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satoruxx · 8 hours ago

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THE SPACE BETWEEN COMFORT AND CHAOS.

✧ PAIRING: wolf!toji fushiguro x f!reader | 9k words

✧ SUMMARY: this fic has always been 18+ but now especially I MEAN IT mdni, toji gets horny fr this time (like 2.5k words of just that), masturbation, toji gets turned on by love idk, rut/heat cycles, basically abo/hybrid mating tendencies, idk let me write my porn sigh, misogyny, um stalking, more hybrid mistreatment, talks of murder, the typical blood as a metaphor for love :/

✧ RHEYA'S NOTE: lol okay i'm vv sorry for the six month absence.. had to get that degree :33 but hopefully this chapter being 9k words and having horny toji makes up for it.. however pls do heed the warnings! i yap a lot about mating and other abo things so if that's not your thing pls scroll TT.. anyways i'm thanking you all so much for your patience !! hope you enjoy <33

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"pause."

toji's form stops abruptly, and you bite back a chuckle when he turns to glare at you over his shoulder. "what?"

you grin, rocking back on your heels even as the rest of the street continues bustling around you. "i'm hungry."

the street's lights reflect over toji's facial features, and the way his jaw drops looks extra comical. "already? we just had dinner."

you frown, affronted. "that was like an hour ago."

toji snorts, rolling his eyes, though it comes off fonder than you expected it to. "so you want dessert?"

you nod eagerly, and a muted chuckle escapes the wolf as you catch up to his side. his jade eyes scan the lively streets critically, before falling on you again. "well, go crazy."

you immediately grab his wrist and tug him along, peering at different stalls and stores despite his protests. toji ends up just crossing his arms as he waits for you to buy your dessert (ice cream, you've decided. on a cone). he watches you grin as you pay and then hurry over to him, both of your hands full.

"here," you chirp, shoving a cone into his hand. a few melted drops stain his skin, still cold to the touch. "for you!"

he huffs. "kid, i told you i don't like sweets that much."

"that's what you say at first." you point your finger at him as you lick up the dripping sides of your own cone, gaze all too knowing. "but then you try it and realize you can't get enough."

toji rolls his eyes, but still obediently takes a lick. the flavor of chocolates and some other sweet confections burst across his tongue. it's strong, almost unbearably so, but then it settles on his palate and leaves a satisfaction in its wake. he can't help the subtle twitch of his lips, almost pleased, and you give him a smug smile.

(it seems like he will always be doomed when it comes to sweet things.)

you both walk home in relative silence, save for the occasional bit of chatter when you remember something you haven't told him. the streets are still bright and bustling with people trying to enjoy their saturday night, and toji feels a little more comfortable because it's so easy to blend in.

"are you sure you don't want me to hold those?" you ask pointedly, peering at all the shopping bags he's balancing on his arms. "aren't they heavy?"

he gives you a sidelong glance—affronted. "seriously? how weak do you think i am?"

you raise your free hand in surrender, biting back a laugh as you look at him with that same spark of a challenge in your eyes. "don't you sleep with a nightlight?"

toji's glare is boiling when it settles on you. "shut up and eat your ice cream."

you chortle, nudging his side with your elbow, and he groans under his breath. his fingers itch. it would be so fucking easy to just grab your free hand that's swinging listlessly at your side. the lines of his large, rough palm pressed against your smaller, gentle one. his fingers would curl around yours so gratefully, sweet and soft and yet still keeping you attached to him.

(he can't elaborate on how pleased the thought makes him. keeping you at his side, where he can always see you. where you can always see him.)

but all he can do is clench his fist, internally reprimanding himself for taking such liberties with you to begin with—even if it's just in his own head.

when you both make it back home, you hop in the shower quick and then toji takes his turn, so used to the mundane routine. he heads into the bathroom, not before making a sarcastic jab at your choice of pajamas for the night (doughnuts, printed in all shapes and colors), to which you just punch his arm as he cackles.

toji enjoys the feeling of the searing hot water burning into his skin. psychopathic maybe, but it feels comforting. it's not like he was given the luxury of hot water back when he was underground.

(that being said, even once he'd started living with you, it's not like he took hot showers often. in fact, he'd sometimes find himself relying on cold showers. especially when you were around him. a fleeting touch here, a meaningful glance there, and he'd find himself under pelting ice, breathing heavily through his nose until he's finally got himself under control.)

even now he tries not to think too deeply about that, focusing on enjoying his warm shower. he feels a little guilty when he stops to consider that you probably have no idea that his thoughts about you are so fucking depraved.

(poor thing. you don't deserve something so unhinged breathing down your neck.)

and unfortunately that's all he truly is. unhinged. an animal that lacks self control. and you are nothing of the sort. sweetness and good all bundled up into a human being. night and day, dark and light, sun and storm.

good and evil.

toji knows this well. knows that he has no right to let his claws tear into your perfect flesh and rip you to pieces. only monsters ruin perfection after all.

and perfection you were. he knows you don't really see yourself that way, but it's hard for him not to. reminds him of statue deities the old artists left behind to stand in museums under heavy spotlights. for people to flock to, eager and awestruck as they marvel at beauty like they've never seen it before. and he'd bow front of you, knees digging into rough earth, bloody and bruised as he reaches for your marbled fingers. letting stone gently tickle the sharp curve of his jaw, trace the scar cutting over his lips. maybe when he finally looks up at you he'll only remember your smile immortalized into the stone.

but toji is selfish. he doesn't want to worship a statue. he'd rather have you as is, life thrumming through your veins the way blood does. warmth bursting from under your skin and seeping into his own. and there's a part of him that knows you'd touch him so eagerly, ready to please and give him everything that he's ever wanted. you've already been so generous—giving and giving and giving some more. if he asked to let him take you apart, would you dare say no? would you let him sort through sinew and muscle until he's found your very core? would you let him hold your beating heart in his claws no matter how many times they nick the flesh and make you bleed?

you would, with stars in your eyes. in fact, there's a greedy part of him that thinks you'd do the same in return. tear him apart piece by piece with careful fingers until he's nothing but laid bare in front of you. press your flesh against ragged scars and bruised skin, rough with use and danger. if he focuses a little harder, he can feel your touch linger on those scars. your lips will follow, pressing deep against his blood, staining you wine red. but you'll just smile, light bursting behind your silhouette (angelic; awe-inspiring), and he'll once again be speechless in front of you.

(powerless in every sense of the word.)

this is followed by yet another dangerous thought—just how much of an animal would you let him be?

it would be easy to cage you between his arms, close enough that he can count every eyelash and see every shade in your skin. it would be easy to hook his claws around the waistband of the fabric that hid you away, press a searing kiss into the stripe left by the elastic. it would be easy to reduce you to a shaking mess, quiet whimpers escaping into the space only he shares with you.

it's ridiculous, how quickly his obsession bleeds into arousal. a thin line, his toes dancing over it. but he doesn't have it in him to dwell on the shame behind it. it's instantaneous, how heat starts thrumming through his veins at the thought of you, alighting every expanse of flesh and breaking through skin.

toji bristles, tail flexing even under the weight of the water.

you have to know what you're doing. weren't you ever warned about dangers like him? wasn't it common sense not to dangle prey in front of a predator's eyes?

(though, if he's being honest, toji doesn't feel like much of predator. if anything, you're the predator, circling him with attentive eyes that makes his hair stand on end. makes him want to expose his underbelly and let you pounce.)

it doesn't make sense to him, how his mind relates someone as sweet as you to a role so unflinchingly unkind. in reality, the only one who's fucked enough to take on that role is him. the true animal—unhinged, reckless, cruel.

the only one who'd dig his fangs into your flesh and tear you apart with no hesitation. let sweet blood drip from his lips, lapping away until not a drop is left. reverent—because he knows how valuable it is.

the problem is you'd let him.

welcoming, with open arms and a warm smile that makes him want to take even more. more and more until nothing is left.

