrr baaaaabyyyyy,” and your arms erupted in goosebumps. Then it abruptly cut off and there was silence. Just static. The hair on the back of your neck stood up.

You adjusted the antenna. Nothing. You checked the Boston QZ station to make sure there wasn't something wrong with your radio. You heard The Doors loud and clear. Then you put it back to Abe's channel and left it there. As haunting as the static was, it was your only way to find out what was going on - Unless you wanted to go out in the cold, dark night.

You wished Joel was with you. He would protect you. If Joel knew of any trouble, he would have come over immediately to make sure you were okay. So either he didn't know, or he couldn’t come. Your chest ached at the thought that something bad might have happened to him. You prayed he was okay.

-

You were tempted to walk to Joel’s house, but you tried to channel Bill. Bill’s voice in your head said you were already in the safest place possible, and you should stay put and arm yourself. The guns were in the basement, which was locked from both doors, inside and outside. You tried picking the outside lock first since the sun was going down. The air was chilly and your fingers were getting numb. You didn’t have any luck, but you remembered to put the vent back on. While you were on your knees doing it, you noticed a rock near the basement door. The key was underneath.

Once you got the door open, the basement was completely dark. None of the surveillance computers were on. Your heart went to your throat. Even though you hadn't checked the monitors, knowing they were there had given you comfort. You were convinced that the noises were harmless, but you were looking forward to seeing proof when Abe came by.

You turned on the light and looked at the wall of firearms. You got two guns, a long one and a short one, and brought the basement key with you.

-

You stayed inside listening to the dead leaves rustling loudly in the wind over the quiet static of the radio. And then finally, music. Cream, Sunshine of Your Love. You finally exhaled. Whatever trouble there was had been resolved, according to the radio code. And yet, it didn't resolve your nerves. You couldn't get the haunting, twisted version of Call Me out of your head. It drowned out the song you liked.

You got hungry and realized you hadn’t eaten. For a late dinner, you ate the snack you made for you and Abe. You hadn't seen any sign of trouble yet. You considered going to the basement and trying to fix all the surveillance, but the worst case scenario would be if a dangerous stranger ended up in there with you with a wall full of guns. So you kept it locked and stayed on the sofa, thinking about Joel. Worrying about Joel. Wishing Joel was there, until you calmed down enough to get sleepy.

You must have dozed off, because the sound of a vehicle jolted you awake. When you registered what sounded like Abe’s truck, you somewhat relaxed in relief, but by the time you reached the window, you couldn’t see it. At least he was okay. You went upstairs to bed and took the pistol with you. Tomorrow, in the daylight, you would walk to Joel’s house and find out what happened.

You were afraid of the dark that night and left your curtain cracked open despite the cold. You put the pistol on your nightstand and laid in your bed. Within minutes, the sounds started again. The flapping. The rustling. You let it fade into the background and focused on the sounds of the wind. The sound of dead leaves dancing around outside got louder and a chill fell over you. You got an extra quilt out from under your bed and bundled up, but it wasn’t just the weather. It was also the coldness of being without Joel. It was so cozy having his arms around you, you could hardly fathom how warm you’d be with him inside you. Your loins heated up at the thought of it.

-

You fell asleep, and it didn’t feel like you were asleep for long before you suddenly awoke. Your eyes adjusted to find a dark silhouette in the corner of your room. You nearly choked on your gasp, then sat up and grabbed the gun. You tried to steady your hands, hoping your eyes were deceiving you. You didn't aim it yet, hoping it was a shadow from outside.

"It's me, peaches." Joel cautiously stepped into the moonlight. He had his hands in a low surrender position, but was surprisingly calm. "You okay?” He looked at you concerned. “Can ya put that down for me?"

Your hand shook as you put the pistol back on your nightstand.

"Joel?”

"It's okay, baby. You're safe."

“What is going on?" Your heart raced, but you were glad Joel was there.

"Heard a car. Woke me up. Looked outside, saw someone walkin' over here." He stepped closer and put his hands down.

A pit formed in your stomach. He sat down on your bed and stroked the arm of your flannel pajamas.

"Came to check on ya.” He hesitated. “Don’t wanna scare ya, but your back door was open, darlin',” he said regretfully.

Your eyes hurt and all the skin on your head tightened. No wonder it got so chilly. You hoped he wouldn't notice what became of the apple blossom.

"Cleared the house. Had to see you were okay." You imagined him checking on you then being unable to pull himself away, so protective that he needed to quietly watch you all night.

