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envy-of-the-apple · 7 months ago

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Ruptured Amethyst; Splintered Tanzanite

Dark!Satosugu x reader - Yakuza Au

Synopsis: In hopes of paying off your debt, you start working for two dangerous men. Soon, you realize they want more than money.

Word count: 9.2k

(Warnings: dark content, sexual coercion, dubcon, noncon, oral sex, piv sex, threesomes, gun, blood, violence) Ageless blogs will be blocked. Minors DNI

In this job, you quickly learned that it's better to just keep your head down.

Do what you were called for and leave. Do nothing but sit on your computer and look at numbers. Stepping out of your makeshift boundaries led to nothing but trouble.

It worked perfectly like that for the first few weeks you were brought here. The other workers never bothered you, and it took you a moment to realize they were in the same boat as you were: owing a debt. You wouldn’t quite say things were peaceful; every so often, one of Geto’s men would hurl someone through a table, but things were manageable.

And then Gojo came back.

You hadn’t met Gojo, yet. He was overseas on a business trip when Geto brought you in. You hadn’t met him, but you’d heard enough to make you want to stay away from him. Ijichi had told you enough stories to make you want to sink into the floor altogether. You just had until the end of the year until your debt was paid. It was the beginning of September, right now. Surely, you could avoid him until then, right?

“Ah, you’re the one Suguru was talking about.”

It was your fault. It was entirely your fault. Ijichi had begged you to stay after work for a bit longer and desperate to pay the debt off, you had agreed. No one else was supposed to be in the office besides you and him.

But Gojo didn’t follow other people’s rules. It'd take you a while before you fully understand that.

You could do nothing but stand there, wobbling in your heels as Gojo loomed over you. His sunglasses were tilted, cresting over his nose as he scrutinized you. You clutched the laptop closer to your chest, as though it’d save you somehow.

Gojo didn’t look dangerous. If you had seen him on the street, you would have assumed he was a model. Tall, long hands, pretty features. Gojo doesn’t look dangerous. Gojo is dangerous. He doesn’t need the gun (casually on his side, right in your line of sight) to prove it.

You say nothing. You don’t know what to say. So far, you’ve only dealt with Geto. Geto with his fake smiles and soft words of thinly veiled threats. As intimidating as Geto was, you felt safe enough with him to answer his questions. Speak when spoken to.

Gojo was uncharted territory. Should you speak? Should you greet him? Should you get on your hands and knees? Gojo was new. You had to deal with something new, alone.

You opt to stay silent, hoping that’s the best move. It’s not. Above you, Gojo’s clicking his tongue. He leans down, stooping his head low to get a better view of your face. You stare at him until it gets too much and you’re turning away. He likes that even less, grabbing you by the chin so you’re facing him again.

“You mute or somethin’?” He asks, tilting your head like he’s assessing you.

“No,” you finally murmur. It was a question, correct? He won’t get mad if you answer his questions.

He doesn’t seem mad. But he doesn’t seem happy, either. If anything, he looks a little disappointed.

“I really don’t get it,” he’s talking, but it’s more like he’s saying his thoughts out loud, “Suguru would not shut up about you. Thought I was gonna see something more exciting. You’re so...”

He trails off as though even describing you would be a waste. The thought that Geto speaks about you to his partners scares you, but you’re wise enough not to pry. Instead, you wait. Waiting often works. You’ve been cornered by Geto’s men (before they knew he was the one who brought you), most just want to intimidate you, they get a kick out of fear. When you give them what they want, they usually leave you alone.

Gojo doesn’t leave, even when you’re sure your horror is printed on your face. Obvious to even the blind. Instead, he leans back, eyes trailing down your outfit. Despite how most of the stuff done here was off the record, Geto still prioritized a professional workplace. You were expected to put on a clean blouse and skirt every day.

You yelp when Gojo tugs on the fabric of your skirt, bunching the material on your thighs. Forgetting where you are, who you’re with, you grab his wrist.

“Don’t be like that,” Gojo chides as though you were being the unreasonable one, “I just wanna look. Seriously, what was that guy going on and on about—”

“Satoru.”

Geto’s voice stops the both of you. He’s leaning against the wall, watching the two of you with a less than impressed look. You’re relieved when he’s more focused on Gojo than you.

“Sugu!” Gojo cheers, a complete 180 from his past demeanor. He lets you go and you sink against the wall in relief. “I’m home!”

“I can see that,” Geto retorts, but there’s an odd fondness laced in his tone that you’d never heard before.

The kiss they shared was violent. Tongue and teeth and messy. Gojo reached up, scrunching Geto’s hair, dragging him closer. Respectfully, you glanced away. You don’t yet leave. You know better than that, especially now that Geto is here.

“How many times have I told you to stop harassing our employees?” Geto sighs, once he’s pulled away. His tone is filled with exasperation, as though he were talking to a child.

“I didn’t do anythin’,” Gojo responds. When you finally turn back, Geto is shaking his head.

He smiles at you.

“Apologies, my dear,” he states, “you can leave. Remember to tell Ijichi you’re going.”

You eagerly nod before scurrying away. You can hear Gojo scoff, another murmur from Geto. You couldn’t care less what they’re saying, more than happy to grab your things, bid Ijichi goodbye, and leave.

Keep your head down, and don’t ever bother with what they are doing.

⟡

Technically, you weren’t in debt, your father was.

He had close ties to the underground. You weren’t sure of the details, you were so young when your mother left with you in tow. She was always stingy with the details, but she never failed to remind you that your father was a stupid man who worked with dangerous ones. She passed away right after you graduated from college. You’d mourned her.

Now, a part of you felt grateful she passed just before she saw your life fall apart.

They came in the middle of April. You remember that day purely because of the flower blossoms littering the sidewalk, the first sign of blooming spring.

There were three other men besides Geto that day, and you hadn’t known his name back then—just the man with long, pretty hair. They were all waiting for you, loitering right beside your home. When you hesitated, slowed to a stop, the man with long hair smiled at you. Geto calls your name. When you don’t respond, his smile widened.

“That is who you are, isn’t it?”

“Yes,” you nervously said, “sorry, but—but who are you all?”

He introduces himself. The other three don’t bother. You don’t yet realize that they’re only henchmen, mere puppets for Geto.

“Apologies, but this is a rather sensitive subject. Can we talk someplace private?”

You don’t want to let these men into your home, but his soft words and intimidating company coax you into agreeing. You lead them up the steps, praying to God that you were wrong about this—whoever they were. When you unlock the door, only Geto follows you. The rest wait outside. You don’t know if that’s better or worse.

He seats himself right on the sofa. It’s your apartment, and yet his mere presence makes you feel like he’s the owner. You loiter next to the door, twiddling your thumbs.

“Would you like tea?”

He tilts his head. “Aren’t you a polite one?”

It was more for you than for him—scurrying to the kitchen, away from his searing purple eyes. It’s a reprieve to start the burner, pour water into the pot. You take as much time as you can, but eventually, you have to come out.

Geto says nothing when you place the cups down. He takes it, humming at the taste. You don’t touch your cup.

His tone is soft. His words aren’t.

Your father did far worse than work with dangerous men. He’d stolen from them. He was already dealt with, his punishment had sent him careening off the Earth far sooner than your mother. Still, the topic of the missing money was still there.

Something that had fallen onto you, his next of kin.

You were already crying once Geto finished. Your body is wracked with sobs. You can barely suck in a breath.

“Please—please,” you’re already saying, “he—we—I swear we never received any sort of money from him.”

He takes your hand within his own, curling his fingers around them. Coming from anyone else, it would have been a nice gesture.

“I’m aware,” Geto comforts, “we know you haven’t been in contact with your father for more than a decade.”

His fingers are warm. They trace your cheek as he gently wipes away your tears.

“But in this line of business, family matters, no matter how estranged, my Dear.”

You look at him through your tears. He’s beautiful. Long black hair. If you touched it, you bet it would feel like silk within your fingers.

It’s his eyes that truly suck you in. Purple. It’s a rare eye color, you’ve never seen someone with purple eyes until now. They resemble amethyst, unpolished, but still just as beautiful.

“My partner would have much less...humane ways of dealing with this situation,” Geto continues, “but I think you could be far more useful warm rather than cold, do you agree?” You shrivel in your spot, already having an inkling to what he’s saying. It’s not like you haven’t already figured out where this was going. You’ve heard the stories of what dangerous men do to those who’ve wronged them—to the vulnerable girls who accidentally trip and fall into their trap, forced to work in brothels and debase themselves all for the sake of keeping them rich.

He laughs right then. It’s rich, deep, startling you out of your misery.

"Come now, it's the 21st century."

Geto smiles. Fake. Unsafe.

"Women are worth far more than just their bodies."

It turns out that even the Yakuza had paperwork.

It was a menial deskjob, on the surface, at least. If you don’t think too hard about who you’re working for, it could be a regular office. It’s not like any of the work you are provided with is illegal, but you doubt you’d put it down on your resume.

Your education had saved you. Ironic that it was your father who instilled your desire to learn.

If you don’t think too hard about it, your new ‘job’ wasn’t horrible. As notorious as they were, your new employers weren’t downright cruel. You still got paid. You had a contract. Things could honestly be a whole lot worse.

It was still very hard to get used to, especially in the beginning.

Something you learned very quickly was that the men around here did not like it when women had an attitude. You were far too meek to have one, but the other few women who worked with you became your teachers, showing you exactly what the men would do if you didn’t stay in line. You were more than happy to listen, and even then, your eagerness to learn didn’t help. In order for the lesson to truly sink in, you needed trial and error.

You stepped out of line exactly once. And then you never did it again.

It had been an accident. You’d forgotten that Geto had an important meeting that day. You knocked on his door, shuffling some documents in your hand. It was muscle memory to just go in because he’s never said anything but come in before.

They’d all stared at you, eyes lingering up and down your body. One of them grins. Immediately, you look at Geto. Horrified. Ready to grovel at his feet if need be.

His eyes flashed dangerously. Purple turned into sharp magenta knives. Geto tilted his head.

“Come here, dear.”

You take one step. Another. Then another. The way they look at you makes your stomach twist and sink but Geto only looks at you expectantly. When you linger at his side, his lips quirk.

His grip on your waist is gentle as he guides you into his lap. Your cheeks burn, but you don’t dare move, not even when the men start laughing at the free show. Geto only curls a hand on your waist, keeping you in place as he leans back again.

“Continue, gentlemen.”

The rest of the meeting continues with you on Geto’s lap. You don’t look at any of them, hands balled into fists at your sides. You feel naked. The air within the room is stifling. You refuse to look anywhere else but the floor.

The conversation goes back to business. Despite the compromising situation, he put you in, Geto’s hands don’t wander. He's content to keep his fingers on your waist until the room filters out and everyone leaves.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Geto.” You murmur, your voice barely louder than a whisper.

He doesn’t answer, at least not to that. He just sighs, sinking into his seat. Still, Geto doesn’t let you get up. Not yet. He waits until you’re looking at him, still smiling that fake smile.

This had been a punishment. The next time you made a mistake, you doubt you’d be let off so easily.

“Learn quickly, my dear.”

You nod. You apologize again. When Geto finally lets you go, you are quick to stumble away, pushing your way out the door. Purple eyes follow you out. You don’t think they stop looking until you’re out of the room, curled into your desk, steadying your heartbeat.

You stepped out of line exactly once. You never did it again.

Despite being under Geto, technically, Ijichi is your direct superior. You thanked the Gods for it. Ijichi was the only person here you were certain didn’t have blood on his hands. He was in a similar situation as you were; stuck working off a debt that he didn’t owe. You two bonded on your shared misery. He was the one reprieve you had in your new life.

Unfortunately, now that Gojo was back, Ijichi was far busier. It gave you little time with him. You suppose you were always welcome to join them, but considering your first encounter with Gojo, you’d much rather not.