(would you enjoy it? his claws encircling your fragile wrists and pressing them into sheets. heavy body weighing yours down, scarred muscle meeting soft flesh. fanged teeth digging into the tender meat of your lips. perhaps you'd tell him as much, quietly sighing into his mouth, singing his praises and whispering a sweet combination of toji please, more.)

blood rushes south, his cock hardening so quick it's almost humiliating. this had been an ongoing issue for months now. toji never thought anyone would have the ability to drive him up the walls like this. not that you had gone around deliberately trying to give him a hard time (no pun intended), but it'd become more difficult to ignore. even just noticing little things—like the texture of your fingertips against his skin or the way your scent bleeds into the walls of the house. or the way his height towers over you and forces you to look up at him in a way that is so easy to imagine in certain other scenarios. in between his legs, gentle hands on his knees, eyes peering through lashes, and swollen lips wrapped around his—

fuck.

he's rock hard now. thick and aching in a way that makes him feel almost ashamed because there's no reason he should be acting like a whelpling who's just been thrown into a rut for the first time. no, he'd been an adult for a long time. one that had gotten through a lot worse than this.

(it's seared into his brain, the way the faceless doctor from the underground would hand him suppressant pills a couple weeks before a rut was due to hit, eyeing him to make sure they were swallowed without any issues. his body remembers scratching at the stone ground of a cell as he snarled through the pain of one of his most natural instincts being manipulated through a drug.

it was normal for them. every hybrid there had experienced being put aside for a day or two, labeled "out of commission" for a fake sick period while they rode out their cycles with no help or relief.

what would've normally been a couple weeks of rut was cruelly suppressed into two short days. in that time, toji was confined to a special cell with no outside contact. no fights, no interactions with any other hybrid.

all he had was the time to get increasingly more feral and frustratingly turned on. and no way to deal with it but ruthlessly fucking his own fist until he was exhausted.

exhausted, but never satiated. never satisfied.

after all, the suppressant pills couldn't erase the nature of his instincts. the part of him that craved not for a simple release, but for the experience of sharing a rut with someone. craved forming a connection with another being who could not only provide relief through it, but also take every bit of devotion he had to offer. the pills were effective in dulling down the intensity of ruts and heats, and shortened the length of them tremendously. but even after all that, they were still animals—there was no denying it. no, none of it could be erased; the instinctual craving for a fucking mate.)

all of those years under suppressants had made toji forget what a real rut felt like. but if it's anything close to the way he'd been feeling lately, he was definitely screwed. his mind had become increasingly more creative, able to conjure up the most inappropriate images of his most shameful fantasies. and this issue could only be fixed by jacking off until cum was dripping between his fingers and he felt even more ashamed than he did before.

which is exactly what he's being pushed to right now.

it seems almost instantaneous the way his fist wraps around his cock, throbbing flesh hot and angry. he bites back a hiss at the sensitivity, the hot water doing nothing to help his already searing flesh.

toji knew to start expecting flare ups of arousal. after all it was just a part of his nature, but a headache all the same. unfortunately, when escaping that hellhole he called a home, he didn't think about what would happen to his body now that those bastards weren't pumping his body full of suppressants.

sukuna had once said that it was their way of stripping them of their natural instructs, domesticating hybrids without them even knowing. the thought had pissed both of them off, but the tiger was right. nothing inherently natural about controlling such a significant facet of their bodies.

if he had more time to prepare his escape, he would've broken into the medical wing and stolen a few years' worth of suppressants for himself.

hindsight. instead, now he has to deal with these admittedly intense pangs of carnal desire. he knows why. how long had it been since he'd had a natural rut? definitely not since eighteen, because that's when he'd given up his freedom and they started feeding him suppressants (after all, can't have a feral wolf in rut running free throughout the barracks; bad for business; too dangerous to control). it makes sense that his body is working on overdrive now that it's finally tasted freedom.

(finally tasted a sweet scent and warm smile.)

toji isn't sure what he'll do when his rut really hits. he had thought that maybe he could get away with lying to you, passing it off as some contagious sickness and locking himself in his room for a few days until it passed. but then he got nervous thinking about just how bad this rut might be, and he figured he probably wouldn't be able to keep it from you even with the walls acting as a barrier.

there was also the option of telling you the truth. you'd probably be so accepting about it; after all, you've been nothing but understanding. and it seems like you know more about hybrids than your fellow humans, so he's sure you wouldn't judge him for something he can't really control. and yet despite all that, the thought of telling you feels strangely nerve wracking. some strange implication behind admitting just how vulnerable he'd truly be (and some sick thrill at the unspoken boundary that could end up being crossed).

a boundary line that he had scratched into the floor over and over again. so intent on denying the thought of ever being that close to you.

and yet he can't deny it. can't deny that the idea of trailing his tongue over the swells and divots of your body doesn't make him salivate. like the thought of your lips pressing into the ridges of his neck doesn't make his ribcage jump.

(like the thought of you saying yes to him doesn't make him want to lay the entire galaxy at your feet. because saying yes to him means something more than you'll ever realize. means bonding yourself to him for a lifetime. souls intertwined, the way only a mate can be—)

toji's presses his forehead against the damp tiled wall, exhaling shakily. there's a reddish pink shade crawling up his skin, spreading like liquid gold. his fist feels like nothing special, but it still offers a semblance of relief from that stupid aching feeling. the warmth of the water and the remnants of soap makes it easy for his fist to slide back and forth, and god he's so fucking hard. he's starting off fast, but he doesn't really care. all he knows is that it feels good, and it's utterly humiliating to be jacking off in the shower when you're just across the hall, so he just wants to get it over with.

but his brain? his brain lingers, cruel in its torture.

if he closes his eyes, toji can picture you doing it instead. your hand's a lot smaller, but it's softer than his—not rough with scars and callouses and danger. maybe you'd touch him slower, not as stupidly fast as he is, not with the mission to just get off and be done. no, you'd probably touch him with intention, eager to take him apart. he'd be glad to let you do as you please, so pathetically ready for whatever you want from him.

his fangs dig into the scar cutting over his lip, almost hard enough to taste blood. he thinks about sinking those fangs into the open canvas of your neck, and his dick twitches in response, eager and swollen. he tightens his grip and twists his wrist in the same way he's always done, knowing it'll get him there quick.

toji's head presses harder into the tiled walls, and he blinks the water away from his eyes as he tries to focus. his brain conjures up a strikingly detailed image of you pressing your lips against his dick, and that itself shoots a searing hot flash of arousal up his spine. but that's not all. he imagines that you'd be a lot more generous with your touches than he is. you'd touch him all over, gentle fingers tracing over the curve of his jaw and over the slopes of his cheeks. down over the planes of his chest and the ridges of his abs. gentle, the way only a lover's caress could be. chills run over his skin, the shiver so pleasurable it makes his breath hitch.

his high creeps up frighteningly fast, tingles shooting up the nerves in his body like he's never touched himself before. the muscles in his arm strain as heat pools in his lower belly, licking at his insides like an uncontrollable flame. the sound of the soapy water each time his hand moves is embarrassingly inappropriate, and he's briefly struck with the filthy thought of the type of sounds he'd be able to pull from your body if you just gave him the chance.

he wonders where to touch you to make you sing. where you'd be the most sensitive. what spots would have your voice catching on a strangled moan or have a breathy whimper escaping your throat. maybe you'd beg him for more, or perhaps you'd demand it from him. maybe you'd give in finally tell him what he's been dying to hear. in that same sweet voice, quietly sighing an earnest toji, i love y—

ropes of cum splatter between his fingers, and he's thankful that his muffled grunts are drowned out by the shower. his hips twitch, instinctual, and his dick pulses with every spurt, pelvic muscles contracting with effort. and throughout all of it, all he can think of is you.

