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c0rviidgutts · 3 months ago

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Return The Favor

Summary: Stumbling in on your neighbor’s chopped up body, an unlikely friendship forms between you and Toby. Striking a deal, you agree to help the killer and his friends, buying them necessary prescriptions. But when one visit turns to multiple, Toby becomes curious, finding a not so subtle love note hidden away.

Characters: Ticci Toby x Female Reader

SMUT WARNING MINORS DNI

TW: Mentions of death, explicit description of a dismembered body, decomposition, death, gore, obsession, vomit, throwing up, blood (non-sexual), blood (sexual), vaginal fingering, degradation, biting, overstimulation, squirting, creampie, vaginal, choking, gagging, somnophilia, rough, Toby literally goes insane about you, virginity kink, first time, desperation

Words: 9.4k

A/N: This shit long asl I'm so sorry...

It’s said that when there’s a dead body nearby, your body can sense it before your brain can.

It’s almost like instinct, a survival nature programmed into your brain. It’ll start with goosebumps and chills running all over your body as if you were being watched, this uncomfortable sensation that you just can’t rationalize. Then the anxiety sets in, body aching and sweating for no apparent reason but it just knows there’s something wrong.

Finally, when you’ve finally choked it up to just being your imagination, that’s when you’ll smell it. Throat instantly closing and nostrils flaring at the putrid stench of rot and gore. It’s incomparable, no amount of food poisoning or disease compares to the sickness you feel in your stomach at the smell of a human body decomposing. Every instinct in your body pleading and begging you to get out of there, run as far away until you can’t breathe anymore.

You would know. And it seemed like the boy huddled in front of you did too.

There was no real reason for you to even be in this house in the first place, but your all-too-good heart guilted you into it. You had just come home from work, mind tired and body sleepy as you unlocked your front door, tossing your bag onto the kitchen table inside. It was well past midnight, the diner you worked at closing way later than normal, but at least you made some good tips.

Sliding into your bedroom, you changed into more comfortable clothes, tying your hair back before stepping into your kitchen. You gripped the tiny journal lying on the counter, cracking the worn pages open to where you left off, scribbling your thoughts onto the paper. It was your nightly routine, journaling things you saw or did, a coping mechanism suggested by your therapist. It wasn’t for anything intensive, just minor anxiety and self-image problems, always having negative thoughts about yourself. It helped. Glancing up, you looked through the tiny window above your sink, a clear view of your neighbor’s back porch, Mr. Higgs, an older man who made it very difficult to be friendly. He was a hateful guy, always nitpicking your choice of decorations or specific outfits he didn’t find appropriate. A real sweetheart, obviously.

But compared to his usual eight PM lights out, the living room lamp was still bright, shining directly through his open back porch door. That was odd. As long as you had known this guy, it wasn’t like him to be up this late, let alone be outside. Every instinct told you to just clean up and go to bed, his angry ass probably scooting off a raccoon or something. But you just couldn’t pass up that nagging feeling, your kindheartedness overpowering you. So, sighing, you tossed a hoodie on and slid out your back door, stepping down the porch steps into the cool grass.

You flinched as a flash of brown passed your vision, small and thin against the dark grass. Cooing, you kneeled down, holding your fingers out as Mr. Higg’s old cat, Addy, sniffed the air around you, pressing against your bare legs as she purred. The man was way too protective of his cat. Something was definitely wrong.

Standing again, Addy pranced away, meowing loudly behind you as your bare feet became wet against the midnight dew, grass sticking to your ankles as you walked, arms hugging yourself against the cold. This would probably just end with you getting told to mind your business and stomping back to bed upset, but it was the thought that counted. Gripping onto the porch rail, you stepped up his creaky wooden porch, knocking against the wooden frame of the open door.

“Mr. Higgs? Everything alright?” You called into the room, refusing to go in. There was no response, you knocked again after a couple of seconds. Still nothing. You gulped, rubbing your arms against your sides, nerves wracking you. “Okay. I’m coming in. Don’t get mad 'cause you didn’t answer me.” You called again, pressing past the door and wiping your wet feet on the welcome mat.

The house was quiet, the only light being the lamp sat on a coffee table adjacent to the old couch. All the furniture had an older look like something out of the eighties, it made you cringe. “Mr. Higgs, are you home?” You shouted down the dark hallway, all the doors shut except for one at the end which you assumed to be his room. Hugging yourself, your legs felt anxious, your mind racing with all the reasons you shouldn’t walk down there. There was no reason for it, this was all just probably some old guy who forgot to shut his door, but you just couldn’t shake the feeling.

Taking a step down the hallway, that’s when it started. Those feelings, like your body can feel shouldn’t be there. The air suddenly grew thick, a nauseating feeling setting in against your chest, pressing down like a conscious weight. But you shook it off, telling yourself it was just you scaring yourself with all of those crime shows, but you should’ve known better.

The door was cracked, moonlight from the open shades pressing against the doorframe, your hand flat against the wood as you pushed the door open. Then came the smell. It was stout, a putrid funk that wafted against the walls, souring the room. The room was dark, pupils blown wide as they fought to see, hand sliding against the wall and searching for a light switch. Your body was tense, senses on high alert against the dark, breathing ragged against the awful stench filling your senses. Your eyes were beginning to water, wondering what in the hell could be stinking this terribly, until you felt the switch, flipping it on.

Your first instinct was to throw up, throat constricting and stomach tightening, but you just couldn’t move. You were petrified by the scene in front of you. Mr. Higgs was there, at least, what you could recognize of him. His head had been cleaved from his body, intensive amounts of blood staining his beige bedsheets. His cheeks were bloated, a gnarly purple color as his veins poked against his forehead, skin wrinkled and soaked in blood as his eyes rolled into the back of his head. They were yellow now, dark veins contrasting against the orbs as puss leaked from every hole on his expressionless face. The rest of his body was scattered, chunks of muscle shredded from his arms and hands like they had been cut off, legs more or less the same. His wide stomach was completely visible, his skin swollen and dark, bloated against the same liquids spilling from his pores. The blood was the worst part. It was just everywhere. Splattered on the sheets, the nightstand, even the walls, specks reaching the roof. You were so lost in your racing thoughts, your heart pounding heavily against your chest as you gripped the door tightly, knuckles white on the frame. You could feel the cold sweat drip down your brow, utter fear chilling your body.

You wouldn’t have even noticed the tall boy standing in the corner if he hadn’t flinched, eyes wide and locked on you. He was lanky, easily taller than you and pale. No, not pale, more gray. He had curly brown hair that fell in front of his eyes, his freckled cheeks flushed against the bandages across his jaw. A pair of goggles rested amongst his curls, a dark mask covering his nose and mouth. He wore dark wash jeans loose around his hips and a heavier brown hoodie that was stained with dark blood. Oh God. The boy didn’t look much older than you despite his bruise battered skin. But he wasn’t moving, wasn’t talking, he was just watching.

His hands were behind his back, shoulders scrunched against the corner of the dark walls as you pressed back off the door frame, breathing ragged. “Who the hell are you?” You grimaced, tone coming across a lot more confident than you felt. The boy flinched, not out of fear, more like a bodily reaction. He refused to answer, eyes scanning around quickly until he pressed off the wall, sliding to the shuttered window and pinching the blinds open, scanning the night without explanation. That’s when you heard loud boots stepping up the porch steps, head spinning quickly down the hallway. “Shit.” You heard him, the boy’s voice panicked and rough, his boots stepping quickly across the hardwood and into your vicinity. Panic strained you, head spinning back quickly before your vision was filled with his arms wrapping around you, palm slapping over your mouth as he pressed you to his chest.

You tried to fight back, mumbled pleas against his hand as you shouldered his arms, your back pressed firmly against him. He was dragging you into the room, your feet dragging as you struggled, clawing his arms away but he never budged, practically unaware of the scratches you were leaving on his hands. “F- Fuckin’ quit-” He growled quietly, pressing open the small closet doors and dragging you both in, quickly shutting the door as you heard the boots grow louder down the hallway. A sliver of light shone through the crack in the door, leaving you just enough room to see the gorey scene as you pressed off of him, his muscled arms refusing to let you go.

“Toby?” A scratchy voice called into the room, the figure stepping through the door frame and into your line of sight. At his appearance, you froze completely, your body tense against the boy behind you. His arms gripped tighter, bandaged fingers digging into your cheek as he kept you quiet. He was horrifying.

This man was taller than the one in the closet with you, pasty skin a sharp contrast against his dark messy hair. His eyes were wide, pupils dark against his reddened scleras. He wore a white hoodie, dark jeans covered just the same with Mr. Higg’s blood. But the worst part, the part that made your heart pump in your throat, was his smile. It was etched in, flesh torn upwards into a mocked smile, teeth exposed from the side of his cheek. The area was mangled, seemingly unhealed as blood dried against the cut. He almost made Mr. Higgs seem not that bad.

“Twitch, come on,” He called again, hands shoved in his hoodie pocket as he strolled around the room, kicking Mr. Higg’s severed foot out of the way. “I’m gettin’ tired. This guy had some good beers and I’m tryna get back home and drink ‘em.” He snickered, turning back out of the room and back down the hallway, his loud boots stomping against the old floors. Who you presumed to be Toby didn’t let you go, arms just as tight around you as you gripping his hoodie’s sleeves tight. “Fine then! If you’re gonna play fuckin’ hide and seek then I’m leavin’ your ass here!” He called throughout the house, your body only untensing when you heard the back porch door slam shut, loud boots thunking down the porch and out of earshot.

You both waited a couple of seconds, heart thudding in your ears as arms slowly released you, palm unclasping from your mouth. Panicked, you slammed out of the closet, turning around quickly and facing Toby, back pressed against the nearest wall as you searched for something to defend yourself with. “D- Dumbass.” He grit, pressing out of the cramped closet and facing you, tugging at the sleeves of his hoodie. The stench of the room pressed harder than ever, making your head dizzy as you pressed out of the room and down the hallway, Toby quick on your heels. “Whoever the fuck you are, whatever the fuck you want, I’m sure Mr. Higgs didn’t have it. Why in God’s name is he in pieces in his bedroom?” You hissed, gagging as the image replayed in your mind, turning into his kitchen and wracking the cupboards. When you found a small plastic cup, you ran water in through the sink, chugging the stout liquid down as you calmed your breathing. Toby stayed in the doorframe, crossing his arms. You probably shouldn’t have let your guard down, knowing full and well what he had just down to your neighbor, but you figured if he was going to he would have already.

“It’s none of y- your business. I don’t k- kill innocents, so you s- shoulda just stayed home, m- missy.” He growled back, stuttering through the words. You tossed the cup in the sink, the plastic clattering against the metal as you turned to face him, running your hands through your hair. “Hard to when you guys so obviously left his door open. The bastards hounded me for years, you’d think I’d be happy about his death, but not fucking like that.” You hissed, leaning back against the counter and crossing your arms, bare feet cold against the porcelain tiles. “I mean, Jesus. And I mean, thanks and all for the save back there, but how is killing him and saving me any different? It’s just favoring one innocent over another.” Toby shook his head, sliding past you and tugging a drawer open, shovelling through old receipts until he found the stack he was searching for. He passed it to you, paper crinkling as you skimmed through, old pharmacy receipts for prescription medicine.