It’s not like you hadn’t had similar encounters before Gojo's arrival. In the very beginning, one of Geto’s men tried something remarkably similar. You can still remember his hand on your hip, his other hand slowly unbuttoning your shirt while other men stood to the side laughing.

It hadn’t lasted long.

You didn’t realize he was shot until he was already on the ground, twitching in pure agony. He screamed and cried louder than you had. Blood was already dripping to the floor.

Geto had already tucked away the gun, striding away as though nothing happened. He didn’t say anything, the incident was never mentioned. Even to you, his statement rang loud and clear.

You were off-limits.

Clearly, Gojo didn’t care about the unspoken rule.

So far, Ijichi hasn’t acknowledged him. If anything, your superior is hunched behind his computer, typing away, rarely taking his eyes off-screen. You admired his concentration, but it was hard for you to follow suit, considering that Gojo had taken a seat right next to you.

His stare is impossible to ignore. You can feel it even as you desperately try to focus on the screen in front of you. As if he can tell you’re intimidated by his mere presence, he leans over, shoulder pressing against your own. You could practically hear the grin in his voice.

“Watcha’ workin’ on?” He asks as though he can’t already see.

Still, you falter. “Um—”

“Um’” he repeats, “that’s all you’ve been sayin’. Hey, Ijichi—” The man in question jolts up, eyes already panicked.

“Your assistant always this jumpy, or is your personality just that infectious?”

“Sir, uh—” Ijichi starts before getting cut off by a tsk.

“See? Again,” Gojo sighs, “I see why you two get along so well.”

You and Ijichi exchange glances, unsure what to do. When Gojo says nothing more, you decide it’s okay to resume work again, typing away.

Childhood friends, Ijichi told you back when you were still morbidly curious. Gojo had come from a lineage of powerful businessmen. Geto had more or less worked his way up. They became partners somewhere along that time.

It’s hard to imagine them as friends or as anything more. They’re so different. Geto is so controlled, measured with every response he takes. Gojo is more like dynamite, ready to go off at any moment.

You suppose the only similarity is how unreadable they are. To this day, you can’t tell whether Gojo dislikes you or not. Every action you take seems only to disappoint him, yet he constantly hovers around you.

It takes another minute for you to be on the keyboard before Gojo decides he doesn’t like you working peacefully. The chair creaks under his weight as he shifts closer. His head rests against your shoulder. With his new position, you can feel his breath on your collarbone as an arm casually wraps around your shoulders. You don’t dare react, but you send Ijichi a panicked look. He looks sympathetic, but he doesn’t move to help you. You can’t find it in yourself to fault him for his inactions.

“You never answered me, by the way.” He murmurs, quiet enough that only you can hear.

You respond as diligently as you can, making sure you use as few word fillers as possible. It’s clear Gojo doesn’t like that. Or rather, he doesn’t like the nervousness your voice exudes but you doubt you could fix it, especially with his presence around.

“Sounds boring.” Gojo interrupts your rambles. “You don’t do anything else more entertaining?”

“No, sir,” you reply, “I’m only in charge of paperwork.”

Despite the other co-workers you have, you are still an anomaly. Everyone here has had an experience holding a gun—even Ijichi. It’s clear Geto ‘hiring’ you was a change in pattern, something you would always be grateful for. If he hadn't, you wouldn’t want to know what was in store for you.

That’s probably why Gojo was so curious about you. However, considering how close they were, you were now wondering why Geto hadn’t explained it.

“How long have you been working here—hey,look at me when you’re talking.”

You turn, and for the first time, you willingly face Gojo Satoru. His sunglasses are tilted down, and you can see his eyes now. They are blue, so painfully blue, like an ocean, curled up tightly within his eyes. Glittering tanzanite stares back at you—beautiful gemstones that glisten beneath the fluorescent light.

Gojo tilts his head, and you remember that he asked you a question.

“Three weeks, Sir.”

He doesn’t seem all that pleased with your answer. You wonder if you should have lied instead. He’s embarrassingly close, and the position he’s forced you into doesn’t help.

“That quick, huh?” Gojo murmurs, and he sounds a little impressed, “how many times have you and Suguru fucked?”

You gape at him, horrified at even the insinuation. It takes a while for you to even find your voice.

“I—we’ve never. Never.”

Gojo narrows his eyes. “You don’t have to lie to me. C’mon, I'm just curious.”

It feels even worse that Gojo's question isn't even unreasonable. Geto has always treated you differently. Softer. Kinder, if you wanted to be charitable. It isn't a stretch to assume you've been doing favors for the man, in this line of work, it must be a normal occurrence. Yet, you haven't. Apart from that one blunder weeks ago, Geto has never touched you inappropriately.

Still, you shake your head rapidly, feeling heat flush in your cheeks. Being cornered and interrogated like this is humiliating, especially in front of everyone. Ijichi is nice enough to look away while you’re being humiliated, but you know he’s listening. You know everyone’s listening.

Thankfully, Geto intervenes.

“You.” A sigh of exasperation. “Get off.”

Gojo rolls his eyes, but you almost cry in relief when he pushes away and stands up.

“We were bonding,” Gojo argues, though, like everything he says, it sounds like a tease.

Geto’s murmuring something else, and it’s clear that this interaction between them is normal. It's almost a repetition of what happened last time. Both times, you’d been the commonality.

Gojo leaves eventually, shooed away by his partner. The office finally grows quiet when the white-haired man disappears to God knows where. You feel like you can breathe again, but Geto still has not left.

When you look, he’s pinching the bridge of his nose, and you’re strangely reminded of a stressed mother. Finally, he lets out a breath, opening his eyes and staring down at you.

“I apologize for his behavior, my dear,” he says. There’s a hand on your shoulder, mirroring the touch Gojo gave you.

“He’s excitable, like a dog.” You don’t think that part was for you, though you don’t think you could ever even fathom comparing the terrifying anomaly that is Gojo to a mutt. You don’t respond. Geto squeezes your shoulder.

“Come to me if Satoru goes too far. I always take care of my people, don't I?”

He doesn’t leave until you give a nod. His hand finally retracts, allowing you to sink into your seat. You watch him until his figure disappears from view.

“I’m taking a break,” you say, not even a minute later.

Ijichi gives a nod as you push yourself up away from the computer. You spend your break the way you usually do: tucked inside the bathroom, trying to wonder how your life turned out this way.

⟡

Sometimes, you accompany Geto on his trips.

You don’t want to, but it’s not like you can reject his ‘requests.’ It’s part of the job, whether or not you can refuse is up to Geto’s whims.

The trips aren’t too bad. Most of the time, it’s a meeting with other dangerous men. You mainly just sit in a corner, peering down at the ground, trying your best not to be noticed. It works, most of the time. The few perks of this new life is how seldom the people of the underground want to associate with you, especially when you're with Geto. His presence is everywhere, a blanket of protection bestowed only to you. These days, you feel safe even when walking home alone at night.

The trips aren't too bad, but Gojo's insistence on tagging along changed even that.

You should be sitting up front. There's a perfectly vacate passenger seat, right beside Ijichi, the least dangerous man in the vehicle. Gojo had practically dragged you into the car with him, holding you hostage. Geto slid into the seat beside you, effectively trapping you between the two men.

Despite your attempts to keep your body to yourself, every other minute, your thighs brush against theirs. It's a miserable affair, but neither comment on your breach of personal space. They're both too invested in their own little worlds. Geto peers peacefully out the window, enjoying the city life pass by. Gojo is glued to his phone, tapping away every so often.

It's tempting to sneak a peek at them in their natural states, relaxed, unbothered. You don't stare for too long.

Every so often, their worlds will collide. Geto will point out a cat. Gojo would reach over you, showing Geto something funny on his phone. Unfortunately, Gojo catches your lingering eyes.

"Wanna see?" He doesn't bother to hear your response, shoving his phone in your face.

It's a cat video, of all things. You almost wanted to laugh at how normal it is, but you're too intimidated to do anything but give a strained smile, more designed to please. You expected something darker. More blood. More screams. On the screen, the orange kitten lightly bats at a ball of yarn.

"Got a cat?" Gojo asks, tucking away his phone.

"No, Mr. Gojo."

He tsks, but before your blood can freeze, he says, "I told you: It's Satoru."

He's been insistent about it these past few days: Satoru. Satoru. Call me Satoru, as though you'd even dare. Beside you, Geto rumbles out his disapproval.

"Don't be childish, Satoru." He chides.

The car rolls to a stop eventually. The relief in your lungs expands. Ijichi gets out first, followed by Geto. Before you can move, a hand grabs you by the chin, halting your movements.

"You're not leaving this car until you say it, pretty thing," Gojo tells you. "C'mon. Sa-to-ru."

Behind you, Geto sighs, but he doesn't move to stop him. Right, Geto promised he'd step in only when Gojo goes too far. Clearly, this is within his bounds.

You wilt under the hardened tanzanite.

"Satoru." You mutter.

Satisfied, Gojo releases his hold on you, hopping out the car, humming a happy tune.

Geto holds his hand out to you. You'd be an idiot not to take it.

"Bear with him today, dear," he tells you when you step out in the pavement, "he's in a mood."

Amythyst sears into you. You can only nod.

Even then, Geto doesn't release you. He gently maneuvers your arm until your elbow is interlocked with his. He takes his time, walking into the building, mindful of your heels. Ijichi and Gojo are already ahead. Gojo takes a look behind him, spots the two of you, scoffs, but doesn't do much more.

It's another thing you don't know how to feel about. The two have always instigated less than friendly gestures toward you. Yet, neither of the two have expressed any kind of jealousy. You know they are clearly lovers, yet the way they allow their significant other to behave with you makes you feel a bit nauseous.

Most likely, they see you as a pet. Not even a threat to their relationship. It makes sense. In their eyes, you're probably a scared gazelle in the middle of a lion's den. Cute. Something to play with.

There's another theory in your head that you're pushing away.

You follow the same procedure you've always followed. You stay still and silent, like a doll, right beside Geto. Strange men come up to him, greeting him with smug smiles. They barely give you a glance. That's good. It means they know you're one of Geto's.

Gojo being there changes the dynamic. He's more serious, in this setting. You sit right next to Geto's side, listening as Gojo talks. They both do that a lot. Talking. Negotiating. Scheming. You're a bit disappointed in yourself at how easy it is to let the words swirl around until there's nothing left to understand. It's easy to ignore them now. The horrors they partake in. The horrors you are indirectly part of.

Are you allowed to be innocent now that you work under these people? You've never pulled the trigger yourself, but is that an excuse? Morally speaking, you're the same as the men you are terrified of.

How laughable. You came to that conclusion right when they were discussing the price of narcotics.

Sometime later, you find yourself alone, roaming down an unfamiliar hall. It's foolish to be out without Geto or Gojo or even Ijichi, but Geto had an errand he wanted you to run. Now that it was complete, you needed to return back to him.

Except, you had no clue where he was.

You were lost. You should have known this would happen. Why didn't you pay more attention to where you were going? This wasn't any old building. Dangerous men lurked around, even the weaker ones carried guns and weapons.

It was only a matter of time before one of them caught you.

"Hey. You."

You were considered one of Geto's, but without him in sight, you were nothing. You knew that. It's why you cower immediately.

"I'm busy," you speak quickly, "My boss, Mr. Geto, he's—"

His hand is rough and scared and filthy on your skin. You are basically thrown against the wall, cornered against this stranger. He smiles. His teeth are yellowed and filled with tarter and plaque.

"C'mon, there's no need to rush. 'Just wanna have some fun. How much?" Disgust rolls off your tongue, but you don't have the courage to reveal it.

"I'm not like that," you mutter, "I'm not for sale."

But, aren't you? You've sold yourself to Geto, haven't you? Underneath his thumb, his whims. What makes you so much different from a hooker?