(horrible, he is. so dirty, filthy.)

"ah fuck—" he feels messy, and hypersensitive. he stands there for a minute, catching his breath and doing his best to quell the mess in his head. it takes all but a minute to wash away the evidence of his crimes, but the thoughts of you still linger—infectious and deep.

(he thinks maybe he'll never be rid of you. you've latched onto him the way he has to you—parasitic and flesh deep. some part of him really likes that; a sick and twisted part.)

the wolf huffs out a tired sigh, standing under the pelting water like some kind of mindless idiot. what kind of freak was he? you offer him a place in your home and here he was jerking off in your shower with nothing but filth in his head. he's terrible; a dirty animal.

and yet, he feels good. feels good in the same way he feels when he sees you smile. or when you finally come back home. or when you grin at him from across the dining table as you watch him dig into his food. or when you accidentally fall asleep while watching some stupid movie.

his brain is foggy, and there's still a few aftershocks of pleasure tickling his nerves. but his guilt is smothered by that good feeling, pressed down into the deep recesses of his subconscious as he focuses on how you seem to have such an influence on his emotions.

(powerful, sneaky little thing.)

"hey toji?"

your muffled voice cuts through the pleasant haze in his head, and the panic is instant. he flinches so hard his elbow thuds against the shower wall, eliciting a yelp that he tries hard to recover from.

"y-yeah?!" he winces at the voice crack (trying to pretend he didn't just bust to the thought of you not a minute earlier), and clears his throat.

"i'm running low on period stuff so i'm gonna run down the street and grab some pads."

"i can go grab em if you want?" he replies, scrubbing his skin with a quickening pace, but then you chuckle and wave him off.

"no no it's fine. enjoy your shower. it's like two streets over, i'll be back soon."

"well…" he hesitates, but then nods even though you can't see him. "fine. be careful, y'hear?"

"yeah yeah…" your voice fades away as you head down the hall, and toji's shoulders relax. for a second he thought you might've somehow heard his less than appropriate little session, but instead you're just updating him on something he probably wouldn't have cared about many months ago. but here he is, ultimately caring so deeply.

hot water streams between toji's eyes, and he pushes his wet hair back with a tired huff. his ears fold under his palms, muffling all noises and for a second, the raging thoughts in his head subside.

(if it were up to him, he'd stay in this peaceful bubble for as long as he could. hoping, dreaming, praying that you'd join him in the space with no protests. comfort, chaos, and everything in between.)

****

the streets are a lot more deserted than they were a few hours prior, back when you were dragging toji to eat ice cream. now there's only faint chatter, the occasional squeals of laughter and excitement permeating the sounds of your slippers against pavement. normally you would've dragged toji out with you, especially so late on a saturday night, but since this is barely a 15 minute walk and you've been here countless times before, you decided not to bother him.

after all, you would grant toji as much peace as you could give him (god knows he deserved it and more).

there's some faint song playing over the speakers when you enter the store, instantly fading into muted background noise as you smile at the elderly man behind the counter. he recognizes you, a local frequenter, and smiles back before going back to the paper he was reading. your steps take you to the feminine products quickly, memorized route guiding your feet, and then you're scanning the shelves for familiar colors and brands.

the store is almost completely deserted, save for a few other likeminded individuals who needed a late night run. your fingers drift over boxes until you finally find the brand you like.

"excuse me? can you help me with this?"

the flinch that comes from you is almost embarrassing, but you're genuinely impressed by how quietly this guy seems to have snuck up on you. you glance over your shoulder carefully.

dyed blonde hair, dark roots, narrowed beady eyes. and yet a sheepish, awkward smile that makes your shoulders drop when you notice the box of pads in his head. you tilt your head questioningly, quirking a brow. he raises the box. "my girlfriend sent me out to get supplies but i have no clue what to pick for her…"

the helpless smile that crawls onto your face feels natural. at least he was trying, that in and of itself was a lot to ask for these days. "well do you know if she has a heavy flow or a light one?"

"heavy i think?" his brows furrow thoughtfully. "she says she bleeds a lot…"

"well then this is probably better for her than that." you reach for a different box on the shelf, one that's specifically labeled for handling heavy bleeding. "they're better for heavier flow. and they're longer so that should help her out."

he takes the box from you carefully, before smiling. something shines in his dark eyes. "thank you so much. i'm clueless when it comes to this stuff."

you chuckle, shaking your head. "no it's okay. at least you're trying."

"i would've been lost without your help. i'm naoya by the way." his smile gets a little more pointed, that gleam in his gaze brighter. he sticks his palm out expectantly.

warning bells start ringing in your head, but you don't know why.

"oh uh, nice to meet you…" you trail off, cautiously taking his hand. you're sure he's being polite, but you don't really understand why he's telling you his name. maybe it's paranoia, but you bite your tongue and hold off on giving him yours, something telling you that maybe you shouldn't be sharing that information.

the blonde doesn't comment on your lack of forthcoming, but something feels off. he looks like he knows something, like he's dissecting you on a surgical table. you let go of his hand, and awkwardly smile, before turning back to the shelf. his voice gets a little louder. "naoya zenin."

you freeze. the name washes over you, a brief sense of warmth, before it bleeds into something cold and jarring. you know this name well—heard it murmured from scarred lips a few times (in a voice that was filled with nothing but distaste.)

now if you think back, you can remember the same blonde hair and dark eyes being in the background of pictures you've seen on the internet. random news articles of what the head of one of the biggest companies in the country did that day. you don't know why you couldn't remember it earlier. maybe you just weren't expecting to see naoya zenin at your tiny little store so late at night. but he looks calm, as though it's all intentional, as though you should've expected to bump in to him like this.

the warning bells ring louder.

"so!" the blonde claps his hands together, brightly smiling as though he's catching up with an old friend. "how is he?"

you feel your tongue grow numb. an image of a moody scowl and twitching ears flashes behind your eyes, and you finally realize that warning bells had nothing to do with your own safety.

(too preoccupied with dedicating your care to someone else. someone who's probably patiently waiting for you back home.)

"who?" you're playing dumb, and you're sure he knows it because he just laughs and quirks his brow knowingly.

"you know who." he pins you with a level stare. "toji of course. my precious cousin."

you remain quiet, mind spinning. you're not sure if you should lie or continue playing dumb or just run and hope he isn't fast enough to follow. but naoya just continues on without a care in the world.

"let's stop beating around the bush." the blonde's smile drops, voice going serious in the same way you've seen it go on those television interviews. "i don't know how or why you're connected to him but i'm sure you know what he is by now."

"ah yes the wolf ears and tail really gave it away," you reply sarcastically, not even bothering to keep the bite out of your tone. naoya grins predatorily, making a show of leering at your blatant hostility.

"well yes, the poor beast was unfortunately born that way." naoya waves offhandedly, before his expression sours. "just my luck, he had to be born into my fucking family."

you snort out a scornful laugh, crossing your arms. "well it makes sense. i mean he might be the wolf, but it's pretty clear that dogs run in the family."

naoya pauses, before his smile returns. this time, it is icy, and yet there is spark of malice flickering in his eyes. "hah! you're more interesting than i thought. you look so boring from afar, you know?"

you glare at him irritably.