“H- Had the old bastard bu- buying our meds. Paid h- him off and everything. Un- Until he started g- giving us coun- counterfeits, sellin’ u- us out. He h- had to pay u- up somehow…” He huffed, shoving his mask down off of his nose and under his chin, his thin lips chapped against the bandages hugging his cheeks. And of course, he was cute.

“So he gets shredded?” You had to breathe through that sentence, throat tight with nausea. Toby nodded, a small smirk crooking at the corner of his lips. You grimaced, pressing off of the counter and through to the living room, the old furniture seeming a lot less homey now. You were going home, filing a police report, and praying to God these fuckers didn’t come back to get you instead.

“U- Uh, might wa- wanna clean up, t- too,” Toby chuckled from behind you. You paused, confused as you looked around, stomach twisting as you looked down. Bloody footprints trekked through the kitchen behind you, a trail leading to your bare feet as you lift your knee, gagging at the sight of Mr. Higg’s blood coating your soles. Toby was laughing, the noise muffled against the ringing in your ears as you hunched over, stomach convulsing as you puked on the hardwood floors, your lunch from work coming back up. Head straining, you panted, wiping your lips. “Oh, s- shit, okay.” Toby hissed, sliding to your side and raising you up, hugging you close to his side. He drug you through the door, stomach still churning as you watched your footprints faintly appear beneath you, purposefully dragging them through the grass to get the blood off. You felt disgusting, giving no fight as Toby brought you to your porch steps, helping you up. He was so bipolar, angry and distasteful for one second, then cautious and endearing the next. It really was like you were dealing with a teenager.

Addy circled your ankles, her dense fur tickling your skin and making you jump, Toby gripping your arms tighter. “Oh, hi kitty.” You cooed, breathing deep as you kneeled down, scooping her up into your arms as Toby helped you up the rest of the steps. Without asking, he slid open your screen door, helping you both inside as Addy purred against your chest, Toby wary as he stared at her. You dropped her on the floor gently, Toby sliding the door shut as you hunched over your sink, cleaning your mouth and grabbing a rag for your feet. Toby still eyed Addy, fidgeting his nails as he followed her. “Ever seen a cat before? She was Mr. Higg’s.” You chuckled, cleaning the soles of your feet off and tossing the rag into the sink, still feeling unclean. Toby nodded, rubbing his arms nervously as he looked back at you, smiling awkwardly. “Yeah. Us- Used to have one. T- They kinda sc- scare me now.” Smiling, you scooped Addy up again, petting her soft fur as you brought her close to the boy, his neck twitching nervously.

How could this guy shred a man to pieces, but petting a cat was too frightening for him? You couldn’t understand. Digressing, you gripped his wrist, steadying the twitches as you placed his hand on her back, rubbing gently as Toby flinched, breathing quickly. Addy purred, unbothered by the action as he became more comfortable, fingers playing with her fur before he pulled his hand back, breathing deep.

You were too nice for your own good, too easy at giving the benefit of the doubt. Of course, you would find the redeemable traits in a murderer, heart hurting for this boy who was more or less the same as you. Groaning, you dropped Addy, crossing your arms. “Listen. What you did, it’s… For my own conscience, I can’t let it happen again.” You grit, circling your countertop and sitting on a stool, your journal tucked in front of you as you fidgeted with the pages. “If we can agree, I’ll buy your meds. I have a friend who can write me prescriptions, no questions asked. But I need you to understand, under no circumstances, are you allowed to harm me. I’ll call the cops.” Like the cops could stop these lunatics. But, you needed some type of leverage.

Toby thought quietly, eyes narrowed as he flinched uncomfortably against Addy rubbing on his shins, purring loudly. If you could hold your end, there would be no trouble, but he had to know he could rely on you. “Th- The meds aren’t for m- me. My f- friends, they need ‘em to function, m- mentally… You g- gotta realize this is- is serious.” Even stuttering his voice was stern, arms crossed as he thought, contemplating. You nodded, brushing your hair from your face as you groaned, realizing how desperately you needed to learn to set boundaries. “I can get them. But you have to keep your end, too.” You hissed back, pinching your fingers nervously. Toby smiled, crossing his heart, literally. Rolling your eyes, you nodded, rubbing your face as you groaned. What the fuck were you even doing?

“I’ll have them by the end of the week. Come later at night, cops’ll be swarming for weeks thanks to you.” Toby nodded, sliding over to the counter and gripping your journal, tearing a page out as he wrote the list of prescriptions you would need to get. It was a hefty list, some of that shit intense. “Abou- About that,” He slid his mask up over his nose, sliding the screen door open as he stepped out, chuckling. “Do- Don’t go outside. Gonna ma- make it look like a g- gas leak.” You could hear the smile in his voice as he shut the screen, sliding his hood over his head and peeling down the porch steps. Finally taking a deep breath, you stared at Addy, wondering what in the absolute fuck you were doing. Rest in hell, Mr. Higgs.

He made it look like a gas leak alright. The house was on fire in minutes, the bright orange flames lighting your room as you heard sirens in the distance, your other neighbors gathered outside their houses as you climbed into bed, groaning your displeasure. Cops and firefighters swarmed for days afterwards, investigating the area thoroughly, but never finding any remains of Mr. Higgs, his body buried somewhere far away. They eventually grew restless, the city quickly cleaned up the charred remains of the house and a new plan for construction was set in soon. It went over smoothly, no one even suspecting a thing.

The days passed slowly, nervousness building as the end of the week grew closer, feet shuffling as you stood in line at the pharmacy. You got the doctor’s notes easily, already called in and waiting to be picked up as you were handed a small paper bag, the pharmacist eyeing you closely as you hurried out. Once in your car, you rummaged the sack, eyes wide as you read the dosage instructions on each little pill bottle. You read each bottle carefully, cringing at the names of the contents: Thorazine, Prolixin, Haldol, and even Aripiprazole. They were all high-end antipsychotics, the list of treatments for schizophrenia and mania, along with treatment-resistant depression. The last bottle caught your eye, a quick Google search told you it was for tourette's. So his twitching wasn’t just nervousness, huh. Shoveling the sack into your bag, you sped home, Toby well on his way as the sun set low.

The first week was easy, Toby in and out without so much as a hello, nodding his thanks as he bolted back into the woods, eyes dark and heavy. It was easy for you, moving along with your life despite the one night of the week. You felt easier, the boy quick about his stops with some chat, but never hanging around for too long, eyes always scanning the tree line nervously.

As weeks passed, he grew more comfortable, you learned that he was quick about stopping due to his friends, their curiosity about you making him nervous about losing his ‘dealer.’ You learned to leave his meds on the counter, sometimes not even present when he would sneak in at the late hours of the night, your job taking precedence over your sleep schedule. But with all of this money being spent weekly on medicine, you had to pick up more time at work, everything being paid for out of pocket not to raise suspicion. You were sleeping more, journaling and your hobbies taking less importance until they were practically nonexistent. It was hard, your serving heart refusing to let you rest, making sure Toby got his medication is the most important thing. You were strained, to say the least.

However, surprisingly, after a couple of weeks, Toby wasn’t in a hurry to leave. He had slid in like he always did, you sat at the counter eating your dinner as you scribbled through the pages of your notebook, summing up the previous days. You were exhausted, Toby making you jump slightly as he shut the screen door, rummaging through the paper sack. “G- Got any more?” He grinned shyly, sliding his mask and goggles off and tossing them onto the counter. You nodded to the fridge, an extra container of leftovers from the diner quickly opened in front of him as he shoveled it into his mouth. “It’s better heated up,” You laughed, shutting your journal as you slid off the stool, gripping the to-go container from him and popping it into the microwave. You both sat there awkwardly, Toby kneeling down to rub Addy’s back as she appeared beneath him, soft purrs echoing. He was still nervous, never petting her for too long before standing back up, the microwave beeping. The food came out steaming, sliding open a drawer and handing him a fork, Toby continued to shovel the food into his mouth. You hissed, holding his arm as the steaming food sizzled inside his mouth, it had to be burning him. “Oh. Y- Yeah, I don’t fe- feel pain. Th’s good, tho- though.” He grinned, slurping up more of the food. He acted like he hadn’t had warm food in forever, stuffing his face and barely giving himself time to chew. You rolled your eyes, chuckling as he ate.

The stays became longer after that, his excuse being he was hungry, continuously raiding your fridge until you began to have food ready for him, prepping his meals along with your own. Thirty minutes turned to an hour, to two hours, and then eventually through the night. He would crash on your couch, Addy curled in his lap as the television blared some old movie. That was one of the only times you didn’t see him ticcing, the cat acting as an anchor against his restless body. He looked truly comfortable, using your blankets and pillows to his advantage, beginning to invite himself to stay the night after a while.

You sat at the counter, Toby snoring loudly as he laid face first into the couch pillow, scribbling into your journal. It was the one thing you had time for, having to get up early for work as the soft glow of the kitchen light lit the pages. Toby was practically pushing himself into your life, his lack of manners and curious mannerisms leading him to take initiative. You were grateful for his friendliness, giving great detail of his missions with his friends and explaining that whole situation. Even still, you were wary.

But against your better judgment, your relationship with the killer was becoming less transactional. He brought you things to make for dinner, talked with you through your mutual sleepiness, and even took care of Addy when you were too delusional after work. For lack of a better word, he was becoming a friend, showing up for more than just his medication, even sometimes forgetting the bag and having to chase him down. He was infesting your life, arriving earlier than he should and leaving later than you cared for. The end of the week was becoming optional, the screen of your porch door sliding open nearly every night of the week Toby didn’t have a mission. It was annoying but in a comforting way, like you both were becoming closer naturally despite your differences.

As you heard his snores, you groaned, rubbing your tired eyes as you began to write, letting your pencil guide on the page numbly as you wrote your thoughts. It wasn’t directed at Toby on purpose, but the further you got down the page the further your heart sank, hand fisted in your hair as you rested your elbow on the cold marble counter. “Ah, Jesus…” You grit, scribbling the final few words as you lean back, rubbing your head. The words weren’t lies, more of a hard truth you weren’t willing to accept, chalking it up that you were just tired and desperate. The words could have been about Toby, or they could have been about anyone, you didn’t really care. Sighing, you tore the page out, folding it and shoving it into the back of the book, closing the pages quickly. Sleep sounded much easier as you flipped the kitchen light off, turning the volume of the television down as you trudged upstairs to your room, giving one last glance to the snoring boy and his matching cat.

Toby knew his mishaps with you, his moral compass long forgotten the more time he spent inside your home. He told himself it was just easier, food and shelter at his disposal whenever, but he knew better. It was so much more than just picking up medicine for Tim and Brian now, it was a solid relationship, a bond that was forming in his eyes.

It had been almost four months since the unfortunate death of your neighbor, a smile creeping every time he saw the charred flecks of wood buried in the overgrown grass. You had begun to leave the back door unlocked, reasoning that someone breaking and entering would be less of a hassle than him. That was what Toby really hooked onto the most about you, your humor about everything. Despite your hardships and the emotions you had to overcome, you held a caring heart, compassion always lacing every action. He found it admirable, your humor through your busy life. And, likewise, he did feel bad for making you work so much, tired eyes always hurting his heart whenever you were around. But, it wasn’t like he could get a job, so he helped where he could, cleaning and learning to cook for your sake. He needed this medicine, for his friend’s and his own stability, even at your expense.