"Sure." And then there's a shift in his eyes. His face scrunches up, like he's just tasted something sour.

"Hold on...you're—you're that bastard's kid, aren't you?"

He says your last name, the name your father gave you with so much spite that you nearly flinch. In that moment, you realized that your father had messed with a lot more people than just Geto.

"Yeah yeah, you're a spitting fucking image!" He gripes you harsher. "Your daddy fucked me over while you're sitting over here nice and pretty? What the fuck?"

He's dead. He's dead and you hadn't spoken to him in over a decade, but his ghost still wants to punish you for being his kin. And this man is his executioner.

You're expecting something violent. Something that hurt more than his hand's squeezing your bicep. Perhaps he was, perhaps he would. Unfortunately, for him, Gojo interupted his plans.

You didn't even know that it was him, at first, on the floor, on top of the man. Gojo, despite his hungry smile, eager eyes, was always so angelic. He isn't supposed to be using his hands. He isn't supposed to inflict violence, not by himself.

He's punching him. The man isn't a man anymore, reduced to a mere punching back. Gojo doesn't stop until he breaks skin. He doesn't stop until you can hear a distinct crack.

Satoru doesn't stop until Suguru tells him to.

"Don't kill him." Geto warns. "It'd breach the agreement."

You can feel his presence, always silent, never revealing himself until he wants to be known. So unlike Gojo, who is hungry for even a second of attention. More than happy to spill blood over it.

Gojo grits his teeth, as though he's debating to even listen. He stands up eventually, chest heaving. His knuckles are caked in blood. It's not his. His glasses are off. His eyes are blown wide open like he's just hit the greatest high of his life. Geto calmly hands him a clean towel. You don’t want to know how many times this situation has repeated.

"Who gives a shit." Gojo bites out, his eyes , trailing to you, and you flinch away. He looks like a wild animal, growling and spitting. You don’t want to be next on his plate. Geto steps in front of you, barricading you from his sight.

The man on the ground had recovered enough to pathetically crawl away. It such a stark change to how he was just a few minutes ago, when he was lording over you, drunk off of his power.

Gojo steps on his calf. The broken thing gives a strangled scream. It only makes Gojo’s manic grin wider.

"Let him go. You made your point," Geto says, "calm down."

Firey blue eyes. Bright and violent. You don’t know how Suguru is able to withstand the intensity. Even you’re wilting when it’s not even directed towards you.

"Calm down?” Satoru asks. “You want me to calm down? Did you see what that bastard was gonna do to our—"

"Satoru." You've never heard Geto use this tone before. "Not here. Not now."

A silent battle warred between them. Tanzanite bore into amethyst. Which gem would rupture first, splinter into defeat?

Eventually, Gojo looks away, cursing. He glares down at you, as though he were blaming your weakness of all things. In a way, he’s not wrong to.

"I'll wait outside."

And then he's gone, striding down the corridor. Geto watches him go, before glancing down at you.

"Did he hurt you?" He asks.

You're not supposed to lie to him. You nod.

Geto pulls on your sleeves until he can see the imprints. Light bruising, nothing too horrible. You'll survive. Geto looks less than pleased. He glances down at the remnants of the man, the imprints of blood on the floor. You pitied the person who'd have to clean it up.

"I apologize, dear." He sighs. "I should have kept an eye on you."

He stares at the blood some more. Then, he smiles.

"Perhaps, it's better if I just let things run its course, this time."

You blink at him. He ignores your silent question. Instead, he wraps his arm around your shoulders, gently leading you outside. The car is already running. This time, Geto silently ushers you into the passenger seat. You take it immediately. Gojo hadn't taken his eyes off of you. You're grateful for any barrier.

This time, the car ride was silent. You don't relish in it. If anything, it just feels like the calm before the storm.

⟡

Soon, what Geto was talking about became apparent.

The man who had nearly been killed by Gojo had talked. You don't know what your father did to these men, perhaps you never will, but they didn't let you forget his crimes. If they couldn't get to him, then clearly, his kid was the next best option. You know it was them. It would be no one else.

Someone broke into your apartment one weekend. Everything was ruined. The TV was shattered and broken. Your mattress was tossed onto the floor. Every plate, cup, and bowl was smashed onto the floor. They took nothing, but they broke everything.

You hadn't been home that night. Ijichi needed more work from you. If you had, if you had come home that night, alone, locked the door, slept in that bed, then what would have—

Geto finds you on the stairs of your apartment, curled into a ball. You watch with bloodshot eyes as he observes the damage, clicking his tongue. He doesn't look particularly shocked.

You do nothing when you feel his hand on your shoulder, brushing against the sleeves, a feign of sympathy. You don't even care to ask how he came even though you never called him. Geto has a keen sense for you.

"It'll get worse." His voice comes. Soft, and sure.

Yeah, you knew that. You'd been naive, following after Geto with wide eyes. You thought that if he was untouchable, then so were you.

He speaks about an enemy group, people with debts with your father, just as he did. Of course, he knows who did this to you. You’d be more surprised if he didn’t.

You don’t care. His words go in one ear and out the other. The reasons don’t matter. Your home is still destroyed. It’s no longer yours.

"They got my phone, too," you mention to your discarded cell phone. "My emails, messages."

You're trapped, with nowhere else to turn. All the doors are shut and bolted, and only one remains open.

You turn to the devil.

"Can you...help?"

The angler fish uses its darkened habitat to its advantage. Hundreds of miles beneath the water's surface, it produces its own light as an olfactory bulb. It's an excellent predator, swinging its bio lantern around in the dark sea, the only light around for miles.

Geto tilts his head, a smile on perfect pink lips.

"You want my protection? It's a steep price, darling."

You feel like an empty well, forced to give and give until you're all dried up. Who could be so greedy? Who could be so willing to take?

"I've given you everything." It's barely a whisper. "What else do I have left to offer?"

He doesn't say anything to that, not at first. Geto kneels in front of you, a slender hand lifting your head up by the chin. Fingers trail down to your neck. Not choking, just holding. His thumb lightly presses into your throat.

"Not everything," Suguru says quietly.

He's right. You hadn't given him everything. So far, you have always been one of Geto's people. You were Geto's employee. You were indebted to him, but you weren't conquered by him.

Not yet.

He's kneeling in front of you, holding your soul in his hands and demanding for your heart. In a way, you find it a bit funny. You just don’t have the will to laugh anymore.

He's smiling again when he can tell you're finally starting to understand. "We couldn't have been that subtle, were we? Satoru never failed to express, at the very least."

No, they never tried to hide it. Even in the beginning, when you first met Suguru, you saw the hunger. You just tried to ignore it. You tried to keep your head in the sand, hoping it would pass. It makes you wonder if you had just agreed on that very night, led him into your bed, and bared it, would things have been different?

"I can leave. We can pretend this never happened," he coos, "it's all up to you, sweetheart."

He's making it seem like you had a choice. In a way, you did. You're choosing between two monsters. A known and an unknown. It takes longer than you'd like to figure out which one scares you more.

You take the bait. The angler fish siezes its prey.

"One night?" You're trying not to beg but it's coming out anyway. "Just—just one night?"

Geto leans forward, pressing a kiss on your forehead. It’s not an answer.

⟡

Despite the many months you've worked with him, you've never been to his home before.

It's not a house. A villa maybe. The property stretches itself stretches for miles. Filthy rich. Bleeding gold.

Geto—

("Suguru," he corrected you in the car, "considering this isn't really business, anymore.")

—had ushered you throw a double-door entrance. You couldn't even admire the architecture. Not when Gojo was already standing there. His eyes were hidden away, tucked underneath his glasses, but you still felt his stare. And all too wide smile stretched on his lips. He greeted Suguru with a kiss. For the first time, you looked down at their hands.

Matching rings.

You felt sick.

'It's all up to you, sweetheart' Suguru's voice rings through your head all through a dinner that's really nothing but a flimsy padding for the rest of the night. Food was served, wine was poured, all in a bid to ease you into it. As of right now, it's still your 'choice'. You know, without a doubt, if you backed out now, they'd let you go without a fuss. Suguru or Satoru themselves might drive you home. You'd crawl into bed without a scratch.

But you don't. You stare at your plate, picking at it when they ask questions. Satoru's in such a good mood he offers to feed you.

It's mostly because it doesn't feel real yet. You feel like you're watching yourself go through the movements. Eat. Speak when spoken to. Smile when prompted. Empty.

You only come back when you're standing in their room, and the door locks with a click.

The window blinds are drawn, but there's no light to seep in. The moon is already out. You wonder how many hours you've already spent here.

You take another step towards the bed. Then, you turn around.

Satoru and Suguru stare right back. You feel their heavy gazes immediately, flicking your eyes down to your feet, playing with your sleeves.

Satoru laughs, perceiving the terror as shyness, or maybe he doesn't care. He steps forward first.

"Don't be like that." He lightly chastises you, tucking one arm around your waist. "We'll be nice. Promise, baby. We're gonna be so so good for you."

He finds your lips, then. Satoru kisses like the sun, all fire and passion. Sinking into you, wanting to melt. It's impossible to turn away and ignore his presence. He gropes at your chest, your waist, trying to feel all of you at once. When he finally lets go, you feel dizzy.

Suguru's kisses ground you, makes remember where you are, who you're with. He's like the Earth you're crashing back into from your high. You hurdle through the atmosphere as his hands grasp at your throat. He never squeezes, but it's more than enough to sober you.

"You smell so nice, baby," Satoru says from his place at your neck. You flinch when teeth sink into your sink, but you don't complain.

"That's creepy, Satoru." Suguru chastizes him.

Serpentine eyes stare into yours. You don’t get the chance to hide before you feel his breath on your cheek. Suguru tugs at the hem of your dress.

“Take this off.” He whispers into your skin. “And get on the bed for us, sweetheart.”

This is the lesser monster. It’s a mantra you repeat in your head as you pliantly nod, hesitantly gripping the fabric of your dress. It’s horrifically easy to take it off and let it drop by your feet. You can’t bear to look at them anymore.

The soft duvet sinks under your weight. It looks expensive. Silky pillows. On either side is a nightstand covered with trinkets and personal items. You spot one of Suguru’s shirts on the floor, and it takes you a second to realize this is their room, not an impersonal guest room they use to fuck the less fortunate.

They stop paying attention to you. Satoru moans loudly into Suguru’s mouth. Suguru fiddles with the buttons on Satoru’s shirt, close to ripping it off entirely. Satoru palms at the tent in his pants as he unbuckles his pants. Suguru loosens his tie. They’re so violent with each other. Dread soaks through your palms, and you curl even further within yourself. You prayed this was all they wanted from you—someone to just watch, someone less interactive.

It’s not. When they pull away, their lips are swollen. Satoru leers at you, licking at his busted lip. You can’t seem to cry anymore.

They’re both half-naked. You can see the tattoos spread on Suguru’s hand, crawling up to his shoulder. Another peeks just behind Satoru’s neck. You only get a glimpse before he’s on top of you, eager for a continuation.

“Shit, you’re so soft.” He hisses as he squeezes your bra-covered breast. It doesn’t stay on for long. You wince when his fingers trace over your sensitive tits.

Your hands squeeze into fists, because you choose this, choose them. Satoru’s more than happy to sink into your breasts. His warm tongue swirls around a nipple before fully taking it in his mouth.

“Like a baby,” Suguru says. Satoru scoffs, tossing him an impressed look.

“Shut up.” Satoru releases your breast with a wet-sounding pop. They’ll be marks there tomorrow.

His fingers trail down your breasts, your ribs, your stomach. They linger on the band of your panties.

You can’t help it. It’s instinct.

He freezes when your fingers snap around his wrist. There’s no strength behind your grip, he pauses more out of surprise than anything.

