futurefamousdeadmusician

[futurefamousdeadmusician]

[futurefamousdeadmusician]

Let Your Big Brother Take Care of You

SUMMARY: While visiting your stepbrother at college, you have a hard time falling asleep after some drunken mishaps. He helps you out.

WORD COUNT: 2.7k

WARNINGS/ADDITIONAL INFO: Smut 🔞, dubcon, stepcest, intoxication, fingering, comfort sex kinda??, gratuitous mention of Taco Bell

Beta read by @sasybanana

Actually visiting with your step-brother had been the last thing on your mind when you told your parents that you would be visiting him this weekend. Sure, you got along fine, but you barely knew each other and it felt like he was moving out for college as soon as your families joined. Instead, you were hellbent on finding the best partying and hooking up opportunities his film school had to offer. Framing it as a sisterly visit and a chance to learn about campus life was purely an excuse to convince your parents to let you travel on your own, which they seemed to buy as you were headed off to school yourself next year. Besides, Neil had an off campus apartment you could crash at, which would be cheaper than a hotel.

He greeted you with a hug as you entered and set your stuff down, instantly being assaulted by the scent of unwashed laundry and old weed smoke. Still, it was comfortable enough, and was a nice taste of freedom from your mom’s house.

“So, my baby sister wants to visit me for the weekend, for reasons not at all related to my school’s reputation as a party campus?” He smirked as you situated yourself.

“Of course! Just like how my big brother spends all the money he gets from our parents on textbooks and tuition.” you shot back.

“Touché. Well, whatever trouble you’re determined to get into, fuck, I dunno, be smart about it. Use condoms, don’t get drugged. Don’t drink so much that you puke, or at least, try to puke somewhere other than carpet.”

“Wow… so caring.” you rolled your eyes as you headed to the bathroom to get ready for the evening. You snatched a flyer off of a phone pole for a house party, and the directions you got off google said it was only a few blocks away. As soon as you had your heels and your lashes on, you were off.

**********************************************************************************

Stumbling back to Neil’s apartment with your heels in your hand, the night had been a bust. You finished too many mystery drinks too fast and ended up puking in the lap of the one guy who was interested in you, locked yourself in the bathroom to cry for the better part of an hour, and bolted for the door as soon as you pulled yourself together. Thank fuck Neil had the first apartment on the first floor, otherwise you might not have been able to find it in your impaired state.

The door was unlocked, and Neil hadn’t moved from his place on the couch in the hours that you had been gone, presumably wrapped up in whatever it is that he does in his spare time (Watch movies? Play video games? Jerk off? You really didn’t know). This was fine, you really didn’t need him noticing you at the moment. You tried to enter quietly, but tripped over yourself as you moved.

“Holy shit, are you okay?”

Neil rushed over to you to make sure you weren’t hurt. Unable to form words, you started crying again when you met his gaze, big fat mascara tears rolling down your cheeks. Even as he helped you to stand, you wobbled on your way up and had to lean on him for support.

“How much did you have to drink?”

“Dunno… a lot.” It was true, you had chugged whatever you were handed and helped yourself to a variety of half-finished cups that were abandoned by their owners. You had never drank this much before, and had no idea how much was too much until it was too late.

“Shit, um, let’s get you to the bed. The room is yours tonight, don’t worry about it. Do you think you can walk that far?” There was genuine concern in his tone, even if he was a bit panicked and clueless. He looped an arm around your waist and guided you as best he could to the tiny room. Your flop onto the twin bed wasn’t exactly graceful, but landing on a mattress was about a thousand times more comfortable than landing on the floor.

As soon as Neil turned to leave, you began fighting your way out of your tight, itchy dress. Unfortunately, the zipper was stuck (damn cheap clothing) and the garment was too fitted to pull over your head. Refusing to spend any more time stuck in scratchy fabric hell (Seriously, Forever 21, who sells unlined sequined dresses?), you continued wrestling with the zipper and wiggling to find a better angle until you rolled off the bed and landed with a thud. Not knowing what else to do, you shouted for your stepbrother.

The worried look on his face quickly turned into an eye roll as he entered the room and saw you on the floor again.

“So are you like… determined to spend the whole night down there? Undeniably attracted to shitty carpeting? Horny for the floor?” Having a laugh at your drunken expense might not have been the nicest thing for Neil to do, but you were being such a handful tonight.

“I can’t get my dress off,” you sheepishly mumbled as you avoided his gaze. “The zipper’s stuck and I need your help.”

“Hey, hey, it’s fine.” Neil soothed as he knelt down to meet you on the floor. “If anything, I’m flattered… Usually I have to buy a girl dinner before she even thinks of asking me to undress her.”

You shot him an unamused glare, but nonetheless turned and leaned towards him so he could reach the zipper. His touch was warm and gentle as he fiddled with the impossibly tiny hook-and-eye clasp atop the zipper, one hand gently pressed against your upper back to steady you while the other went to work. Before you knew it, the dress slackened and you were able to free yourself from its confines, modesty be damned.

“A tiny little dress and no bra? You really were planning to have fun tonight.” You were still turned away from Neil and couldn’t see his face, but you could hear the grin in his voice.

“It has built-in cups, pervert!” you huffed as you rushed to cover yourself. You groped around for a t-shirt or something before remembering that you were in an unfamiliar room and not at home. “Get out, I just wanna sleep.”

“That doesn’t explain the little lacy panties, though.” Neil let his eyes trail over you before tossing you one of his own shirts. It was true, you had gone out partying with the hope of hooking up as quickly and anonymously as possible, but you weren’t going to admit that. All you wanted was to gain a little sexual experience of your own before heading out to college, but now the only boy to see you naked was your weird stepbrother. “And I’m not leaving you alone tonight. You can’t even stand and I’ve had to help you up twice. You’re too much of a mess to be alone.”

He helped you onto the bed again, only this time he climbed in behind you after hitting the light. The bed was small enough that there was almost no choice but to snuggle up to him, using his shoulder as a pillow. As weird as the whole situation was, it felt nice having him there, like a grounding tether against the spinning sensation in your head.

“For what it’s worth, I thought you looked really cute tonight. Before all the puking and crying and falling, I mean.” He chuckled softly and pressed a kiss to the top of your head. As sweet as the gesture was, you couldn’t ignore the growing gurgle in your stomach.

“Neil… I want Taco Bell.”

“I’ll buy you all the Taco Bell in the world tomorrow if you settle down and go to sleep.”

“Okay…” you buried your face into the crook between Neil’s neck and shoulder as he pulled you closer and idly rubbed your back. You couldn’t help but moan softly at the sensation, which Neil tried his hardest to ignore.

Had you been a little more awake or a little more sober, you might’ve noticed the hitch in Neil’s breath as his hand trailed up and down your back, or the way his hand soon opened into a flat palm and started exploring lower, dangerously close to the waistband of your panties. Instead, you continued to lay silently, dozing off as his hand inched lower.

Eventually, his hand made its way to your ass and cupped the supple flesh. Feeling emboldened by your lack of response, Neil began to squeeze and knead. This made you squirm away, but in doing so, you were met with the perfect amount of friction as your clothed pussy rubbed against Neil’s thigh. Neither of you had realized just how closely you were snuggled together until now, when it dawned on you both what was happening.

Part of you panicked, part of you realizing that this was wrong through your drunken haze, but another part of you only cared that you were being touched, and it felt pleasurable. That was the whole reason you made this trip, right? you rationalized to yourself as you attempted to grind against your stepbrother’s thigh a second time. 

Instead of being met with the delicious friction, you felt Neil shift beneath you. Did you fuck this up? Were you just imagining his hand on your ass? But before you could worry any further, he was rolling you onto your back with his thick, firm leg pressing between your thighs and spreading them, and the unmistakable poking of his erection against the spot where your hip met your belly. He pushed his thigh against you, inviting you to grind it.

“Is this what my horny little sister needs? Can’t fall asleep without coming?” His voice was low and husky, in equal parts from being half asleep and his obvious arousal. You were starting to transition from drunk to hungover, feeling more drowsy and dizzy than anything else, and the most you could answer with was a pathetic little whimper as he nudged you.

You rubbed yourself against him as best you could, unable to find just the right angle from the new position you were placed in. In a fit of frustration, you tried pushing Neil off of you so you could rub yourself with your hand, but he was deceptively strong and had you pinned.

“Neeeeeeeeeiiiillllll” you whined, once again wondering if this was all a mistake, maybe you should just try to fall asleep and forget this ever happened. Forget the whole night ever happened. Change your name, move across the country, and never talk to anyone who witnessed tonight ever again.

“Shhhh, it’s alright, just lie there and let your big brother take care of you.”

Just lying there was about all you could do as Neil snaked one of arms between your legs, stroking your folds through your panties a bit aimlessly before gathering the courage to reach beneath the cloth and explore further. After a bit of awkward poking around, he found your clit and began circling it gently with his fingertips, eliciting another whimper, this time of pleasure.

“See? I know exactly what you need. M’gonna play with your little pussy until you relax and fall asleep, like a good girl.” His fingers began teasing your slit, tracing up and down its length without daring to breach inside. It never would have occurred to you that Neil would know his way around pussy, he never brought any girls home when he lived with you. He must’ve gotten a lot of practice after moving out, because the way his fingers were just barely ghosting over you was driving you crazy in a way you couldn’t understand. You wanted him to stop, you wanted him to continue exactly what he was doing, you wanted him to start giving you more. All you knew was that you wanted him, and for him to keep touching you.

As if he could read your mind, he spread your innermost lips and plunged two of his fingers inside. The stretch was sudden, but not at all unwelcome. You were wet enough for him to thrust his fingers in and out of you easily, spreading your slick wherever he touched. As soon as he began alternating between fucking you on his fingers and roughly toying with your clit, you started seeing stars.

“You like that? You like me finger fucking your tight little pussy? I wish I could see it, I bet it's all pink and cute, like your nipples. I bet you’ve never even taken a cock before."

Too drunk, too horny, and too tired to form words, the most you could do was shyly squeak in affirmation.

“Next time I’ll have you bounce on my cock so I can watch your face as you come. Or maybe I’ll eat you out so I can really get to see how cute your pussy is. Or maybe you’ll just want to pay back the favor I’m doing you now and suck me off.”

Next time? You hadn’t considered something like this happening again, or even the fact that you’d have to see him again. In mixed company. With your parents around. Would he fuck you in your childhood bedroom while everyone else was downstairs cooking dinner? Or would he keep your liaisons a dirty little secret that only happened away from home?

You didn’t care. You were coming from your stepbrother’s touch, in your stepbrother’s bed, far away from anyone else you knew. You felt your stomach tighten and your toes involuntarily curl, much stronger than you ever felt sneakily rubbing yourself in the shower. Thank fuck you were in a dark room, because you swore you could feel your face going all stupid.

You must not have realized how much you were panting and clenching around his fingers, because Neil seemed to know exactly how close you were and began whispering in your ear, encouraging you to come. You could barely register what he was saying, you were so lost in the sensation of his breath on your neck and his hand on your cunt.

Your orgasm finally took hold, and you could hear yourself babbling in pleasure but had no idea what you were saying, if you were even forming coherent words, as the pleasure ripped through your body like an electric shock. After the initial burst, you felt your body relax in a way you didn’t know was possible, releasing tension you didn’t even know you were holding. You swore you could feel yourself melting through the mattress before realizing that no, that was just sweat.

Noticing that you were lying there like a limp noodle and no longer squirming and moaning, Neil rolled off of you, withdrawing his hand from your panties. His fingers were completely soaked with your wetness, and while his initial instinct was to wipe them off on his shirt, roll over, and go to sleep, he couldn’t ignore the fact that he was rock hard. In a stroke of genius that would soon lead to literal stroking, he realized he had the perfect lube on hand.

He shoved his drenched hand down his boxers and began tugging his desperate member, softly grunting in rhythm with his pumping fist. Part of you felt bad that you weren’t helping, you had kinda forgotten that Neil was a complete person with desires of his own and not just a machine to get you off, but you were cozy and half asleep and he seemed to be handling the situation well enough on his own. At least, well enough that he was coming all over the front of his shirt.

He carefully pulled his soiled shirt over his head and wiped off his hand and what was left of his mess before tossing it on the floor and reaching for the blanket that had been kicked to the bottom of the bed amidst all the excitement. You felt yourself being tucked in as you gently dozed off, snuggling into Neil’s side as soon as he laid down beside you.

Yeah, you were going to visit your step brother a lot more often now.

[futurefamousdeadmusician]

No comment

The delinquent season

[futurefamousdeadmusician]

Chaotic/dark academia/intellectual who's suffering moodboard for anonymous

[futurefamousdeadmusician]

[futurefamousdeadmusician]

This scene gave me secondhand embarrassment 🥲

[futurefamousdeadmusician]

Pathetic

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

Pairing | Stepbro!Neil Lewis x reader

Summary | Your stepbrother is weird and annoying, but you’ve found a way to make good use of him.

Warnings | Smut, dub con? but like not really, incest technically, dry humping, cunnilingus, multiple orgasms, he’s very pathetic, and subby, reader is very mean.

Words | 1.2 k

Notes | Idk in my head they’re both in college but still living at home lol. Also once again, I can’t think of a title😭

Ao3 link | <3

Masterlist

Kinktober | day 17: degradation

You thought your step brother was super weird and honestly a little annoying… but there were some redeeming qualities. He’ll pretty much do whatever you say— he’s only a few months younger, but he acts like it. Even though he’s taller and probably stronger, you can still boss him around like an older sister should. Then there was… his other useful quality. 

“You’re such a fucking pervert.” You spat, almost disgusted, and he whined behind you as his hips sped up. You were currently on your hands and knees on his bed, wearing just a shirt and panties. Neil was behind you, holding your hips still so he could dry hump you with his clothed dick in the cleft of your ass, over your underwear. “This is what gets you off? Humping your sister like a dog?” You snickered. 

“Oh god…” He moaned, rutting against you harder and faster. “Fuck, I- I’m gonna come.” He whimpered and you barked out a laugh. 