"Thank you," you whispered, then told him, "The surveillance is down. Abe never came."

"Yeah," Joel whispered. "I dunno what’s goin’ on, but I can't leave you here alone, okay?"

You nodded. He took off his jacket, and you scooted over to make room for him, but he didn’t settle in. The rustling noise returned. Joel listened to it and studied your face. You didn't react, except to say “I think it’s a bird.”

“Hmm," he nodded thoughtfully. "Prolly so then, darlin’.” He squeezed your knee. He sat with you for a moment in silence, rubbing your arm comfortingly. “Goin’ downstairs, okay?" His voice was soft and reassuring. "So I can stop any trouble.”

“Don’t leave me,” you whispered.

He looked at you affectionately and his hand cupped your face.

"Please stay," you begged.

He looked conflicted. “Okay, baby. Just 'til you fall asleep.” He brought his feet up on the bed - his boots were already off. He settled in next to you. He stayed on top of the bedding but got under the top quilt when you offered it. He leaned on his side and put one forearm above your head on your pillow, draping his other arm over you. He smelled like clean laundry, and his hair was a little damp. “You okay?” he said in a smooth, near-whisper. “Bet that was scary.” He was so close to your ear, you could feel the wind and vibration of his voice and it gave you a chill of arousal.

“I’m okay now, yeah.”

"Soon as you fall asleep, I'm goin' down, k?" Joel’s head came closer to yours and you could smell notes of whiskey under his aftershave. He looked at you with concern. “I’ll be right downstairs.”

“Yeah.”

He pressed his lips to your forehead, then you looked at each other for a moment, and you lifted your head slightly off the pillow.

“Shhh,” he said, brow furled, and slid his hand under your head. You let your head down into his hand and watched his face soften. "You're safe, baby. I'm here."

His eyes closed as he put his forehead against yours. His nose brushed yours, then his lips pressed into yours and you pressed back. It sent a warm rush through your body, and you wanted more. He broke the kiss to look at you and his thumb brushed your temple. He kissed you again, tenderly on the top lip, then on the bottom, then pressed his lips into both of yours at an angle. His lips lingered there and parted, gently pulling at your mouth, not breaching it. He pulled away then planted one last, delicate kiss. “Night, peaches.”

He rested his head on the flannel of his bicep. You closed your eyes, but it took time to fall asleep. You slowed your breathing, and when you were almost asleep, Joel carefully got off the bed.

-

When you woke up, the house was warmer. Joel must have turned the heat on for you. You went downstairs and he was on the sofa. The poor guy stayed up all night keeping you safe. You sat on the edge of the couch and he stretched with a groan.

"Mornin', peaches." He set his hand on your lap.

In the light, you could see your flannel pants and button-up were similar to his shirt.

"Mornin'." You planned to ask him all about the night before, but once he was in front of you, you just wanted to be close to him. You could always ask him later over breakfast.

You slid under the quilt and laid face-down, half on top of him, not waiting for him to make room. You kissed his cheek and he smiled with his eyes. His hair was messier, and you liked it that way, but when you touched it he bristled, then raked his hand through to straighten it.

"I love it," you said.

He sighed with a twinkle in his eye, "well if she loves it," and stopped messing with it.

You smiled at him. He looked at you and his eyes darkened warmly. Then you felt a shape harden in his jeans and his hips lifted slightly. He hummed “Mmm,” as he looked at your mouth and brushed your elbow with his thumb.

"C'mere, gorgeous," he whispered and gave you a kiss, sending a rush through your body. He pulled back to look at you and he looked so tired. Your heart swelled at the thought of him staying up all night to protect you. Your desire swelled at the feeling of his arousal against you.

"You must be tired. Come take a nap with me," you urged. "It's warmer upstairs."

-

You got back on your bed and Joel stood at the foot of it, scanning your room. It was his first time there in the daylight. You could faintly see the thick silhouette of his dick in his jeans and you couldn’t take your eyes off it as he took off his jacket. He watched you watch him and his eyes darkened more. The mattress groaned under the weight of his knees. As he stretched out next to you, he sighed as if his bones ached, then laid his massive hand on your waist.

He looked from your eyes to your mouth and back then murmured lowly, "Nap really all you want?"

Your face burned as he watched your eyes expectantly. "Just wanna be with you," you answered quietly.

His deep voice became nearly a whisper. "Love hearin' that, baby."