His eyes, filled with hardened tanzanite, shoot up to yours. You think, if they’d be anyone else’s, you would have envied them.

He doesn’t say anything. Neither does Suguru. The silence is crushing.

“Sorry.” You feel pathetic apologizing, but it’s outweighed by the fear. “I—I’m sorry. I was just—”

“It’s okay, dear,” Suguru coos. “Satoru just scared you, hm? He’s such an idiot, isn’t he?” He violently smacks Satoru on the head. You flinch at the sound. Satoru just whines, rubbing at his temple.

“Mean.” Satoru childishly says, but he’s slower now, rolling down the hem of your panties.

Suguru is quick to distract you. He’s busy with his own bottoms before he’s taking you by the chin.

His cock is already leaking precum. He’s big, and you don’t think you’ll be able to do want he wants. Suguru smiles down at you, he doesn’t need to say anything. You’re swallowing down your self-hatred before opening your mouth.

You take him in just when Satoru buries his face between your thighs. The two of you have very different reacts. Satoru just hums, finding your clit to lick. You gasp, your legs jolting as you accidentally take Suguru even deeper.

He’s nice enough to let you go at your own pace. There’s a hand on your head, petting you, easing you through the process. Even then, your mouth is stretched uncomfortably wide. Tears prick at your eyes. Suguru’s face gets blurry. You don’t think you want to look anymore.

Below you, Satoru is enjoying his meal. He’s slobbering on your pussy, eating you out like it’s his last meal. His hot tongue finds his way into your sopping hole. You squeeze your eyes, a muffled whine comes from your mouth. The only loss of control Suguru shows was how he ever-so-slightly gripped your head.

By then, you’re unintentionally squeezing Satoru’s head in between your thighs. It’s so much. Pleasure tingles up your spine as Satoru continues to worship your pussy. His nose grinds into your clit and, for a moment, you’re wondering how he’s even breathing.

Suguru’s close. You can feel it every time his balls slap your chin. He’s speaking now, words stilted and heavy. It’s the only hint you get that he’s only holding his control by his teeth. That thought scares you. At any moment he’d snap, choking you with his cock, let you suffocate while he fills your dying mouth with his cum.

“Good,” he’s hissing out, “so good—good for me. C’mon, baby, take it.”

Satoru’s hand squeezes your ass, urging you to arch off the bed. You come like that, pressing your thighs around Satoru’s head, moaning around Suguru’s dick.

Suguru barely gives a grunt before something salty fills your mouth. You have to swallow it down. It burns your throat.

The air tastes sweet by the time Suguru’s cock leaves your mouth. You’re sucking in deep breaths, breasts heaving. Incidentally, you hadn’t suffocated Satoru. He’s kissing his way up your body. A trickle of Suguru’s cum had escaped your lips. His tongue presses against your chin before he pushes it back into your mouth. You can taste your tangy essence on his lips.

“Gotta’ swallow it all,” Satoru says with a teasing lilt, “he gets mad when it’s wasted.”

You can only nod. He gives you another wet kiss before he pulls away.

They switch places, Suguru moving over until he’s between your thighs. His large cock lays on your cunt. He’s still hard, his cock twitches when he angles his hips down, letting the head run over your leaking slit.

“The only reason he's going first is ‘cuz he’s been pining for you for months.” Satoru murmurs into your ear. Strangely enough, Suguru doesn’t comment. Your brain can’t work fast enough to comprehend what that means.

You hold your breath just as he presses himself inside. You’re almost grateful Satoru took the time to prepare you. His salivia, and your stretched walls make it easier for Suguru to bury his length inside you.

It doesn’t mean it doesn’t hurt. You hiss. Satoru feels enough sympathy to coo at you, kissing your neck, trying to distract you from the pain. It doesn't help, not even when Suguru presses light circles into your clit, easing his way through.

Suguru’s giving a harsh laugh when he’s fully seated inside, his hips meeting yours.

“Feel good, hm?” Satoru goads, reaching up to nibble on Suguru’s ear.

“Shit, so tight—fuck.”

Your hips twitch and you’re clenching down on him. Suguru doubles over, gritting his teeth.

“Oh, darling.” Scarred hands grasp your neck. “I’m going to ruin you, aren’t I?”

Your bottom lip wobbles. He’s eyeing you like a piece of meat. A gazelle in the lion’s den. To them, to men like them, you suppose you’re nothing more.

“Suguru.” You whisper because your voice is failing you. “You-you promised you’d be nice.”

Silence. And he’s laughing so hard his shoulders shake. They both are.

“We did promise that, didn’t we?” Suguru glances at Satoru. “Next time, then.”

He pulls his cock out of you slowly, dragging his head through your cunt. He’s so slow and deliberate that you think it’d feel better if he just went ahead and fucked you already.

And he was, technically. His hips rolled back into you, his cock disappearing inside your wet pussy with each thrust. It’s so much that you’re willingly arching your back, trying to do anything to alleviate the intensity.

Beside you, Satoru is pulling out his cock, his eyes never leaving the lewd sight of Suguru fucking himself into you.

“Fuck fuck fuck,” he’s cursing under his breath, fisting his cocl in one hand, “so fuckin’ hot.”

Suguru growls, grabbing Satoru’s stiff cock, crudely pumping his hand up and down. His movement are getting more erratic losing his pace, his patience. You’re at your end too, almost crying when someone squeezes your sensitive tits.

“How does it feel, darling?” Suguru asks with a ragged breath. His eyes are blown, you don’t even think he’s looking at you, anymore.

When you don't give an answer fast enough, Suguru snaps his hips punishingly in response. You give a sharp wail.

“I said.” Suguru hisses through his teeth. “Tell me how it feels.”

You can barely suck in a breath. You’re losing oxygen too fast.

But you’ll die if he keeps doing this.

“Good.” You tell the truth. “It—it feels good, Suguru.”

He grins, serpentine. You’ve lost a game you didn’t even know you were playing. His fingers descend on your clit.

“That’s my perfect darling.”

You sob when your walls clench around his cock, milking him dry. Your orgasm triggers his own. He curses, and something is spilled into your used cunt. Out the corner of your eye, Suguru and Satoru are kissing, going together like rabid dogs. Satoru shudders, and then all three of you are a panting mess.

You take in deep breaths, barely caring when Suguru lets out an exhausted laugh, collapsing into your chest. He licks at your sweaty skin. You just sink your head further into the pillows

It was over. It was finally over.

“You got it everywhere.” Suguru suddenly says, disgusted. He wipes Satoru’s cum off your stomach.

Satoru just snorts.

“I didn’t have a hole to dump it all in.” He snarks back. “Twice, by the way. So selfish, Sugu.”

“Quit whining.” Suguru groans. “You have your chance now, don’t you?”

What? Exhaustion blinks away.

Suguru stays by your side. Gojo is the one moving, rising from the blankets. He places his hands on either side of your hips, spreading your legs.

Geto catches your panic, easily catching you before you can even do anything. He hushes you while Satoru settles himself between your thighs, his cock pressing right at your slit.

“The night’s still young, dear.” He sounds almost sympathetic. “Be good for just a bit longer.”

By the time they’re finally done with you, it’d been hours. You can’t count how many positions they put you in, how many times your holes were filled by their cocks or their fingers or their mouths. You’re barely coherent by the time Suguru is tucking you under the soft duvet.

You feel sore and used and dirty. His soft words, filled with praises, just make you feel worse. Despite how exhausted you feel, you’re just waiting until they finally get bored of seeing your body and kick you out.

You’ll call a cab home. You’ll cry yourself to sleep. You’ll be okay.

They’re taking a while to get to that part. They’re mumbling soft words too each other, it sounds too intimate to be something you should be overhearing. Satoru’s at your back, hands curling around your waist, another brushing Suguru’s mussed hair. You can feel his soft breath at the nape of your neck.

Suguru’s eyes are on you. Amethyst watches you intently.

"Satoru,” he finally says, “go uphold our end of the deal."

Gojo groans, annoyed. He snuggles closer to you. "Why me? You go do it."

An adoring smile crinkles on Suguru’s lips. It makes him look younger.

"Because I don't trust you alone with this one for the night. Go."

“Ass.”

He sighs, but Gojo sits up, letting the covers shift off his naked body.

"Stay right here for me, baby, 'kay?" He leans over, pressing a delicate kiss on your hairline. Despite everything that happened tonight, this was the most intimate thing he'd done to you. It's too...loving.

When Satoru leaves, you wait for a few moments. Suguru had yet to tell you to go. It probably meant that he didn’t want to waste his breath dismissing you. You take the hint, rising from the bed.

His fingers snap around you wrist just as your feet touch the floor.

“Where are you going?” His voice doesn’t sound accusatory, but you flinch anyway.

A wobbly smile makes its way across your face, you hope it comes across as submissive. Weren’t you done? The deal was made, that meant you could leave now, right?

"I—I need to go home?" Suguru gives a doting smile, as though you said something adoringly naive. He barely pulls on your hand, gently leading you back under the covers.

You follow because the gun glints by the nightstand.

“Is that the best idea right now, dear?” He asks, “Who knows if those men have come back? I’d hate to see them find their target, wouldn’t you?”

He draws you into his chest. Your head is tucked underneath his chin.

“And besides, Satoru will be disappointed if you left without saying goodbye. It’d be horrible to deal with one of his tantrums so late at night.”

He buries his face into your hair, inhaling your scent.

“Why don’t you leave in the morning? I’ll be sure to drive you back myself. By then, I’m sure Satoru will have made the proper arrangements. Don’t tell him I told you this, but—” Suguru drops his voice as though he’s scared someone might overhear”—he tends to be more efficient when you’re in the picture.”

You don’t know what he means by that, and you don’t think you want to know. Still, you lift your head, finding the courage to stare at him.

His eyes are such a beautiful color. Glittering purple in the moonlight. You’d stare at them all night if you could.

“I can leave in the morning?”

Suguru hums, kissing your forehead.

It’s not an answer.

#yandere jjk #yandere #dark jjk #dark gojo satoru #dark content #yandere gojo satoru #non con touching #yandere geto suguru #dark geto suguru #dark satosugu #yandere satosugu #tw:blood #tw:noncon/dubcon

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pedgito · 16 days ago

Text

𝐁𝐈𝐓𝐓𝐄𝐑 | Joel Miller x reader x Tommy Miller

summary | a moment of desperation and a kind gesture leads you down an inescapable path alongside two brothers and a town with a nasty secret

author's note | so. its been three months and a much needed break from this place, but i started this back in august with a fully fleshed out idea and then my motivation fell flat. i had a good chunk of this done and i love it too much to not post, even if just for myself. this will be two parts, this one and one coming in the near future. its so self-indulgent and not everyone's cup of tea. but an extra special thank you to the special and lovely people i talked about this with and that took a look at for me, i love you endlessly.

content warning | 18+ smut, dubious consent (relating to cannibalism), cannibalism, gore, mentions of violence, blood, demeaning language, joel is a hardass, high tension and angst, joel has weird kink relating to...you guessed it, this story is heavily joel leaning but tommy is a decent part of it, smut (oral), night swims, food/feeding tw, joel is a bit of creep here. please heed the warnings and pass if it's not your thing.

word count —14k

Long, desolate roads led you here. No telling how long you had until you would find the city skyline again, car running on fumes for the last ten miles, the sign at the end of the road pulling your attention up, eyes peering through the windshield as your car veered to the right and to a full stop.

Miller’s Farm, next right

Helped wanted, no experience needed

Hourly pay and lodging included

You had fifty bucks left in cash and half of that would go toward gas if you could find a gas station, your arms crossed over the steering wheel and blocked the blow to your forehead as you rested it against your forearms in frustration.The car’s AC was shotty at best, requiring you to hit it every half hour to keep it alive and even then it was a weak sputtering and a barely there chill that did nothing to quell the layer of sweat on your skin.