"but! you're much more entertaining than i expected. maybe that's why toji's hanging around you." naoya glances down at his fingernails with feigned interest, his voice dropping. "it's a shame he didn't teach you any manners though."

his hand drops to his side, and his expression darkens so fast it makes your head spin. "if it were up to me, i'd cut your tongue out and deliver it to him, you know?"

your bravado shatters, blood going cold. naoya seems to catch the change, so he just smiles again with that fake politeness. "but father says we should be nice and talk it out. so that's what i'm doing! i had no clue how i was going to find the time to chat with you, but i'm glad i caught you today."

you swallow, fingers creasing into the sleeves of your sweater.

"you know, when i told father i saw toji with you today, he was surprised. that freak doesn't seem like the type to get help from others, let alone humans like you and me." the blonde hums, amused. "but seems like he liked something about you. that, or you had something pretty valuable to offer."

you almost roll your eyes. clearly this asshole liked to hear himself talk.

"i mean i'm kinda surprised that you got close to that freak. don't you have any survival instincts?" he tuts, exaggeratedly pouting at you like you're nothing but a dumb child. the blood in your veins grows hot with indignation.

"he's not dangerous." your voice is resolute, stating a fact rather than an opinion. naoya observes you with mild interest. he hums thoughtfully, and you shift your weight not knowing what to do.

"you know, i saw you both being all cute on your little shopping trip." naoya's expression turns bored, almost like he's disgusted. he leans against the shelves haphazardly. "it's a shame i lost you both in the crowd as you left though. i would've stopped by at your house otherwise."

the threat is not lost on you. and something churns in your gut when you think about this man being anywhere near your house. near toji.

"i don't understand," you say, raising your head. you have no clue how you manage to keep your voice steady when your heart is beating so fast, but you'd rather not look too deep into that. "what exactly is it that you want from me?"

"you have…influence," naoya grins, peering at you. his expression is mocking. you think you might vomit. "i'm sure you can bat your eyes and convince my dear cousin."

when you swallow, it feels like rocks are sliding down your throat. "convince him to what?"

naoya's grin drops, eyes narrowing dangerously. "to go back to where he belongs."

your words tumble forth before you can even stop them, hot and indignant. "and what if he doesn't want to go back there?"

a burst of laughter escapes his throat, though it is sharp and unamused. "don't you get it? he doesn't have a choice. that's all he was born to do anyway."

you glare at him, teeth digging into your tongue so hard it hurts painfully. naoya's expression turns bright, a very dramatic flare of sick amusement filling his tone. "ohh i finally get it!"

he leans closer to you, smirking. "who would've thought my dear cousin went and found himself a girl!"

the traitor organ sitting in your ribcage gives an eager jump, getting distracted by its original threat. you steel your expression. "what are you even talking about?"

"no need to play coy. i understand!" he raises his arms like he means no harm, a greasy smile still splitting his face. "that just means you really should be able to influence him."

"you don't even know what you're saying." you roll your eyes, turning away from him, though you still keep his figure in your peripheral. "it's not even like that. we're barely even friends. the most i would say is acquaintances."

the lie bleeds through your teeth easily, molten lava. worth it if it means keeping him safe. away from the treacherous vines that seem so intent on chasing him and pinning him down.

"oh sure." the blonde chuckles, looking at you with a sharp mockery in his gaze. it's obvious he doesn't believe you, especially with how quickly his tone turns chilling. "i don't really give a damn who you are to him. let him know what he needs to do, or we're gonna have a problem."

"and if i can't convince him?"

naoya shrugs casually, but then he pins you with a stare that makes you feel like your bone marrow is turning to lead.

"well then, we'll just have to see what happens, won't we?" he says nothing more, but the implication is very clear. the blonde then glances down at the pads in his hands. his expression goes disgusted once more, and he haphazardly chucks the box back onto the shelf. "ew…" he mutters, dusting his hand over his coat. his eyes find you again, and then that same smile appears once more. "anyways, i'll definitely see you around! get home safe!"

your pulse is thudding wildly as you watch him leave, a heavy onset of nausea making your stomach churn like never before. the hidden threats were so carefully placed, but not obscure enough for you to miss, and that scares you even more because it says that this guy is just that confident. you stand in the aisle for another two mins, mind running in a thousand different directions. suddenly you feel strangely exposed, like you've been placed into a glass box for someone to observe your every movement.

(suddenly, you feel completely and utterly alone. scared and vulnerable and in real danger. suddenly, all you can think about is the brooding wolf you've left at home, and how seeing him is the only solution to making these feelings go away.)

you're out the door before you even realize it. your legs carry you back in the direction of your home, but your paranoia leads you to take as many convoluted turns that you can think of (because you can't shake the feeling of those beady brown eyes digging into your shoulder blades).

naoya zenin. you don't know how he shares blood with toji. if you squint hard enough you can maybe find some similarities in features. but still, you cannot understand how someone so outwardly horrible can be related to someone like toji. toji is not warm, not inherently sweet. but he is good, and that much is obvious to you. the same way you know this naoya is bad, with nothing but negative intentions.

when you finally reach your doorstep, you keep your head down and slip inside. your fingers double check every lock, every window. your mouth feels dry and there's too many weaknesses and he's definitely still out there and—

"hey."

the voice makes you jump, and when you look up, toji is staring at you—confused. his brow quirks as he peers at you through his wet hair. "well that was dramatic."

you sigh, quelling the thundering of your heartbeat. sweat beads on the skin of your palms, and you drag them over the fabric of your pants. "you just scared me."

"oh yeah, i'm so fucking terrifying." he sits on the couch, aggressively drying his wet hair with a towel. you snort, grinning as your eyes trail over the way his pointed ears fold under the weight of the fabric.

"shaking in my boots." toji rolls his eyes at your reply, and you pull off your coat with a quiet chuckle.

(honestly a little jarring how easy it is for you to relax in his presence. how easy it is to start smiling again.)

"i thought you went to get supplies?"

you freeze, glancing over your shoulder. "w-what?"

he motions to your empty hands. "you didn't get anything?"

your stomach drops. "oh um…" you clear your throat. "they were closed. so i came back."

it's almost laughable how quick the lie slips from your mouth; sickening, really, because it shouldn't be quite so easy to lie to someone who obviously trusted you. you've felt guilty before, but not like this. this goes past the dull surface ache and settles as a deep stinging, fraying your nerve endings. maybe it's because you know that you have no right to keep this from him; after all, it's his family. but something about the gleam in naoya's eyes makes your hair stand on end. if it were up to you, you'd stand in front of toji with a smile even with knives raining down your back.

the way toji's brow arches tells you that he's a little confused, maybe a little skeptical, but he shrugs and turns back to the tv, turning it on with a flick of his finger. "well okay then. i can grab some tomorrow on my way back home."

you inhale through your nose, forcing a smile. there's really no point stressing. naoya can't do much to you to begin with, not without starting something potentially dangerous with toji. so you just push it to the back of your mind and take a seat next to the grumpy wolf you realize you would do anything for.

(even lie.)

"thank you, toji," you say earnestly. the wolf gives you a sidelong glance, ears twitching at the sound of your voice, and he scoffs.

"whatever. it's not like i haven't done it before. quit bein' dramatic."

you grin, watching him cross his arms and sulk like an overgrown puppy. for some reason, his expression settles the chaos in your chest and you decide that whatever problem it is, you'll do anything it takes to keep it from him.

(perhaps it's silly, thinking that you could easily stand in front of a hybrid capable of tearing you to pieces and expect to be able to protect him. but you know he would do the same for you, and that's why it feels all too natural. easy.)

you think you will always be willing to offer him whatever space you have left. comfort, chaos, and everything in between.