You were already nestled at your spot on the counter, writing your thoughts in that damn journal. You barely even looked up as he entered, diving for the fridge as he scooped up Addy with one arm, her purs a nice vibration against his shoulder. Popping the container in the microwave, he leaned in over your shoulder, trying to catch a glance at your scribbling before you shoved him off, closing the book quickly. “Ah, ah, mind yours.” You smiled, forking your own food into your mouth. “O- Oh come on, [Y/N], just a pe- peak.” He smiled back, gathering his food as he began to eat, sliding onto his familiar spot on the couch. It was routine now: where you sat, what he watched, what you both talked about. He explained his latest mission with Masky in more detail than you enjoyed, pushing your food away as you groaned, hiding your face in your hands. You both laughed throughout the night before you whisked your food into the fridge, calling your goodnights before heading upstairs.

Toby continued to watch the television, brushing Addy’s back with his bandaged fingers as he sat his empty container to the side. His curiosity nudging him, he raised up, tossing his trash before he slid to the counter, you all too confidently leaving your journal there. Slipping back onto the couch, he began to flip through the pages, listening closely for your footsteps as he read your entries, smiling as they dated all the way back to your high school years.

It seemed as though everything you thought spilt onto these lines, emotions erratic between every page as he realized just how much of a people pleaser you really were. All through your recent years, it was nothing but service, acting through the goodness of your soul until it felt sickening, fake almost. He cringed, flipping quickly through but finding nothing juicy, no deep dark secrets that he felt were interesting. Sighing, he closed the journal, standing to set it back onto the counter, until a slip of paper fell from between the pages. Smiling, Toby leaned down, arms twitching as he slid the journal back onto the counter, leaning against the marble as he flipped the paper open, reading carefully.

“Sometimes, when I think about it too hard, I get all emotional about myself. I know I put on a front, like everything I do I’m in charge of and can handle, always putting everyone around me first. But what if I wanted to be put first? I do so much for the sake of others but it never seems to be returned, never compensated for the mental strain. Well, maybe I want to. Maybe I want to be loved like I see others, rough and real. I have no clue how I even would, I can barely handle touching myself before I'm overwhelmed. But I just want someone else to take the reins, show me that I don't have to work my brain so hard and can just numb out. That's not too much to ask, right? Just someone who can love me, not some creep or one night thing, someone who cares. If I never ask for anything again, that would be it. Someone who wants me for me.”

He could have died. The brunette’s cheeks dark as he re-read the crumbled page, excitement coursing through him. In his mind, he wanted to storm upstairs and just rattle you then, showing you how good he could treat you. It was like a bomb had gone off, Toby having to pretend like him having a crush on you wasn’t achingly obvious, convincing himself he just didn’t know how to act around women. But now it was clear, his mind racing with a million wants and needs, body spasming under the excitement.

Convincing himself to leave, he slipped the note into his pocket, body buzzing with excitement as he slid out your door. He would be back, like always. But this time, he would show you what you truly needed, what only he could give you.

Like always, Toby left a note for the medication you needed to pick up, it sometimes changing week to week. Everything looked normal, the usual combination of pills reading off. But as you scanned the bottom, you groaned, shoving the paper into your pocket. Trilafon, Saphris, and… Plan B. As if your desperation for some affection couldn’t have gotten much worse, your heart twisted, a lump growing. Whether it be for some girl he was laying or a girlfriend he already had, you didn’t care, all you wanted was to get the medicine and go. Crawling into your bed sounded like a much more exciting activity than dwelling on the brunette, heart saddened in all the way you knew it shouldn’t.

To make your night even better, Toby didn’t show. It wasn’t unusual, for him sometimes not to show up for days due to extensive missions. But a part of you longed to see him, especially after today, just to help your mind with the whole morning-after pill situation. So now, instead of imagining him surrounded by his friends on a mission, you imagined him towering over a girl. Strong arms holding her, body contorting to fit against hers… You could’ve been sick, shaking your head as you ate quickly and pressed upstairs, barely petting Addy before you slinked into bed, hauling the covers over your head.

It was lonely on nights without his presence in your house. But especially tonight, thoughts racing uncontrollably to the point of tears, thick droplets streaking down your face as your chest hurt, longing for a body, any body, to hold close to yours. Maybe you really were just a transactional thing.

Toby smiled as he trekked through the familiar stretch of woods to your house, heart racing in his chest. He had it all planned out, exactly what he wanted to do, his cock already twitching in his jeans.

He hadn’t shown up tonight on purpose, hanging back at the mansion to take the best shower he could, Ben teasing him about how good he smelled as he was leaving. You had to be well in bed by now, body tired after working all day just for him. He would take care of you, showing just how grateful he was for how much you were giving up just for his friends and him. Pressing past the tree line, he smiled, pulling his hood down as all the lights in your home were out, signaling your retirement.

Pressing up the steps, he slid the screen door open quietly, careful not to alert you as he clicked it shut. Stripping his hoodie, he tossed it onto the couch, Addy purring light against the cushions. It was warm in your house, black t-shirt hugging his arms as he untucked it from his jeans, climbing up the steps, his mask and goggles quick to come off next.

He was too excited for his own good, boots stepping quietly against the old hardwood as he slinked to your door, fidgeting with the knob. A rush of your scent blew into his face, your perfume stout in your small bedroom, eyes searching around in the dark space for your bed. It wasn’t hard with your breathing, quiet snores making him smile as he leaned against your mattress, admiring your unawareness. You looked so peaceful, his bandaged fingers tracing your cheeks and brushing your hair from your face, your skin flinching under his touch. “Hi, baby…” He whispered, the pet name sounding right against his tongue as he referred to you, tugging the sheets down.

Toby always knew how nice of a body you had, you sometimes sauntering around the house with shorts and a t-shirt and making his eyes trail just a little longer than normal. But now, under his cold hands, you were even more gorgeous. You were wearing an oversized shirt, a slight tug at the fabric revealing that you only had panties on underneath, you slightly stirring as his nails brushed your skin. The brunette was excitedly jittering, kicking his boots off as he climbed onto the bed, kneeling at your curled body sound asleep. You shifted, rolling onto your back as you breathed deep, stretching your arms before settling back into yourself. Toby could have died, your legs stretching out to rest around him, his cock twitching with interest against your now visible panties. A quiet sigh breathed through your lips.

That was all the invitation he needed. Running his cold hands under your shirt, he felt your warm skin and goosebumps rising as you squirmed under them. Your brows scrunched but Toby pressed further, running his fingers along your waist and up to your tits, palming the mounds gently as he smiled. It was crazy to him just how soft your skin was, not weathered or bruised from missions or nature, perfectly smooth under his axe-calloused hands. Pushing your shirt up to your chest, he gasped at your round tits, the weight so perfect in his hands as he pinched at your nipples, rubbing the nubs gently. Toby was never very sure of anything, always brushing through life at the command of others. But the one thing he was sure about? His love for boobs, especially yours.

Nudging closer between your legs, he rested your knees on his thighs, leaning down to your chest as he popped a nipple into your mouth, sucking gently. The nub was hard against his tongue, slowly circling as he massaged the opposite one in his palm, pinching your nipple gently. That’s when you began to stir, hands sliding against the bed and unconsciously searching for the cause of your sensitivity. Lazy hands pushed against his face, soft groans echoing in the boy’s ears as he popped off your nipple and moved to the next one. Your hands fingered through his hair, tugging lightly until your eyes were beginning to flutter, your mind slowly coming alive. Toby let off your tit, kissing along your chest and licking a stripe between your tits, humming as he watched your eyes slowly blink open, confusion rocking you. He kneaded your tits gently, tugging at your nipples as you realized what was happening, eyes slowly widening as you strained to sit up against him. “Toby? Wha-” Your voice was scratchy, ridden with exhaustion as the brunette kissed up your neck to your cheeks, pushing you back down as he slotted himself flush between your legs. Slowly realizing what was happening, your cheeks flushed dark, hands pressing against his chest as you squirmed, nervously babbling as your body was still half asleep. “Lay b- back, baby… You’re so ti- tired, let me take c- care of you…” Toby sighed, running his hands back down along your skin, relishing in the way your body nervously shook under him.

You physically could not believe what was happening. This had to be a dream, some sick trick your mind was playing as you felt cold fingers hook under your panties, sliding them down. Heavy eyes wide, you grabbed his arms, clenching your thighs together against his waist. “No- No, wait- I don’t even, I mean, I’ve never-” Toby was already shushing you, gripping your wrists together and kissing your palms before pushing them back down to your sides, resuming his tug down your thighs. “I’ve go- got you. Don- Don’t gotta worry about a- a thing…” He smiled, raising your legs up to slide your panties down the rest of the way, hooking them off of your raised ankles before pulling you down closer to him, pushing your shirt over your head. “Read y- your journal, you don- don't gotta act protective, ba- baby. I know this is what y- you want…” If you weren’t already panicking, you definitely were now.

You wanted to hound him for snooping through your journal, mouth opening to tell him off. But as his fingers brushed against the inside of your thigh, dangerously close to your folds, you lost all train of thought. He was watching you, eyes excited in the darkness of your room as he swiped his thumb closer again, your thighs flinching shut. “Anyone else e- ever touched here before?” He mumbled, pressing his thumb against your plump lips and tugging them open, getting a nice look at the wetness that was already forming between your folds. Shaking your head, Toby lit up, cock pushing hard against his jeans as he had to adjust his position, using both hands to pull your lips apart, sighing at how pretty your cunt was. Just something about knowing that Toby was claiming his stake on you, imprinting his touch for the first time before anyone else could, made something deep inside of him burn. It wasn’t like the brunette got much play himself, hooking up with a girl here and there, but being your first? That already made this so much better than any other girl could even try.

Sliding his fingers through your wetness, you gasped, hands clutching the pillow behind your head as he groaned, spreading your arousal across your lower abdomen. You whined, thighs begging to clench together as he purposefully slid your juices over your cunt, pressing his thumb down against your swollen clit and jolting your back off the mattress. You had only ever masturbated here and there, your body getting too overwhelmed after one orgasm and forcing you to stop, but would Toby stop? As he brought his fingers to his lips and sucked them into his mouth, you doubted his restraint.

“Please be gentle…” You warned, hands planting on the mattress as you sat up, resting on your elbows as you watched Toby bring his digits back down to your cunt. He rolled his eyes playfully, tugging your folds open with his opposite hand as he pressed the tips of his fingers against your entrance, pressing in slowly. “I’ll try…” He laughed, your fingers gripping the sheets tight as you watched his fingers sink in slow, stretching your cunt uncomfortably. His index and middle fingers screwed into your tight walls gently, twisting his wrist to draw a moan from your lips, digits spreading against your gummy walls and making your entrance ache. “Just i- imagine my dick in here…” He cooed, eyes darting between your nervous face and your pretty cunt fluttering around just his fingers, barely even handling them.