It takes several long, frustrating minutes before you decide that you don’t have any other option.

You were stranded, this was it.

Maybe hospitality extended this far out into the country, that even this far from the city there were still a few good, decent people around. With a deep, heavy sigh you exit the car and shove your key into the door, locking it and pocketing the keys into the pack slung over your shoulder.

It’s been weeks on the road, leaving pieces and pieces of you behind as you traveled. The lesser the weight, the lesser the burden. Were you running? You weren’t sure. But, staying in one place for too long made you antsy. Town to town, taking odd jobs where they were offered, living off the kindness of others in hopes of making it somewhere seaside.

Start a new life, forget about your past.

Austin wasn’t supposed to be your final stop, or even a detour, but the steps you took down the side of the road and toward the farm in the distance would be another place of temporary sanctuary. Hopefully.

Eventually the asphalt turns to dirt, kicking up gravel under your feet as you walk and covering your skin in a thin layer of fresh grime and sweat under the high noon sun. The barn, once a far-off dot, was now large and vibrant, that distinct red popping out amongst the rest of the dilapidated property, void of most color outside of dull brown. There was a house to the left, cluttered with a melody of things. Tools, furniture, plants, and things you couldn’t even recognize.

You squint, hand over your brow like a makeshift visor as you look around and hope to see someone, anyone—this couldn’t be the wrong place?

A truck under the hastily built carport and a trailer attached to the hitch—someone was home. You look around carefully, peering over your shoulder and finding nothing. There was no wind, no noise, and your breath caught in your throat.

Maybe this was the time to turn back and attempt your chances elsewhere.

The front door opening with a creak has your head whipping back over your shoulder to set sights on the person in front of you—a man, tanned skin and tall. He was stocky but lean, black hair tucked behind his ears and trimmed just above his shoulders. He looked clean, which was more than you could say for yourself. All clean-cut man, jeans and a casual shirt, boots tucked under his jeans as his hand curled around the front door of the house and half of his figure leaned out.

“Can I help you, darlin’?” The twang flows out of his mouth naturally, taking a few steps out of the house before he’s closing the door behind him and following the small path of the front yard masked with clutter until he’s near you, a few feet away. “You lost?”

“I—I saw the sign?” You implore, jutting your thumb over your shoulder in the direction of the road, “My car ran out of gas, I’m out of money and it’s hot. I was just hoping for some work to help get me back on my feet and out of your hair as quickly as possible.”

The man nods, readying to open his mouth before you continue.

“I don’t mind the work, I’m not picky. I don’t have a resume or anything, but I promise—”

“Woah, slow down,” You can hear the amusement, a smirk pulling at his face and you chew at your bottom lip nervously, fingers twisting around the straps of your backpack, “We’re not lookin’ for some hoity toity types with degrees—you comfortable gettin’ dirty?”

You glance down at your clothes, a few days without a shower and driving down sideroads with your windows down has made you look worse for wear, “Absolutely. I just need the money and a bed, couch even—you won’t even know I’m here if that’s an issue for you. I can keep busy.”

You glazed over the we in his response, looking around curiously again.

He extends his hand unexpectedly, “I’m Tommy,” He introduces and you take his hand softly, feeling him squeeze firmly at your grip and the smirk in his face soften into a smile, “listen—we don’t do the whole hirin’ process. I gotta run it by my brother Joel and there’s a few cautionary steps we gotta take due to the work, but we can give it a test run? See how you feel?”

You felt inclined to ask what the work was, but you decided not to be picky.

And like a dinner bell had been rung, the other man appears out of the barn.

Joel, a stark difference to his brother in stature and cleanliness but the resemblance was uncanny in the way they carried themselves. A similar stride that felt intimidating, broad shoulders stretched out over taught muscle and a matching resting scowl on his face.

Something told you his expression was more permanent, though. His brow pulls together, eyes squinting as he looks you over. He was wiping at his dirtied hands with a rag, a sheen of maroon drying to brown that you could only assume was blood.

It was a farm. Animals. That meant slaughter.

The thought of it didn’t make you vomit initially, so you considered that a good thing.

It takes one look and he’s giving a disparaging shake of his head, turning his head toward his brother to offer his opinion, “Ain’t worth the trouble.”

You instantly grimace, offering a less than subtle look of distaste at that man.

Stubbornness is what he notices immediately, but then your eyes are flicking back toward his brother who looks more confused now than when you had first approached the farm.

“You said you were outta gas, right? Just needin’ some extra money?” He confirms and you answer with a simple nod of your head. He looks over at Joel, arms crossing over his chest, “Said she doesn’t mind gettin’ dirty—willing to help out wherever. I’m sure we can find her some work, right?”

Joel looks you over slowly, a predatory gaze that makes you feel infinitely smaller. He was staring through you, seeing the deepest and darkest parts of your soul. His eyes were darker, nearly black and ringed with deep set under eyes from an obvious lack of sleep—whereas Tommy, he was chipper and well-rested, eyes a warm amber and much more inviting.

“You slaughter cattle before?” Joel asks, “Cleaned up shit? Worked on a farm? Anything like that?”

You shake your head but quickly respond before he has a chance to speak, “I don’t care what the work is—I’ll do it. If I need to be taught, I’m willing to learn. I’m a quick learner too.”

Devotion is what he senses at a slower rate, the slow blink of your eyes as they flick between the two brothers—he could give Tommy an ultimatum and turn you away, but something in his gut twists.

She’s useful, she’s good. Good supply if it came down to that. Given you passed the tests.

But, there was something lingering in your gaze, yet to be discovered. Joel was curious.

“Send her to the doc, give her the guest room,” Joel tells Tommy after a moment of thought, sounding slightly irritated but it forces out the breath you hadn’t realized you were holding, “You’ll start work when we know you’re cleared.”

You nod dutifully and Tommy returns a relaxed smile, “It’s a liability thing,” He promises, “and it’s heavy work, better to know if your body can handle it alright before we put you through the ringer.”

“Whatever I need to do,” You return the grin, tracking Joel’s departing figure as he re-entered the barn and disappears, “is he always that angry?”

“Usually,” Tommy replies, rusting around in his back pocket for a set of keys, “I’ll give you a ride to the clinic and we can tow your car here tonight—to keep away anyone tryin’ to scalp it for parts. Sounds good?”

“Sounds perfect,” You agree, wiping at the sweat on your brow with the back of your hand, “but—do you think I could take a quick shower first? It’s just walking in the heat and it’s been a few days...”

“Oh, yeah. Yeah,” Tommy stumbles over his words, but nods for you to follow him inside.

With trepidation, you take your first steps and follow.

And what you’re expecting is not what is revealed to you. It made sense that the disorganization would spill into the house, but it was nearly spotless. Pristine countertops and polished wooden furniture, a wall of file cabinets and a tucked away nook with a computer set up. It was like entering another dimension, your eyes tracking along the full expanse of the house before they land on Tommy, who’s looking on with that same amusement as earlier.

“It’s a lot of work but I try to keep it clean here,” Tommy admits, “The outside is…all Joel, mostly.”

You shake your head with indifference, holding your hands up in defense.

You weren’t judging, it wasn’t your place.

“The shower is down that hall,” Tommy points toward the central hall, rooms lining each side, “first door on the right—did you—do you have clothes?”

“Only one clean pair left,” You confess, “but I’ll make do.”

“We’ve got clothes, if you need them. Don’t be afraid to ask.”

There’s a responsiveness to Tommy that intrigues you—approachable, kind, a hard disjunction from his counterpart that was like a breath of fresh air. You don’t allow yourself to linger either, making your way to the bathroom with quick footsteps and remaining blind to the rest of the house, hearing a sharp scuffle of a chair that you can only assume is Tommy as he sits and waits.

It was the easiest predicament you've dealt with in the last few months. But you weren’t, not even for a moment, going to question it.

It’s a small building near the edge of the town, only a half hour drive from the farm and sat in some silence, you find out a slow trickling of information that Tommy shares, his elbow propped against the open window and the other gripping tight around the steering wheel, his hair a wind-blown mess.

“It’s been in our family for years,” he tells you, traveling down the quiet road and the low hum of the radio mingling with his voice, “s’why it's a mess—can’t be bothered to part with some of that junk.”

“I’m not judging.”

Tommy offers a look of skepticism, laced with a smile.

“It is a lot of stuff,” you grin in response, a subtle quirk at the corner of your mouth.

“Joel is a little sentimental,” Tommy adds, “he’s always been like that—harder for him to let shit go.”

You respond with a gentle nod as Tommy pulls into the parking lot of the clinic, exiting the truck with a swiftness before he’s at the passenger side and opening your own door, “Oh—that is really not necessary—”

“My momma would be rollin’ in her grave otherwise,” Tommy gripes playfully as his fingers curl around the open door, “so, just let me, alright?”

You don’t argue, chivalry be damned.

There isn’t much to be confused about as you step inside the clinic with Tommy in tow. He takes a seat near the door and the doctor, an old man with a limp and someone who refers to Tommy as son—he earns a casual nod in return and then you’re led beyond the door to the hall of other rooms.

It was a very typical line of questions, a general physical, and a blood draw that he promised would be pushed through quickly for the benefit of allowing you to work as soon as possible.

You try desperately to ignore the particular aura about the old man, thin-wired glasses perched on his sharp nose, age spots littering his face and bald head—but the most glaring is the missing pinky fingers on both hands. It was so clean cut and well-healed that you assume it could be something he was born with, but the moment he spots you noticing, he seems to switch gears.

“You’re all good here,” he tells you, “If anything comes up I’ll give the Miller’s a call—you’re lodging there, right?”

Your left eyebrow raises slightly, nodding hesitantly in response.

“Gotten a few like you before,” he comments oddly, “I’m not passing any judgment, it’s just a question.”

“Yeah—yeah I am. Staying there.”

Increasingly creeped out as the seconds pass you breathe a sigh of relief as he allows you to leave, meeting Tommy at the front door with a less than comfortable expression. His eyes press a silent question but you shrug it off, hearing him bid a polite goodbye over your shoulder as you walk toward the truck.

Eventually, settled into the truck as Tommy turned over the ignition, he responds with comfort, “He ain’t the most approachable guy,” he admits, “but he’s been helpin’ us for years.”

That was one way of putting it.

“Hopefully I pass with flying colors then.”

Tommy shrugs, backing out of the parking lot with his arm thrown over the passenger seat, feeling the slight touch of his fingertips against the back of your neck through the headrest, “We can figure somethin’ out anyways, seeing as you’re more than eager,” Tommy grins, teeth peeking through, “I like that.

–

Tommy gives you a proper tour when you arrive back, nothing extensive but he does walk you around the property. He shows you the animal pens; pigs, goats, a few cows wandering around the pasture. And the barn, but he doesn’t enter. You note the lock hanging from the doors, clunky and rusted but securing the doors closed.

The inside of the house is less of a mystery, following Tommy as he lead you into the kitchen and showed off the expensive counter space and deep set sink—if they didn’t put a lot of effort into cooking then you didn’t understand the reasoning for the size, but as the thought floods your mind, Tommy plucks it out and answers it.

“Joel is a better cook than me,” he admits, “another bonus, home-cooked meals, a lot of our meats are ethically-sourced—” The look you shoot his way is quizzical.

“Grass-fed and they’re free to roam and forage for the most part, we’re not stuffin’ them full of grain feed to fatten ‘em up. We try to keep things humane. Joel deals with most of the dirty work and I stick to numbers and talkin’,” he explains, “he ain't’ much for socializing.”

Joel enters at the mention of himself, grunting as he steps beyond the threshold. His coveralls hung around his waist, tied at the hips and the dirty undershirt stretched tight over his broad chest. He peeled off his boots at the door and Tommy leaned against the counter lazily, one foot crossed over the other as he folded his arms and looked over at you, eyes slowly dragging to his brother.