****

toji doesn't consider himself a very intelligent person. not to say that he's dumb. no, he thinks he excels at street smarts. after all, no one survives a life like his without a brain.

but in terms of emotional intelligence.. well he doesn't feel all that confident. yet another area where he feels like you're a lot better than he is.

it scares him a little, how fast you can read him. how you can pick apart his every expression and behavior like it comes naturally to you. and then how you're able to to adapt and give him exactly the response he needs. whether it's sweet comfort or rational courses of action—it's perfect.

(you're perfect.)

but he's not like you. he cannot pick people apart, can't look at them and figure out what they're thinking. cannot read them like an open book the way you can.

but right now, he feels like something is wrong.

it's been almost a week since he's noticed this change in behavior. you've been looking over your shoulder like you're in some kind of horror movie. eyes constantly scanning your surroundings, fingers fiddling with the window locks. even peering outside through the gaps in your curtains.

you're nervous, he realizes. paranoid, like something's chasing you. whatever it is, toji understands that he doesn't like the way worry looks on you. in fact, he hates it. hates the way his ears can pick up your increased heartrate. hates the way he can smell the spikes of anxiousness in your scent.

he's trying to be a good housemate and respect your boundaries. trying not to be nosy and let you deal with your own issues like an adult. but then his mind wonders if there's something really wrong, if someone's giving you a hard time or stressing you out, and then he just gets angry.

(don't you know that he adores you? don't you know that you need only say the word and he'd kill a man for you? don't you know the amount of power you have over him?)

regardless, he's still trying to be a good housemate and respect your boundaries. but it's becoming increasingly more difficult to watch you come home everyday like there's someone chasing after you. even now, he watches you double check the door locks before you hurry over to your windows. double check the locks, tug the curtains shut, peer outside through the gaps.

only when you're done do your shoulders relax, and when you turn around, you jump when you notice him standing there staring at you. the surprise bleeds into a quick, barely there smile. "oh hey! how was your day?"

you don't even wait for his answer before you're turning around to hang your coat up, and that's enough to make him crack.

"alright what the fuck is wrong with you?" toji's voice cuts through the silence like ice, and you internally wince. defensive walls rise quickly, and then you're turning on him with fire in your eyes.

"excuse me?"

toji's bulky arms flex as he crosses them, staring down his nose at you completely unfazed. "you've been hiding something."

"i—"

"—and don't even bother tryin' to deny it. it's written all over your face."

the wolf watches you inhale heavily, and the crease in between your brows makes his fingers twitch (eager to reach out and smooth them down carefully).

you sigh, defeated. "remember last week when i went to the store that one night?"

toji nods.

"i, um, bumped into someone there." your fingers rub over your arms in an attempt to be soothing, and toji's frown deepens in tandem.

"who?"

you glance at him. guilt gnaws its way up your esophagus. "um, naoya zenin."

toji's reaction almost makes you vomit. his ears stand up straight, tail going rigid, and the anger that contorts his expression makes you shiver. "what?!"

his voice has taken on a timbre you haven't heard before, an inherently primal growl ripping through his vocal cords in a way that sounds almost painful. you wince, trying to placate by backtracking.

"i was gonna tell you—"

"what the fuck did he say to you?!—"

"he just—"

"that fucking creep i swear to god—"

"toji." your palms find his forearms in this strangely natural way that makes his stomach churn. steadying, stable, everything that he lacks. "please. can we just relax and sit down?"

his ears droop slightly, but he still maintains his heated glare. not that he's necessarily angry at you. but his palms feel too sweaty and his heartbeat feels too fast and his stomach feels too heavy. still, he forces himself to breathe deep through his nose, quelling the instinctual rise of feral panic that seems to want to burst from his veins. he lets your hands, barely able to fit around the width of his arms, maneuver him to the couch.

when you take a seat next to him, he can smell the nerves.

(spiked; hints of bitterness hiding between layers of sugary sweet.)

more so, you look guilty. it briefly strikes him that perhaps you feel bad about keeping this from him. he's then struck with a similar feeling when he realizes he's kept something from you too. this is all followed by a searing streak of anger when he remembers the reason why you both have been hiding things from one another.

(maybe it wouldn't be so bad to live up to their expectations of him. be the real curse of the zenin bloodline. they always said he was an uncontrollable animal. maybe it would be okay to finally prove them right. have his family's life force dripping red rivulets through his pointed claws. taste its metallic tinge between his sharpened teeth.)

"he came up to me at the store," you start, wiping down your palms on your thighs. "he already knew that i knew you. said he saw us walking around that night shopping."

toji's claws dig into the flesh of his palm painfully. the memory is now tinged with something poisonous. always breathing down his neck.

"he was talking about how his father was surprised that you were even interacting with another human. and then he said it was a shame he lost us in the crowd because otherwise he'd come to our house for a visit."

you watch the wolf next to you clench his fists, and your lips slant.

"what else did he say?" toji tries to keep his voice even, but it comes out strange. your teeth dig into the flesh of your bottom lip painfully.

"he… he said that since i was clearly c-close to you, i should convince you to do something."

"and what's that?"

you pause, before letting the bitter words spill. "convince you that's it's time to go back where they want you to be."

"that fucking asshole!" toji's voice is akin to a roar, and you wince as you watch him stand and snarl like he's been beaten. he pushes his claws into his hair and grits his teeth. "how fucking dare they even—"

another pained growl rips from his throat. the sound makes your stomach coil, and before you can stop yourself, you're reaching out to grab his arm. his head whips around at the contact, baring his teeth with a snarl as he ears point upright. but then he sees your expression, sad and tired, and his shoulders drop immediately.

"you know that i don't want you to go, right?" you ask him quietly. toji stares at you, long and hard. his jade eyes are bright with anger, but there's a hint of fear in there that makes you want to cry.

"… you sure?" his voice is so quiet you almost have to strain to hear it. your fingers tighten around his forearm. even with the way he is standing over you, you think he looks smaller. like he's carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders.

"i'm sure." your voice is resolute, like it's always been when it comes to him. his exhales slowly, and you smile at him in this tragic way that makes him want to rip his eyes out.

(you're too good. too trusting. too confident in the fact that he won't lead to your downfall.)

"kid," he calls out, voice strained.

"hm?"

"i gotta tell you somethin' too."

you frown, but then you're pulling him back to the couch (right next to you; close enough that your scent wraps around him once more—warm, blanket-like), and then you're looking at him earnestly. "what is it?"

he tells you all about his run in with naobito zenin. details the angry confrontation in which his stupid uncle had warned him to go back to where he belonged, tired of the wolf's running game. how the old man had been close to calling his men to come get him before toji had resorted to nearly crushing his windpipe in retaliation. how naobito had warned toji that hurting him was a punishable offense that would lead to him being locked up again. and how, at the end of it all, toji had told him that it would be worth it if it meant being rid of the stupid zenins once and for all.

and then he finishes by telling you that his uncle was so convinced toji would end up back there on his own anyway, because he was nothing more than a mindless animal.

(he carefully leaves out the threat naobito made about putting him down. and he also leaves out how none of that scared him more than the idea of his family's clutches ultimately reaching you.)

you sit there and listen with an expression that bleeds horror. the divot in your brow is so deep toji worries it may become permanent, and your eyes shine with a sadness he's never seen before. when he's done speaking, you exhale shakily.

"kid, i'm never gonna be rid of them," he says quietly. "they're always gonna be breathing down my neck. which means they're always gonna be breathing down yours too."

you nod slowly, eyes distant as you stare at the edge of the coffee table like it's got all the answers in the world.