He got closer with a sigh then pulled you up against him. With both of you on your sides, he tenderly pressed his lips into yours, then the kiss heated up. His hand traveled down from your waist, over your ass, to your hamstring, and you found your knee hooking over his hip, bringing your loins closer. He sucked your soft lips, then parted them with his tongue and sucked your mouth.

For several minutes, you held him tight with his arms over yours and your faces joined together. You felt so much better in his arms, under his hands, between his lips. You felt safe and cared for. He softly moaned as he kissed you and his arousal swelled against you. He slipped his hand under your flannel top and lightly brushed your lower back which was beading with tiny droplets of sweat.

“You warm?” he whispered. His cheeks were pink and his lips were flushed.

“Yeah,” you answered.

Joel backed up enough to access your clothes. He slowly unbuttoned your top, planting a kiss on your mouth between each button, the hungry look in his eyes not matching his slow and patient pace. Then, with all the buttons unfastened, he gently hung the side you weren't lying on behind your back and the collar fell off your shoulder but the sleeve stayed on. He inhaled sharply at the sight of your breasts.

“My lands,” he murmured, hypnotized by your body. Then he looked back up to your eyes and said, “You’re so pretty I can hardly take it, darlin’.”

He pulled you tight against him and kissed you hard, inhaling deeply through his nose. Then he rolled toward you and his chest against yours turned you on your back. As he kissed you, he worked one of his knees between your thighs and you opened them. He kneeled between your legs and lowered his hips, pressing his jeans against your flannel clad crotch. You sighed at the swell of his hardness and he moaned “Mmm,” then tore his lips away from yours.

He kissed your cheek, then your chin, and your neck, where he paused to suck and lick. He made his way down to your shoulder, where he nudged your pajama top the rest of the way off. You took your arms out of the sleeves obediently, leaving the sleep shirt lying under you. He kissed between your breasts where there was a fine dew of humidity, and looked up at you as he dragged his lips down to your belly button, where he stopped to plant a long, open mouth kiss. His fingers hooked into your flannel waistband. You squirmed uncomfortably, which he expected.

“Baby, you’re perfect. I’ve seen you," he said. "So perfect. . . Like a beautiful blossom.” He pleaded softly with desperate eyes, "just trust me."

“Okay,” you whispered.

-

He slowly lowered your waistband, and you lifted your hips for him to take it under your butt. As soon as your hair was exposed, he laid his cheek down on it and hugged you with his hands against your ass cheeks, fingers pressing hungrily into your flesh, breathing deeply. He gently kissed the crease where your thigh met your pelvis, then lightly dragged his tongue along the other crease. He buried his mouth in your mound, inhaling and moaning softly. Then he dragged his lips down and his mouth engulfed your clit, gently prodding it with his tongue. It felt so good, but you still couldn’t quite relax. You were too self-conscious.

"You don't have to do that," you told him.

His voice was quiet and low. “Course I don’t, darlin’, if you don’t want me to.” He looked up at you from between your legs with big, sad eyes. “Doesn’t feel good?” He caressed one of your creases with his thumb. "Is it my beard? Shoulda shaved."

"No, it's fine," you said. He was so careful, his facial hair didn't bother you, and after your eerie dream, you didn't want to see him unshaven.

He hooked his thick digits into your waistband again, now midway down your thigh, and finished taking the pants off you. He sat between your naked legs fully clothed and rolled up his sleeves, forearms flexing. You were still tense. “It’s okay, baby. You can tell me what you want.”

His soothing voice made it spill right out of your mouth. What you'd been craving so bad. What you couldn't stop thinking about.

“I want you inside me.” Your face burned as soon as you said it. You looked down, unable to suck the words back into your mouth. Then you hesitantly looked back up at him.

His eyes were wide and his face relaxed in wonder, but he was quiet for a moment. Still and quiet.

“Baby, I’d like nothin’ more,” he murmured. And yet he was saying no, you could tell. Your tear ducts felt weak. “You’re not ready yet, peaches. We'll get there, I promise.” He acted like the two of you had all the time in the world.

"What do you mean I'm not ready?"

He twisted onto his side. "Well, you're still shy with me, darlin'. Haven't even touched it yet." He firmly cupped the hard shape in his jeans. "Gotta make sure you really want it." He wet his lips. His breaths grew heavier and his forearm flexed as he slowly rubbed himself a few times, watching your disappointment.

"Puttin' our bodies together like that. . .It's somethin' real special."