“Already?” His whines got louder and louder until his hips stilled a little and he was moaning and whimpering instead. You could feel his come soaking through both pairs of underwear and his cock twitching as it stayed pressed between your cheeks. “That’s all it takes? You just rub your dick on something and come in less than five minutes?” 

“Stop..” He whined pathetically. 

“Get off me.” You huffed, leaning up to push him down on the bed. You got him on his back, then straddled his hips and began grinding on him again, this time with your cunt.  

“Wait- wait,” He choked out, grabbing your hips. He let out a pained whine at the overstimulation, only encouraging you. 

“Don’t be such a baby.” You started grinding down on him harder, mostly to make it hurt more for him, but also to finally get yourself close to the edge. 

“Please stop..” He threw his head back and squeezed his eyes shut, barely coping with the overstimulation. 

“God- do you ever shut up?” You groaned, leaning over him to put a hand over his mouth. The new angle was stimulating your clit even more, making you curse under your breath. 

He sobbed out a moan behind your hand and looked up at you with glossy eyes, his brows scrunched together in pain. Pink dusted his cheeks and you couldn’t help but enjoy the sight. 

He’s never looked more pathetic. 

“Y’know, if you actually knew how to make a girl come, I wouldn’t have to do this.” You said bitterly, making him whine. “Of course I had to get stuck with a fucking virgin for a step brother. Maybe I’ll go find one of your friends— see if they have better stamina than a fucking teenager.” His hips bucked under yours, making you smirk a little. 

“Oh, do you like that?” You sneered. “Is that what you are, a cuck? Should I let you watch your friends do a better job than you ever could?” In response, he whimpered and shook his head. 

“You’re so fucking useless. This isn’t even worth it— I’m just going to get off by myself.” You started to lean up and when he reached out for you in a panic, you slapped his hands away. 

“No! I- I’m sorry. I can help.” 

“Can you?” You scoffed. “I don’t think your pathetic excuse for a cock will help me very much.” 

“My— my mouth..” You huffed, but laid down on your back, making him frown when your come soaked underwear got on his sheets. 

“Get to it then.” You snapped, bringing him into motion. He laid down between your legs and wrapped his arms under your thighs, then pulled your underwear to the side. He started with slow kisses and licks, quickly testing your patience. “Why am I coming like this and not with my vibrator?” You asked sarcastically, egging him on. Which got him to start moving more enthusiastically, sucking on your clit and slurping up your arousal. 

“God, you even eat pussy like a fucking virgin.” You muttered, sounding almost bored. He whined against you, sucking on your clit even harder and occassionally fucking his tongue inside you. 

You waited for him to bring you to the edge, but it was taking a while, so you decided to grab your phone and watch something to help you get there. The movement of you picking up the device caught his attention and he looked up at you without removing his mouth from your pussy. When moans started playing through the speaker, he immediately frowned and his ministrations faltered. 

“I let you come. Do the same for me or I’ll tell your mom about how much of a pervert her ‘precious baby boy’ is.” You snapped. He stared at you with slightly wide eyes, then reluctantly put his attention back on your cunt. 

The porn was definitely helping, as was knowing how degraded he probably felt. After a few minutes, he pulled back and you looked down at him, raising your brows. 

“My tongue is getting sore.” He explained with a pout, making you scoff. 

“You’re the one who begged to eat me out. Stop fucking complaining.” Using your free hand, you grabbed his hair and yanked his head back down, burying his face in your pussy. You held him in place like that for a few minutes, but when you started nearing the edge, you put his head in a leg lock, keeping his mouth pressed firmly against your cunt, giving him no other choice but to make you come. 

When you finally fell over the edge, you squeezed his head with your leg even tighter and your back arched off the bed. He was moaning against you and humping the bed, apparently enjoying your orgasm almost as much as you. 

After the pleasure faded, you let out a heavy breath and sagged back onto the bed, closing your eyes. Neil let out a soft sound against your pussy, so you sighed, but let your leg fall back down onto the bed, allowing him to pull off. The bottom half of his face was completely covered in his spit and your arousal, and he panted heavily for a few seconds as he wiped his face with the back of his hand. 

“Can I please come again?” He asked timidly, waiting until you had mostly recovered from your orgasm to ask. 

You looked down at him, then rolled your eyes and reached for your phone again. “Whatever. Hump my leg I guess.” He whined quietly, but straddled your thigh and started rutting against you while you scrolled through your phone, waiting impatiently for him to finish. 

Soon enough, his breathing was starting to pick up and his hips were moving more desperately as he neared the edge. “Fuck.. I’m gonna come.” He choked out, humping you frantically. When the front door slammed shut though, both of you froze. 

“Can you help bring in the groceries?” His mom called out from downstairs. 

“Be right there!” You yelled back, then sat up, making him whine loudly. 

“No- please.. I’m so close.” 

“Not my problem, loser. Get off.” You spat, pushing him off your leg onto the bed. You stood up, but paused when you heard quiet whimpering. More come was leaking from his underwear and he quickly reached down to try and salvage the rest of his ruined orgasm. You watched him stroke his erection through the fabric, getting his come all over his hands and crotch, making an even bigger mess. 

“You’re so fucking gross.” You scoffed, making him whine pathetically. Before leaving, you picked up his shirt from the floor and wiped the rest of his come from your ass, then put your shorts back on and walked out. 

[futurefamousdeadmusician]

omg I absolutely loved your recent smut about judge jonathan crane 😍 especially the bit of praise for his beloved wife, could you make a part 2 where he "gets back" at the reader after his courtroom blow job? with some extra praise please! thank q so much I really enjoyed reading Under His Desk & have an obsession for Jonathan Crane too, i hope you have a lovely day!! 😍

On His Desk (Judge Jonathan Crane x Fem!Reader) [+18]

Pairing: Judge Jonathan Crane x female reader Summary: After your husband's work is done, you two can't be bothered to get to a bed before getting freaky. Word count: 2,538 Contents: (Minors DNI) Smut and fluff! Praise, p in v, unprotected sex, creampie Author's notes: I absolutely adore your idea, so here it is! Thank you for your message, I really appreciate it, it was so motivating, and believe me, I always need the motivation. (I'm such a yapper, this fic is double the size of the last one bye. Mandatory 'english is not my first language' disclaimer along with a 'this is my first time writing p in v sex' one, you know the deal.)

"Court dismissed!" Judge Crane announced with a slam of his gavel. Cheers of freedom that he could only compare to those of his students back in Gotham University over a decade ago filled the courtroom. People always loved being allowed to go home, even if those homes belonged to a reign of terror.

Despite that, Jonathan loved going home too. Bane had granted him the upper floor of the courthouse as a personal living space. A makeshift royal chamber for the King of the kangaroo court and his Queen.

You loved home too. You don't remember the last time you had so much freedom over your place of residence. You and Jonathan had been placed in Arkham or prison cells far too many times over the years. And obviously, the iron bars or the cheaply cared for hospital rooms didn't follow your personal taste and sense of style.

The entire Gotham courthouse, all its rooms, chambers, halls and offices were yours now. Your apartments were full of exquisite decorations and stolen fancy furniture that you had only dreamt of when you were doing time. You were the proud Queen of this castle of chaos, and every day, when your and Jonathan's jobs were done, you loved relishing in the fact that this was all yours.

In a high-morale, the attendees left the court. You watched over them, sat comfortably on your throne: Jonathan's lap. Just an hour ago you had been on your knees under your husband's desk, giving him some sneaky attention just to rile him up. And most naturally, you expected his sweet revenge after work.

"So... My sweet angel..." Jonathan murmured warmly into the crook of your neck, his hands pulling you impossibly closer.

"Yes, my perfect Georgia peach?" You asked in a playful but tender tone. The mischief of your previous actions still lingered upon you like his taste on your tongue. Jonathan scoffed and rolled his eyes with a smirk. His hands held you by the hips as he shifted you into a straddle on his lap.

"You're feeling silly today, aren't you, love?" His voice was soft and perfectly warm, nothing like the tone he'd use when announcing the death sentences. It almost seemed like Judge Jonathan Crane and your husband Jonathan were two different men who happened to be madly in love with you at the same time.

"Don't act like you don't love it." You retorted in flirtation. Your lips found him for a moment, giving him a teasing chaste kiss that made him grip your waist and groan.

"I can't fool you... I live for it, baby... And for you too." His hands helped you back into his kiss, this time adding passion into the mix.

Instinctively, your hips ground on him, on his lap. His grip on you grew tighter. Soon enough his tongue was asking for permission to enter your mouth.

Lips parted for him and he went in so slowly, savoring you like the most delicate of desserts. The hand that wore a wedding ring traced a path from your waist, over the fabric of your dress and towards the skin of your back. His hands were rough from the work on the farm he grew up in and the experiments and fights afterwards. The entire life story of your husband along with the smooth metal of his ring finally found your hair, and he held you there. At just a lick away from him.

You moaned softly into his mouth, and he echoed you. He had a firm grip on your hair and your waist, but nothing painful or aggressive.

“But what you did today… It was very very bad, love.” He broke the kiss just to murmur. His beautiful eyes heavy-lidded behind his square glasses.

“What? You didn’t like it?” You asked in a playful sarcasm. One of your hands ran across his hair, brushing an unruly salt and pepper strand away from his forehead. The other took off his glasses with care. Your husband had a mild case of myopia, he wouldn't miss a thing up close.

“I hated it.” He returned the sarcasm with a smirk. His eyes watched the care with which you set his glasses aside, adoration in such a small gesture and in the way he perceived it. His cock had grown harder in his pants. You chuckled with mischief when you noticed.

“Does that mean I’m getting punished?” It was a cheeky question with a hint of true background to it. Sure, your husband had his kinks and so did you, but you could tell in his eyes, in the way he was holding you that, right now, all he ever wanted to do was to be with you, to feel you and finish what you had started down on your knees.

“Maybe...” He chuckled before leaning in for another kiss, just as deep and slow as the previous one. 

He held you really tight. The emptiness of the courtroom amplified every single noise you made. And he couldn’t get enough of it. His every sense had to be filled with you. Hearing, touch, sight, taste and smell. It all had been conquered a long time ago by his beloved wife and he strived to keep it that way.

His lips went further down, from the corners of your lips to your jaw. Open-mouthed kisses trailed their way towards your neck. He growled at the scent of your perfume, unable to resist pressing his face against you.

“Me neither.” You whispered back, your arms were busy wrapping around his shoulders, brushing past the ripped parts of his suit jacket, and he took it as a green light to act. 

"Smells good." He purred in delight, nuzzling his nose against your neck once more. "Is that the perfume I got you, love?" Your dream perfume, to be exact. Jonathan had sent some of his men to raid the fanciest Gotham stores with a list of expensive gifts for you. In the anarchy money wasn't a problem anymore. Good old 'finders keepers' had played in your favor. Jonathan now made sure to bathe you in the riches his status as a wanted villain wasn't able to afford back in the day. You hummed your ‘yes’ with a proud, flirty smirk, drawing a smile out of Jonathan.

“It suits you so well… Makes me go insane…” He whispered, giving your neck a few more hungry nibbles and kisses. “I'm definitely not waiting until we get upstairs, baby.” Despite the seductiveness in his voice, he was being completely honest. And after all, the courtroom was empty, the pile of desks was strong enough, and he was too hard to handle being patient.

With you secured with the embrace, and with a gentleness intended for a fine piece of china, Jonathan slowly laid you down on his desk. Moving away any sort of clutter that could be an obstacle to your beautiful body before fully setting you there. His lips never once abandoned your neck, the sounds of his sucks and nibbles fusing with the sound of some paper sheets being tossed aside.

"Godammit, you're perfect." He whispered in fluent desire when he pulled back to take a good look at you. Once your head was safely laid on the wooden surface his hand traced the shape of your body over the fabric of your dress. All the way over to your thighs where the hemline rested, although not for much longer. 

Reverently, he slid the dress up to your hips, his baby blue eyes already fixated on your lacy black panties that left nothing to the imagination. 

“Oh, love… You’re perfect and you’re a perfect tease…” He remarked, the corners of his lips were tugged up into a smirk. His eyes reverently tracing the shape of your cunt. His favorite place to be in.

Not wanting to wait any longer, Jonathan yanked the panties off your body, letting them join the sheets of paper. He pushed the backs of your thighs down and hooked each leg on each of his shoulders hungrily. 

In a moment, he gathered up saliva in his mouth and carefully spat over your pussy. Your wetness could be enough on its own, but he was a firm believer in having you completely soaked before taking him in.

“That’s it… Nice and easy…” He whispered with proud hunger, his hands were already taking his cock out of his pants for a second time today.

“Forgive me for not foreplaying you more, love. But if I don’t do this right now I’m going to cum in my pants…” He confessed and got a sweet laugh out of you that shifted into a soft moan when the tip of his penis pressed against your entrance.

He exhaled a hot, lustful breath of relief when his saliva and your own wetness eased his way inside you. You moaned again, your hands held onto the edge of the desk as the familiar sensation took over. Every vein and inch engraved in your memory, your pussy so warm and needy for him. He closed his eyes for a moment, his mouth opening for his own moan when he pushed all the way in. One of his hands caressed your cheek softly and his eyes opened to seek your permission to go on.

You nodded, your tongue darting out to lick his thumb mischievously as it brushed over your lips. He groaned at the sight and at the rush when he started to move, fucking you slowly and deeply into the desk.

“Ohh, love… My beautiful love…” He muttered, his breathing was starting to get heavier the more he pounded in you, yours was too. You moaned, you cunt getting even slicker. You clenched once around him, just to bask in the pretty sound he made. To get back at you, he plunged his thumb into your warm mouth, pressing the digit against your tongue. You diligently sucked it and clenched your walls around him again in playfulness.

With a groan that tested the edge of a moan, Jonathan pulled his now wet thumb out of your mouth. He found both of your wrists and held them down firmly but not aggressively, just in a search to hold onto you and return the banter. His hips bucked faster now, the sound of your skin slapping against his added to the lists of sinful sounds echoing in the courtroom.