"there's nothing i can really do." he finishes with that final statement.

you chew on your bottom lip quietly. something is working behind your eyes, calculating, evaluating. "you threatened him?"

toji scoffs. "of course i fucking did. threatened to kill him and his brat son."

you turn to him, eyes alight. "would you?"

toji's heart leaps into his throat. he will never deny the amount of times he's thought about it. since the day he was old enough to realize his own brute strength. every day he was thrown into that damn cell. every fight where he would scratch and claw just to live another day. and every day since the old man stopped him in the streets.

the thought has lingered in the back of his mind, poisonous. rotting. because he knows that it is the only way. he knows that they deserve it. he knows that it is the one path that could lead him to peace.

(that could lead to him wiping the worry from your eyes.)

it's always been there. and now you…

"you can't be serious?"

"toji, answer the question. would you do it or not?"

"of course i would!" he fires back quickly, before taking a steadying breath. "you don't get it, kid. i got no love for them. been dreaming about ripping those bastards apart since the day i was smart enough to realize they only saw me as an animal."

you nod slowly, still chewing on your lip. something settles behind your eyes, and the thrill it sends up toji's spine is almost sadistic. your voice is flat when you speak, but it does not waver. "toji… if there was something that came into my life that was threatening me and my loved ones. our livelihood, our safety, our security… i wouldn't really be thinking about morals anymore."

toji stares at you mutely, and you continue. "so… if there's an unwelcome guest showing up at the door, and we've asked them—no, begged them—to leave us alone and they haven't listened… then maybe the only thing left to do is force them to leave."

his mouth runs dry, and simultaneously, his ribcage jumps. you're looking at him with all the conviction in the world, and something in his deep complicated web of feelings for you shifts on its axis.

(you are sweet. you are peace and comfort and good. you are innocent and untouched by the horrors of the world in the best way. you are completely humane and understanding and you give nothing but kindness. you've offered him the world and he's gratefully cradled it in his palms. which is why this deeply root loyalty, this protectiveness, this affection—it has all come so naturally to him.

he would show mercy if you wanted him to. he would rip apart limbs if you wanted him to. he would dig a knife into his own intestines if you wanted him to.

but this. this is something he's wanted; dreamed about for as long as he can remember. cursed himself for thinking about because it makes him evil and wrong and horrible. but here you are—giving him support. telling him that you want it too.

this utterly wrong and animalistic thing that makes him the monster.

maybe you aren't all that pure. maybe he's the one who corrupted you. but then he thinks back to the fire in your eyes, that same resolute determination in your tone. and then he thinks that it couldn't have been him. it had to have come from within you, this desperate and complicated decision.

and then toji realizes that the reason it appeared is because you value him so highly. because on your moral scale, it is worth it to sin if it means keeping him safe. it is worth it to be animalistic if it means having him by your side.

he wants to envelop you in his arms. find your lips and breathe his own soul into you because he knows you'd keep it safe. knows you're willing to do whatever it takes for him.

the same way he is for you.

he loves you, he thinks. it's just that simple.)

and that's all the confirmation he needs.

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pedgito · 2 days ago

Text

ORBIT YOU ⋆⭒˚.⋆ CHAPTER FIVE: NEPTUNE

↝ series masterlist | joel miller masterlist | full masterlist

summary — your situation with joel progresses, bleeding into his work and a tense conversation leads to heated heart to heart.

author's note —hi, this one is a little shorter than the others! i'm sorry but i promise the last chapter will hopefully make up for it.

content warning — 18+ MDNI, dbf!joel, age gap (20s/40s), sex on the job site heyo, unprotected piv, praise kink through the goddamn roof, angst (not between joel and reader), a sprinkle of plot, playful reader and grumpy joel, finger sucking, mentions of public sex

word count — 4k

Joel doesn’t have any choice but to call you.

Unless, however, he felt like suffering the entire day on an empty stomach.

There’s some guilt that creeps in as he fishes into his pocket for his phone and sends you a quick text, almost immediately regretting it.

Joel

Tommy got a flat grabbing lunch.

It’s your day off so you can say no—

Joel doesn’t even finish the second half of his message before your notification dings at the top of his screen.

You

Send me what you want.

I’m wrapping up here with dad so I can swing by.

You were a goddamn lifesaver. Heaven sent.

Joel sends over a place close to his location for the day—it wasn’t too harsh of a distance, fifteen minutes there and fifteen back, you could manage that.

Joel also knows you had put forth an effort to smooth things over with your father, even if it seemed pointless.

So, on your shared days off you spend it at home, attempting to help your father with odd jobs around the house or even spend a quiet afternoon just…lingering, observing.

He doesn’t ask about school or how living at Joel’s for the summer had been, but he does ask how you’re doing, how you’re settling into the job you had managed to snag in the city—an easy job for a lovely old couple who sold homemade jewelry and trinkets.

You managed the storefront like a well-oiled machine while they worked the backend.

It was commendable how much they cared and while the pay wasn’t great, it was manageable. You only needed enough to hold you over, spending your free time searching out possible internships to fulfill the void that had been lingering for a while.

“I’m gonna grab lunch,” you tell your father casually, swiping your phone and keys off the counter, “do you want me to grab anything for you?”

“I’m alright, hon’,” he waves you off, “thanks for askin’,”

You nod and force a tight smile as you slip out the door, making a quick call to the location Joel had sent you, ordering his food to ensure it would be ready upon arrival.

–

You get another message as you approach a red light a turn away from the establishment.

Joel

Tommy’s fine btw. Called a towing company.

Told the fucker to change those tires three months ago.

Joel notices the read receipt and smiles, figuring that you’re still driving.

The light turns green and you accelerate toward the small diner.

A fluttering sensation dances in your stomach, grows and swells; it’s strange how a simple lunch run has become something to look forward to amidst the chaos of summer days and work.

When you were at college, schooling was your focus.

But here, back home, Joel has become a central point in your life.

If he didn’t exist around you, you existed around him.

However, with him back at work, things were trickier.

Having sent that order ahead of time, it was already waiting by the time you arrived.

Joel was working on-site today, a residential in a higher brow area that had you gawking as you rolled up the street, stopping at the house that had the Miller name plastered all over the vehicles.

He had already been anticipating your arrival, approaching your car as pull into the driveway, shoving his phone into his pocket as he opened your driver’s side door.

“I owe you one, sweetheart,” he tells you, trading the food for a gentle squeeze at your waist as you follow him inside, still assessing the houses in the neighborhood as Joel turns to look at you, noticing your awestruck gaze.

“It’s…a lot,” Joel excuses, guiding you inside with a hand hovering over your head to avoid the draping plastic as you ducked, noticing the strangely empty house despite the cars outside, “never understood why people need so much room, but,” he shrugs, placing the food onto the semi-finished kitchen counter, “we’re just doin’ the job,”

“Where is everybody?” you ask, admiring the finished bits of the house as you glance down an empty hall, the faint crinkle of styrofoam to your left as you watch Joel’s hand dive into the bag.

“Grabbin’ lunch,” Joel explains, “I think they all took a car together, somebody has to stay on site, though, so—”

“Oh, poor thing,” you frown, approaching with a little less nervousness as you knew you were alone and Joel reaches over your head as you move into his chest, bringing the fries back over your head to stuff into his mouth, “is it good?”

Joel smirks around a mouthful and raises a brow, offering his salt covered thumb and pointer finger which you take eagerly, your tongue flattening out against your chin as you suck them into your mouth.

“You did good,” Joel says softly, “thank you,”

You shrug with an air of nonchalance but Joel knows that look, a quick glance away as you smile before looking back at him, suddenly more shy than you’ve ever been.

“How are you going to survive without me when I go back to school?”