He rolled back onto his stomach and returned his head to hover between your legs but kept his eyes on your face. "Means givin' each other everything. And you gotta be sure, ‘cause you can't get it back." He rested his cheek on your inner thigh, caressing your outer thigh with his calloused hand. "If ya don't want me down here, you're not ready for it, peaches. You're not givin' me everything."

You were dejected and confused. Surely he had given himself to someone before, but he made it sound like it was his first time, too.

"Haven't you already. . . given yourself?"

"No, darlin'.” He shook his head. “Not even close. This is different."

"'Cause I've never done it?" Your eyes felt weaker and weaker.

"No. Different 'cause I love you, peaches."

Your waterline was overtaken by a tear, but not the one you expected. Joel pried his head away from your crotch and moved upward on your body to hover over you, resting his forearms to the sides of your torso.

He rested his chest and stomach on you, but not all his weight.

"Hey, it’s okay. I told you we'll get there."

"I'm not - I just - hearing you say that."

"That I love you?" He kissed a tear off your cheek.

You swallowed thickly. "Yeah."

“I think ya knew that, darlin’.” He planted a chaste kiss on your lips, then your cheek, swallowing another tear.

You wanted to say it back, but you didn’t want him to think you were just saying it because he said it.

"I don't know anything," you said. “I’m sorry.” You swallowed your shame, not meeting his eyes.

He looked concerned. “For what?”

“Not knowing how to love you.”

He allowed a moment of silence, reading your eyes, then said, "You’re doin’ perfect.” He kissed you again. "Just take your time, baby. And let me love you."

He lifted himself up, reached down between your legs, and dragged his thick middle finger through your slick. Then he slowly stroked you with two fingers and gently nestled your clit between them.

“Okay?” he asked.

“Yeah,” you whispered. Opening your legs to him felt like the least you could do.

“Good girl.”

-

He paused on his way back down your body. He cupped a breast. His eyes took you in as he gently manipulated your flesh then planted a kiss just below the nipple. He did the same with your other breast.

His mouth returned between your legs, planting a kiss on your clit while holding eye contact. "Feel good?"

Your eyes closed and you took a deep breath. You were still tense.

"Talk to me, baby. What feels good? You want my hand?"

He reached down to your ankle and used three fingers to languidly trace a line all the way up to your knee, then down your thigh. He gave your thigh a slow squeeze, then brought his fingers between your legs. He slid the side of his index finger along your dripping seam, then began to caress your entrance without breaching it. He inhaled deeply, then gathered your wetness with several fingers and circled your clit gently. "You want this?"

You couldn't make words.

When you didn't answer right way, he took his hand away and silently sucked his fingers, closing his eyes in pleasure. He looked to you again for an answer, but didn’t press you for one.

He brought head down again. “Or you want it like this,” he murmured. He french kissed the spot between your clit and entrance, and you sighed. That was what you wanted. He perked up at the sound of your sigh and looked up at you with his mouth still occupied. He was determined to learn how to please you.

“Feels really good, but you don't have to do that,” you repeated.

He lifted his head and frowned. "Why wouldn't I wanna make you feel good?"

"Isn't it kinda gross?"

"Baby. Nothin' gross about havin' my face in the most special place in the world."

"Really?"

"Nowhere I'd rather be, peaches."

"You're just saying that."

"Feels good for me, too. Real good. It's s'posed to."

"You don't mind?"

"I love it. Turns me on. It’s s’posed to, darlin’, and it does. You got nothin’ to be shy about."

"Doesn’t taste bad?”

“Baby, you’re my favorite taste in the world.” He buried his nose in your clit and fingered the curls on your mound.

“You're not just doing it to make me feel good?"

He paused, then softly answered, “No. But even if I was. Long as you felt good, I’d love it.” He reached to massage your breast with one hand “But it turns me on a whole lot, you'll see.”

He pulled his head back, the bottom of his face shiny and pink, then got up on his knees, his eyes locked with yours.

-

He wasn’t wearing a belt. Your breath hitched as he unbuttoned and unzipped his jeans so quickly in contrast to how slow he was doing everything else. He left the back of his flannel shirt tucked in as he took his stiff member out of his boxers. He held it in his hand only for a moment with his shirt out of the way so you could see. You had seen it before, but seeing it again, he sure was big. For a second you even felt foolish for wanting him inside you when he wouldn't fit. Still, a mere glimpse of it made you tingle wildly.

With how wet you were getting, you'd be even more embarrassed for him to put his head back down there. Unless it really was his favorite taste in the world.