“God, you’re always so tight…” He thought out loud, the pride in your eyes made him thrust into you harder.

“Jonathan!” You semi-complained, your wet throbbing pussy had nothing against him, but your remaining consciousness did just a little bit. It was more of a playful banter in all honesty.

“Told you you were going to be punished, love…” He explained himself with another hard thrust that made you yelp. “Just… Not as roughly… You’re far too gorgeous… To be treated like that…” Dirty liar. You had been spanked or facefucked for much less in the past, but Jonathan seemed so needy for you today, you decided to let it slide for now.

“Oh, God…” You cried out multiple times as his thrusts went on, his grunts and moans usually replying to you each time. His grip on your wrists was passionate, keeping you there and sinking his nails into your flesh, adding a soft hiss to your repertoire of sounds. 

Your pussy kept clenching around him like your life depended on it, to the point where you started to do it automatically. You threw your head back with another moan that was driving your husband mad. Incredibly so.

The tip of his cock hit the right spot inside you, and he took advantage of the way your body trembled and how you let your guard down when your eyes closed to start his final attack. He left your wrists alone now, and your hands were free to return to your vicious grip on the desk. Something that you would definitely need.

The pleasure that boiled in your depths suddenly turned into an intense haze when Jonathan one-upped your clenches with skillful circular motions that he pressed on your clit. His body-hand coordination showed off as he maintained the fast pace with his hips but treated your bundle of nerves with a practiced care. All you could do was gasp and yelp, moan and hold onto the wooden edge and then moan again.

Jonathan kept abusing the hell out of your g-spot and your clit with pride and mischief, definitely taking his revenge on you. Still, he couldn’t deny just how precious you were to him, how beautiful you looked, how delicious your tight little pussy felt around his cock. You were his perfect angel, and he craved to treat you as such.

With love, he leaned in, holding the top of your head with his free hand and kissing you senseless, his tongue tasting yours and swallowing your moans straight from the source. He was going wild, his circles applied more pressure to your clit and his pace became faster. He had to push his body weight on you a bit harder now.

His left hand then traveled from your head to your face, and then all the way over to your clothed breast, cupping it and squeezing it. He purred and massaged it over your dress, a satisfied smirk formed against your lips when he felt your pussy’s reaction to it. You were so close to the edge for him.

Intelligently, he went all out. His hips pistoned so hard your g-spot didn’t have a single second to rest. His fingers moved so fast over your clit it felt like a vibration. You moaned out his name and probably left curved marks on the wood from your nails.

“That's perfect… So perfect, my love, you’re doing so good!” Jonathan struggled to speak in his own pleasure. He was so close to another orgasm but he held it back, even if his slapping balls felt tighter and tighter. He was not cumming until you did.

“Jonathan!” You cried out. You took a weight off his shoulders when, unable to take it any longer, the tension and heat that coiled in your insides snapped, making you come all over his cock before him.

His own endurance was affected with the feeling of your wet, thick orgasm. Your throbbing cunt eagerly milked his twitching cock. He pounded into you a few more times before groaning and finally allowing himself to release. Your slick and the remnants of his saliva now mixed with his cum. His body rested lovingly on top of yours, distributing his weight so he didn't crush your panting, post orgasmic form.

With adoration, he kissed your neck, his fingers allowed your clit to rest as he drew them back towards his lips, licking the digits that had touched it in both an act of desire and utter love.

You were his life, his love, his driving force, his literal partner in crime and most importantly, his wife. And despite the way things were now in Gotham, he was grateful that he had you here, in his arms, full of him like he was of you.

[futurefamousdeadmusician]

If There's No End

Pairing | Jonathan Crane x Reader

Warnings | DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT!!! MAJOR CHARACTER DE*TH – Reader d*es! ANGST, HURT, NO COMFORT, CANN*BALISM, do NOT read if any of this feels too uncomfortable!! Jon is very, very delusional in this, drugging, lobotomy, established relationship, again - CANN*BALISM. (tumblr wants me to censor this :'] )

Summary | Jonathan reminisces about your shared life and the day you found out his secret.

Words | 2.7k

Notes | Don’t yell at me for this, you’ve been warned! Not proofread, please don’t beat me up.

@kiss-me-cill-me welp, this is the cannibalism fic lmao bon appetit

Jonathan never thought he’d know guilt. But now that he’s hunched over on his knees, digging through the mud with trembling hands, he suspects that this might be it. His vision is still blurry. Has been for the past few hours. The tears have turned his world into a faded, abstract mess, like a child’s chalk drawings that are in the middle of being washed away by the rain. If it had been anyone else, he would have settled for the large dump of hazardous waste behind ACE Chemicals. But not in this case. Never in this case.

Jonathan never thought he’d grow to respect another person, but you crashed into his life with an earth-shattering intensity that nearly made his knees give out as soon as you turned to greet him. Hi. Two letters, one syllable. And it affected him in such a profound way that his ears still burn at the memory. Even during that first fleeting conversation, he felt as if the edges of his person began to become cloudy. Desperate to merge with yours until there was no end and no beginning to the two of you as separate people. Until flesh and bone and viscera were a shared commodity between him and you. A fever dream with the appropriate symptoms. Some nights he woke from a beautiful dream, a fantasy in which the two of you were irrevocably merged into one being. And on those nights, hot tears of disappointment and anger burned so harshly on his cheeks that he expected his sheets to sizzle where the drops fell.

It was love. It had to be. And when the universe finally relented to the prayers and wishes he whispered until his throat became hoarse, his life exploded with color. Fleeting glances and coy small talk managed to bloom into something more, something deeper and more intimate than Jonathan’s analytical vocabulary could ever fully explain. You loved him in a way that was entirely foreign to him. Unconditional and patient. You just… got him. Without even trying to. Your gaze traveled past skin and ribs down to his very heart and soul, and you didn’t turn away. But you didn’t know everything back then. How could you? He was so secretive about everything involving his studies. Sometimes, he couldn’t resist the temptation of monologuing about fear and its shackles on humanity. But that was all he was willing to share with you. He granted you a microscopic detail of the true extend of his passion. A laughably small excerpt of his obsession.

Jonathan never thought he’d know love. But you proved him wrong with every smile, every whisper of praise, every tender touch upon his skin.

He knows how cliché it is to claim that settling down with someone never occurred to him before he met you, but it's the truth. In a life that was filled with hurt and contempt, you were the first to take a chance on him. Undeterred by his sometimes standoffish nature and cold attitude, you pressed onwards until he cracked, revealing the mush that you've managed to melt him into.

A future with you was worth everything he had endured up to that point. The plan was to graduate, find jobs and get hitched immediately. He wanted to put his last name on you, give you a part of himself that you would take wherever you went.

The first two steps were already completed with him getting a PhD and a professorship, that he quickly lost again, somewhere in the middle. Aside from a few mishaps and arguments about his attitude towards his patients at Arkham, all seemed right in paradise.

Often, the two of you would lie awake at night, talking about your future while you played with his fingers. "I'd like to get married in Spring," you said. And he just nodded, already imagining your bright smile when he'd put the ring on your finger. On those nights, the urge to become one often overtook him, and he rolled on top of you to devour you in a different way. In hindsight, he should've told you. Given you a chance to see the true extend of his rotten soul. You already knew so much about him, yet you still wanted a life with him. You often said how much you craved the mundane with him. Lazy Sunday mornings, standing in line to get groceries, gossiping about your neighbors in the quiet part in the outskirts Gotham City that you wanted to move to. He should've told you about the toxin he keeps stashed away in his office, no more than 15 feet behind the pillow you rested your pretty head on.

He didn't dare to think about what could've been. No, he made the right decision. Surely.

He still remembers your wide eyes. The way the color vanished from your complexion as you turned towards him with his mask in your hands. He remembers how wrong the burlap looked, crushed between your beautiful fingers. You asked him to explain, even though you were already tearing up just by looking at him. Jonathan was always convinced that he could read you like a book, but in that moment, he doubted himself. And he panicked. From one second to the next, he lunged at you, putting you into a headlock that constricted the blood flow to your brain, and you wheezed and wailed for him to stop, but he couldn’t. If he let go, you’d let yourself be ruled by secondary emotions. Emotions like betrayal and heartbreak that threatened to overshadow the deep, deep love you felt for him. It was an act of mercy for both of you. So, he held you until your struggling stopped, and your consciousness slipped away. It always takes longer in real life than in the movies. And he cried with you. God, did he cry, soaking your hair with his tears as he choked you into a blackout.  

You were out for ten minutes. Ten agonizing minutes which he used to prepare for what needed to be done. Your happiness was his happiness, so he had to do something to take your mind off of the situation. Or any situation for that matter. He has never done this before, but the thought of desperate measures during desperate times, didn’t give him the opportunity to hesitate. A local anesthetic and a muscle relaxant would suffice, he decided as he rushed to gather the equipment. By the time you came to, he was already straddling your torso, leaning over you with fresh tears in his eyes. As you began to silently panic, Jonathan was quick to try and shush you. Oh, how it hurt him more than it hurt you. The lobotomy set was a Christmas gift from you. A tongue-in-cheek nod to the history of the profession he chose. It was fate. It had to be.

The tip of the ice pick-like instrument felt cold against your eye socket, and he clenched his teeth at the shiver that ran down your spine. His hands were violently shaking already, and your involuntary movements didn’t make it any better.

“Shh… shh… don’t move, angel… It’ll… it’ll be so quick, I promise.”

Another sob wrecked through his body as he lifted the delicate metal hammer.

“You need to try and sing for me, okay? Or hum. Or anything. I need… I need to know when it’s deep enough. Just try, angel. Just try, okay?”

Jonathan’s voice was as shaky as the grip on the instruments. But by God, he had to do this. He had to keep you by his side. His other half, his future, his everything. The vessel of every passion and love he poured into you. You just stared up at him through watery eyes, unable to open your mouth anymore, so you settled for humming. It was a nonsensical melody, a mish-mash of several nursery rhymes without a title. The first strike of the hammer against the orbitoclast caused an incredible pressure to spread in your skull, and black spots settled in your vision as the tip of the instrument breached bone. The crack was nauseating, but you couldn’t even struggle. Jonathan’s breathing became heavy, and he wheezed out a sob that sounded like it came from a dying animal when he saw the blood that began to fill your eye. But he had to continue.

“Just like that. Just like that, angel.”

With trembling hands, he prepared himself for the second strike, but he underestimated the adrenaline that his blackened heart was pumping through his veins. Something went wrong, his sweaty hands slipped off the equipment, skewing the angle of the pick when he hit it. And he hit it hard. Immediately, your humming stopped and turned into stuttered noises. A bead of clear fluid dripped from your nose, rolling down over your lips. This wasn’t blood.

The crushing realization that he messed up caused Jonathan to freeze entirely. Cerebrospinal fluid was leaking out of your nose at a quick rate, sending him into a blind panic. He tried to pull the pick from your eye, causing even more damage to your precious brain. A brain that was meant to love, not hurt. But here you are, wasting away before his very eyes. You’re suffering beneath him like a bird that hit a window in a curious attempt to explore. And you did explore.

Back in his childhood, he once found an injured crow in the shade of the family house. The poor thing was twitching and bleeding, much like you are now. Jonathan remembered the crushing emotions that he felt when he looked at the animal. And he also remembered the feeling when his grandmother put it out of its misery by crushing the crow’s head under her shoe like it was nothing. Like it was nothing. You weren’t nothing, but you still deserved that brand of mercy.

He doesn’t remember how he did it. Whether he wrapped his hands around your throat or injected you with enough muscle relaxant to put you down. In fact, he doesn’t remember much of the first night of complete silence. When he emerged from the blur, his throat felt raw from sobbing, and his eyes were swollen and red. He had left the room that contained your body immediately, fearing that he’d catch fire from stepping into a place that had been consecrated by the death of an angel. Eventually, after he had bitten his lips bloody and used up every tear in his eyes, he dared to face you again. And God, were you still so beautiful. And as ashamed as he was for thinking this way, there was also a positive to this. A big one at that. You would always be his. No one else would ever get the privilege of seeing your eyes or hearing your voice again. You truly belonged to him in every way. And as he stepped over to kneel besides your body and take your hand in his, he actually smiled. It was just the two of you. Like you always planned.

It was a grueling process. To strip skin from flesh, and flesh from bone. But he was patient. Patient in the same way that you were with him. Patient in a tender, saccharine way that made his insides squirm as if he was infested by maggots. But the only parasite inside of him was love. That's how it works, right? You can never truly get rid of it.

Once the bones were clean, he had to step back for a while. The impending loneliness made him stumble into the bathroom to vomit into the toiled bowl. For a good 30 minutes, he sat there. Doubled over and white-knuckling the porcelain. There was no disgust involved. Just fear. God, he was terrified of being alone again. Terrified of truly losing the one thing he couldn't breathe without. And as he sat there, heaving like a dog, he found a solution.

He ate your heart first.

Every bite, every mashing of teeth against teeth was an act of love. He had to pause a few times, chuckling at himself for his choice. How cheesy it was to go for the heart first. But how could he not? Even Jonathan wasn't immune to symbolism. It wasn't about taste or texture. It was about the growing sensation of having his stomach filled. Of having his hunger satiated by forming an everlasting connection with you. You would never be wearing his wedding ring, but you'd be with him forever in a different way. You'd be his until the day that he died. And even then, he hoped, your spirits would be so entangled that there was no way of separating the two of you. Maybe you'll get reincarnated as one soul together.

Over the course of three weeks, he forced himself to consume as much of you as he possibly could, setting the table for two since you were there as well. It always started off tame. He tried to savor the feeling of becoming one, but at some point, his composure always cracked, and he ate your body like he was a starving animal trying to fill the never-ending pit inside of him. The part that hurt him more than anything, though, was crafting a story. In the process of keeping you to himself, he had to ruin your reputation.

It was easy for others to believe. Of course, you would leave Jonathan for someone else. Most people in your small circle secretly never believed that this relationship would last. It was easy to make them believe something they had already expected to happen at some point. In this crafted lie, you went off to live with someone else, far away from Gotham. But in reality, you were always here with him. Beneath his skin that now became your own.