Pressing his opposite thumb against your clit, he began to rub in small circles, dragging your hips further and further off of the mattress until you were practically rolling your hips against him. His fingers probed in and out of your cunt at a slow pace, just enough to make you comfortable with the unfamiliar intrusion, but his arms ached to go faster, curl his fingers until you spasmed. “Toby…” You sighed, his hands moving in time with other as he screwed his fingers inside of you, angling them just enough so they pressed against your tight walls. His name sounded like heaven against your aroused tongue, so quiet but so desperate, secretly drawling for more. “Tell me w- what you want, ba- baby…” The pet name made your face hot, your stomach fluttering as you pressed back into the pillows, running your hands down to your thighs and squeezing the flesh. “I want… more…” You sighed through your arousal, cunt clenching desperately around Toby’s cold fingers, sucking them back inside every time he drew them out. The brunette laughed, pushing his feet under him to push his hips up against your ass, your hips raising off the bed as he fingered down into you. You could feel his cock straining behind his jeans below your raised ass, twitching needily with every tug of his fingers and moan that whined from your throat. His size was overwhelming, making your heart pound as Toby began to curl his fingers, making your eyes shut quickly.

His fingers pressed so deep in your cunt, curling against your sensitive walls and making your jaw hang, beginning to press against your walls at a steady rhythm. It was like a new fire had lit under Toby, fingers screwing in at a quicker pace and making your stomach clench, face screwing into an overwhelmed feeling. His fingers pumped in, knuckles sinking in through your wetness and gripped by your gummy walls, curling his fingertips just right as he got deep. It was so intense, so rough, just a mess of slick and your wet cunt sounding through the room with every squelch as he abused your clit, swiping left and right quickly. Your thighs twitched and ached with every curl, trying to close around his hand practically fucking you into sensitivity. Your hands wrapped around his forearm quickly, begging his wrists to stop curling abusively inside of you as you tugged your nails into his skin. Toby wouldn’t, continuing to pump his fingers as he stared at your flushed face, cunt squelching embarrassingly loud. “Just a l- little more… Co- Come on…” He groaned, nudging his hips against your bare ass as his fingers milked moans and whines out of you, his fingers glistening with your arousal every time he tugged them out. He couldn’t feel you clawing at his arms, loud groans begging him to let up as your cunt clenched, molding around his thick fingers.

You could feel your orgasm rolling through you, Toby huffing as the veins in his arms popped, his shoulder muscles straining against his shirt as he watched your face carefully, picking up as your moans became louder. “Gonna come f- for me? Yeah?” He teased, clothed cock twitching against your ass, pushing your cheeks apart as he rutted against you. He curled his fingers quicker, mumbling his arousal as he watched your cunt swell around him, clit throbbing under his thumb. Your orgasm hit you like a truck, stomach tightening and forcing you to sit up, Toby was quick to let off your clit and wrap his arm around your back, holding you up as he pumped your through your cunt squelching, tightening around his digits. Your eyes rolled, teeth grit tight as he palmed your clit, slowing his pace to a slow thrust as you became undone against him. No orgasm of your own had ever compared to that, head light and chest heavy as you breathed quickly, gripping Toby’s shirt tight.

Refusing to let you go, Toby leaned in, pressing kisses against your neck and licking at your sweat, relishing in the warmth around his digits. You whined, cunt sensitive as he tugged his fingers out, his skin raw and pruned against the wetness coating his digits. Your folds were absolutely drenched, Toby spreading his fingers through your lips and pushing his sopping fingers over your warm thighs wrapped around him. “God, y- you’re so wet-” He gasped, pressing his fingertips back against your clit as he laid you back, gripping your tit. Your mind panicked, cunt flashing with sensitivity as he began to rub against your clit, swiping left and right against the rub quickly. “Toby- Stop- Toby, please-” You cried, breath catching in your throat as your stomach clenched, his fingers pressing hard as he pinched your nipples, eyes trained on your wet pussy. “You e- ever squirt before?” He smiled, transitioning fast between digging his fingers into your cunt and pulling them back out to swipe against your clit. It was nauseating, cunt crying desperately for relief as he dug nails into your tits. Gasping loudly, you gripped his arms, knees screwing tight against his sides as you cried out, hips bucking up against his hands.

Every time his fingers slipped into your entrance, they squelched loudly, fluttering around the intrusion before desperately aching as they tugged out and moved onto your clit. “Squirt li- like a whore, m- mkay? Quit fightin’.” He hissed, letting his hand off your tit and scooping under your left knee, pushing it back to open your cunt wider, spreading your legs further apart. Your head was dizzy, heart pounding as you gasped for air, panting at every push of his fingers. You were already quick to cumming, but it felt weird, not that normal clench you felt in your stomach, more of a strain against your cunt itself. You cried out, tears slipping down your cheeks as he forced your pussy against his will, ruining you.

As he swiped his fingertips down hard against your clit, your entrance clenched, mouth opening wide as you cried out, hips bucking up as you felt your cunt squirt, thighs trembling hard. There was literally nothing to compare it to, mind hazy as you sprayed onto his black shirt, his fingers digging into your entrance and pushing more juices out of your swollen folds. Toby was smiling, moaning his approval as he rubbed your clit softly, pushing the last of your orgasm out as you strained against the mattress. “Gunna fu- fuck you dumb, baby…” He growled, tugging the soaked shirt over his head and tossing it as he unzipped his jeans, tugging them down and off his legs as his cock hung heavy against your drenched cunt. You couldn’t even react, head spinning as Toby gripped your hips, pushing you onto your side as he grabbed your ankle, pulling it onto his shoulder and straddling your other.

Neck craning with excitement, he teased the tip of his swollen cock between your folds, slicking himself up with your ruined juices. “This is wh- what you wanted, is- isn’t it?” He smiled wildly, pressing his cock into your ruined cunt, groaning loudly as you swallowed him in, warmth gripping tight as he gripped your leg, other hand stable on your tit. You groaned, face turned into the pillow as he began to thrust deep, giving you no mercy as he tugged at your nipple, biting at your calf as he fucked into you. You felt so full, your body so exhausted already as stretched you further, your entrance burning against the sting of this new girth. You squeezed him so tight, cock forcing itself deeper with every tug of his hips as you began to cry, tears staining your pillowcase.

“Fuckin’ tal- alk to me, baby. Gunna mak- make me cum al- already.” He sighed, teeth chewing against the meat of your calf as he pressed your cunt wider, sweat dripping from his nose as his curls clung to his forehead. He let off your tit, left hand slinking up to grip your jaw and turn your face back to look at him, your eyes heavy as they blurred with tears. Toby looked so good right now, cheeks dark against his freckles as he towered above you, cock pushing against your gummy walls and making your mouth hang. “So pretty…” He smiled, slinking his hand down to your throat and squeezing, cock pulsing as your face tightened, mouth gasping out as he clamped tighter, refusing you air. There was something so orgasmic about cutting your airway, watching your body react as he fucked your virgin cunt, holding your life in his hands. He had to breathe deep to stop himself from cumming, his violent brain spasming out.

He pushed your ankle over his head, pulling out roughly as he rolled you onto your stomach, you gasping from the wave of air hitting your lungs. Pushing himself against your ass, Toby swore, pushing his cock back into your cunt as he pushed your back down, making you arch against him. “Just a l- little more, m’kay?” He growled, wrapping a hand around the back of your neck and squeezing hard, pressing your face down into the pillow. With a new pace, he fucked down into you wildly, hand kneading your ass hard as digging his nails into your skin, little welts forming across the soft flesh. Your muffled cries sounded against the pillow, head light and static filled as you gasped for air, Toby’s cock ramming down against your g-spot. “Never s- seen a bitch so willing, so des- desperate for my dick you’d gi- give it up so easily.” He teased, growling as he let off your neck, neck sore as he leaned down, pushing your hair off your neck. Toby hadn’t felt like this before, wanting to mark you, fucking you so desperately he wanted to carve his shape deep inside. He couldn’t let you go without knowing exactly who you craved, corrupting you, ruining you, molding you to fit only him.

He licked against your shoulder, sucking onto the skin before he pressed his teeth, digging both hands into your hips as he sunk them in, groaning at the pop as your blood soaked his teeth. You were crying, screaming into the pillow as your entire body begged for him, craving him, mind going blank as your blood dripped from his chin as he licked at the wound. He pressed on, nibbling into the crook of your neck and sucking revolting hickies into your skin, marking you like an animal. “Wan- Want you to come on m- my cock, baby. I got- gotta fill you full, want y- you ruined for everyone b- but me.” He mumbled quickly, cock begging to spill inside of your warm cunt as you reached around, gripping his hair as he sunk his teeth in again, walls fluttering around him. You pulled his hair, dragging his mouth off of your neck and to your lips, smashing your swollen, tear-stained lips against his as he groaned, kissing you roughly.

You were cumming again, back arching onto Toby’s cock as you moaned into his mouth, walls holding him tight inside. He tried to move, to continue thrusting, but you were so tight all he could do was rutt his hips, begging for friction as his own seed spilt, his brows screwing tight as he came deep inside of you, warm cum seeping deep into your cunt. Your mind was blank, eyes rolled as you cried into his grasp, his nails digging into your hips until you were nearly bleeding. Your cunt squelched, milking his cock as he finally pulled from your lips, letting the last of your orgasms fizzle out before he pushed off of you, slowly tugging himself out as you whined. Looking back, his cock was soaked, glistening with your arousal and streaks of blood, Toby’s eyes wide. “Ah… Yo- You tore…” He hissed, wiping his soft cock with his shirt before pulling his boxers on, quickly trotting out of your room. You dropped your head back onto the pillow, cunt aching and body ruined as you sat in your sweat and each other’s cum, mind tired as you slowly blinked.

Toby was back in seconds, a water bottle, a wet rag, and a small bag all in tow as he climbed back onto the bed, flipping your lazy body onto your back. You smiled, sipping the water bottle slowly as he began to clean you up, gently running the warm rag between your folds and against your thighs until he was satisfied, gently rubbing your skin. Finally, he grabbed the bag, your confusion evident as he tugged out the prescription bag, rummaging for the plan b he made you buy and popping one of the pills out, handing it to you as he smiled. Your chest welled, previous anxiety dissipating until you began to tear up, taking the small pill before reaching to wrap your arms around his neck, tugging him down next to you. Toby went easily, body cradling against yours as he kissed against the bruised spots on your neck, rubbing your bite mark gently.

As you began to doze, Toby mumbled something about your note, your mind too dizzy to hear the rest. The last thing you saw was a subtle flash behind your eyelids, sleep overtaking you as Toby held you close.

Morning came quickly, your body stirring, reaching for Toby but finding the bed empty. Confused, you sat up, eyes heavy and head still pounding but you pressed off the bed anyway, searching for the boy. Downstairs, on the countertop, laid his hoodie neatly folded, with a small piece of paper resting on top. Sauntering over, you reached for the top, sliding it over your head, it falling before your hips as you gripped the paper, reading its contents.

On a mission. Be back later tonight. Meanwhile, enjoy ;)

Flipping the paper over, you gasped, slapping your hand over your mouth. A small picture was taped to the back, a polaroid-type photo of the two of you cradled together, your bare body pressed against his, bruises and sweat on full display. Smiling, you tucked it into his pocket, breathing the scent of his hoodie deep as Addy circled your ankles, begging for breakfast.