He didn’t stroke himself, simply set his length outside his jeans, forming a tent under his flannel. “Lemme really taste you, baby, then you'll see.” He got back down on his elbows.

“Okay,” you said. By then, you were dying for his touch.

He put your legs over his shoulders and rested his hands on top of your thighs. He kissed your inner thigh again with his mouth closed, then planted a wetter kiss on the other one. He kissed his way closer and closer, dipping his tongue, pressing the flats of his teeth against your soft flesh. By the time he got there, you were dying for his mouth, no longer worried about what you tasted like.

First, he buried his nose in your little curls again, this time more desperately. He made his way down to your clit where the touch of his nose made you twitch and moan. He looked up at you from under the shadow of his brow and his eyes sparkled. He inhaled deeply through his nose, closed his eyes, then sighed from the bottom of his throat.

He pressed his mouth against your clit, then opened his lips. His tongue extended then lapped upward and dragged down. He did it a few more times and hummed “Mmm.” His brows tensed and his eyes wrinkled as he tasted you. His hands slid to your ass. He sucked and lapped with dedication, and it was unlike any feeling you could have imagined. It made you want to be filled so bad. Almost as soon as you thought it, he plunged his tongue into your tight, wet hole, pushing a moan out of you. He thrust it into you rhythmically, and his fingers dug into your flesh.

He came up for air and said, “Swear you got the sweetest nectar, baby. Can’t get enough.”

You believed him from the look on his face. Then he came to his knees again. He dragged a finger through your slick and held it up to your mouth. You wrapped your lips around his thick digits and it wasn't bad.

"Good girl."

He took his cock in his hand. It was even stiffer, more commanding than just moments before. It really did turn him on. The veins bulged. The tip throbbed angrier and weeped with precum. You were desperate for it. Salivating.

He murmured, “Believe me now?” as he brought his cock to your warmth. Your breath hitched and your whole core throbbed desperately. He dragged the head through your slick just enough to get himself wet. Your body tried to suck him in, but he wouldn't allow it. He sat back on his knees and stroked himself slowly. He was looking hungrily between your legs, then up at your face. He raised his eyebrows pleadingly for permission. He wanted more.

“I believe you.” you said. Your clit twitched.

-

His chest rose and fell with your go-ahead to continue. He didn’t hold back at all. He was ravenous, burying his nose and mouth between your legs, his tongue matting your hair as he licked and lapped and sucked.

One expansive hand held your hips down as the other occasionally stroked his cock. And then he held you with both hands, abandoning his own pleasure. You watched him, so handsome, hair falling out of place from where he haphazardly fixed it earlier. It's so sexy when he lets it go, like you’re the only thing in the world at that moment.

“Can you take your pants off?” You asked and he did it in a flash without a word, never taking his head away for more than a second. He kicked them onto the floor. It was so hot seeing him be messy. With both hands back on your body, his hips began to slowly grind into your mattress, a sight that made you even weaker as he devoured your beautiful blossom.

He traced your petals with long licks, gently dragging his lips, then sucked your clit, teasing it gently. He fucked you with his strong, slippery tongue again and you moaned at the feeling of being filled by anything. He sucked and swallowed as much as he could get, moaning, sighing. Your hips briefly lifted, and your body tensed as you felt yourself about to come. Joel felt it too. He groaned into your body, and the vibration of his deep voice made you weak.

He tried to meet your eyes, but you could barely keep them open. He wanted to talk you through it again, but didn't want to take his mouth away. You could tell. He was saying it with his eyes. That's it, baby, you're almost there. Stay with me. Come on, baby.

His hands found yours, interlacing your fingers. You held on tight. Then your hips rolled into his face and he moaned into your clit as you pinched your eyes shut and arched your back, letting pleasure seize you completely. His mouth went slack and rested against your convulsing warmth. He watched, captivated as you squeezed his hands and came.

"Good girl. Gorgeous." He squeezed your still-trembling thigh and got out from between your legs.

-

As you caught your breath, he came up next to you on the bed with a shiny face and held his aching member in his hand.

“I wanna touch it,” you said. “Can you show me how?”

“Get your hand wet for me,” he said softly between heavy breaths with a nod downward. You gathered your slick and reached your hand hesitantly toward him. “All yours, baby.” His chest rose and fell as he held it for you.

“Go ‘head,” he encouraged, giving you confidence. You wrapped your hand around his cock. It was so smooth and warm. You didn’t know what to do next. You froze.