“Like I always have,” Joel answers truthfully, “but I can’t lie—havin’ you around, helpin’ me, bein’ so….good for me,” he nods with a fond smile, curling his clean hand around the side of your face as he leans in for a quick kiss, just a simple peck of his lips, “I’ll miss it,”

“You look out for everyone,” you tell him, “I think you deserve some of that back every once in a while,”

Joel’s gaze lingers on your lips and time seems to stretch, his gaze darkens momentarily, a flicker of desire sparking in the depths of his eyes. “That right? And you’re just the one to give it to me, aren’t you?”

“For now,” you tease before pushing away from his hold and turning, ducking your head as your fingers sprawl out against the counter and tap, looking around at the unfinished house, still covered with plastic and tools scattered around.

Joel peers at his watch out of your periphery before he wipes at his mouth with a napkin and pokes his tongue at the inside of his cheek, “Perfect,” he mumbles.

And then his fingers are tight around your arm and pulling you doing the hallway close by, clumsily attempting to keep up, “What’re you doing—”

He takes a quick turn, bringing you into a finished bathroom that definitely cost more than your collective dorm room, staring around dumbly before you hear the lock click and Joel’s splitting your legs open with his hands, fingers digging into your skin with need.

“Oh,” you note, your eyes dragging to his belt, his hands working quickly to pull the leather apart and unzip his jeans, “well—you’re two for two,”

Joel makes a face of confusion before he realizes what you’re implying, the moment in his truck at the observatory that seemed like a distant memory now.

Without hesitation, his hands slip under the fabric of your dress to wrap around your panties, pulling them down as you assist in raising your ass off the counter before he’s tucking the fabric away in his back pocket.

Your breath hitches in your throat as he steps closer, his hands smoothing around your neck, tilting your head up to meet his heated gaze.

You barely recognize this version of him, selfish and unwilling to sacrifice.

He wanted you, he was going to have you.

“I’ve got about fifteen minutes before the boys come back,” Joel explains, “I’m gonna fuck you, how’s that sound?”

You weren’t one to complain, helpless but willingly cornered. You nod.

But, your eyes beg curiosity.

His eyes bore into yours too, only dark and hungry. “I can’t help myself,” he admits, his finger toying at the thin strap of your dress as it falls down your shoulder, “You’ve got me doin’ shit I shouldn’t,”

Before you can respond, he’s pressing you firmly against the cool tile of the wall, his hands shifting to grip your waist, fingers digging in deep. He leans in, capturing your lips in a searing kiss that steals the air right from your lungs. You melt against him, responding eagerly as his tongue finds its way past your parted lips.

With a firm tug, he pulls you higher up against him, your legs instinctively wrapping around his waist as he groans into the kiss, hands wrapping around his cock as he jerks himself against your increasingly slick folds, the head of his cock sliding against your clit with every thrust of his hips.

“I don’t think you gave a shit about lunch,” you giggle softly, the scratch of his beard against your skin as he moves toward your neck, your head lulling to the side to grant him access, “did you?”

“I did,” he reassures you, though you feel he isn’t finished explain, after a few lingering moments of silence, he continues, “just had a shit morning, figuring I could make the most of you comin’ to see me,”

With a subtle shift of your hips and his hand tight on your thigh, he pushes into you without warning but slowly, flipping the fabric of your dress up to give you a front row seat to watch his cock disappear inside of you, your cunt stretching around him.

“Do you—do you wanna talk about it?” You ask with a pause of breath, your fingers curling around the edge of the counter as he buries himself inside of you, his hand fisted into your dress, “I’m a good listener,”

“No,” he answers simply, distracted.

You hear the thud of his palm as it flattens against the tile beside your head, the other hand squeezing tight at your waist as he begins to thrust into you, slow at first but quickly building in intensity and speed.

He was eager, urgent.

Each movement sends you back against the wall, but you could care less for the bruises that would come later, your cunt clenching around him, drawing him deeper as he groans in satisfaction.

“Right here, look at me,” he commands, his breath hot against your mouth as he pulls back just enough to look at you, “shoulda took my time—”

“It’s—It’s fine,” you nod, mouth opening in a soft moan as his thumbs flicks over your clit, brows creasing at the sensation, “It’s okay,”

“Goddamn it,” he grunts through clenched teeth, his eyes drifting shut as his thrusts grow more urgent but with less rhythm, “You’re doin’ so good, sweetheart.”

“Hey,” you call out to him gently, one hand gripping the counter loosening to rest against his cheek, feeling the heat of it under your fingertips, “take it—I know you need it,”

He needs you—this moment where everything else disappeared, finding a strange comfort in your presence despite knowing how complicated all of this has become.

Joel’s eyes open slowly and lock onto yours, filled with a mix of lust, greed, and something else you can’t quite recognize. His grip on your waist tightens as he thrusts into you harder, angling his hips to hit that spot deep inside you that feels otherworldly.

You bite your bottom lip to stifle a moan, but it escapes in the form of a whimper nonetheless.

“You feel so fucking good, sweetheart” Joel breaths into your ear, pumping his hips one last time before he comes with a long, drawn-out groan as his thumb continues to move against you, bringing you over the edge quicker than you’re expecting, your hands slapping down against the counter as your hips rock against his hand until you both go still, panting into the quiet air.

“I can’t get enough of you.”

His words are both an admission and a desperate plea.

But, also a heavy burden.

Your life wouldn’t exist the way it has without Joel.

–

He sends you back home pantyless, of course.

He fixed your dress, hair, and kissed the crown of your head before you left.

To his men that were walking up, it seemed nothing out of the ordinary.

A close friend, something like family. You were doing a favor.

“Thank you, sweetheart,” he says casually, offering a wink as he waves a polite goodbye, even though you know you would get a text from him the moment you reached the car.

And, sure enough.

Joel

Thanks for the dessert.

You find yourself typing out replies and erasing them, unsure what he meant initially.

Joel

I’m talking about you, sweetheart.

A second later.

Jesus.

You smile to yourself, shaking your head in amusement as you close your phone.

The drive back to Joel’s house is quiet, the afternoon creeping into the evening as you round the cul-de-sac leisurely, skeptical of the car that starts to pull away the same time you pull into Joel’s driveway, dark tinted windows giving nothing away.

But, the curtains in your father’s living room sway.

You felt your gut sink, turning off the ignition with a twist as you exited the car.

Your father exited the house simultaneously, throwing away a black bag of trash as you pretended to ignore him entirely, turning your key into the lock as you felt the full blast of Joel’s air conditioned home, thankful for a brief moment of the reprieve of Austin’s summer heat.

He had refused your offer for food, you had been cleaning up his house all morning and spending enough time with him that you knew there wouldn’t be any reason for him to throw his trash out. You had helped him sort through a box of things he wasn’t sure how to part with, listening to him ramble over football statistics that made no sense to you.

So, you wait.

It takes a couple hours, moving about restlessly until you can’t take it anymore.

It felt stupid—pointless, even.

But, you were curious.

You dig, lucky that the back was still sitting on top, ripping the plastic open to spot the very obvious pair of fast foods bags that were more than enough to feed your father and a guest, hearing the roar of Joel’s truck as you look over your shoulder.

At the same time, your father’s door opens.

Fuck.

You quickly rush to the broken back gate of your father’s yard, hiding in the shadows as Joel’s truck quiets and your father approaches, item in hand.

“Goddamn, I haven’t seen that since my girls were in diapers,” Joel says,

“I never got around to learning or giving it to mine, so I thought I’d give it back,” your father decided, “it’s just been collectin’ dust, figured you’d want it back,”

Joel nods knowingly, taking the guitar in hand, but your father doesn’t let go immediately.