Staring out your back porch door, you made sure it was unlocked, always open for him. Killer or not, that boy was yours now, accepting his every mishap the same way he did yours. For the first time in a long time, you felt wanted.

Rest in Hell, Mr. Higgs.

This was an anonymous request!

Comments and reblogs are appreciated! 𐚁₊⊹

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c0rviidgutts · 5 months ago

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c0rviidgutts · 5 months ago

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c0rviidgutts · 6 months ago

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Weather Report x Reader Errrm so i was pretty baked when i wrote this, don't judge me too hard. I yearn for more Weather Report fanfic so might as well write it myself. NSFW warning, no minors.

“Hey (y/n)! Come and join us!” Jolyne slurred, alcohol bottle in hand, “We’re gonna play spin the bottle.” Ermes, who was sitting next to Jolyne patted the spot on the floor next to her in silent agreement with Jolyne.

You gazed back with glazed eyes, thinking quietly for a moment. You gripped the bong in your hand, moving it to the coffee table next to you before silently making your way over. “Sure, sounds like fun.” You giggled, sitting between Ermes and Foo Fighters, not even noticing the tallest of the men sitting across from you. You didn’t feel as nervous as you did before meeting him- Weather Report is what Jolyne had introduced him as. He was quiet, tall and handsome but boy were you just slightly intimidated by him, you pretty much immediately started smoking the moment you got here. You immediately looked away when his eyes met yours, flushed you turned your attention to Jolyne who gave you a look like she knew something you didn’t, still holding the bottle. Jolyne set the bottle on the hardwood floor, eyebrows wiggling towards you. You giggled, waving your hand towards her. She grinned and twisted her fingers to allow the bottle to spin.

You felt your face heat up when the ends of the bottle pointed towards you and Weather Report, and you felt your heart speed up a bit. Don’t Fear the Reaper was playing over the speakers in the background, almost muffled by the sound of everyone else. “Ooooooh!” Foo Fighters gushed, Jolyne gave you a smirk and Ermes was drunkenly giggling.

You made eye contact with Weather Report, pushing a piece of your hair away. The sounds of encouragement from your friends and the weed making your mind fuzzy, you found a new sense of gained confidence and moved closer to the tall man, biting your lip as you leaned in to kiss him. His face was red when you pressed your lips into his, and you closed your eyes when you felt his hot breath against your face. Your mind felt fuzzy, come to think of it so did your body, this felt nice- he felt nice. You barely noticed that the kiss deepened, teasing Weather’s bottom lip before pulling away and leaning back, face hot and out of breath. You could hear Jolyne and Foo Fighter’s whooping, Ermes having a fit next to them and the other man- Anasui’s silent shock. You were focused on Weather report’s flushed face, the look in his eyes as they locked onto yours. You broke away first, looking at the ground all flushed before mumbling about your bong that you left in the other room, making up an excuse before leaving the room feeling a bit too giddy. With shaky hands you grabbed your bong and sat on the couch, mind racing with lewd thoughts. The way his mouth felt, the way his hands would feel on you, how he would feel against you-

Your thoughts were broken by a hand on your shoulder, causing you to jump a little, almost dropping your bong. You looked up to see Weather Report, a hesitant look in his eyes as he asked you; “are you okay?”

“Huh?” You blinked, mind going blank before remembering. “Oh, yeah!” You smiled. “Yeah just a little worked up is all.” You started to reload your bong.

“Oh yeah?” He smirked.

Your ears and face felt hot under his gaze. “Yeah.” You responded, an idea crossing your mind. “Hey uhm… I’ve gotta go replace the water in the bong… If you want we can head to my room and smoke a bit.”

“Sure.”

You smiled softly, leading him to the kitchen to replace the water, making idle chitchat. You beaconed him to follow, leading him to your bedroom.

“Wow, there’s so many posters.” He chuckled, analyzing the cluttered walls.

You chuckled nervously. “I like a lot of music, so I buy posters for bands and artists I really like.”

“You have great taste.”

You bit back a smile, your chest feeling almost as fuzzy as your mind. “Well, take a seat.” You patted the spot next to you on your bed, making room for him by sitting against the headboard. You took your lighter and lit up the bowl, taking the first hit before passing it off to Weather Report. You were almost in awe at how much the man inhaled, “Dude, you almost cleared the whole bowl.”

“So I did…”

You were silent for a few moments, as was he. “I can pack us a joint, I guess.”

A few moments later and you were lighting the joint, inhaling twice before passing it over to Weather Report. “Mind if I turn on some music?” You puffed out.

“Not at all.”

You pulled out your phone, hooking up to your speaker and testing the volume before turning on one of your playlists, Fly Like an Eagle playing over the speakers at a reasonable volume. Weather Report passed the joint back to you, and you tapped the end into your ashtray before taking another hit.

Your mind started to wander, looking over the man across from you properly. You could practically feel the drool piling in your mouth, though you knew it was dry when you opened it to speak. “So uhm, about earlier…” You tucked a piece of stray hair away behind your ear, feeling nervous all of a sudden.

You could feel Weather freeze up before relaxing. “Don’t worry about it-” He cut himself off when you began to speak.

“No! No its not that I wanted to apologize.” You stumbled. “I just… wanted to tell you that I maybe want to try again. Without anyone watching.” You brought your hands up to cover your face, gasping when you felt Weather lean forward and grab your hands with his own. “No, I want to kiss you properly this time.”

“W-Weather-” he cut you off by pushing his lips into yours, and you practically melted into him, your eyes closing. Your teeth brushed against his bottom lip, his tongue running against your lips which caused you to gasp.

You could feel yourself go limp in his grasp as you pulled apart, your breath coming out in pants.

“Wes.”

“What…?” You mumbled in confusion.

“My name. It’s Wes. Weather Report is just a nickname.”

“I think it fits you.” You giggled.

He chuckled, leaning you back onto the bed so he was pinning you to the surface. “You’re so cute.”

You bit your lip, legs closing together involuntarily. “You’re pretty hot.” Your lips curled into a smile. “Maybe you should kiss me again.”

Something sparked behind Wes’s eyes, and he leaned down to kiss you. Closing your eyes, leaning in for the kiss, your eyes flew open in shock when you felt him touch your neck and give a hard suck. You yelped softly, heat pooling in your panties. You felt him chuckle against you as he moved down to the area between your neck and shoulder, biting into the junction. You covered your mouth with your hand, eyes closing as you jumped, and let out a moan, causing Wes to freeze. When you looked at him, you could see his eyes blown wide with lust and something else.

He couldn’t handle himself after you looked at him with your doe-like eyes, with the expression on your face. He was going to absolutely ravish you. Wes leaned back down into your neck, kissing and nibbling the skin there. The way you gasped and mewled for him was so pretty, and he wanted to hear more of you. Lifting the hem of your shirt, you got the message and started to shakily remove your top, barely having time to pull it off before Wes was unhooking your bra and throwing it somewhere on your floor, your shirt and Wes’ following with it. You couldn’t help but stare at his chest and shoulders, bringing your hands up to touch. He was softer than you expected, but still firm. Your gaze trailed to find him eyeing your chest, and you giggled. You grabbed his hand, moving it to touch your breast.

“I wasn't expecting them to be pierced.” He mumbled. “You look perfect holy shit.”

You felt bashful. “Uhm yeah, I did it on a whim. On my 20th birthday.”

You gasped when you felt his mouth cover your nipple, tongue flicking the ring there causing you to jump and let out a whimper. You felt Wes moan from your reaction and hold you to him tighter, his free hand traveling to unzip your pants. You buck your hips into his hands and grip his shoulders, panting when he switches to your other nipple. Your pants are gone and you’re sure Wes would be able to see the wet spot on your panties from how horny you felt. Your skin felt hot, Wes pulled away and looked down at your flustered form, eyes blown. “I hope you know this will make you mine from now on.” His voice was thicker, like he was restraining himself from pouncing on you.

You shivered with some sick sense of delight the possessiveness in his tone made you even hornier than you already were. You blushed and leaned forward, breath fanning against his mouth. “Then make me yours.” You breathed, eyes hooded and lustful.

Wes growled and moved a hand to take off his pants, your hands flying to help him, you yelped softly when his hands caught yours and pinned them to the surface of your bed, his body moving on top of yours, his hard-on visible in his boxers. His face was flushed, hair sticking to his face, the hat had come off a while ago and was somewhere on the floor with the rest of your clothes. “You got any condoms?”

“T-top drawer of the nightstand.” You pointed to the nightstand next to your bed, Wes scrambling to grab a condom. He grinded himself against your panties, causing you to jolt and make a whining noise that only spurred him to tease you farther. His hands moved to cup a boob, giving one of your nipples a flick which caused you to jolt. “Sensitive…” He murmured, leaning in to give little licks and pecks to your neck. His fingers moved to the inside of your waistband and you gave a small jump when his fingers grazed your clit, a soft moan from you encouraged his slow movements. He decided your panties were in the way, and tossed them away and onto the floor, fingers traveling to the entrance of your cunt.

You let out a noise between a whine and a moan when the first finger went in, grabbing at the sheets. Wes slowed his pace, pausing to let you catch your breath. “Is this your first time?”

“N-no, it’s just been a really long time.” You mumbled, embarrassed. “And you’re also… bigger.” The man’s size compared to yours didn’t even cross your mind until now, and if you were being honest it was a major turn on. At first he intimidated you, but now you didnt feel as intimidated by his size.

“I’ll be gentle, then.” He smirked, curling his finger inside you which caused you to squirm under him. You let out a few pants and whines before a louder noise escaped your mouth, stars bouncing behind your eyes. It was like something switched in Wes, and he began to mercilessly hit that spot inside you, causing you to cover your mouth to muffle your voice, though you were sure the loud music from downstairs and your own music would muffle any noises you still didnt want anyone to walk in on you two.

Wes paused, allowing you a small moment to catch your breath, your whole body shaking from the stimulation that almost made you cum. You panted, looking up at Wes who gave you a smirk as he added a second finger. Your eyes widened as he spread them in a scissoring motion, a silent scream as he put pressure against your g-spot. You were sure you were cumming, toes curling and legs locking up, a shocked look on Wes’ face before returning back to lustful as he helped you ride through your orgasm. He removed his fingers from you, sticking them in his mouth as he let you take a breather. You barely noticed him put the condom on, still seeing stars as he pulled you closer.

“Still with me sweetheart?” Still high and horny, you nodded your head. “Need more, Wes.” you moaned softly, moving your hips. You felt his tip press against your slicked pussy, and you whined with anticipation, legs still shaking from your orgasm. He started to push through and you groaned at the size. You didn’t get a good look before he started entering you, but you could tell he was big. You let out a whimper as he sheathed himself fully in you, pressing his forehead against yours and kissing the tears you didn’t even know were streaming down your face. “Are you okay?”

“Y-yeah just- let me adjust.” You tried to hold back a moan as you shifted your hips, you could feel how full you were.

Wes hissed everh time you clenched or gave the slightest movement, trying his best to hold back. “Wes, please move, I need to feel more.” The burning sensation came back, and you started to move your hips and hoped Wes would start fucking your brains out. You needed it- needed him.”