Jonathan never thought he’d feel peace. But now, that he has finished digging this hole in Gotham Central Park, he thinks he’s gotten pretty close. It has started to rain a few minutes ago, but he’s not bothered. In his mind, it’s your doing. Your loving attempt to wash the sin and guilt from his body. Because you know the depths of his devotion, know the intend behind his actions. This isn’t the first hole he has dug since the two of you became one. But it’s the final one. Back when he was confronted with the reality of what to do with your bones, he decided to do what you would want. You always were the romantic in the relationship, so he decided to leave your remains in places that were significant to the both of you.

His hands aren’t shaking anymore, as he pulls the plastic bag that he brought closer to himself. The material shreds quickly as his fingers tear through it, and he pulls it open to reveal the last pieces of your previous body. A tender smile spreads over his face as he reaches into the bag to pull out the bones of your fingers and wrists, remembering how he tore off the flesh and skin with his teeth. Your loving touch would always be with him. Carefully, he lowers everything into the hole he dug before he turns to the final piece. Tears of relief well up in his eyes as he gazes upon the empty sockets of your lovely skull. With the caution and gentleness of a mother setting down her newborn, he places your skull into the earth, whispering promises of everlasting love under his breath. This isn’t the end. Far from it. Once he wipes his eyes with his sleeve, he notices something else. It takes a moment to dislodge one of your molars from your jawbone, but Jonathan eventually manages. The piece of ivory bone almost seems to glow in the dim light that’s being casted by a distant street lamp. It’s your tooth. You share his now, so there’s no need for it anymore. But it’s one last piece of your smile.

And in a final act of completion, he swallows it.

[futurefamousdeadmusician]

Obsessed

Dark! Tom (from the party) has had a thing for Janet and Bill’s barely legal neighbor for so long. So at their party, while everyone else is drunk and too oblivious, Tom follows her outside and ((;

THE PARTY FAVOR

DARK!TOM X FEM!READER

summary Tasked with congratulating Janet in your parent's name, you head over to hand over a party favor. But a bottle of champagne isn't the only thing that's being thirsted over tonight.

warnings Tom is a little gross in this lmao. But it's Dark!Tom, so what do you expect 🥴💦 Big age difference!! (Reader is freshly 18, Tom is in his late thirties) P in V , unprotected, hints of drug use, foul language, alcohol consumption, cheating

notes Whoops, this got a little longer than I planned! my last little gift before I go on vacation lmao <3 tysm for requesting this, anon! I had fun writing this! Please turn a blind eye to any mistakes, I'm tired aaaaa

! MINORS DNI !

main masterlist • taglist • kofi word count: 2.9k

“God, I haven’t seen you in years.”

You tense up at the voice, turning around to stare at a familiar face. You were just in the middle of hyping yourself up to even knock on the door when said door opened, leaving you unprepared and caught off-guard like a deer in the headlights. But it’s not the person you expected. No, instead of the expected Janet, her friend April is staring back at you, throwing a wrench into your plans. See, you’re here on a mission. A mission with easy instructions.

Your parents left a bottle of champagne and a greeting card on the counter before they went to the theater, asking you to head over to your neighbors Bill and Janet to congratulate them on Janet’s ministerial appointment. But now, you’re already going off-course.

“April… lovely to see you,” you smile at her, nodding down towards the gift you brought. But before April can respond, Janet’s voice can be heard from inside.

“Who is it?”

“Your neighbor. The little one. Well, not so little anymore.” April gives you a once-over, not even pretending to be cordial with you. In a way, it’s admirable of her. She never bends over backwards to please people, and she definitely has no trouble speaking her mind. If only she wasn’t such a fucking hater.

Janet joins her in the doorway, looking at you with an expression that’s both relieved and distressed. If you’re the deer in the headlights, she’s the deer that has already made acquaintance with the hood of a bulky SUV.

“Oh, what a surprise. I didn’t expect you to come over, honestly. So lovely to see you. How are your parents?” Janet begins, raising her voice a little to drown out an argument that’s happening inside. You can see the forced smile, the exhaustion in every line on her face. And then, to both April’s and your surprise, Janet invites you inside with a wave of her hand. This wasn’t the plan. Not at all. You’re supposed to hand over the bottle and card and leave. Leave. Going inside the damn house definitely wasn’t part of your instructions.

“Uhm… Look, Janet, if this is a bad time –“ You try to decline, only to be cut off by the hostess of the party.

“No, no. Don’t be silly. Please, come in.” She notices your skeptical glance past her into the house, realizing that, despite her best efforts, you must’ve heard the last syllables of the argument that happened in the living room. Still, Janet puts on a brave face, desperate to play the part of the overjoyed, newly elected minister. The silence between you drags on for a few more seconds before she steps aside to make the invitation even more clear.

“Please,” she repeats, and this time it sounds like a plea you’re too polite to ignore.

The house feels off. You've been over a few times before, and the place has never once felt this… depressing. The living room reeks of misery, and you get the feeling that you stumbled into something you shouldn't be a part of. But now you're here, still clutching the bottle of champagne and the greeting card. There's a little stain on the red envelope, caused by your clammy hands digging into the paper, but you just assume that Janet won’t care.

You’re proven right when she takes the gift from you, only to immediately set the card aside in favor of opening the bottle of champagne. As she pours enough glasses for everyone, she tentatively tries to make conversation.

“I heard it was your birthday? You’re 18 now, aren’t you? God, what an age… So young. And so full of joy…” she trails off for a moment, and you witness in real time how her expression falls and twists into something pained and dejected. Then she catches herself and clears her throat, quickly replacing her sullen demeanor with something more cheerful. A typical politician.

“Well, happy belated birthday.”

Everyone else is stuck in their own thoughts, quietly muttering their congratulations, and you’re once again reminded why you never join the celebrations whenever your parents receive an invitation from Janet. You grace the group with a tight-lipped smile, downing your glass of champagne and accepting a refill.

The slam of the bathroom door almost causes you to drop your drink, and as you look up, you’re met by the sight of Tom stomping back into the room. You pause, unable to stop your eyes as they rake across his form, taking in the tension that has captivated every cell in his body. His forehead is covered by a thin layer of sweat, and his usually neat hair is tousled, plucked apart by skittish hands. You also don’t miss the way he hurriedly rubs the tip of his finger over his gums.

Tom clears his throat, straightening his ridiculously expensive suit jacket as he approaches you, and he meets your gaze with a look of recognition in his baby blues. Out of everyone in this dreadful group of characters, it’s him you get along with the most. At least you did, back when you last spoke and the air didn’t feel as thick as fucking tar. Something about Tom’s arrival only causes the tension to worsen, and you flinch as Janet’s hand lands on your shoulder.

“And your parents? Going on vacation, are they?”

You blink at her, taking a moment to digest the absolute whiplash this entire situation is giving you. This feels hellish, in a way. As if you’ve wandered into your own spinoff of Dante’s Inferno, desperate to crawl out of this ring of hell and back to your room to try and forget this ever happened.

“Yeah… They’re leaving for Italy in two days. Turin. For three weeks.”

Janet nods, looking absent as you answer the question she asked in the first place, and you awkwardly sip on your glass as she starts a new topic without acknowledging your response. You can feel Tom seething next to you as Janet speaks, radiating a nasty energy that’s seemingly directed at the host, sitting not too far away on a chair in the middle of the room. Tom’s jaw clenches, and you can practically hear how his teeth grind together.

Finally, he snaps.

“Are we going to pretend that nothing happened? Are we seriously going to pretend that Bill didn’t fuck my wife?”

The room immediately falls silent, and your eyes almost pop out of your head. So that was the topic of the earlier argument. You look at him, and he scoffs, turning away from the group.

“God, I –“ He cuts himself off, running his hands through his hair and down his face as if he’s trying to wipe the turmoil and exhaustion off his skin. Obviously, to no avail. “I need some air.”

Some minutes pass, and you feel incredibly out of place as another argument starts within the group, only getting worse with every glass of champagne—and now wine—that’s being chugged by everyone involved. You clear your throat, trying make yourself known.

“I should go as well. Uhm… it’s been nice. Congrats again, Janet.”

The woman in question doesn’t even notice that you’re slinking away from the party, too busy glaring daggers into her husband while Bill is talking about Marianne, Tom’s beautiful wife. Good lord, you’ve never felt more relieved to leave someone’s home.

Outside, you march through the small backyard, heading straight to the little gate that separates your property from your neighbor’s, and you’re almost back within your comfort zone when a voice stops you.

“Hey. Come… Come here for a moment.” You look over your shoulder, spotting Tom as he’s leaning against the wall next to the dustbins, head in his hands. Torn between your desire to leave and the empathy you feel for the man, you hesitate for a breath before you approach him.

“Are you alright? I can’t imagine…”

Without answering, Tom lifts the lid off one of the dustbins, revealing a gun sitting pretty among the trash. You can feel the blood draining from your face, and you recoil, breath hitching within your throat.

“Jesus Christ – “

“Shh, shh! I know. Just –“ Tom cuts himself off, raising his hands in an effort to calm you down. When you’re just looking at him instead of running, he lets out a sigh of utter devastation. “You know I can’t do this. And I won’t, but... I… I found out this morning that Bill…”

He shakes his head, unable to finish his sentence, and your heart twists a little as you see the tears welling up in his eyes. In an attempt to comfort him, you reach out to set a gentle hand on his shoulder, which causes him to crumble even more. Tom lets out a choked scoff, shaking his head as his anger grows alongside the grief and disappointment.

“And I’ve always been faithful! I never cheated on Marianne! Even though I’ve had plenty of opportunities! Even… God, even with you around, I’ve always… always kept a grip on myself.”

He sniffles, wiping his eyes with the back of his hand, before he meets your eyes again, and you startle. There’s still anger in his eyes. But another emotion has joined in as well, filling his gaze with something dark and hungry that causes you to pull your hand back again.

Suddenly, you’re very aware of your situation.

“I’m sick of pretending. Sick of denying myself. I’m a man too, god damnit.”

He’s quick to snatch you, wrapping his arm around your waist to pull you in against his frame. You know you should struggle. You should tell him off. But you’d be a liar if you claimed that he had never once crossed your mind late at night. Tom is the kind of man who inspires your hands whenever you touch yourself. His face is the one you imagine hovering above yours when you’re knuckle-deep in your pretty little pussy.

“Wait, I –“ You try to speak, but he’s quick to maneuver you up against the wall, pressing you against brick and mortar and trapping you in place with his body.

“No. I’ve waited long enough.” He grits his teeth, catching both your wrists to pin them behind yourself over the small of your back and hold them in place with one of his larger hands. “Do you know how hard it was? To see you prancing around… I was always scared you’d have a boyfriend when you turned 18. Lucky me.”

You swallow hard, letting out a squeak as his free hand reaches around to pull up your shirt and bra, revealing your soft skin to the mild air and his eager fingers. Tom rolls one of your nipples between his pointer and thumb, tugging the hardening bud before he moves onto the next one, and you can hear how shaky his breath is getting as he continues to grope your tits. You squirm at a particularly harsh tug, causing him to press you up further against the wall, immobilizing you completely as he undoes his belt and zipper.

His deft hands take care of your jeans and panties next, opening them and pulling them down as much as he needs to gain access to your sweet cunt.

“Tom…” you whine, feeling the head of his cock brushing up against your dripping slit. He grunts in response, not bothering to hear you out as he sinks his length into your velvety folds, causing his breath to shudder against the shell of your ear. You wince, letting out a soft noise of discomfort as he pushes deeper, rolling his hips against yours to set a shallow rhythm.

“You can take it. Look at how fucking wet you are. You’ve thought about this before, haven’t you?”

You want to protest, but right as you open your mouth, he aims a rough thrust up against that delicious sweet spot within your cunt, luring a filthy noise from your lips that only spurs him on even more. Tom still has your arms restrained, picking up the pace of his thrusts as he stretches you open on his cock, getting your tight walls used to his girth.

His fingers push into your mouth, middle and ring pressing down on your tongue to make you gag and whimper simultaneously. Every time he shoves his fingers deeper, your body tenses and drool dribbles down your chin, right onto your exposed tits. It’s rough and fast, overwhelming you in more ways than one. Tom grunts into the crook of your neck, panting against your skin like a man possessed only by the desire to claim, to mark, to own.

The wedding ring still sitting around his finger clinks against your teeth, and you cringe, letting out a soft whine of discomfort that’s quickly shushed by the man behind you.

“Shh… Just be a good girl for me, yeah? Fuck, you squeeze my cock so well when you gag on my fingers…”

He pounds his hips against yours in quick, deep thrusts, fucking his cock into your cunt at an angle that makes your toes curl and your knees buckle. In that moment, you’re grateful that he chose to take you against the brick wall since you’re heavily relying on the structure and Tom’s grip on you to stay upright.

“And you’re so sweet… You don’t care about my job, right? No, you don’t. You’re not like Marianne. Always being so fucking sentimental on her high horse.”

He spits out the words, silencing any further comments from himself by sinking his teeth into your shoulder. The rhythm of his thrusts quickens as he chases his high, and his hand finally releases your wrists to instead reach between your thighs to rub insistent circles around your clit. The sudden jolt of pleasure draws a wail from your lips, and Tom pulls his fingers free from your mouth to instead stifle any noises more effectively with the palm of his hand. His mouth is next to your ear, allowing you to hear every rasp of his breath and the subtle whine of his voice.

“You’re going to cum for me, right? You’re going to finish nice and quietly like a good girl on my cock, hm? Yes, you are.”

He uses his grip over your jaw to make you nod, and he hums in approval as he meets your hazy eyes. Slowly, the pace of his fingers on your clit builds into a crescendo, and his gaze never once strays away from your face. Like a man dying of thirst, Tom drinks in every twitch in your expression, every breathy groan that’s muffled by his hand. He leans in to rest his forehead against yours right as you cream all over his length, twitching while he fucks you through your climax. Groaning, he removes his hand from your jaw to hold onto the flesh of your hips, pistoning into your fluttering cunt even faster, harder, more desperately.