“She ain’t….” his words linger, “She ain’t mad at me, is she?”

“I dunno if this is really my place,” Joel counters, “That girl is—”

“She’s my daughter,” he interjects, “but you’re housin’ her,”

“I’m not doin’ that with some kind of intention, if that’s what you’re implying,”

You find your chest tightening and Joel spots you out of the corner of his eye, slipping down further in the shadows. He swallows and your dad chuckles suddenly, shaking his head.

“I’m just sayin’—I know she’ll talk to you, more than she will with me,” he didn’t have a clue—why would he?

“She’s always been hard to figure out,” Joel lies, “whatever you two are dealin’ with, I’m sure it’ll pass with time—she loves you,”

Even if it never felt fully returned.

You father’s grip on the guitar loosens as Joel allows it to hang near his waist.

“I know,” your father nods.

“Does she have any reason to be upset with you?” Joel asks suddenly, subtly prying.

Your father pauses for an extended amount of time, “Probably,” he decides weakly.

The conversation falls flat and they both offer tense goodbyes and Joel whistles softly when the coast is clear, letting out a slow breath you had been holding as you approach him quietly.

“Do I wanna know?” he asks.

“No,” you answer without hesitation, though your eyes are reading differently.

You just look…sad.

Joel sniffs then, “You smell like trash, darlin’,”

“Thanks,” you remark like a smartass and that earns a look of annoyance from Joel.

“Well, you were diggin’ around,” Joel reminds you, “take a shower,”

“Are you asking or telling?”

“Telling,” he remarks but then adds, “and askin’—lord,”

You grin slightly, running your hand up his chest until it reaches few inches from his face before he snatches your wrist, “Knock it off,”

“You’re grumpy,” you decide, retching your hand away before you move past him, face set and hardened.

Joel sighs, long and slow, trading a glance between the two houses.

He’d found himself in the situation far too often—first, handling your mother’s deceit and comforting you when you seeked him out. But now, it is different.

Devastating.

He wasn’t keeping secrets solely your own, because he was fully complicit in every act he’s taken with you, some part of his selfishness that was laying dormant climbing out from the depths.

Joel didn’t see a way out and he wasn’t sure if he wanted one either.

–

Your hair was still damp, but you could hear the faint strumming of a guitar on the back porch, peering through kitchen blinds to find Joel rocking in a chair as he played mindlessly at the guitar as he attempted to tune it to his liking, still sounding slightly off despite his efforts.

He was freshly showered too, the dark skies lending to cooler night, his eyes only surfacing briefly to look at you as you slipped through the sliding door and approached with caution.

You sit down quietly in front of him, legs crossed.

He strums a song, something that sounds vaguely familiar and you watch closely, admiring his skill with a soft smile, but eventually the music falls dead.

He pats softly at the fretboard before setting it aside, clasping his hands between his knees as his elbows rest against his thighs.

“What did you find?” he asks and the guilt on your face is immediate.

“I just have this feeling,” you explain, stammering over your words as you try to explain.

“I’m not judgin’ you, baby,” he reassures you and he sees your face soften instantly, looking over at him shyly before your eyes track to the floor.

“I offered to bring him lunch, I helped him clean out the house all morning,” you tell him, “and I drive up, a car was leaving, and I saw him throwing out some trash,”

“And you got curious?” Joel clarifies.

“Someone brought food over,” you tell him.

“You sure he isn’t just tryin’ to move on?” Joel asks.

“Joel,” you stress, finding the words to explain would be pointless.

“C’mere,” he motions with his finger and you move forward gently, fixing yourself between his legs as his hand smooths over your hair, move under your chin to cup it gently and angle it up to look at him, “they’re adults—but they’re also your parents. I’m sure whatever is going on, if something is going on, there’s good reason for it,”

“Don’t tell me you believe that,” you counter, gaze growing cold and distant, eyes boring into his own,

“I need you to believe that,” Joel admits, “ain’t no sense in worrying about something that is out of your control—you’ve got shit figured out, you’ve done good making up for their shortcomings, don’t get wrapped up in their bullshit,”

This feels oddly familiar, Joel thinks.

He clears his throat, looking up briefly at the peek of the city from his backyard, squeezing gently at your chin before he leans back and spreads his legs, beckoning you closer.

It feels so easy now—like it was routine.

You climb into his lap, big hands settling over your ass as your knees rest on either side of his hips, watching as he examines you with open eyes, unable to stare at him directly as your hands twisted into the fabric at his shoulders, anchoring yourself to him.

“You’re so fuckin’ smart,” Joel reminds you, “I know I don’t need to tell you any of this, but I think you like hearin’ it, makes you feel less alone in that head of yours,”

You sigh, resting your forehead against his.

“What happens when I go back to school?”

Joel shakes his head, “Whatever you want,”

“I don’t want to lose this,” you confess, your voice barely above a whisper as you pull away just enough to meet his gaze before your bravery flickers away.

Joel’s fingers brush along your jawline suddenly, face cupped in his hands as he forced your gaze.

“You won’t. We just gotta figure out how to make this work,” he tells you, eyes searching your face with a tender gaze.

A hand slides down to your waist, pulling you closer until there’s no space left between you.

“Don’t think you can get rid of me?” you tease lightly, your eyes darting down to his lips.

“Who said I want to?” he challenges, and the sincerity in his tone rings true.

You kiss Joel soundly, a quick move that catches him by surprise.

For a moment he’s unmoving, but his brain quickly catches up, matching your urgency with his mouth as you tug him impossibly closer, moaning into his mouth as he pulls away, “You want honesty?” he asks suddenly.

You don’t hesitate when you nod.

“I think we both know we shouldn’t be doing this,” Joel knows you know, “but—I’m beyond feelin’ regret, I’m just makin’ sure you know this isn’t your only option,”

“Are you saying your okay with being a side piece?” you ask with a slight laugh.

“Good lord,” he says like a curse, rolling his eyes with amusement, “I’m trying to say that you’re allowed to change your mind—I’ve resigned myself a place in hell long before you, I should’ve put a stop to this, but we were both hurting, can’t help that we found some comfort in each other,”

“Give yourself some credit,” you chastise him, pushing at his chest playfully, “you’ve never made me feel anything but safe, that hasn’t changed, even if we’re…”

“Speakin’ of,” Joel remarks, a fond smile on his face, “I think I’m still a little hungry,”

“Oh?” your interest was piqued, leaning into the touch of his hand at the base of your spine.

“Yeah,” he nods, “been thinkin’ ‘bout you all day,”

“Tell me more,” your urge with a lust-filled tone, kissing at the corner of his mouth.

“Damn near nailed my hand to a wall picturin’ you on my cock,” Joel admits and you gasp in surprise, mixed with some serious concern, “hey—I didn’t, I didn’t,”

“You’ve gotta be more careful,” you urge him,

“Yeah," he nods knowingly, “but you take my cock so well, couldn’t stop thinkin’ about it,”

He can sense the way the praise makes you preen, letting out a soft sigh against his ear before you kiss his cheek, so he continues.

His finger rubs along your upper lip as you pull back to look at him for a brief moment.

“Or how pretty these look stretched around it,”

His fingers press inside your mouth and you suck dutifully.

He lets out a shallow breath as the heat envelops his finger.

Your eyes flutter shut as his other hand grips your ass, moving your hips forward and over his hardened length, resting heavy against the thin material of his sleep pants.

“Oh, I know, baby,” he soothes, “I’d fuck you right here if I had half the mind,”

And god did you want him too.

“Go on,” he urges, “upstairs,”

You weren’t sure why the universe had aligned things like this.

But, you were thankful—and truthfully, so was Joel.

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