He growled, beginning to move his hips. You gasped and moaned into his ear, his dick dragging against your g-spot in the best way, adding pressure against your walls. You were pretty sure you were drooling now, eyes blown wide with lust.

“What a good girl.” Wes groaned, his pace picking up which caused your eyes to roll in the back of your head. “I’m so lucky.” He grunted, sweat beading on his forehead.

You gasped loudly, hands gripping his shoulders. “Wes I’m- I’m going to!” You gasped, unable to finish your sentence as your orgasm hit again.

Wes groaned softly into your ear, holding you against him as his hips picked up the pace, his own orgasm drawing near.

You clung to him, gasping and kissing at his jaw as he slammed his hips into yours, feeling him twitch as he rode out his orgasm. You both laid there and panted for a bit, before Wes stood up and tied off the condom, throwing it in the trash. You sat up, legs feeling a little sore. “My bathroom is through that door…” you mumbled and pointed to one of the doors in your bedroom. “We can clean up in there.”

#weather report x reader #jjba x reader #no beta we die like kakyoin #jjba #x reader #girl idk what im doing ngl

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c0rviidgutts · 7 months ago

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𝐰𝐞𝐚𝐤 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮’𝐫𝐞 𝐚𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝 — 𝐠𝐢𝐨𝐫𝐧𝐨 𝐠𝐢𝐨𝐯𝐚𝐧𝐧𝐚

𝗰𝗼𝗻𝘁𝗲𝗻𝘁 𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀 ∣ smut ( minors dni ), fem!reader, fiancé!giorno, don!giorno, fingering ( f!receiving ), begging, edging ( him ), virgin!needy!reader, all characters featured are 18+

𝗶𝗺𝗽𝗼𝗿𝘁𝗮𝗻𝘁 ∣ I AM REWATCHING GOLDEN WIND SO ITS THE PERFECT TIME TO OBSESS OVER GIORNO AGAIN. posted for my hoe for the holidaze event. do not repost or translate. please reblog && leave feedback. not proofread so there’s probably mistakes. thanks for reading <3

Giorno Giovanna was a difficult man to be betrothed to.

not because he was calloused or paid no attention to you— it was actually the opposite. your fiancé doted relentlessly on you, always allowing you to sit in his office with him while he worked ( even during meetings in which his men would give you uncertain looks as they reported sensitive information to him ), and he’d always reach for your hand, hold it on your knee and allow his thumb to stroke the delicate skin as he spoke. he also loved to kiss you, and he would do so whenever he had a moment to do so. even if there was an emergency that required his immediate attention within the ranks; on his way out the door, he would always take the time to tilt your chin up so that he could trace your couplet with his own.

and it was this amount of dizzying affection that made it so impossible to keep yourself from lusting after him.

but Giorno was, first and foremost, one of the most chivalrous men you’d ever met. even with his Gangster status, he was always trying to do the right thing when it came to his future with you. and, unfortunately, one of his intentions had always been to keep your pure and virtuous until the wedding, so as not to shame your family.

“I don’t want you to regret it.” he’d whispered to you once in the dark as he held you. you’d begged him to just take you already— traditions be damned. he wasn’t having any of it. “I want you to be ready to give yourself to me, and not just physically.” he’d kissed your temple when you grumbled about being ready, and chuckled softly. “Wait it out. If not for yourself, be good for me. I want to love you for the first time knowing you’re mine and I’m yours.”

but that didn’t mean he wasn’t willing to satisfy your urges any other way he possibly could.

“Please, don’t stop.”

you were whimpering, back arching against the door he had you pinned to. Giorno had one hand pressed into the door behind your head to keep you from hitting it when you squirmed, and the other was moving under your skirt. with the long, lithe fingers you’d come to know so damn well, he could make you tremble and beg until you wanted to collapse on the floor in a heap of pathetic sobs. the first two curled inside, the svelte tips massaging a cluster of hypersensitive nerves that had you rolling your head on your shoulders, pressing it back against the back of his hand, and moaning.

“D—Don Giovanna—“

but he frowns, pressing his forehead to yours. “My name,” he murmurs, allowing his lips to dance only inches from yours as he pumps his fingers deeper. you could feel the chill of metal as his rings, scattered on his remaining digits, press against your netherlips— he’d been considerate enough to take the two off of his fingers he intended to use on you, and they lay forgotten on the large, mahogany desk a few feet away. your hands were gripping his shoulders, but they slid over the expanse of his chest as it rises and falls with heavy breathing. you’d already untangled his braid, and his golden tresses hung around his face and shoulders like curtains, billowing as your ragged breath hits the strands. his shirt was also open, and you use the rare opportunity to dig your nails into the pads of muscles in his chest. “Say my name.” they were unyielding, but you already knew that. you could feel just how solid he was underneath his clothes when he pulled you in for a loving kiss or hugged you close at night.

“Giorno…” you mewl, rocking your hips forward to meet his skillful pumping. “Giorno!”

he moans, too. and it’s such a beautiful sound.

pressing his body closer to yours, he nuzzles his face in your neck to kiss and suck all over, finding your sweetest spots in mere seconds, while his pace between your thighs picked up. you could tell he was enjoying it, too, breathing heavily on your skin before latching on to leave his signature in a love bite that would be easily covered by your collar.

“Please— let me touch you, too…” you were hesitant, because you could feel him grinding a firm lump in his pants against your thigh, trying to relieve the pressure he felt, but you’d never been able to get your hands on it. but, you allow your hands to fall to his belt, the very tips of your fingernails dipping underneath to tease the faint trail of blonde hair that no doubt led to your desire. “Giorno, I want to feel you…”

“Not yet,” he whispered, and you gripped his belt, frowning. he must’ve felt you inhale, ready to protest, because he pulls away from your neck to smother your mouth in fierce kisses, curling and twisting his fingers against your fluttering walls until you’re whining and pliable. “I’m dying to be inside you…” he moans into your mouth, pressing his body against yours. you could feel the tent jabbing at his zipper and you know it must be just hardly keeping his erection contained. it must be painful. “I want to feel you, too, amorina,” he crooned, breathless, using your very favorite pet name. “I’m starved for you. I’m just barely able to resist the urge to lay you on my desk. If I even feel your soft hands wrap around me, I’ll lose that battle.”

your eyelids are heavy, flittering slowly, and you roll your hips to meet the palm of his hand. he was drawing you closer and closer to the edge, and you knew he was trying to distract you. “I want you to fuck me, Giorno.” you moaned, and you could feel every muscle he had go taut beneath his skin. the specter of a pinky blush was raising in his cheeks, olive eyes staring into yours. you take this opportunity to hitch one of your legs on to his hip, hooking your ankle against the small of his back to pull him closer. “I don’t want to wait anymore, please… please just give it to me!”

Giorno’s mouth hung slack, his hips jutting forward as if instinctively trying to give in to your begging, and he presses your buttons from the inside with the pads of his fingers. your belly ties in knots and you swoon. “I can’t,” he whispered, breathless, and you squirm. you’re coming undone even as he refuses to give you what you really want. “I gave you my word when I put this ring on your finger,” his free hand slips from behind your head to reach between you and grasp your hand, pulling it up to his mouth so that he could kiss the jewel in the center, “that I would do… everything… I could to take care of you. Didn’t I?”

you nod, moaning his name under your breath like a broken mantra. you wanted to argue, and tell him that you would be better taken care of if he would just strip you down and fuck you right here, right now, but you knew that wasn’t the case. because Giorno didn’t just mean physically. when he promised to take care of you, he meant to keep you safe, fed, spoiled. he wanted to keep your reputation as pristine as it was before you were engaged to the Passione Boss.

“I intend to keep my promise.” he moans, his golden brows furrowed, as if it also pains him to say it. but Giorno’s resolve is strong, and you know that he means it. he kisses the ring again, and this time, your finger, too.

“Damn you for being so— responsible—“ you whimper. you tried to poke your bottom lip out into a childish pout, but his digits were working too skillfully on your nerves, pulling the orgasm out of you, and you allow your mouth to hang open so you can cry for him freely.

he chortles a bit, fondly, and kisses you again to muffle your sounds as you get loud. no doubt, his guards with their heads just on the other side of the door was getting an earful. hell, maybe even Mista would be red faced and unable to look you in the eyes when he escorted you to the car that would take you home to wait for your husband-to-be’s return. his hand slows in tandem with your aftershocks once you’ve cum, allowing you to ride his palm at your speed until you’ve come to a shivering, panting stop. “I’ll give you every ounce of pleasure that I can with my fingers until you’re officially my wife. As often as you’d like.” he husks, slowly breaking the heated kiss to pepper your forehead with a litter of slower, softer pecks. “And, when the night finally comes that I can give every part of myself to you, I promise to worship your body with my mouth, my hands, and my cock until you can’t possibly keep your eyes open or your legs from trembling. Amorina, I promise that, as your husband, I’ll not stop until we’re both in tears.”

reluctantly, you allow your leg to drop to the floor, but you nod, throwing both arms around his neck, and you lean in to kiss his jaw. “Giorno Giovanna,” you purr against his lips, turning your head to allow them to fit better against yours. “Is there no way to change your mind once it’s made up?”

he smiles again, and shakes his head, both hands finding your waist to hold you steady so he can deepen the kiss you initiated. after a moment or two, he pulls back. “Every time I kiss you, another pebble falls from the wall of my resolve. We’d better hold the wedding soon.” there’s a faint knock, three taps. Mista. he called out to Giorno that the car was here, and Giorno sighs, using his clean hand to caress your cheek. he didn’t want to send you away so soon, but you know he didn’t have a choice.

nibbling on your own lip, you take his wrist and guide it back beneath your skirt, allowing his fingers to rub against your slick one more time, and gather your essence upon them. “Don’t stop thinking of me.” you demand, batting your eyelashes. when you release his wrist, he brings his hand up to his face and inhales deep. you didn’t miss the way he shudders when he catches your scent on his shiny fingers.

“I would be the world’s biggest fool if I did.”

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c0rviidgutts · 7 months ago

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love you (just a little too much) | jolyne cujoh

kinktober day seven: praise kink

word count. 4.6k

content. MINORS/AGELESS BLOGS DNI, smut, praise kink, cheating (jolyne cheats on her boyfriend with reader lol), reader is kind of scummy, obsession, childhood friends, mentions of drinking, gender-neutral reader, implied unrequited love, sub!jolyne + dom!reader, oral sex (f!recieving), pet names (pretty girl, good girl, angel, princess—all used on jolyne)

♩ serial killer - lana del rey

kinktober mlist | regular mlist

Contrary to popular belief, Jolyne doesn't mind people knowing she's soft.

The others—particularly the ones she met at the prison, like Ermes and Anasui—think that she tries very hard to maintain a tough reputation, that she puts effort into her hard-as-nails routine that scares off the bad guys. And that's not to say it doesn't, but most people tend to assume that this means she spurns being seen as soft, or compassionate, or even girlish.

But you know better.

I mean, obviously you do. You've been at her side since you were both six years old, meeting on the playground of your relatively shitty elementary school. You remember burning asphalt painted with volleyball-court lines, arches cracked with flecks of black stone. You know every part of her, even the parts she maybe wishes you didn't.