“She cleared?” He asks briskly, “Or we sendin’ her on her merry way?”

“Joel,” Tommy chastises and Joel smirks, taking a quick glance over at you, “doc said he’d call in the morning and let us know, we can spare a meal and a bed for a night.”

Almost as if you two weren’t even there, he strips off his dirtied shirt and works at the tie around his hips with the hand free of the balled up cloth, “Hope you like mess, girl.”

“I’m not picky,” You shrug, resting your hands loosely against your hips as he walks toward the same hallway you had traveled down earlier, “A little mud and grime won’t kill me.”

Joel chuckles softly at that, fully disparaging, “Blood make you squeamish?”

You shake your head, noting the caked bits of dried blood tucked in the crook of his arms and the creases of his neck, a faint pink tint from his chin down, “As long as it isn’t mine.”

Tommy seems to tense at your wording, his arms flexing tight as he eyed his brother under a downturned gaze, staying quiet under the domineering energy his brother exuded.

“She might just survive ‘round here,” he directs at his brother, a smarmy remark although more boastful than he had been since the first time he spoke, but the distaste for you still lingered, oozed right out of the disingenuous smirk crossing his face.

He ain’t much for socializing.

It would only take a few weeks, you think. A few weeks and a couple cash payments and you could move onto the next place on your never-ending roadmap. You feel yourself breathing out a sigh of relief as Joel disappears, not realizing how long you had been holding it in.

“S’much as I’d like to have nice home-cooked meal, I think it’d be better if I grab some dinner from the dinner down the road,” Tommy offers, keys clutched in his grip as he rocks on his heels, “I’m gonna pick up your car on the way back, like I promised.”

And then he smiles, again. But, there’s a moment when it finally reaches his eyes and you can’t help but return the gesture, “I…think I’ll hide out in the guest room until you come back,” you admit, pointing toward the hallway, “no offense to your brother, but—”

“Don’t take it personally,” Tommy assures, “don’t let ‘em intimidate you, either.”

Fight fire with fire.

It wasn’t your forte, but you were hellbent on survival and you would adapt if you had to.

You’ve spent the last half hour sorting through a puzzle on your haphazardly made bed, chin tucked into your palm, eyes tracking over the pieces until you could find a suitable match and slotting it into place before repeating the process. The deft shift and click of a door being shut pulls your attention upright, assuming it was Tommy, you clamber out of bed.

What you aren’t expecting is the solid chest that slams into your side, senses overwhelmed with the strong smell of aftershave and clean body wash—it wasn’t a particular scent, just…clean.

You look over, find Joel with a perturbed look on his face, a dinner plate hovering above your head and his expression turning more and more grim as time passes. “Sorry,” you mumble, “thought you were Tommy.”

“I look like Tommy to you?”

You tilt your head, expression pinching together in annoyance.

Intimidation, just like Tommy had mentioned.

“Yeah,” you respond coarsely, “but at least he’s not acting like someone shit in his food—do you treat everyone like this who comes through here? Is that why you can’t keep people around here?”

His arms drop then, strutting past you with heavy footsteps as he makes his way to the sink, dropping the dirty dishes and pressing his hands into the edge of the center island that sat opposite the line of cabinets and countertops.

“You runnin’?” Joel asks curiously, ignoring your initial question. “Cops gonna come lookin’ for you?”

You balk, offended by his asinine line of questioning.

“That’s none of your business,” you respond to the first question before spitting out a venomous, “No—what? Scared of a couple cops? Are you hiding something, Joel?”

That seems to strike a nerve decently enough that he rises, creeping around the edge of the island until he’s striding toward you, a hair's breadth away as you swallow hard.

You couldn’t help it—he was large, intense, intimidating without trying. He didn’t have to speak, the image of him did the work itself. Even as he looked more approachable, clean clothes and a freshly shaven face down to a thin layer of stubble, almost normal in appearance. But, there’s rage behind his eyes. It simmers slowly, a creeping boil that would come back to bite you if you allowed it.

“No,” he responds truthfully—at least, it seemed that way. His voice never wavered or faltered, he was strong and believable with his words, “but two things you ‘oughta know—one, don’t go snooping around where your nose doesn’t belong. Two, keep to yourself in this town.”

“And if I don’t?”

“You don’t wanna find out,” he responds without hesitation, both of you snapping out of the intensity of the conversation as the front door slides open, a very focused Tommy stepping through the door with hands full of styrofoam containers full of greasy burgers and fries.

“Nice,” Tommy notes humorously, “you two didn’t kill each other.”

Yet.

“Got us burgers for dinner,” he explains, holding up the bags, “that alright?”

Joel clears his throat, hand wiping over his tired expression, “Already ate,” he responds short, clipped. Tommy doesn’t question it, but his eyes immediately catch on you, wondering what he had interrupted as he sees your body relax when Joel steps away. But, he shakes it off, offering a lazy grumble of a noise in response to his brother as he drops the food on the nearby dining table.

The dichotomy in the pairing is strange and you can’t comprehend how they’ve managed to co-exist as roommates, let alone siblings. But, they were also strangers. You had nothing but assumptions racking your brain, so you pushed it away.

Eat, sleep, and face the next day with a different attitude. A fresh start.

–

The morning was met with a rustling of two other occupants as they moved about beyond the barrier of your room, voices muffled but constant as they carried on amidst your dreary haze, rubbing at your eyes tiredly. It had been weeks since you’ve slept in a decent bed, not the backseat of your car or a mattress that felt like sleeping on a wall of bricks. You didn’t have a reason to complain and given the circumstances—a roof over your head, a space to yourself.

You’d be stupid to argue otherwise.

There’s a quick whistle behind the closed door to your room, followed by a gentle knock.

“Come in,” you say groggily, muffling out the end with a yawn as you stretch your tight limbs and watch as Tommy peaks his head through the open door, already showered and primed up for the day, his gaze lingers on you for a while and watches quietly. It should make you feel uncomfortable, but it does quite the opposite as you offer a shy smile, “—is this the part where you tell me I have to leave?

Your hands slap the comforter as he widens the door, letting it thud silently against the wall as he leans against the doorframe, hip cocked into his right hand.

“No, you’re all clear,” he tells you, nodding over his shoulder, “we’ve got a few things for you to do this morning but I wanted to keep it light and let you get adjusted.”

You nod lazily and push yourself out of bed, rubbing at the goosebump chill that spreads over your arms as you feel the kick of cooled air spread through the room, “Enjoy it,” Tommy remarks, “ain’t gonna feel that good outside.”

Tommy departs with his trademark grin, albeit more subdued by his tired eyes as he knocks his fist against the doorframe. But, as you’re heading for the bathroom across the hall, Joel finds you again.

He’s dressed for what you can only assume is a long day of work, thick pants paired with an even thicker shirt, skin covered from his neck to his feet and far too stuffy for the sticky humidity outside—his job couldn’t be easy and you weren’t faulting him for it, but the scowl on his face is getting under your skin and allowing its claws to find purchase within it.

He takes a sharp bite out of an apple you don’t realize he’s holding until it is pressed against his lips, teeth digging into the skin, juices squirting out with the force of it.

“There’s a full dresser of clothes for you in the corner,” He haphazardly points to the mahogany dresser tucked away in the corner, “different sizes and shit, you’ll have to find something. Since you don’t have nothin’.”

You eye him skeptical but don’t argue, walking toward the dresser and pulling at the top drawer. It was a mix of new socks and underwear, all pressed and fresh in their packages. The next drawer, a mixture of different shirts varying in shades, sizes, designs. Your head turns on a swivel, watching as Joel takes another bite out of the apple, speaking around the food in his mouth.

“People come and go,” he explains vaguely, “always leavin’ stuff behind, so—”

Again, he waves vaguely in your direction.

“Got it,” you answer curtly, turning your attention away from him.

You shake away the looming cloud of discomfort that Joel leaves in his departure and sift through the clothes—at least they were being hospitable. That was more than enough to allow you to push the uneasiness aside for the time being.

Tommy heaves the bucket of dirtied blades and utensils, cutting boards, and a collection of other tools that you weren’t sure you’ve ever seen in your life, all coated with dried, oxidized blood of varying animals, you assume. You didn’t think to ask, didn’t want to know.

Not yet, anyways.

Tommy rested his elbow against the edge of the bucket, having led you to the back of the house—it was similar to a sunroom, an entire wall of windows that gave you a beautiful view to the fields behind the house. Miles and miles of land, undistributed by the hum of city traffic and noise. The other wall, a dead-on view of the barn that Joel barricaded himself in. Tommy looks over briefly as Joel makes his trek to the locked doors, a metal jug of water in hand, a meat cleaver in the other.

“Well, he’s a ball of sunshine,” you joke before picking through the bucket of items carefully, keeping your fingers clear of the sharp blades, “is this it?”

“Most of it,” Tommy admits, “for now.”

You nod dutifully and watch as he explains things out in a few steps, rules to follow, a method of attack.

“So, just rinse at first with some soap, disinfect with the alcohol, then repeat and lay it out to dry. Pretty simple, but they need to be clean,” he stresses, his teeth peeking out beyond his lips as he stresses the syllable on his tongue, “and always use gloves.”

He grabs the rubber pair and offers it over before he’s speaking again, this time his words coming a little more hesitantly, “Also—I grabbed your car last night. I was gonna tell you over dinner, but I figured you needed a decent night of sleep.”

“As long as you found it in one piece,” You joke, fitting your hands into the gloves, and the silence has your heart dropping into your gut, “you did, right?”

“Yeah,” his voice wavers with hesitation, eyes squinting slightly in a tell that he wasn’t offering the full truth and you tilt your head, mouth turning down in frustration, “but—it was pretty mangled.”

“You’re kidding me—”

“Tires were slashed,” Tommy holds his hands up, palm out as he attempts to calm you, “there’s some rowdy kids ‘round here always causing trouble. We’ll figure it out for you, alright?”

Your jaw tenses, teeth clenched behind a tight smile and you nod jerkily. A hard swallow and harsh breath later you’re looking at him with softer, kinder eyes.

“Thank you, Tommy,” you tell him, “I feel like I’m already causing too much trouble for the both of you, doesn’t help that Joel would rather see me as roadkill than—”

Tommy rubs a finger under your chin to pull your gaze to his, a fleeting touch that has you freezing in place but looking up aptly, eagerly. He scrunches his nose slightly and shakes his head, “Darlin’, we’ve dealt with plenty of trouble. You don’t even come close.”

You laugh slightly, a grin pulling at the corner of your mouth.

Tommy claps his hands together gently before shoving them into his front pockets, looking over his shoulder briefly before his eyes are back on you, “I’m going to start on some paperwork,” he explains, “come find me when you’re done?”

You nod dutifully, turning to your task as Tommy leaves.

It isn’t hard by any means. It’s like washing dishes if you ignore the prudent smell and extra scrubbing to get the tools completely spotless before you’re running them through the steps that Tommy had listed off, attempting to ignore how weary your arms felt by the end of it.

Your eyes kept flickering toward the barn throughout, wondering if Joel would surface—two hours passed and there wasn’t any sight of him. It was like he lived in there, a nocturnal animal that needed the seclusion and no direct sunlight. It couldn’t be that enjoyable to be held up inside the barn all day.

When you’re finished you carry the bucket into the kitchen and place it on a nearby chair, tracking the back of Tommy’s head. He’s tucked away in the corner at the desk he’d shown you the other day, typing away and sorting through a small stack of papers.

Curiosity kills, so you wander over.

Peeking over his shoulder, nothing really makes sense.

It’s mostly numbers and an odd mixture of letters, a system that he must have come up with to track the intake of supplies and animals, some of them sorted by what looks like initials.