Finally, his thrusts grow erratic, and he pulls out of you at the very last second, reaching for your panties to shoot his thick cum all over the soft fabric. Tilting his head back, he swallows hard as he milks himself dry with a few more pumps of his hand before he releases his grip on you. You slump against the wall, trying to catch your breath while Tom straightens out his appearance.

“This was… worth the wait,” he pants out, reaching into his pocket to pull out a marker. He kneels down, holding onto your knee, while he writes his phone number on the inside of your thigh, marking your skin with the black ink.

“Text me when your parents are in Venice. Or Turin. Or wherever the fuck they’re going.”

You nod back at him, whispering a small "alright,"  which makes him pause. He gets back up to his feet, pressing a quick kiss to your temple before he takes off his wedding ring and drops it into the dustbin right next to the gun. Your eyes meet again, and his expression softens for a split second before he leaves to get back into the house, throwing himself back into the dreadful party and leaving you behind to walk back home with shaky legs and sticky underwear.

Two days later, your parents finally leave for their trip. You follow them to the doorstep, watch with baited breath as luggage is crammed into the family car and the GPS is set up. Then, after the exchange of hugs and goodbyes; after your mom hands you 50 quid as an extra allowance and she waves to you out of the window as your dad starts the motor, they drive off and leave you alone. The house feels dreadfully empty as you close the door and lean against the frame. A minute goes by. Then another.

Eventually, you reach for your phone and open the contact you shouldn’t have saved.

“I’m home alone.”

Sent. Received. Read. For a moment, there’s nothing. You bite the nail of your thumb, grappling with the possibility that he regrets what happened and is now trying to avoid you. And maybe that would be for the best. Maybe you’d be able to move past it and make peace with the fact that you’ll never be able to feel those hands on your skin again. But then those little dots pop up. He’s typing. He’s responding.

“Good girl. I’m coming over.”

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[futurefamousdeadmusician]

SANGUINEOUS

JONATHAN CRANE X VAMPIRE!FEM!READER

summary Jon takes the time to feed his pet

warnings SMUT!! PET PLAY, sub!reader, p in v, unprotected, dom/sub themes, injury, blood drinking, pet names for reader (pet, good girl), death mention, reader kinda ate (literally)

notesI had Nolanverse in mind while writing, but there's not much description of him lmao. Also, this was supposed to be the pet play entry for kinktober but 😬 my bad, whoops

! MINORS DNI !

event masterlist • main masterlist • taglist • kofi word count: 1.6k

The floor felt cold beneath you, sending a shiver down your spine as you watched him with bated breath, waiting for a command, a word of praise, anything.

There was a fire in your eyes, never waning, never dying. You’d outlast his life tenfold, and he knew it as well, but that wasn’t a conversation for nights like these. No, on nights like these, he’d make you crawl, gloved hands and stockinged knees. A predator, adorned with lace and silk and a collar around your neck.

Two truths made up the foundation of this peculiar relationship.

Firstly, both of you knew that you could easily destroy him. Tear him to pieces until he'd be little more than disassembled flesh and bone. Until the sweet essence of his body would cover you in brilliant, scarlet rivulets.

But secondly and more importantly, you both knew that he'd trained you well enough so you wouldn't.

As much as you held the power of life and death within your palm, Jonathan held the leash that kept you tethered to his side. A snarling, exotic pet that bent to his will.

And exactly this predicament was what got you addicted in the first place.

The sensation of kneeling; of obeying. The delicious humiliation of submitting to what was supposed to be prey. The lust in his eyes always mirrored your own, because as much as he liked to lead and own, you desired to follow and be possessed.

“Jonathan,” you rasped, fixing him with gleaming, insatiable eyes from where you knelt before him. The clicking of his tongue betrayed his disapproval, but there was no ire in his eyes. No, the icy blue of his irises was almost completely eclipsed by his blown-out pupils, darkened with a need that only you could satiate.

“Pets don’t speak, do they?”

Your jaw clenched at that, lips pulling down into a frustrated pout, which only caused him to chuckle lowly. His pointer finger flexed, silently commanding you to get closer to where he was seated on the edge of his workbench. Of course, you knew what he kept in those sickly green vials and syringes. You knew from the second he stumbled upon you that fateful night, mistaking you for a helpless little thing he could use to test his latest concoction.

It was only when you revealed your nature that the tables turned instantly. In hindsight, you were happy that you didn’t rip his throat open; that you took the time to see him for what he was. Now, you were monsters of two different kinds, toying with each other in ways that made your skin crawl delightfully.

You followed the gesture of his finger, breath hitching as he hooked it into the metal ring of your collar and yanked you even closer and up on your knees, cheek resting on his thigh.

“You’re famished, aren’t you, pet?” he said, regarding you with a haughty smile that caused your insides to shiver with need. You didn’t answer. Didn’t need to. Jonathan knew the telltale signs of your vampiric hunger; could tell by your posture, the lacking health of your hair, and dull skin.

He hummed, thumb caressing your jaw as he kept his eyes on your ruby ones. Then, he patted his lap with his free hand.

“Up.”

The bell on your collar jingled as you got settled in his lap, straddling his thighs and shifting to get comfortable. Jonathan allowed it, surprisingly patient for a man who adored the marks that a little rough treatment would leave on your body. But for now, he just watched as you got situated, his fingers idly tracing patterns over your hip, which caused goosebumps to spread beneath his touch. Once you were finally settled, he brushed the back of his hand over your cheek and then higher up to adjust the plush cat ears on the top of your head. Something you used to pretend to hate. Fortunately, Jonathan was stubborn enough to insist on them time and time again. Until you gave in and openly started to enjoy the little accessories and trinkets.

“Good girl,” he praised softly, grabbing the back of your neck.

Your eyes were fixed on his nimble hands as he undid his tie and the first two buttons of his shirt. Instantly, your attention was caught by the steady thrumming of his pulse beneath his skin. The mere thought of his velvety blood on your tongue already made you salivate. A willing morsel.

“No. Focus.”

His voice and the tightening grip on your nape released you from your momentary trance, and you swallowed thickly. “You know the drill.”

His cock was already hard by the time he freed himself from the confines of his slacks. Obediently as ever, you raised your hips and allowed him to pull your panties down and carelessly toss them aside.

With how quickly you were complying, one might’ve thought your years of immortality were about to catch up to you. But it was the hunger that drove the urgency of your movements. Hunger that felt like a black hole in the pit of your stomach. A hole that only the rich, sanguine lifeblood of your master could fill.

Jonathan’s free hand crept up the inside of your thigh at an agonizing snail’s pace, taking far too long for your liking until his fingertips dipped between the glistening folds of your pussy. Fleeting pleasure. Far too little to please, yet too much to stay still. Your needy whine earns yourself a tug on your hair.

“Behave,” he warned, rubbing slow circles around your clit. Jonathan let go of your hair again, unbuttoning his shirt more and more to properly expose his shoulder. You almost bit your own tongue at the sight. The faintest visible throb of his heartbeat, the healthy flush on his pale complexion; arousal, excitement.

And a hint of fear.

Terror beneath rose-tinted glasses.

It was an exercise of restraint as he made you sink down on his length, stretching you open around his cock. The appetizer to the impending main course.

His Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed, breath heavy and hands grasping onto the flesh of your hips as he looked up at you. Eyes full of need. Of reverence and trepidation.

And then, Jonathan dipped his head back to bare his throat to his most favorite pet.

“Feed.”

Your mouth was on his throat within seconds as you pounced like the predator you were. Tongue lapping at his skin, you felt the steady beat of his heart as you licked a stripe up the column of his neck. And then you sunk your teeth into his flesh. Deeply.

The man beneath you flinched, his grip tightening on you as a pained groan slipped past his rosy lips. The initial bite always hurt. But what followed was the sweetest pleasure. His eyelids fluttered shut as you began to swallow gulps of his blood, drinking him like the most exquisite wine.

Jonathan had to pull himself together, gritting his teeth to focus as he began to thrust up into you, fulfilling his own carnal desires. Quickly taking the hint, you followed along to his rhythm, meeting every roll of his hips with one of your own.

Moaning with a mouthful of blood, your hands found their way into his hair, desperately tugging and pulling as your mind started to blank. Debased, bouncing in the lap of your master, you were less than and more than human at the same time.

A creature tamed by pleasure.

As Jonathan slowly started to become light-headed, his fingers curled into the back of your collar to pull you off of him, and after one more flick of your tongue against the wound, you released his flesh from between your fangs.

Both of you were panting and whimpering, working up to a desperate climax that was rapidly approaching. Jonathan’s blood was smeared across your parted lips, rolling down your chin and throat in beautiful runlets, and disappearing in the valley between your breasts. If this were the last thing he’d ever see, Jonathan was sure he could die a happy death.

But not now.

Right now, he was alive, and his thrusts sped up as he neared the edge. Despite the loss of blood, his pulse sounded even louder in his ears, and you could hear it as well.

Gritting his teeth, he reached down your bodies to rub your clit with his thumb, determined to push you over the edge first. It’s what any good owner would do.

The filthy moan he got from you in response was reward enough for him, and even in this state, he still managed to grin up at you as your face twisted with pleasure. Grabbing onto his shoulders, your back arched as you came, whimpering and choking out noises with your face tilted towards the ceiling.

Jonathan’s pace only quickened, emboldened by the sight of your trembling form and the exquisite clenching of your slick folds around his cock. Even as you began to squirm, his thumb kept circling your clit.

“No. No, don’t pull away. Don’t be greedy, pet. Let me have this– “ His voice was strained, hissed out from between bared teeth as the bucking of his hips grew more erratic.

One more thrust. And then another. And he finally, finally succumbed to the bliss of his own climax. Jonathan cursed under his breath, pulling your body flush against his to get to your shoulder, where he sank his own teeth into your skin. Or, well, tried to. Aside from the dull pain, he didn’t do any damage.

His bite would leave a bruise; yours would leave a scar. One of many.

And neither of you would ever want it any other way.

@ellebellebarnes @harrystyelsgf @mcumorningstar @mandies24 @detroitbecomevenom

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[futurefamousdeadmusician]

Red Eye 2005 + textposts

[futurefamousdeadmusician]

Um… yeah

[futurefamousdeadmusician]

HAPPY BIRTHDAY JONATHAN CRANE !!!

[futurefamousdeadmusician]

Lesson Learned

•• Jackson Rippner x Reader ••

***!!!Warnings: mature sexual content, CNC, demeaning language, verbal abuse, condescension, harassment, mild choking, injury/harm, minors DNI, 18+ readers only!!!***

…………………………………………………………………………….

Standing back in the kitchen, Y/N turned and looked through the pass-through window as she heard the ring of the bell above the entrance.

“Oh, fuck,” she muttered under her breath as she saw him come through the door.

This was the last thing she needed right now, having to deal with him. She’d had the longest day of the longest week she could ever remember, her feet and back were killing her, and she just wanted to go home. But it was only 2:00 pm, and she still had over six hours left on her shift.

“Your favorite patron’s here,” Angie teased her as she saw Y/N trying to hide back in the kitchen.

“Please, please will you handle him this time? I’m begging you, Angie,” Y/N said. “Just this once.”

“Sorry, hun, you drew the short straw when he first started coming in here. You have to deal with him.”

“That was ages ago!” Y/N practically shrieked. “When are you guys gonna let me off the hook?!”

Angie grinned.

“Maybe when he actually starts tipping,” she said. “Which’ll be more likely the faster you get out there, you know.”

“The day he leaves a tip, or even shows the tiniest hint of being a decent human being, will be declared a modern day miracle,” Y/N replied. What she didn’t realize was that she was running her fingers through her hair and adjusting her breasts in her bra as she spoke.

Angie gave her a quizzical brow as she watched her and then responded.

“For someone who hates him so much, you’re going through an awful lot of trouble to gussy yourself up,” she said.

Y/N immediately dropped her hands from her chest.

“What?! No, I’m not!”

“Then your hair and your tits somehow just primped themselves,” Angie smirked with sarcasm.

“Whatever,” Y/N said, rolling her eyes and tightening the apron around her waist. “You and everyone else here can go to hell.”

“Admit it, you secretly like him,” said Angie.

“I like him better than I like you right now,” Y/N countered, “although it’s a pretty close call. You both can kiss my ass.”

“I think he’d probably take you up on that,” Angie smirked again. “You two just need to fuck already and get it over with.”

“I’m walking away now,” Y/N said flippantly over her shoulder as she headed out of the kitchen, Angie laughing behind her.

Walking through the swinging door, Y/N stopped behind the counter and watched him. She was still slightly hidden by the coffee pot station, and she observed with narrowed eyes as he took his wallet out of his back pocket and placed it on the table before taking a seat. He always sat in the same booth, and ever since the very first time he’d come in, she’d had to wait on him.

At first, she’d won the opportunity, having beaten all the other women at a game of rock, paper, scissors. When he’d first come in, they were all climbing over each other to serve him, everyone noticing how good looking and sexy he was. But Y/N had won, and a huge smile was plastered on her face as she made her way over to him. But by the end of his meal, however, her smile was barely hanging on.

The guy was a cocky, condescending, sexist asshole, and he’d soon revealed this within his first few visits. At first, Y/N had thought he was just trying to be funny, or maybe that he was a bit chauvinistic, but just trying to appear smooth. However, after his visits became at least twice a week frequencies, they’d all come to learn he was just an asshole.

After all the other waitresses had taken a turn serving him, they decided that another round of rock, paper, scissors would determine who’d have to deal with him from there on out, and just as fantastically as she’d won the first time around, Y/N had conversely epically lost the second time. She was convinced she was cursed.

Taking a deep breath and grabbing the coffee pot (he always had a cup of coffee), she stepped out from behind the counter and begrudgingly made her way over to his booth, her heart rate increasing slightly, which she convinced herself was because she was already annoyed with him.