And you've been in love with her for far longer. Longer than that waste of oxygen Romeo, longer than Anasui or Ermes. They can make all the assumptions they want, but you know the truth. Jolyne is soft. And she is sweet, and thoughtful, and loyal, and you know there is nothing she loves more than being reminded of it.

You remember the first time you watched her do her own makeup when you were thirteen years old. Sat in her bedroom, the teal walls and pink carpet, and you were too young and lacked too much taste to feel the nausea that the colours would later induce as your eyes grew more sensitive. You sat cross-legged on her bed as Mariah Carey blasted out from the stereo, watching Jolyne's reflection in the mirror. Her big emerald eyes outlined in messy dark liner, lips outlined in green.

Messy, but she liked it. And she whirled around, brandishing a tube you had no name for.

"Nah," you said flatly. "No way."

"It's just mascara, dummy," Jolyne sighed. "It'll make you look pretty."

"No, it won't."

"It made me look pretty."

"That's 'cause you are, dipshit." You pressed your spine flat against the wall, and as you watched, the skin of her cheeked flushed, soft baby-pink.

"You think?" she whispered, looking shyer than you'd ever seen her, and you felt your heart do something funny.

"Yeah. I mean, don't be weird about it." You bit the inside of your cheek. "Jolyne, you're gorgeous."

She made a strangled, squawking sort of noise and chucked the tube of mascara at you. It bounced off your head as you threw your body to the side to avoid it, and when you looked at her in disbelief, her face was scarlet and blotchy.

"You can't just say things like that," she whined, burying her face in her hands. "Although, feel free to say it again, I guess—"

"Idiot." Your own face burned. "You are not doing my makeup."

That was the start of it, you guess.

The start of looking at her differently, of watching her out of the corner of her eye; putting up her hair into a ponytail, applying lip balm with a careful pinky finger. You've been freinds for so long that you're comfortable changing in front of each other (you used to share baths, for fuck's sake), and suddenly you're seventeen and she's stripping off her shirt right in front of you and it's not innocent anymore. It's something else.

Of course, you're not the only one to notice. The way she sort of... glows when she enters a room. Other people do, and that dipshit Romeo with barely two braincells to rub together between the steroids and the peroxide, he managed to catch her eye. This hulking, seething jock who looked at you like you were a piece of shit under his shoe, who called you weirdo behind Jolyne's back (because he knew he'd catch a fist to the face if he ever did it in front of her).

"I know you want to fuck her," he growled one afternoon, after school, senior year. He crowded you against the wall of the locker room whilst you both waited for Jolyne to change out of her volleyball uniform inside.

"You don't even know what you don't know, you fucking prick," you snarled, staring right up into his eyes. Narrow pupils and bloodshot in the sclera.

"I've seen the way you look at her," he whispered. "You're obsessed with her. And I'm warning you, back off."

"Yeah, big boy?" A smile that was almost hysterical tugged at your lips. "Except you don't really want that. 'Cause you know if I left, she'd go right along with me without even looking at you. You're nothing, and you'll be gone soon, and I'll still be here."

Romeo laughed. "You're fuckin' crazy," he said wonderingly. "Are all Jo's friends this insane?"

"No. Not all of them," you said quietly. "But I am. I'm pretty insane. And you're going to ruin her life. I can fucking feel it. One day you're going to ruin her whole life, and I'll be there to pick up the pieces."

"Romeoooo~" The singing voice soared over the thick tension. The two of you barely had time to step apart before Jolyne came sauntering out the locker room, her face alight in a pleased flush. Her eyes widened when she saw you, and she squealed delightedly. "You stayed!"

"I told you I would, dipshit," you said fondly, grinning as she launched at you and pressed a green kiss to your cheek. Over her shoulder, Romeo glowered.

"Wasn't I amazing?" she said cheerily, linking hands with her boyfriend and swinging their joined arms. Her eyes practically sparkled as she stared up at him, lips stretched in a perfect smile.

After a moment, he grunted. "Yeah, babe. Exceptional as always. That's my Jo for you, huh?" A kiss to her temple, and Jolyne squirmed delightedly.

Strictly speaking, you guess—you ruined Romeo's life before he could ruin hers. Not that he knows it. Oh, you want him to know. You want to throw the evidence in his face and make him seethe, all the while knowing there's not a fucking thing he can do about it.

It happens on Jolyne's nineteenth birthday. You hadn't seen much of her in the day, unfortunately—you'd gone for breakfast, which was tradition for the both of you. You drove her to Denny's and your plates were loaded with pancakes, bacon and syrup, drooling sticky piles of sugar that you scooped up eagerly, talking enthusiastically between bites. She was spending most of the day with Romeo—gag—but you'd see her at the party later.

It takes place at your house, actually. Jolyne's mom won't stand for that kind of stuff, and she's gracefully turning the other cheek to the underage drinking because she adores Jolyne. Her dad had sent a card that arrvied two days early, the inscription typically blunt:

Jolyne, Happy birthday. Sorry I couldn't be there. Be responsible and have a good day. Best, Dad.

"Best, Dad," she snorts derisively, tossing the thing dramatically over her shoulder. But she doesn't trash it. She never trashes the stuff from Jotaro. She keeps it all in a silver box under her bed like a shameful secret, and she reads them when she wants to cry but can't get the tears out. "What an asshole."

She goes home for a bit to get ready, and you prep the house for the party. By the time she comes back, hand-in-hand with Romeo, the place is already crowded. Projections of shapes and colours glide lazily over the walls, filming the bassy music that thumps through the mortar.

She looks fucking angelic, weaving her way through the crowds; she gives an excited little skip when she spots you slouched against the wall, halfheartedly entertaining some drunk guy. Jolyne rushes up to you, clasping your hands excitedly in hers.

"This is amazing!" she gushes. "It's all so amazing! Don't you think, Romeo?"

He barely grunts in reply. "Where's the booze?"

Jolyne's smile falters; something hard sets in her jade eyes, the kind of look that has your mouth suddenly dry. "Eh? Why are you being rude?" Her shoulders square, knots of hard muscle. "Y/n put this whole party together for me! This is their house!"

"Yeah, Romeo." An oily smirk slips over your face, unseen to Jolyne. A vein twitches in his temple over his lusterless eyes. "This is my house. How 'bout a little thank you?"

A spasm crosses his ugly face. "Fuck this," he growls, and Jolyne's jaw drops. "I'm sick of this creep trying to make me look bad in front of you. Jo, I'm leaving. Are you coming, or what?"

"You're joking." Jolyne's eyes are round and hard; an angry blush is starting to bleed across her cheekbones. "It's my birthday, Romeo."

"We'll do something," he presses, picking up her small hands hamfistedly; you bite the inside of your cheek at the touch, wondering if he even noticed the nails she got done especially for today, whether he even cared. "C'mon, Jo, I'll take you to dinner. That Italian place."

Jolyne's face screws up. "I don't like Italian food," she says, which is true. She doesn't like cheese or tomatoes much. Her favourite food is dark chocolate, actually, but if you're talking dinner than Thai food is a safe bet. She likes to make out that she can handle more spice than she actually can.

Romeo grows visibly frustrated; you slouch back against the wall, barely blinking, trying to bite back a smirk. "Anything, then. C'mon, Jo, I can't—I won't leave you here with this creep. Can't you see? Can't you fucking see how obsessed they are with you? It's fucking freaky!"

"Get out!" Jolyne screams. "You horrible pig. How dare you talk about them like that?!"

"You're so dumb you can't even see it!" Romeo yells, his voice starting to rise up over the music. Eyes shift, people turn; you can't have that. As much as you enjoy seeing Romeo squirm, this is Jolyne's day, and you won't let some roid-chomping ape ruin it. You slide between them, setting a hand on Romeo's chest and shoving him back—not violently, not really, you can't have Jolyne thinking you're as bad as him—just enough to make some space to breathe.

You're so close to Jolyne, her shoulder touches your back. You can feel her breathing raggedly, taut with fury.

"That's enough," you say, looking Romeo dead in the eye. "I know we don't exactly get along, Romeo, but I was willing to put that aside for Jolyne on her birthday. I'm sorry you weren't."

Romeo's face flushes slowly with purple colour. "You fucking—you—"

"Romeo," Jolyne says harshly. "Leave. I don't want you here."

His jaw clenches. "Fine! Fine. See if I fucking care." He spins on his heel and storms out, and you physically feel the tension in the air thin as the front door slams behind him.

You turn around immediately as everyone else awkwardly buries themselves in cups and conversations again. Jolyne's arms are wrapped around herself, staring at the floor. Genuine sorrow twangs deep inside you—you wonder, hardly for the first time, whether you would be this instigatory if she was with someone who actually deserved her.

A smaller, bitter part of you that you usually try to ignore insists that nobody really deserves her. Not even you. But you'll try your best.

"Hey," you murmur. "You okay?"

"H-how can he be so mean?" Her eyes are big and luminous as she turns them to you, shining with tears. Something deep inside you dies at the sight—Jolyne is rare with her tears. More often her intense emotions manifest as anger. You swallow, glancing around.

"Okay. Come on, let's get out of here," you mutter. You lead her through the crowded hallway and up the stairs, heading for your own room. The music becomes muffled as you shut the door behind you, blaring softly through the floorboards like you've dipped your head underwater. Jolyne sniffles, her eyes already drying; she knuckles at them dispassionately, smearing her carefully-applied eye makeup.

"What a mess... I ruined it all," she says, flopping down on the bed. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be stupid, dipshit," you say fiercely. "It's your thickhead boyfriend. God, I can't stand him."

"I know." Jolyne picks miserably at her nails. "Maybe he's not... as perfect as I thought he was. But I love him. I mean, I think I love him? Just not when he's like this."

"He's like this all the time," you deadpan, and Jolyne's lip quivers. You sigh, melting down to sit next to her on the bed.

"I don't know what to do," she sighs. "I thought everything was so perfect, and now..."

"Jolyne." Always her full name. You never presume to shorten it, to chip off even one perfect syllable. Every time Romeo calls her Jo, you feel your bones grate together. Like he can't even be bothered to remember who she is. There are thousands of Jo's. There's only one Jolyne. "You deserve so much better than him."

Her throat flexes when she swallows, glancing up at you between the wisps of her green bangs.

It's funny—you know Jolyne inside and out. Every molecule. And yet you still don't see it coming.

Her lips press against yours for the briefest moment, shy and tentative and they taste like aloe vera. You freeze up completely in shock, not even having the werewithal to blink, and Jolyne rockets back, blushing madly.

She waves her hands frantically. "I—hang on! I'm sorry! I shouldn't... I didn't mean to..." Her voice gears up for a wail. "I'm ruining everythinggg!"

"Jolyne!" You clamp your hands upon her shoulders, your pulse thundering in your ears. "C-calm down. It's okay. You haven't—you haven't ruined anything."