Tommy has a pen between his teeth and a calculator at his fingertips, typing away some numbers that add up to an amount that has your eyes bulging out, quickly realizing that this is none of your business.

He acknowledges your presence then, pulling the pen out of his mouth and looking over his shoulder with a curious expression, “Finished already?”

“Yeah,” you tell him, “I—sorry…if I was supposed to go slow.”

“Oh no, you’re alright,” Tommy turns in his chair, computer screen fading to black behind him, “I still have some stuff to finish up—why don’t you go check and see if Joel needs anything?”

“Are you sure that’s a good idea?”

Tommy smirks but not in a way to tease or patronize, he understands the presence his brother gives off, all intimidating and mostly unwelcoming.

“Just give a knock on the door,” Tommy instructs, “don’t go inside, he’s really testy about that. If he needs something he’ll answer.”

You compare it to something akin of facing the wrath of some beastly devil, gearing to attack.

Tommy offers an encouraging nod that you accept on less than enthusiastic legs, turning and heading out the front door with the surety that Joel would either ignore you or stir up some storm like he had the night prior.

He wasn’t nice or cordial, not that he needed to be—but it wasn’t a wonder why they seemed to go through help around the farm, running people off with his hard stares and less than appropriate comments. If making you uncomfortable was his plan, he was succeeding.

It’s quiet outside, morning slowly dissolving into afternoon. It’s still hot, feeling the rush of hot air hit your face as you make your way toward the barn, noticing the unlatched lock but remembering Tommy’s words.

Don’t go inside.

You knock, once with no answer. Again, notably drowned out by the rev of a chainsaw and then silence, a loud bang and rustling of dirt as footsteps come closer, instinctively you begin to step back, scampering away slightly as the door swings open just enough the Joel can fit his body between them, blocking you from peering inside over his large frame.

“You need somethin?” Joel asks, his tone tight and his eyebrow arched slightly in question, his finger wrapped tight around the rusted handle of the barn door.

“Tommy said to check if you needed help,” Joel seems to spot your curious eyes as you attempt to peek around his shoulder, his arm raising to curl around the side of the opposite, unopened door and pulling the open space tighter, his eyes peering down at you, “I finished—inside.”

“Already?” His voice is clipped but subtle with surprise, “You're the first one in weeks that ain’t emptied their stomach over that shit.”

It seemed extreme, but you knew that some people couldn’t handle things like blood or guts or even the thought of slaughtering animals. But, to you, it wasn’t that big of a deal. Sure, it was gross, but it wasn’t going to kill you.

“I’ve got a strong stomach,” you argue, shrugging your shoulders nonchalantly as your gaze refocuses on him, “besides, I told you blood doesn’t make me squeamish. Did you think I was lying?”

“Don’t know you,” He shrugs simply, “don’t trust you. Is that what you wanna hear?”

You sigh softly, trying to keep the fraying edges of your temper under control, “Is there anything I can do?”

Joel pauses for a moment, seconds dwindling into a territory that brought you silent discomfort as he looked you over thoughtfully before peering over his shoulder.

“Actually, I got some scraps for the pigs. Think you can handle that?”

You hear the disregard in his tone and take the opportunity while he isn’t staring you down to roll your eyes, just in time as he turns his head to look at you.

“Do you?”

Joel laughs at that. A genuine laugh, though quiet and short, you hear it. It was proof that he had a legitimate emotion outside of the one built around pure disgruntlement.

He disappears for a moment, barn door slamming shut in your face and before you even have time to breathe, he’s back. It's a heavy metal bin full of minced meat and a faint coppery smell that has you turning your head and huffing under the weight as Joel trades the bin off.

He points around the corner, toward the corralled pigs snorting near the entrance to their pin, sending the impending meal you were holding.

“Just throw it in there,” He gestures vaguely at the trough inside the pin, “they’ll eat it right up. Oh, clean up the pin while you’re at it, the tools are in the shed out back.”

You nod slowly, digesting the information and feeling the liquid from the bin seep into the front of your shirt, the sensation making you curl inward, gasping at the coldness of it.

“Shit,” Joel curses, “shoulda gave you the apron, that’s always a messy task.”

He sounds honest, but you stare daggers back in return.

“Next time,” He offers with a half smile that makes you sick, “don’t take too long—if you want dinner.”

“If you’re cooking, I’ll pass.”

Again, Joel chuckles. Twice in the span of five minutes.

God, maybe you were winning him over.

“I’m a good cook,” he says confidently, though the snideness in his tone lingers but barely, “you’ll regret sayin’ that.”

You snort softly as you shake your head, turning on your heels and toward the pigs, hearing the soft thud of the barn door.

It takes you a half hour to finish the task, grimacing slightly as the pigs frenzy toward their food, leaving you mostly undisturbed as you clean up the pen, catching Joel with his overalls tied around his waist, sweat dripping down his neck and his hair matted to dirty skin.

He seemed normal like this, natural. Dirtied and grimy, a permanent grimace on his face as he traded places with his brother, who was headed toward their truck.

You catch his eye, a waved offer in return for your smile.

Another moment alone with Joel sounded dreadful and maybe sticking out in the remainder of the hot summer day didn’t sound too horrible now.

But, the poignant smell of the pig pen was enough to turn anyone’s stomach, so you choose dread.

You and Joel trade off showers silently, working around each other in a less than comfortable silence, mostly trying your best to avoid him entirely, but you can only bear the avoidance for so long.

Freshly showered and in a clean set of tattered lounge clothes, you round the corner into the kitchen and catch Joel’s back, a white shirt stretched over tight muscle as his back tenses when he reaches for the burner, adjusting the heat on the stove.

His keen hearing clues him in, turning briefly over his shoulder to spot you. His expression is softer, but still mostly guarded. With Tommy not around, he was a wildcard.

“Where’s Tommy?”

Joel stirs away at the pot full of food on the stove, answering with a casual tone, “Finishin’ up some business in town—you sure you ain’t hungry?”

As if he knows, your stomach growls.

You had managed a decent breakfast and light snacking throughout the day, but the rich aroma of spices makes the food hard to ignore.

You approach curiously, noting the emptied but bloodied casing for the meat he was cooking, cutting board with a few stray vegetable ends and Joel’s gaze flickers to you once, then twice.

“You want a taste?” Joel asks, lifting a spoonful from the pot, his hand hovering under the utensil, spotting your weariness immediately.

As a show of trust, or just plain good faith, he takes a sip of the broth before shoving the spoonful into his mouth, a clear indication that it was safe to eat.

Not that you thought he would attempt to taint the food, but it did ease your worries and you were hungry despite your feelings toward him, so you nod.

Joel smirks slightly and dips a wooden spoon into the pot again, bringing the food to your lips and watching as you blow, the steam bellowing up in front of your face and you sip gingerly, invaded with a burst of flavorful notes.

It was an instant indication that maybe you had judged Joel too hard on his cooking skills, impressed by how savory the food was, stronger than you’re used to, but it was still pleasant.

Joel’s eyes are stuck on you, gauging your reaction and his lips twitching as your eyes light up, a gentle nod of approval in response. He plucks a piece of meat from the spoon and raises his eyebrows in question.

You find yourself nodding instinctively and Joel drops the spoon into the pot, guiding the chunk of meat to your lips and you open your mouth willingly, feel the soft press of the food against your tongue and the tenderness of it, like butter as your teeth grind into the meat, feeling the swipe of Joel’s finger as he cleans up dripping line of sauce that slides down your chin.

And it tastes…fine. You wouldn’t dare give Joel the immediate satisfaction that you thought it was good, because it was. It was a perfect, home-cooked meal. Your stomach was craving it, mouth watering even more as you swallowed that first bite.

Joel brings his sauce covered finger to his own lips, pressing the digit inside of his mouth and sucking. He wasn’t wasteful, clearly—savoring every last drop.

“So,” Joel grins wider than he ever has, still sated but it was new, welcoming even, “change your mind?”

You shrug indifferently, but Joel senses your intrigue.

“I’ll give it a try.”

That’s all Joel needs to hear.

Somewhere between your first bite and your last, minimal conversation as you sit and devour the bowl of stew without a single qualm, you fall asleep.

It was a mix of exhaustion and a full belly, slumped against the table and your eyes falling shut despite yourself. Joel cleans quietly, dishes clashing softly as he washes the dirtied ones and wipes them clean, stowing away the leftover stew as peeks over his shoulder.

You’re still sound asleep, plush lips pulling together in a tight line as you sigh, breathing out through your nose.

Joel rubs his hands over the front of his jeans, ignoring the half-hard jut of his cock against the denim, knowing the moment your lips slipped around that spoon he was a goner.

He’s never gone that far, he’s never tried. He and Tommy have always kept to themselves and while Tommy didn’t stick to a strict diet of Joel’s preferred meat, he did dabble on occasion.

Joel preferred it, and like his brother, was raised on it.

But, like many of the people that have come and gone, always through the process of ending up as stock for the Miller farm, Joel has never forcibly tried to push their beliefs on anyone.

Unfortunately, Joel had never met someone as intriguing as you. Not nearly as squeamish as the others, even fully grown men shying away from the task of cleaning pig shit out of a pen—you were strong, but stubborn. Joel admired it, but he liked the challenge of breaking it out of you too.

He’d wake you eventually, but for now he watches. Arms pressed against the central counter, keeping him hidden in the darkness as the soft glow of the overhead lamp above the dining table illuminated you.

Joel’s come to recognize things—good bone structure, volume of meat and muscle, all the things that make certain humans the perfect piece of product.

And you were just that.

A pretty penny.

—

Sometime in the middle of your bleary haze you’d made it to bed, whether with assistance or not you find yourself waking with a turn of your stomach and rolling out of bed in hurried attempt, feeling the force of bile as it made its way up your throat, fumbling loudly with the doorknob until you managed to pry it open.

You make it to the bathroom across the hall just in time to spill the contents of that evening's dinner into the toilet, attempting desperately to keep your wits, arms clenched around your stomach as you heaved relentlessly.

The cold hands come a moment later, icing the back of your neck as they push the hair from your face and offer a soft reassurance.

“Hey, it’s alright,” Tommy’s voice cooed, his cold palm pressing against your forehead as your head lifted to look at him, tears streaming down your face now, “you with me?”

You nod weakly, hearing Joel’s heavy footsteps before you spot him, his stocky frame filling out the doorway.

“Musta been dinner,” Joel supplies to his younger brother, “she’s probably ain’t used to the stuff ‘round here. Less processed, harsher on the stomach when you ain’t had it before.”

Tommy’s gaze lowers, focusing on his brother harshly. It was a look of words unspoken, threatening intention and one that had you holding your breath, wondering if you’d done something wrong. His hand slips down your back, rubbing at the base of your spine.

In any other circumstance you might find yourself shying away, but you lean into it. He glances over, touching your skin once more. Left cheek, right cheek. You were clammy, mouth suddenly dry and begging for anything to quench the thirst or rid yourself of the sour taste in your mouth.

“Get her some water,” Tommy instructs his brother harshly, “and somethin’ cold, she’s sweating through her clothes.”

Joel doesn’t argue, half-expecting him to put up a fight. He retreats, knowing his wrong-doing but not finding the guilt inside him to care. You’d assimilate eventually, they all do. Him, Tommy, nearly all the townsfolk have learned to adjust to this lifestyle. Unspoken and secret amongst the outliers, it was the way of life around here.

He returns with a glass of water and cold rag, passing them off to his brother, “Don’t run off,” Tommy bites, “we need to talk.”

Joel grinds his teeth at the order, watching as you close your eyes to the glorious press of the cold, wet rag as Tommy squeezed it against your face, your neck, before bringing the glass of water to your lips. A few seconds and one generous gulp later you find yourself cracking a joke amongst the tension, pulling a soft laugh out of the younger brother.