Jackson was casually reclined in the booth, sitting back like he owned the place, with a bored and slightly irritated expression on his face. He didn’t have to look around or call any attention to himself; he knew she’d be there in a matter of minutes, and he drummed his fingers on the back of the booth as he waited. And then, as always, he could smell her before he saw her, the enticing, floral, feminine notes of her perfume preceding her, which he always tried to ignore but somehow never could. Unconsciously, he paused drumming his fingers to lift his hand to his head and brush his fingers through his hair before then reaching down and quickly straightening his blazer.

Taking a final deep breath, Y/N approached his table and tried to ignore how sexy he looked as she stopped in front of him. Without bothering to greet him in any way, she simply reached out and grabbed the overturned coffee mug in front of him, flipping it upright and then filling it up. After she finished, she steeled herself and then finally looked at him, raising her brows expectantly, but her expression still of exhausted irritation.

“What do you want?” she asked him with as much enthusiasm as one would have for picking up dog shit. In fact, she’d rather have been doing that right then instead of serving him.

“Paying customers deserve more courtesy than that,” Jackson said to her, his condescending smirk appearing immediately, his blue eyes shining with self-satisfaction.

“Tipping customers deserve courtesy,” Y/N countered with a challenging tilt of her head, “but you deserve something I’m not allowed to say while on the clock.”

Smirking, Jackson arched a brow at her.

“In a bad mood today, sunshine?” he said mockingly.

“I wasn’t until you walked in,” she replied.

“Then I’ve done my job,” Jackson smirked again.

She narrowed her eyes at him then, shoving the coffee mug back towards him with intentionally too much force, causing the hot brown liquid to slosh over the rim and splatter across the tabletop. He could wipe it up himself if he didn’t like the mess, she thought to herself.

“You’ve got ten seconds to tell me what you want, otherwise your plate will contain whatever shit is clogged in the grease trap behind the fryer,” she said to him.

“At least then we’d know you were actually doing your job and cleaning the kitchen. After all, it’s clear your talents are limited to diner-related tasks.” Jackson briefly looked down then and gestured to the coffee she’d spilled on the table before he continued. “Although, clearly, basic competency and coordination aren’t your strong suits, so hopefully that grease trap isn’t too complicated for you.”

At that, Y/N felt about ready to rage slap him.

“Maybe one of the other gals around here can show you how to properly handle women’s work. Then you’d be good for something.”

Her blood boiling, Y/N looked down at him and spoke through gritted teeth.

“What do you want?” she demanded again slowly.

Goddamn her boss for not allowing her to ever refuse him service. Back when Jackson had first started coming there, she’d asked Stu, the owner, if they could tell Jackson that he wasn’t welcome back again. But Stu was nearly as much of a sexist ass as Jackson was, and along with not caring how Jackson made Y/N feel, he also only saw dollar signs.

“A paying customer is a paying customer,” he’d replied, and then he’d ended the conversation.

Sure, Y/N could have made Jackson’s experiences there unfavorable in the hopes that he wouldn’t return, but she’d already done that (and continued to do it), and unfortunately, it hadn’t deterred him. It almost seemed like Jackson got some kind of sick pleasure from tormenting her, and no matter how much lip she gave back to him, how unpleasant she acted, and how much she insulted him, he still kept coming back.

Of course, there was the other resort of spitting in his food or violating it in some way, but no matter how much Jackson tormented her, Y/N couldn’t bring herself to do that. It was too disgusting, not to mention Stu would fire her on the spot if he ever caught her spitting in a customer’s food or purposefully wasting it by intentionally cooking it poorly. And although she was unaware, Jackson had been watching her for long enough to know that she never did anything like that, so he never had to worry about if she'd fucked with his food.

Still waiting for him to reply, Y/N continued to glare at Jackson, and he smirked in amusement at having done such a good job of pissing her off. And now, he thought, why not get her in a little trouble?

“You know, I’m feeling so off put and unwelcome by your attitude that I’d like to speak to your manager,” he said then. “I feel it’s only right he knows what kind of treatment you’re displaying to patrons.”

“Sorry, he’s not here; you just missed him…Jack.”

Y/N smiled to herself as she saw Jackson’s smirk immediately falter. For whatever reason, he hated being called “Jack” instead of “Jackson”, and she guessed it was from a childhood of bullying due to his last name.

She’d discovered it long ago, after his first few visits. Initially, he'd paid with cash those times, but one day, he'd handed her plastic, and when running his debit card through the register, she thanked him for his business after handing him his card, and he’d quickly corrected her.

“Well, thanks for stopping in again,” she’d said. “Have a good night, Jack.”

His face grew dark.

“It’s Jackson,” he said back to her. “Don’t ever call me Jack.”

Then he was out the door before Y/N could say anything more. Puzzled, she looked down absentmindedly at the receipt printing out of the credit card reader, and when she looked at the print, her eyes landed on his last name, and she realized she hadn't made the connection initially.

Rippner. There was her answer; she immediately caught the joke.

Ever since then, she’d occasionally call him Jack just to piss him off, but she hadn’t said it in months. And he called her every condescending pet name in the books, never having actually called her her name. In fact, she wasn’t sure if he even knew her actual name.

But he knew her name, alright. He knew everything about her. Everything.

He knew she’d been a waitress there for three years now, that she was single and lived alone in a one-bedroom apartment, that she baked chocolate chip cookies and called her parents every Sunday night, that she used strawberry scented body wash, and a million other things about her. He’d seen her do everything and knew her daily routines and all her behaviors, including the fact that she masturbated once a week, working at herself with the sexiest little pouts and expressions scrunching up her beautiful face as whiny, desperate little moans escaped her mouth.

He made it a point never to miss watching her when she did that, and he’d never gotten away without a raging hard-on. As he’d follow it up with jerking himself off to what he’d just seen, he’d always come hard with the sound of her moans still echoing in his ears and her pouty face imprinted in his vision as his cum would release with the force of a bullet leaving a gun. He always needed two tissues to clean up from her, and he was never sure if he felt more angry or more satisfied after he finished. After all, he resented the fact that she had the hold on him that she unknowingly did. The one time a different waitress had had to serve him because Y/N had apparently called out sick, Jackson had got up from the booth and left without another word, and then angrily gone home, once again unsure whether he was angrier with her for daring to not be there or himself for being so bothered by her absence.

As Jackson glared up at her after she’d called him Jack, she smiled smugly, despite simultaneously thinking that he looked even sexier when he was angry. And as she noticed in her peripheral how he clenched his fists, she found herself wondering how those hands of his would feel squeezing her thighs or pulling her hair, or how skillful his fingers could be working inside her. As much as she hated to admit it, it was thoughts like those that ran through her mind as she’d bring herself to climax on top of her duvet, and then afterwards, she’d be disgusted with herself for getting off to a man who was such a condescending piece of shit.

As her luck would have it, Stu appeared from the back office just then, revealing that he was in fact still there. Upon seeing him, Jackson’s glare turned into an evil smile, and he spoke again.

“Guess it’s my lucky day; looks like he came back. So, do me a favor and send him over here, otherwise I’ll have to get him myself, and we both know that if I have to do that, you’ll be in even more trouble.”

Y/N narrowed her eyes again, her self-control hanging on by a severely frayed thread.

“If you’re so unhappy with my service, why don’t you just leave?” she asked him. It was the same question she asked him nearly every time he was there.

“Someone’s gotta teach you how to do your job right, sweetheart. I’m doing you a favor and letting you practice on me, although, as usual, you’re failing miserably.”

“I swear to God, Rippner…”

“Are you gonna send him over, or should we just give him your two weeks notice right now?”

Glaring at him again, Y/N spoke a final time before turning away to get Stu. She couldn't afford to lose this job.

“There’s a very special place in hell for people like you,” she said to him lowly, but Jackson just gave her that cunty grin.

As she walked away, his eyes uncontrollably lowered to her ass, and he was immediately reminded of her panties. He knew which ones she’d put on today, and he felt his cock twitch as he thought about the lace-edged cotton and ripping it off her hips.

Y/N watched from behind the counter with her arms crossed over her chest as Jackson spoke to Stu, Jackson pretending to be a perfectly pleasant customer. She could see the phony smile and hear the friendlier tone of voice he'd used the first couple times he'd come in and she'd served him. She almost laughed to herself as she thought about how wrong she'd been when she initially thought he was charming.

After several minutes, Stu turned and walked back over to her, and just before he spoke, Y/N caught the smug smile Jackson was shooting her over Stu's shoulder.

"He just told me that you refused to offer him a menu and that you intentionally spilled coffee all over the table and told him he could clean it up himself, and then that you told him he should get out," Stu was looking at her sternly, Y/N not responding. "I don't care that he's a regular or how many times you've served him, you don't get smart with paying customers like that. Do you hear me?"

"Stu, the guy's playing you," Y/N replied with exasperation. "He's a total asshole. He's just pretending to be nice to get me in trouble."

"Well, if you treated him the way he says you did, then you're lucky I don't fire you right now."

"Stu! He harasses me every time he's here!"

"I don't wanna hear it," Stu held up a hand and stopped her. "Now, I want you to go back over there and apologize to him, and then you're gonna stay after your shift tonight and mop the floors."

"What?! No way!" Y/N cried.

"Well, then you can walk out of here right now just like you told him to do," was Stu's careless reply. "But your name won't be on the schedule anymore."

Internally seething, Y/N took a deep breath and uncrossed her arms.

"Fine," she gritted out.

Stepping out from behind the counter again, Y/N slowly walked towards Jackson's table, holding his eyes and glaring at him the entire time she approached. God damn those eyes of his.

"Hi there," Jackson said with that phony smile as she stopped in front of him. "Feeling a little more chipper now, are we?"

At the sight of his infuriating (gorgeous) smile, Y/N clenched her fists at her sides, and when she opened her mouth, he cut her off.

"Just remember, you owe me an apology, sweetheart, so think very carefully about what you're going to say, unless you want me to talk to your boss again."

But just after Jackson said that, they both turned to look as Stu called out to no one in particular that he was leaving to go to the bank, then he pushed open the door, the bell ringing above it as he exited.

Now her turn to sport a smug smile, Y/N looked back at Jackson and then spoke. This was her chance, and after the week she’d had and the way Jackson had just gotten her in trouble, she decided to finally stoop to his level.

“Looks like your luck has run out,” she said.

Then, before Jackson could respond, Y/N reached out and grabbed the mug of coffee she’d poured for him earlier and lifted it from the table. She grinned even wider as their eyes locked again, and then, after a second’s pause, she tipped the mug in her hand as she held it above him, pouring the hot coffee into his lap and relishing the look on his face as it hit his body and drenched his clothes.

“Fuck!” Jackson shouted the second he felt the hot liquid hit him, and he jumped to get up from the booth, but the entire contents of the mug had already soaked him. Fortunately, it had cooled slightly since when Y/N had first poured it, but it was still very hot, and his entire front was stained and soaked.

“Fuck!” Jackson shouted again as he stepped out of the booth, Y/N watching him with a smugly triumphant smirk. She stepped back a couple feet and had crossed her arms over her chest, continuing to smile as she heard a mix of whispers and sniggers coming from the other patrons and the servers who’d just witnessed what had happened.

After looking down at himself and shaking the dripping liquid from his clothes and hands, Jackson looked up at Y/N with a heated glare.

“You should really be more careful, Jack,” she said after their eyes had met. “Coffee’s hot.”

Narrowing his eyes at her, Jackson still stood there, his clothes still dripping.

“And it looks like it’s time for my break, so I’m not gonna be able to help you clean up,” she continued.

As she said that, Y/N pulled out the towel that was tucked into the waistband of her apron and lifted it between her fingers, tauntingly dangling it in the air.

“Sorry, Jack,” she finished then. “You take care now.”

And with that, Y/N whipped around and walked away, swinging the towel around in the air as she moved and disappearing through the kitchen door as the smug smile remained on her face.

Her smug little smile wouldn’t stay on her face for long, Jackson immediately decided as he huffed out an angry breath. Glaring after her once more, he then walked towards the entrance and stormed out the door, the bell above it sounding out its signature ring as he did.

•.•.•.•.•

As she finished putting the last of the chairs on top of the tables, Y/N briefly looked out the window into the street.

The occasional group of people walked by on the sidewalk, making their way to the local bars as the rest of the daytime businesses they passed had long since shut their doors.

It was dark out now, and the diner had officially closed two hours ago. But as an addition to her punishment of staying after her shift to mop the floors, Stu had designated Y/N as the server who had to wait out the last diners. So rather than running back home for a short break, or sitting in the back and having a quick bite to eat, she'd had to stay up front and finish serving and then cleaning up after the final straggling customers while everyone else had been allowed to go home. At this point, she'd been there longer than twelve hours, and once the customers had finally left and she'd locked the door, she'd then had to take all their plates and cutlery back to the kitchen and wash them by hand before finally being able to put up the chairs and prepare to mop.

Dispensing a glass of soda for herself from the fountain, she momentarily took a break as she sipped on it before then sitting at one of the counter stools and briefly sliding off her shoes. Flexing and pointing her toes as she felt the relief of finally sitting down, she then rolled her neck and stretched her back before reaching for her glass again.

When the diner was like this — empty, quiet, and now only lit up by the lights of the fountain and coffee machines, kitchen lamps, and dessert cooler, it was almost serene. With the exception of tonight, she usually enjoyed closing up by herself because she could relish in the quiet and people watch out the window for a while. But tonight, she was still here because of him, and she almost wished he was there so that she could drench him again as she'd throw her soda in his face, the arrogant, cocky bastard. So unbearably infuriating and sexist and annoying and menacing and hot....no, not hot. Not sexy and somehow still arousing, even though she hated his guts. Of course not.

Stop it, Y/N, she thought to herself. Why are you still thinking about him like that? You hate him. He doesn't turn you on; he infuriates you. You don't enjoy the hint of something sinister that he gives off every time he looks at you with those eyes. You don't want to know what it would feel like to have him forcefully pin you down with one hand as he reached into your panties with the other. That's not what you think about when you get yourself off.