“It’s okay, darlin’. Let’s do it like this.” His hand engulfed yours and moved it gently as he lifted his hips and fucked himself with your fist at a moderate pace.

“Love your hand, baby,” he managed between grunts. He was sweating with his flannel shirt still on. You marveled at the way the smooth skin of his shaft moved along the stiffness. You memorized the texture of it and the sound of him grunting.

It wasn’t long at all until agony spread across his face, then he groaned. He took his hand away and watched your face as his cock pulsed against your palm and his cum spilled into your fist. He sighed long and low.

"Good, darlin'. Real good." He pressed a kiss into your mouth then looked at his cum all over your hand. "Sit tight for me." He tucked himself away and went to the bathroom.

Meanwhile, you sniffed it. You got curious what it tasted like. You dipped the tip of your tongue into it just as he was returning with a warm washcloth and neater hair. His eyes widened when he saw you taste his cum.

He watched your face for a moment, then skeptically asked, "Like it?"

"Yeah," you nodded shyly. "'cause it's yours."

His face melted. "See, darlin'? You love me just fine."

-

As he gently nudged your legs back open with the washcloth, you asked “could you teach me how to touch myself better?”

He paused. “Better? You touch yourself now?”

“Yeah," you said hesitantly.

"That's natural, darlin'. Nothin' to be ashamed of. Just surprised, that's all."

"But I can't make myself, you know.” He paused what he was doing, and you regretted bringing it up.

“What're ya thinkin’ about?” He furrowed his brow and his face tensed as he slowly finished wiping your inner thighs.

When he was finished, you pulled your pajama pants back on “You know, what I said I wanted earlier.” You sighed and looked at the ceiling. "From you." You couldn't say it again.

His face softened. “That's good, baby. . . S'posed to turn ya on, thinkin' about that."

"But I don't come."

"I’ll make ya come anytime ya want, peaches.” There was a hint of cockiness tugging at one corner of his mouth. He tossed the washcloth to the laundry, then settled in next to you and slid his forearm under your pillow. "Any time." He admired your face affectionately. It still buzzed with heat. He looked you up and down and rested his massive hand low on your stomach.

“Thank you,” you said.

“Don’t thank me.” He pressed his lips to your forehead. "Love doin' it."

“For protecting me.”

“Course I do, peaches. You’re the most precious thing I ever had." He caressed your bare skin.

"Can't leave ya here alone today, baby. Gotta take ya home.”

You nodded.

-

Thank you so much for your engagement 🖤🖤🖤 I love you guys, and love hearing from you.

I have loved reading everyone's reactions! 💕 To let people read "unspoiled," won't be posting ALL theories, but you're still welcome to send them.

Thank you @dark-scape for conceptual beta / reassurance 😅

All Joel: @ethanhoewke @silkiers @eiviea @evyiione @xdaddysprincessxx @queerly-anxious @chernayawidow @ambassadortotrilliusprime @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog @jasminespringtime @romanarose @fandomsfallnomore @djarinxore @lokanda @blackvelveteen1339 @manazo @wolvesandvampires @taeslarityy @str84pedro @kyloispunk @filthfairy @fieryglutenfreechickennoodles @harriedandharassed @moonlightdivine @worhols @fan-fiction-floozy @cutesyscreenname @weddingfairy

Lincoln: @fan-fiction-floozy @ivyblxnde @lhymer1995 @sugarspiceanthrax @isimpforfictionalmen @zynbsblogg @swedishscumfuck @sadgirlstoohightocare @steveharringtonswh0re @skythighs @aoziety @leeeesahhh @jupitersmoon-cal @peekymoon @dtfawn @pedrosbabygirl @shotgun-shelby @reader-without-a-story (ct'd in comments or reblogs)

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[akindplace]

Abusive people often know what to say/do to make you feel at your worst. The hurt they inflict is their responsibility, always, and it's not a matter of "people can only hurt you if you allow it". In an abusive situation, you don't have control over the hurt they are inflicting. It's not "just words", it's not casual like someone making a critical comment. It's abuse. It's traumatizing. And abusers often taken control out of people and then gaslight them to making them believe it's their fault. The guilt you feel about yourself or the victim-blaming actions of others is very damaging, but the blame is never the survivor's, the abuser is always, always, the one at fault, and there is never any way around that fact, though people may say otherwise and you might feel guilt. Please don't blame yourself. Please don't dismiss your feelings.

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