Jolyne's brows draw tight together. "I can't betray Romeo," she says, twiddling her fingers. "But I... I'm so fuckin' sick of feeling like... he never compliments me! Never! And tonight, it was my fucking birthday and he just blew me off! What a pig! I'm so sick of him sometimes, I just want to—to—"

Her soft, cold hands land on your face and she kisses you again, harder this time, with intent, and you feel every cell in your body come alive. You hardly believe it's real, but this time you're not going to waste even a nanosecond not concentrating. Your eyes slip closed and your hands move, dropping from her shoulders; one slides down her arms until it wraps around her waist, drawing her close, feeling her soft, toned body press flush against you. The other cups the back of her neck, cradling her like she's something precious. She is, of course. She's the most precious thing in the whole world.

It's overwhelming; it's everything you've dreamed of for the last six years or so, and even as it's happening it barely feels real. You feel the urgent need to make the most of it before you snap out of this dream, or Jolyne reverts back from the delirium that's cleared seized her. It's your chance, after all—to finally show her what someone like Romeo could never give her.

Your left hand slips unde the hem of her shirt, fanning out over the warm skin beneath, and Jolyne shudders. She pulls back from your lip momentarily, her eyes searching yours so intensely that your heart lurches.

"Isn't this wrong?" she whispers, as though she's truly conflicted.

Your free hand brushes a lock of her from her face. "Does it feel wrong?"

There's a moment of hesitation—you can see her conjure Romeo's face in her mind—and then she shakes her head. "It should feel wrong," she mutters, and your thumb strokes soothingly over the small of her back.

"Jolyne," you murmur, and you watch in shivering euphoria as her body shudders as your voice slips into something lower, rolling over the both of you like hot honey. "Lemme take care of you, okay?"

A painful dark blush melts over Jolyne's pretty cheeks. "This won't ruin anything, will it?" She keeps you pinned for now, not letting you carry on. So bold, your Jolyne. People like Romeo want to stamp it out of her. You can't even imagine it. "I dunno what I'd do without you."

"Jolyne," you groan. "Don't say stuff like that right now."

"Eh? Why?!" Her expression twists. "I'm just trying to make sure—"

"You're kind of having an effect, princess," you grit out. Jolyne stops short, her mouth working soundlessly for a few moments.

"Ha! Am I really?" she gushes, her eyes sparkling. "Let me see!"

"Wh—no!" You swat at her hands, cheeks burning. "Cut it out, dipshit. You'll..." You pause, weighing your words. "You'll see soon enough, anyway."

The smile slips off of Jolyne's face, replaced by nervous anticipation. Your heart beats at the speed of sound, jackrabbiting against your ribcage.

You shake your head, scrub a hand down your face. "Lay down, okay? I said I would take care of you, and I mean it." There's a spot of hesitation on her face before she cautiously scrambles up against the headboard, peering down at you sat at the foot of the bed. You strip off your shoes quickly before clambering on over her, fitting your legs neatly over her waist.

She bites her lip. "Y-you really wanna..."

In answer, you lean forward and tuck your face against her neck, breathing in her perfume. She shivers as you nose at the delicate skin, finally putting your lips on it like you've dreamed of doing, and she's just as receptive as you've always thought she might be, letting out a squeak before her head tilts up, baring her throat to you.

"So cute," you whisper, running your hands up her sides. She's small, but so toned—she works out a lot, and it's a unique kind of torture seeing her in gym clothes, all sweaty with her hair pinned up, heading for the shower. "God, you drive me fucking crazy."

"I—I do?" Her breath is caught, trapped. Her hands push under your clothes and skim over the flesh there, cool and clammy, and you shudder so violently that you inadvertently press yourself against her.

"You have no idea." You mouth at her neck almost frantically, sucking skin between your teeth, laving with your tongue, pinching lightly with your teeth before moving onto the next; dotting lines down her neck, collarbones, putting your teeth over the jut of bone and sucking. Jolyne moans, high and shivery, and the sound makes liquid lightning rush to the place between your thighs.

You curse your own impatience, too hurried to savour her like you really want. You reason that you'll have time, after, later, some indeterminable point in the future as you reach down and hike up her shirt, over her head, flinging it to some distant point in the room. Jolyne stares up at you, unabashed; why would she be? You know every inch of each other's bodies already. You smooth a palm from her sternum to the waistline of her jeans, through the valley between her breasts, and Jolyne groans, eyes fluttering shut. You can see the smokey green makeup painted over her lids, the clumps of mascara caught in the delicate lashes.

The flesh beneath your hand is soft, warm muscle. You happily think that she could break you apart if she wanted—but that's the really incredible thing about your Jolyne. She doesn't. She is capable of great violence, but it's never what she wants to do.

She's so, so special.

"You're so beautiful," you sigh; your pupils are probably heart-shaped by this point. "Oh, god—princess, you have no idea how bad I want you."

Jolyne shudders, pushing her hips up against you and you nearly choke. "Show me," she grunts, a challenge in her eyes. "Show me—please."

"'Course, pretty girl," you murmur, watching the flush climbs down her chest. "Anything for you."

Your hands move to the front of her jeans, fumbling with the button and zipper before you drag them down her thighs. Jolyne perks up and helps you shed them, and they too disappear into the nameless void, where everything but Jolyne ceases to matter even an iota.

Next goes her underwear; she wears boxers a lot, and today is no exception. Emerald-green briefs that you drag down her legs so clumsily that they end up dangling from one ankle. Jolyne sinks her teeth into her bottom lip, face lit up bright red as she watches you knead the flesh on her knees, her thighs. Your breath comes in short, sharp gasps, the heat in your abdomen almost unbearable—but you can't even think of touching yourself. This isn't about you.

It's all about her.

You push her thighs apart, gently, and only now does some tension coil up in Jolyne's stomach, her breath shaking.

"It's okay," you remind her softly, and press soft kisses to her right knee. "It's me, yeah? You have nothing in the world to hide from me."

Jolyne's whole expression seems to melt into something dreamy, like she's home, and you could weep. A soft smile plucks at her mouth.

"You're right," she says, swallowing hard.

"'Course I am, pretty girl," you say lazily, skimming your lips against her inner thigh, a hint of teeth just to hear her gasp. "'Cause I know you, yeah? Better than anyone."

"Y-yeah," Jolyne whimpers, and your eyes practically roll back into your head at how wrecked she sounds already.

You prop your face on her inner thigh, gazing up at her dreamily. "Want me to make you feel good, angel?"

"W-well, obviously," she grunts, squirming her hips. You use your free hand to pin her down.

"Say it," you can't help but poke, watching as her blush darkens. "Say, I want you to make me feel good."

Jolyne glowers. "Eh... you're the worst kind of pervert, aren't you? How didn't I guess..." She throws an arm over her eyes. "I want you to make me feel good. Dummy."

Something intense and hot rolls over you as the words leave her mouth, and without another moment of hesitation you grab her leg, wrapping your fingers around one slim ankle and pulling it up so it bends. "Can you hold that there for me?"

Wide eyed and mouth agape, Jolyene reaches for her own leg to hold up, fingers digging into the flesh of her thighs.

"What a good girl," you murmur, and Jolyne squeaks again; her fingers dig into the fat of her own leg, and she stares at you like she's hardly seen you before. There's something gratifying in that disbelief; proof that you're not the awkward thirteen-year-old you've feared she's always seen as you as. You're her equal, her soulmate, and you're both all grown up, now.

Some more than others.

You press your lips to her cunt and she moans, fingers scrabbling desperately to retain a hold of her leg. There's a soft dark thatch of hair that tickles just slightly as you shuffle down between her legs, using your fingers to spread her open. She's wet, and your mouth fills with saliva as you dive in, burying your head between her thighs. With her free hand, you hear her clap her fingers over her mouth to stifle the shriek she lets out at the contact.

The moment your tongue makes contact you know you're lost. Your eyes slide shut as your mouth works at her, feeling her hands slide into your hair and grip, hard, hard enough to remember that it's real. And that notion sends a whole new delirium rushing through you, until you feel literally high, drunk on Jolyne, your perfect girl and her perfect body. She tastes so good, practically addictive, and when her thighs tremble and squeeze around your head you think there would be no better way to die in the world.

She's saying something—choked, hoarse gasps of your name. You pop off her clit with a lingering suck, gazing up at her with a smile you can't quite remember to dial back. Jolyne's pupils are blown wide and dark, barely a ring of green surrounding them.

"It—it's so..." She squirms. "Please keep going."

"No worries on that front, angel," you murmur, sliding your hands under her thighs and pulling her even closer. "I'm gonna make you come for me, yeah?"

A hard shudder wracks her body. She never—it's so strange to hear such filth spill from your lips so easily. You're barely comparable to the friend she's known almost her whole life.

And yet—you are. This could be nobody but you. She doesn't know how she didn't see it before.

You dive back between her legs with unparalleled vigour, and Jolyne's head spins frantically. She's never felt anything like this. Romeo went down on her once in a blue moon, and before that had only been awkward teenage fumblings, sticky and awkward, never this—this worship. It's honestly the best word she can come up with for it. You look like if someone tried to pry you away from her right now you'd kill them without a thought.

The thought shouldn't make her shiver in pleased delight—and yet here we are.

Your tongue rolls over her clit, glides between her folds, presses in, and loops all over again until her hands are fisted in your hair and she's crying out against the muted blaring of the music.

"Fuck, fuck," she curses, blinking hard to try and stay focused. "Gonna come, I'm gonna c-come—"

"I got you," you moan against her, the vibrations sending a whole new set of jitters up her spine. "My girl, my good girl, c'mon, give it to me, I need it, fuck, I need you to come for me—"

Your lips latch onto her clit and suck once, harshly, and Jolyne comes so hard she feels her body separate from herself. Seeing stars has always felt like a dumb expression, but she swears white rockets across her vision, tears it open to perfect clarity. Her thighs clamp down on your head, hips rocking up against you as she shudders and moans through it, and all the while you keep your fingers on her, stroking slow and soft until she twitches from overstimulation. Her foot kicks out on instinct, catching on your shoulder.

She comes back to herself when she hears you wince. "Sorry," she says hoarsely. You just roll your eyes fondly and tap her ankle away.

You flop against her as she attempts to pick her breath back up. She can feel her own release dripping down her thighs and she looks at you, unexpectedly shy. It's surreal, but—but even as reality sets in cold as stone, she cannot quite bring herself to feel guilty.

You press a lazy kiss to the size of her bared breast, making her flinch in surprise. "Heh. You animal."

"Yeah," you agree readily, your voice hoarse with want. "For you, yeah."

Jolyne's eyes flutter. She doesn't quite know what to say to that, to any of this. Instead she swallows, looks around to try and get her surroundings. Your bedroom is intimately familiar—the dark walls, the posters, the fishtank and blinds and assortment of blue stringlights and lamps. Your room has always kinda felt like being inside an aquarium.

A lump settles in her throat. She's grown up here. You both had.

And though she knows she should get dressed and find her phone, although she knows she should call Romeo and try to cover up the hickies dotted haphazardly all over her throat, she can't quite bring herself to do it. Any of it. Because you'd made her feel more loved in twenty minutes than Romeo had in months.

So she curls back up next to you, jamming her head aginst your heart. She feels your breath hitch at the contact and squirms delightedly.

"J-Jolyne?" you say weakly.

"Shut up, dummy," she says as matter-of-factly as she can manage. "I wanna sleep."

"...Okay, angel." Your voice is soft, soothing. "Anything for you."

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