It was the hardest she'd ever tried to deny every thought to herself, and as usual, it wasn't very effective. But she did what she always did and forced herself to think about something else as she slipped her shoes back on and stood from the stool. Untying her apron from her waist, she mindlessly dropped it down onto the countertop and then headed towards the back to retrieve the mop and bucket.

Reaching for the cleaning solution, she uncapped the bottle and poured the measured amount into the bucket before then turning on the spigot beside the floor drain and filling the bucket with water. As the water loudly flowed from the line, she could almost swear she heard the ring of the bell above the entry door sounding from up front, but she knew it was just a phantom sound. It happened often when she was alone, similar to the thought that she'd heard her phone ringing while she was in the shower, only to look at it upon getting out and seeing she had no missed calls. Besides, it was impossible — she'd locked the door behind the last customers. She'd made sure of it, as she wanted to get on with the cleaning and mopping as quickly as possible without the risk of someone else walking in and begging for a quick bite.

Once the bucket was full enough, she sunk the mop inside it and then pushed it out to the main area, struggling, as usual, due to the bum wheel the stupid thing had on it. Looking down in order to try and maneuver the bucket where she wanted it to go, she pushed it back behind the counter to start there first. But as as she nearly had it where she wanted it, it rolled awkwardly, causing a small wave of water to slosh over the edge and create an instant puddle around her feet.

"Shit!" she said in frustration as she released the mop handle, and she reached into her back pocket for the rag that she'd tucked there to keep under her feet as she moved throughout the room. Instead using it to sop up the puddle, she bent over and wiped at it, pieces of her hair falling in her face as she did so.

When she'd absorbed as much as she was able to with the rag — which wasn't a lot — she stood back up and tossed it through the kitchen pass-through, hearing it land somewhere on the floor behind her with a wet plop. She then wiped her hands on her jeans and then lifted them to smooth her hair out of her face, and it was when she then turned around and lifted her head that she immediately screamed and jumped backwards, the shock of seeing him sitting at one of the counter stools enough to nearly give her a heart attack.

"Holy fuck!" she cried out as she clutched her chest, the pounding of her heart was still rushing through her ears.

"Evening, sunshine," Jackson said to her with the biggest smirk on his face.

"Jesus fucking Christ!" she practically shouted as she looked at him, completely caught off guard. "Where the hell did you come from?! How the fuck did you get in here?!"

Jackson just kept smiling.

"Door was open," he said as he watched her with amusement. "You really ought to lock it when you're here all alone, you know."

No, there was no way it had been unlocked; she distinctly remembered locking it. She shook her head.

"Look, I don't know how you got in here, but if you don't get out right now, I'm calling the cops," she said to him.

"Oh really?" Jackson mocked her as their eyes remained locked. "And tell me how you're going to do that without this."

He reached into his pocket and pulled out her phone, holding it out enough to reveal it but not within a reachable distance for Y/N to grab it, or even try. She narrowed her eyes as she remained braced against the back counter.

"How the hell did you get in here?" she asked him again.

"Like I said, the door was unlocked."

"No, it wasn't," she responded with a shake of her head.

"Doesn't matter," Jackson said as he slipped her phone back in his pocket and leaned forward across the counter. "What matters is that I never got my lunch this afternoon, which means you still owe me a meal, which I have every intention of getting out of you."

"Come back during business hours," she said, silently trying to remember if her keys were under the counter where she usually left them, or still in her purse somewhere in the office. She could make it to her car by going out the back door if she had to. But as she suddenly remembered tossing them in her purse when she'd punched in that morning, she mentally cursed.

"No, now works better for me," Jackson responded. "This way, it's nice and quiet, and I get your full, undivided attention. After all, you still owe me that apology, too. I wanna hear loud and clear as you tell me how sorry you are."

As he said that, Y/N’s heart began pounding even faster. The look in his eyes was making her feel some bizarre combination of terrified and thrilled, and although the logical part of her brain told her she shouldn't challenge him, that she should just somehow get out of there and find a way to call the police, the part of her that wanted to piss him off even further won out.

"The last thing you'll ever get from me is an apology, Jack," she said tauntingly as she straightened herself from the counter. Her eyes were fixed on him with intensity. "So I hate to tell you, but you wasted your time coming here, Jack. And if you don't get out right now, Jack, you're gonna get a repeat of what I did to you this afternoon. Jack."

As she'd been speaking, he'd risen from his stool, staring her down with equal intensity across the counter. With each utterance of his name, his anger grew, matched to the same level with bitter arousal as she spat out his name from that pretty little mouth.

"As simple-minded as we both know you are, I hope for your sake you know when to shut up," came Jackson's response, his voice low with anger. "You're on wafer-thin ice, sunshine."

As she registered his words, she was vaguely aware of the skip of her heart and the tickle of wetness that had suddenly formed in her panties, but she was equally as angry.

"I said get out," she growled at him, but Jackson remained where he stood.

"Tell me you're sorry," he replied.

"Never."

"Last chance."

"Fuck you."

At that, Jackson shifted, and the movement startled her so much that, instinctively, Y/N reached out and picked up the glass of soda she'd been drinking, which was still sitting on the counter between them. Without another thought, she thrusted it forward, throwing the contents at Jackson and once again drenching his front as the liquid flew from the glass.

As he registered what she'd just done, there was a moment of tense silence between them as Jackson looked down and processed his current state. Y/N was momentarily frozen in her spot as she watched him, but as soon as he slowly lifted his head again and looked at her, her heart began to race. The fury in Jackson's eyes unmistakable, there was a brief second of insane tension between them, and then, something snapped, and, dropping the glass, Y/N took off.

Hurling himself over the counter, Jackson reached for her as she dashed away, but he narrowly missed her, and Y/N tore out from behind the counter, darting over the mop bucket as Jackson now stood behind the counter, too. He dashed forward after her, kicking the mop bucket out of the way as she jumped over the remains of the puddle still left on the floor. She'd made it out from behind the counter and then ran for the front door, but in a second, she felt herself slipping, her left foot having landed in another puddle left by the mop bucket, apparently having sloshed more water than she realized when she'd been maneuvering it behind the counter.

She shrieked as she slipped, her left foot sliding and her knee going down as her legs split beneath her and then she hit the floor. She could hear Jackson behind her, and just as she tried to pull her left leg forward and hurriedly get back on her feet, Jackson reached her and bent down, grabbing her ankle and pulling her back, her torso sliding across the floor, and she shrieked again.

Her heart pounding, Y/N rotated her ankle in Jackson's grasp and rolled her body, turning over onto her back as he continued to grip her ankle. She heard him grunting in his efforts to keep his hold on her as she then thrashed around, and when he looked down at her and their eyes met, she gave a final violent shake of her leg, causing his grip on her to slip from her ankle.

His hand was now on the heel of her shoe instead, and Y/N wrenched her leg out of his grasp, her foot slipping from her shoe, which Jackson still held in his hand as she then pulled away. She seized the moment of him being briefly thrown by the loss of his hold on her, and she rolled onto her stomach once again before then pushing herself up and scrambling to her feet, once again running for the front door.

Jackson was right behind her, having quickly recovered from losing his grip on her as she pulled her foot from her shoe. As she got to her feet again, he reached for her once more, but he slipped in the same puddle she had, and he stumbled as she ran for the front door. He managed to remain upright, however, and upon regaining his balance, he saw her quickly look over her shoulder at him before she darted again and shoved open the front door, the bell above it ringing as she ran through it and out into the parking lot.

Charged with fury and a dark desire, Jackson's only goal was catching her, teaching that little bitch a lesson and forcing every last plea and whine out of her that he could. Tearing through the door after her, he saw up ahead by the glow of the street lights that she was running through the parking lot, foregoing the sidewalk and cutting through the alley behind the building next door.

Immediately running after her, Jackson followed the same path she took as he kept his focus on her form up ahead. Every so often, she'd look back over her shoulder to see where he was, and when she did, she slowed down enough to allow more distance between them to close. Of course, Jackson was faster than her, but she'd got a head start, and she picked up her pace again as she turned back from looking at him again.

Her heart pounding and her body pumping with adrenaline, Y/N's only thought was the here and now, looking for anything she could throw in his path to detour him or any sudden shortcut she could take to dash away. As she reached the end of the alley, she saw several large metal trash cans up ahead, and upon reaching them, she blindly grabbed them and hurled them over onto their sides, the cans falling open and rolling behind her as they landed with a bang and created a minor obstacle to the path back out onto the street.

Jackson saw her take the turn to the left, and as he easily jumped over the trash cans she’d knocked over, he ran after her down the sidewalk, her hair flying behind her as she ran. Being at the end of the alley, this area of the road was empty of any other people, the only sounds being each of their pounding footsteps as their feet met the pavement. But she was still missing a shoe, and as she stumbled yet again due to the uneven impact that had caused for her feet, she looked over her shoulder again to see how close he was and if she had the time to take the slightest pause.

Jackson had closed more distance between them due to her stumbling, and as he saw her look back again, he caught the questioning expression on her face as she was clearly debating something. But then they’d reached the busier part of the street, and she suddenly dashed off the sidewalk and into the street, bounding between two parked cars and crossing, narrowly missing being hit by an oncoming car as she ran across, the driver honking their horn and slamming on the brakes.

After barely dodging the oncoming car, Y/N looked behind her again and saw that the driver was still paused in the road, and Jackson had been cut off as the car had slammed on its brakes. Quickly, she reached down and ripped off her other shoe.

Slamming on the hood of the car with his fist, Jackson then rounded the front and followed after her once more, seeing her stand back up from quickly bending over to remove her other shoe.

Y/N looked up again to see Jackson just a few feet away as he ran towards her again, and she turned to keep running, but she tripped slightly on the curb as she stepped back onto the sidewalk, and she doubled over as she tried to catch her footing. As she reached out her free hand to try and steady herself, she felt Jackson’s fingers suddenly curl around her wrist and pull her back towards him, her body slamming against his as he yanked her more tightly in his grip and then their torsos collided. She screamed as she felt him throw her against the body of a car parked along the curb, and as her back slammed against the door, she cried out again in pain.

Every vein in Jackson’s body was pulsing as he wrapped his arms around Y/N and threw her against the car. Her chest was pressed into his and he could feel her lungs heaving as she cried out and then tried to catch her breath. She thrashed around until he pinned her harder against the car, and she was finally forced still momentarily as he then slotted his knee between her legs and grabbed her wrist.

She shouted out again, and she tried to pull her wrist out of his grasp, but to no avail. As she was forced still, she felt Jackson’s knee slot between her thighs, and she tried to ignore the way it created a pleasuring friction against her panties. She felt herself dampening again as she met his eyes and saw how he was looking at her as his chest heaved against hers, and she pictured him lifting her legs and slamming his cock into her with the same force with which he’d pushed her against that car.

Finally getting her still, Jackson looked down at her as his breathing heaved and he grunted as she struggled against him once more. When his knee met the apex of her thighs, he looked at her again and their eyes met, and he couldn’t decide in that moment what he wanted more, to wrap his hand around her neck as he slammed his cock inside her pussy, or force her down onto her knees and shove his cock down her throat.

What he didn’t realize was that she was still holding her shoe in her other hand, which she’d hidden behind her back as she’d been thrown against the car. Thrashing around and shouting once more, Jackson was forced to shift, and when he did, she had enough room to pull her arm out from behind her back. Before he could see it coming, Y/N lifted her arm and whacked her shoe across the side of his head, and Jackson was forced to release her wrist, reacting to the unexpected hit and momentarily retracting from her.

As Jackson pulled away, she leaned forward and hit him again, whacking her shoe against his head once more before then shoving his chest and knocking him back further. Then she slid out from between him and the car and took off again, throwing her shoe to the ground as she did.

Seething with anger now, Jackson quickly recovered and turned as she ran off, immediately chasing after her again as she dashed down the sidewalk. But she was at a disadvantage, as the toll her long day and lack of food had taken on her was catching up with her now, and she was feeling the exhaustion creep up as she panted with each step, feeling herself slowing down as she desperately tried to keep running at the same pace. On a regular day, Jackson would already be faster than her, but especially now, having long since lost her head start, he was right on her tail.

It was obvious that she was slowing down now, and as he kept his eyes on her as she kept running, Jackson could see that she was making her way back to the diner, the two of them having essentially run in a big circle and now poised to end up right back where they started. In the last block, he decided to let her keep the slightest gain on him, because as soon as he had her back inside, her victories would be over.

The diner in sight up ahead, Y/N pushed herself the last block and ran with everything she had. She looked over her shoulder once more and saw Jackson right behind her, close enough that he could just reach out and grab her, but he didn’t. As she finally reached the front door of the diner, she wrenched it open just enough to slip inside, Jackson slamming his shoulder into it as she yanked it closed behind her. Pulling with all her might on the handle, she kept him from pulling it open long enough to lock it, and once she’d turned the lock, she backed a few feet away, panting as she watched him briefly pull on the door. He looked up at her then and their eyes met through the window, but when she then saw him reach into his pocket and pull out a key, her eyes widened in shock as she then realized that that was how he’d gotten in in the first place that night.

He had a key to the diner. How?

Not wasting the time to stand there and watch him open the door, Y/N backed away further and then turned around and ran to the back hallway, trying to decide where to go. She panicked as she saw that Stu had yet again left the huge laundry sacks full of soiled linens in front of the back door, blocking the exit. As she stood there, she heard the distinct sound of the bell above the door ringing, and she knew she was trapped now. Her only possible option would be to somehow get back to the front door and go out that way again. But she’d have to get through the kitchen first.

She could hear Jackson’s footsteps approaching, and she quietly began weaving her way around the huge laundry sacks and then slipping into the kitchen, trying to keep her breathing as quiet as possible.

After watching her for so long, Jackson knew the entire layout of the diner, and he also knew that Stu had left the laundry at the back door as usual. Because of that, he knew Y/N would have no option but to make her way through the kitchen and try to go back to the front door. So rather than follow after her down the back hall, he walked through the main dining area and headed for the swinging door that led into the kitchen, knowing he’d be able to intercept her somewhere on her way through the kitchen.

She realized she no longer heard his footsteps, and as Y/N tiptoed slowly across the tiled floor, she kept looking over her shoulder, unsure if he’d be behind her or in front of her. When she turned her head forward once more as she passed by the dishwashing sink, she accidentally knocked over a huge metal ladle that’s handle had been sticking out over the edge of the counter. As it clanged loudly on the tile as it hit the floor, she gasped and squeezed her eyes shut in a regretful wince as she waited for the sound to stop.

Opening her eyes again, she then quickly slipped off to the side, hiding behind the tall bread racks just in time, as she saw Jackson appear through the doorframe as she tucked herself deeper behind them. Slipping her hand up to her mouth, she tried to muffle the sound of her breathing as her heart pounded, seeing him look around and then step further into the kitchen, passing by her as he went to look back by the walk-in pantry.

As soon as he was out of sight, Y/N slipped out from behind the racks and continued through the kitchen. What she didn’t know was that Jackson knew exactly where she’d been hiding, though, and as soon as she’d stepped back out onto the floor, he turned back around and followed after her.

Now passing by the servers’ station, Y/N was only a few feet away from the swinging door that led out to the dining area. Taking a final calculated step over a wayward crate of drinking glasses, she leaned forward and reached for the door, but just as her hands were about to come in contact with it, she suddenly felt a pair of arms roughly wrap around her waist and violently yank her backward.

She screamed as she felt him grab her, and as her back met his chest and he lifted her feet off the floor, she thrashed around again, kicking her legs and wriggling her torso as Jackson squeezed her so tight she thought she was going to puke. Her arms still momentarily outstretched for the door, she desperately reached for it one more time before Jackson walked them further backwards and then lowered her back to the floor, whipping her around to face him and then shoving her back against the wall, grabbing her wrists and pinning them on either side of her head as he pressed his chest into hers.

“Looks like your luck has run out, sweetheart,” he growled, throwing back at her the words she’d said to him earlier that day. Then before she could respond, he wrenched her away from the wall, throwing her against the counter instead and pinning hers arms once more.

Screaming, Y/N thrashed around in his grip, fighting against him as he squeezed her wrists and pressed his body into hers.

“LET GO OF ME!!!” she screamed, and then forced herself forward, shoving herself against him as Jackson kept hold of her wrists. As he shook her violently, she screamed again, but when she tried to pull her wrists from his grasp, she was unable to, and he just yanked her towards him again, once more whipping them around and shoving her back up against the freezer door.

“You put up a decent fight, sweetheart, I’ll give you that,” he breathed out. “But we both know you’ve got nothing left. And now I want that apology.”

Staring at each other, both their chests were heaving, and after a split second, Y/N narrowed her eyes and then clicked her tongue before puckering her lips and then spitting in his face.

Momentarily pulling back as her spit hit his cheek, Jackson unintentionally loosened his grip on her wrists, and Y/N ducked beneath his arms and made for the door once more. But Jackson recovered too quickly, dragging his sleeve over his cheek to wipe away her little gift as he lunged after her and grabbed her around the waist once again. Grunting as she fought him, he flung her up onto the counter and she cried out as the back of her head hit the shelf above them. Momentarily seeing stars, Y/N briefly stopped resisting him, and Jackson seized the opportunity as her head hung in front of him and her shoulders sagged. Standing between her legs dangling over the counter, he raised his hand and wrapped his fist in her hair, roughly yanking her head back to force her to look up, and she whimpered as he did.

"You don't know when to quit, do you?" he said to her as he shook his head, and her eyes held his.

Still panting, her chest heaving intensely, Y/N narrowed her eyes as she spoke.

"You're a miserable piece of shit," she muttered as she still struggled to catch her breath.

His fury reigniting once more, Jackson released her hair and dragged his hand to her neck instead, wrapping his fingers around her throat and squeezing, hearing the satisfying sound of her breath catching in her throat as she struggled to inhale, her eyes widening briefly.

"And you're even stupider than I thought," he shot back, his grip on her neck slightly tightening, but she could still speak.

"I hate you," Y/N croaked out.

Jackson tightened his grip even more, and he was vaguely aware of his cock twitching in his pants.

"So stupid..." he replied. "Now say it."

He jostled her by her neck as he demanded the apology once more.

"Never," Y/N croaked again.

"Say it."

She narrowed her eyes.

"Fuck you, Jack."

At that, Jackson's veins pulsed, and he felt the familiar combination of anger and arousal that plagued him every time he watched her. As he suddenly pictured her getting herself off, his cock immediately stiffened, and when he looked down to see her nipples hardened beneath her shirt and her eyes briefly dart to his lips, he clenched his jaw and released a humorless scoff before yanking her face to his by her throat.

"Little bitch," he growled, and then he slammed his mouth against hers as he tightened his grip on her neck a final time.

Moaning and then squirming as Jackson's lips landed forcefully on hers, Y/N wasn't sure whether she was more surprised or aroused as she fell forward into him. The anger returned after the initial shock, and after a few seconds of her lips battling with his, she lifted her arms and planted her palms on his chest, shoving him away and feeling his hand fall from her neck, the grip of which had loosened slightly when he'd pulled her to him. But when she forced him away and he backed up a step, their eyes met once more, and there was no denying the hatred-fueled desire that had come to a head between them.

Hurling himself back at her, Jackson fisted her hair again as he crashed their lips together once more, only this time, Y/N accepted him with angry eagerness, moaning again as she kissed him back, gripping his shoulders and sharply sinking her nails into his skin through his jacket.

Jackson hissed at the feel of her nails clenching his shoulders, and he quickly grabbed her wrists and roughly yanked them down, holding her palms against the counter as her legs wrapped around his waist.

He heard her moan again as he thrusted his bulge against her core, and then he released her wrists as she leaned into him and scooted closer to the edge of the counter. He'd never wanted any woman more than he wanted her, and his admission of that to himself only made him angrier, and he violently grabbed her thighs to pull her even closer, squeezing so hard that she tore her mouth from his to cry out in pain.

As she felt Jackson's hands squeeze her with nearly blinding pain, Y/N had to part from his mouth, a high cry escaping her as she did. But instead of recoiling further, she found herself wanting more, and she didn't even know how to process that. So she didn't. All she knew was that she'd never wanted any man more, and she tried to ignore how unbelievably twisted that was as he grabbed her again.

Jackson was practically ready to combust, needing to be inside her, to fuck the sass right out of her, and he quickly reached for her shirt and tore it over her head, Y/N cooperating as she raised her arms to allow him to. As he yanked the straps and cups of her bra down, Y/N simultaneously shoved his jacket off his shoulders and down his arms, then urgently worked at his shirt buttons as he roughly cupped her breasts and kneaded them, being anything but gentle as he pinched her nipples and then lifted his hands to yank her hair again. As her head jerked up at the tug of her hair, their eyes met briefly again, and Jackson's eyes burned with blue fire before he angrily shoved his head into her neck.

Y/N gasped as she felt him immediately bite harsh nip after harsh nip into her neck, and she tore open his shirt and scratched her nails against his bare skin, dragging them across him and leaving raised scratches all over his chest, his skin reddening to the same color as the marks he was leaving on her neck. Once again, she felt him roughly grasp her breasts, and she arched into him as he did, whimpering as he pinched her nipples again and then pulled back from her neck.

"Maybe I can fuck some common sense into you," Jackson growled as he reached down for her waistband and opened her jeans, yanking them down her hips and then moving his hands to his own pants as Y/N shimmied the legs of her jeans down to her ankles. Jackson quickly undid his belt and opened his pants, drawing his painfully hard cock out of his boxers as Y/N watched, feeling her pussy weeping as she eyed his large, stiff cock, which he pumped several times in his hand. Clenching around nothing, she wanted to feel him inside her with pathetic desperation.

"Although, seeing as it's you, I don't have very high hopes for you learning anything," he finished with a growl, and then he moved his hands from his cock to her hip and violently ripped her panties from her body, Y/N crying out briefly again as the way he roughly tore the garment from her hips left a fabric burn across her skin.

Her pussy now exposed — and it was the most luscious, gorgeous pussy he'd ever seen — Jackson released a deep, guttural groan as he saw her slick shining against her pink folds. She was so wet, and he gave her absolutely no prep before he grabbed her hips and pulled her right to the edge of the counter, her ass barely still resting on it as he then fisted himself at her entrance and then slammed his cock inside her so roughly that several metal bowls fell from the shelf above them and crashed loudly onto the floor.

"Ahhhhh!" Y/N cried out in an insane combination of pain and pleasure, her walls instantly enveloping him as Jackson slammed his hips into her. She felt every vein and ridge of his large cock rubbing against her insides, and she clamped down in desperate need as she met his thrust with a jutting out of her own hips. Her head fell back and she planted her palms on the counter to brace herself as Jackson pulled almost all the way out before violently slamming into her again.

He himself was groaning in angry pleasure, her gorgeous, slick pussy so tight and so warm, tugging him every inch of the way each time he pulled out, almost as if she was trying to keep him inside her. As Y/N met Jackson thrust for thrust, he saw her face scrunch up in the same adorably sexy way it did whenever he watched her pleasure herself, except he recognized that it was even more evident than when she touched herself.

"I think you're enjoying this a little too much," Jackson said to her through heavy breaths as he continued to pound into her. "It's pathetic, really."

Shifting her head and meeting his eyes, Y/N was panting as she answered him.

"Fuck you," she stuttered out, unable to think of anything else to say.

Jackson gave her a wicked grin.

"That's apparently what you've wanted all along, isn't it?" he taunted her. "For me to fuck you? That's the only explanation as to why you're acting like such a fucking slut right now." He slammed into her again, so harshly that she had to reach up and grab his shoulders, which he allowed her to do, breathing in her intoxicating scent.

"I hate you," she muttered again as she gripped him, but anything else she was about to say was immediately silenced when Jackson suddenly ran the pad of his thumb over her clit and then not-so-gently rolled it between his fingers as she fell against him at the sensation.

"The feeling's mutual, sweetheart," he bit back as he rolled her clit again, and the sound of the whimper that came from her had his balls tightening and him nearly ready to come.

He rolled her clit again and again, looking down and watching as his cock slid in and out of her and her folds continued to drip with glistening want. She was so exquisitely tight, and he knew that this would not be the last time he fucked her. It may be the first, but it definitely wouldn't be the last.

As he heard her cry out again, he could sense her weakening, and her arms fell from his shoulders as she could barely keep up anymore. Once again, he lifted his free hand to her hair, wrapping it around his fist and yanking her head up to meet his eyes.

"I should really teach you a lesson and not let you come," he said as he gave her an evil smile. "See how much more pathetic you get if I leave you without anything."

At that thought, her brow furrowed in desperation and her walls clamped even more tightly around him. She was fairly certain she'd die if he left her without a release. She just knew she would come harder with him than she ever had before.

"Please, Jackson," she suddenly heard herself begging him in a whiny voice, and she had absolutely no idea where the words had even come from. She would never have allowed herself to beg this asshole for anything in the world, but with his cock inside her and his thumb stroking her clit, the standards she set for herself obviously went out the window.

Upon hearing her whine, Jackson's smile widened into a huge, shit-eating grin, and he slammed into her again with insane force.

"So, this is what it takes to make you know your place, huh?" he said as she whimpered again. "Well, I'll take begging over an apology any day." He then lowered his thumb to her folds again, circling around her clit but avoiding the exact spot, causing Y/N to scrunch her face again with a tiny, desperate squeal.

"Say it again," Jackson growled. "Beg me."

Coherent thoughts were now gone, Y/N instead only registering the insane arousal and the desperate need she had for him to make her come.

"Please, Jackson," she mewled again.

He felt his balls tightening once more.

"Again," he demanded.

"Please! Jackson, please!"

"Still not good enough," he said through labored breath, his hips meeting the inside of her thighs again as her legs wrapped tighter around his waist.

"Please! Please...please...please...please!" Y/N begged with every thrust, panting and shaking as she felt just about ready to fall back against the counter. But at her last plea, he finally made contact with her clit again.

"Again," Jackson demanded a final time, and he leaned forward and harshly bit her neck as he rubbed her clit in repeated circles.

"PLEASE!" Y/N nearly screamed, and then it became an actual scream as she came violently, her entire body shaking as he finished rubbing her out. Jackson then slammed into her in three final thrusts, feeling her arms wrap around his shoulders and falling against her as he exploded inside her with more intensity than he'd ever felt before, shouting out a loud groan. By the time he was finished, he could feel his cum leaking back out of her onto himself, overfilling her, and he was certain he'd never shot a load that big in his entire life.

Without thinking, he reached up and fisted her hair again, tugging her head to meet his lips once more, dominating her mouth with an aggressive, bullying kiss.

They parted then, and for several moments, he remained inside her, both of them panting to catch their breath. But soon, Jackson pulled himself out of her, stepping back and tucking himself back inside his boxers before then re-doing his pants and buttoning his shirt.

Still panting and watching him silently, Y/N was still trying to process everything that had just happened, and when Jackson looked up from his clothes and their eyes met again, she realized she’d never felt simultaneously so satisfied while still wanting more in her entire life. As he reached up and smoothed a hand through his hair, he spoke.

"Who knows, sunshine, you may just be teachable yet," he said mockingly, and then he lifted a hand to her bare thigh and gave it a condescending little pat.

He then headed for the swinging door, Y/N watching after him, and when he spoke a final time, she could only nod in response.

"You close again tomorrow night, don't you?" he asked her, although he already knew she did. And when Jackson saw the affirmation Y/N gave him with a nod of her head, he shot her his trademark smirk.

"Offer to stay late and mop up again, and we'll go for round two after your shift,” he said as he held her eyes. “We'll see how well you receive tomorrow night’s lesson, and if you can prove to me that you learned anything, then maybe I’ll give you another gold star.”

And with that, he walked out of the kitchen and then out the main door, the bell above it, as always, ringing out its signature sound as he did.

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[futurefamousdeadmusician]

The way his brows go up when she kisses his head. Fucking adorable.

[futurefamousdeadmusician]

Cillian Murphy as Shivering Soldier in Dunkirk (2017) dir. Christopher Nolan