“If you wanted an excuse to feel me up, you could’ve just asked.”

“Oh, pardon me, sweetheart,” Tommy remarks playfully, “I’ll keep that in mind next time.”

Joel sniffles awkwardly, tongue pressing into his cheek as Tommy passes off the items and rises to his feet, nodding toward the hall and motioning for his brother to follow.

“You need somethin’ you shout, alright?”

You nod obediently, flushing the toilet weakly before resting your head in your hands, attempting slow breaths to calm your racing heart, waiting for the second wave of sickness to hit you but hoping it never came.

There's a muffled argument on the other side of the wall, the tell-tale sign of Joel's gruff voice, tone clipped and decisive—it was the same way he had spoken to you during your first argument.

“What’s our one fucking rule, Joel?”

Tommy’s voice bites, hushed enough that you wouldn’t be able to hear him, nor Joel as they slowly moved toward the front of the house.

“You're gonna tell me not to do it?” Joel retorts, “I already did. There ain’t nothing to argue.”

There was one thing they both knew for sure.

You weren’t like the others.

“She’s gonna find out,” Tommy assures him, “She’ll find out and then you’ll be the one that’s gotta do the dirty work, not me.”

“Afraid of me choppin’ up your girlfriend into tiny little pieces for Robert and Stan down the road?” Joel asks, a vicious and cutthroat way to take a shot as his brother, who he knew better than anyone.

He’s grown attached too quickly. Joel had suspected, assumed by the immediate likeness to you, but the moment of care shared in the bathroom moments prior had confirmed that if Tommy wanted you, he could have you. The smile you offered in return for his kind efforts was enough for Joel to know.

So, yeah— feeding unknowing people human meat was the number one rule. But, growing attached was the unspoken one that the Miller brothers had always followed, without fail.

Until now.

“She’s smart—could use that, ya know?” Joel suggests, which is a surprise to Tommy.

His brother, who only ever thought about himself—he was suggesting you stay, that you could help.

“When are you gonna tell her?” Tommy asks, eyebrows raised in question as his hands settle on his hips, pajama pants hanging low. “Tomorrow?”

“I ain’t,” Joel responds without hesitation, “Like I said—she’s smart, she’ll figure it out.”

“Joel, if you don’t tell her I will—”

“No, you won’t,” Joel bites at his brother, stepping closer in an attempt to intimidate, “you tell her and she’ll run for the damn hills—let her figure it out and she’ll confront you. Then we’ll see how good you are at coverin’ our asses.”

It was Tommy’s job, the forefront of their business. He made the sales, talked to distributors in town. He was the face—a pretty face, more approachable. Joel was always sharper around the edges, harder to read.

Regardless, it didn’t matter. Joel had dug the hole for both of them and there was no way out.

–

You wake with an ache in your muscles and the instant need for a shower, covered in a layer of sweat that makes you want to strip your clothes instantly. You remember Tommy helping you to bed the night prior, the faint memories of you hunched over the toilet as you discarded your stomach contents and Joel watching over, observing, but the rest was a blur.

Not trying to waste anymore time, you quickly shower and dress, meeting the two boys in the kitchen as they readied themselves for the day, picking over breakfast. You settle for a couple of slices of bread, toasting them to a near crisp and snagging a ripe fruit from the basket on the counter, watching curiously as Joel makes a cup of coffee. It was the most normal course of action you’ve seen him take—he even took it with sugar, but obviously no cream.

Tommy already tore through breakfast and was sipping on his own cup of coffee, looking up at you occasionally over the newspaper he was reading, knowing that you were attempting to eat light after the night prior.

“Feelin’ better?” Tommy asks.

Your nod is noncommittal but Tommy doesn’t press.

Without prompting, Joel speaks, “It takes some gettin’ used to,” He explains, “it ain’t like the shit you get in the city.”

It would explain why he was unaffected, that maybe your stomach was just too weak.

“Same business today,” Tommy cuts in, ignoring the long stare you and Joel were holding, chewing slowly at the now soggy toast in your mouth, “we might have some stuff comin’ in tonight though and we’ll all have to offer a hand in unloading it, can you handle yourself?”

You approach him casually, stripping the peel off your banana as you take a bite.

“I can handle myself just fine,” you assure him, eyes pulling up briefly to regard Joel who was already departing for the front door without a word, “—you sure he isn’t trying to poison me?”

Tommy snorts softly, watching as you chewed thoughtfully on the banana and your gaze followed Joel through the windows, tracking his movements until he hit the barn. You feel Tommy’s hand graze your bicep, pulling your attention back toward him.

“He’s not,” If it was a lie, you couldn’t tell, “it all takes some adjusting, he isn’t lying.”

His hand still hadn’t moved and you looked down, his thumb rubbing over the exposed skin of your arm, “You know, I did say all you had to do was ask.” Tommy’s eyes crinkle with laughter, not expecting you to remember your words from last night, “Or, that’s inappropriate because…you’re technically my boss—”

“There isn’t rules out here, honey,” His voice is warm, inviting—but he’s still trying to keep himself at a distance, not too fast or too hard all at once. He’d set out the bait and wait for you to bite it, “we’re just here to help out and mind our business.”

“Okay,” Your response is soft, a gentle lilt to your voice that makes Tommy smile, “and...thank you for last night. I know it isn’t the most pleasant thing to wake up to in the middle of the night.”

His hand drops slowly, fingers trailing until they find your wrist and offering a gentle squeeze before his fingers depart you entirely, “I lived on this farm my entire life. There isn’t much that I haven’t seen or dealt with before. I think I can handle a little throw up.”

Tommy offers up the remainder of his coffee, still warm as you bring it to your lips and savor the rich taste—it was much more your style, full of cream and sugar to the point where it might rot your teeth out.

And the day proceeds without problem, moving through the motions of the tasks Tommy had assigned you yesterday, along with feeding some of the other animals littered around the farm. Horses, cows, goats—it was a wonder how they kept up with it by themselves. They were capable, but it seemed like too much for just two people. Regardless, it was impressive.

By evening, Tommy was pulling in with a truck full of secured and banded boxes on the trailer and Joel resurfaces from the barn by then, reeking something awful. You turn your nose away and scatter to Tommy’s side, earning a chuckle from the younger brother.

“You get used to it,” Tommy tells you, “like everything else.”

You eye Joel wearily, who seems less than amused. He offers a low grunt of acknowledgement as he stacks the boxes two high and heaves them up and into his arms, ignoring any attempt at small talk with either of you.

You couldn’t be bothered to care, knowing that Joel’s behavior was nothing if not peculiar.

“What’s in the boxes?” You ask when both of the men are reaching for boxes, sliding a smaller one into your own grip. They share a look, uncertainty. Who speaks first? Lie? Truth?

Joel huffs quietly—fine, half-truth.

“It’s stuff for cleanin’ up the barn. All the mess and shit. Interesting enough for you?”

Your nose crinkles at his tone, turning on your heels and heading toward the barn with the men in tow, “You’re snippy today,” you remark at Joel and Tommy hollers out a laugh from behind you, full-bellied and genuine, “when are you gonna give me a tour of it?”

“The what? The barn?” Joel asks for clarification before immediately shutting you down, “Never.”

Tommy shakes his head as he places the box down amongst the others, watching as you two bicker with shared looks and a soft giggle coming from you when you realize just how frustrated Joel had become, “I’m gonna head inside—try not to kill each other, alright?”

When Tommy is finally inside, you place the final box down. Joel was rearranging them silently, occupied with the task as you step backwards slowly, turning your head over your shoulder as you reach for the barn door.

The curiosity was likely to kill you—just a peek, that was it.

The creak pulls Joel’s attention up and he’s on you within seconds, door slamming by your head as his hand pressing against the flat of your chest, fingers itching to squeeze around your throat. You gasp, a guttural noise forced out of you as he pressed you into the hard surface of wood, feeling the splinters dig into your skin.

“What did I fuckin’ say?” He asks. No response. It sets his eyes ablaze, “Answer me, goddammit.”

“Mind—” You gasp again, sharp as his hand presses into your throat now, forcing you to answer, “mind my business.”

“Doesn’t seem like you’re doing much of that right now,” Joel points out, “seems like you’re enjoying pressing that nose into places it doesn’t belong.”

It was a barn, for christ sake. What the hell was he hiding?

“Hey,” you croak, weakly, “don’t kill me, remember? Your brother won’t be too happy about it.”

“That’s only because he wants to fuck you, girl.” He assures you, “You ain’t the first and you won’t be the last.”

Your gaze softens, fingers clawing at his forearm. The disappointment in your eyes was obvious, but a sting to Joel’s ego. Tommy was always the more favored one of the pair, there wasn’t much he could do about it. But, it didn’t soften the blow.

His hold lessens slightly.

“Did you think you were the only little lady that’s come through here that my brother hasn’t tried to sink his teeth into?” Joel grins in amusement, tapping his fingers gently against the side of your cheek. It was patronizing and foolish, but he couldn’t resist teasing you for the dejected look on your face. “I like my privacy, alright? Don’t appreciate it when people invade it.”

You nod quietly, lips opening to offer a weak apology.

“Don’t say sorry,” he tells you, “not when you don’t mean it.”

Instantly, your mouth snaps shut. Joel smirks, satisfied that he was right about that.

You weren’t sorry. You didn’t care. But, you were scared. Eyes still wide as saucers and boring into his own, all blacked out with rage but quickly fading back into their usual warm brown.

“You hungry?” He quickly adverts the topic, pulling at the fabric of your shirt to adjust it back into place like nothing happened, “I’m fixin’ to cook up dinner.”

Two could play at that game.

“Is it gonna make me sick again?”

Joel shrugs, “Might. Might not. You willin’ to take that risk?”

–

You luck out, for the most part. Aside from the dinner being nothing short of delicious, it makes you slightly queasy but it was easily qualmed by a glass of champagne, a nightcap to the work day as Joel has already wandered off to bed after cleaning up, leaving you and Tommy to perch on the stairs out front, a cigarette stuffed between his middle and pointer finger as he flicks off the ash, sipping from his own can of beer.

“I forgot to ask about pay, you know,” You laugh softly, “just…slipped my mind.”

“Weekly,” Tommy answers simply, “every Friday. So, tomorrow?”

You do the mental work in your head, feeling like the days have blurred together. Realistically, it had only been a few but you hadn’t expected how overwhelming those days would be, finally feeling the exhaustion settling in your bones as you rested beside Tommy on the front steps of the Miller home.

“You feelin’ okay?” Tommy asks curiously, beer tipped to his lips as he takes a sip and awaits your response.

“A little queasy?” You’re unsure what to consider it, that unsettling feeling in your gut. You weren’t even sure if it was the food making you feel that way, almost certain that even a single look from Joel would give you the same feeling.

“You’re thinkin’ about it too much,” Tommy points out, “it’ll make it worse.”

You gulp down the rest of the cheap champagne and press the flat stand of glass into the stair besides your bare feet before leaning back on your elbows. Tommy mirrored you, crunching the aluminum can in his hand and tossed it aside.

“Okay, so—distract me,” you responded pointedly, a kind smile sent his way.

Tommy takes a deep puff before you’re plucking the nearly finished cigarette from his fingers and bringing it to your own lips, feeling the nicotine burn your throat. Tommy doesn’t seem fazed at all, used to it.

Maybe Joel wasn’t lying about all those women.

This was a normal routine for Tommy. You were another passerby willing to take the bait.

“You wanna go for a swim?”

Your brow raises curiously, amused.

Tommy looks on, awaiting your response.

“Oh, you’re serious?” You ask, stuttering at the unexpected proposition, “Uh, yeah—sure. I mean…where?”

“It’s a walk, but there’s a lake behind those trees,” Tommy points off to the west, a long and dense line of trees surrounding the edge of the Miller farm, “feelin’ up to it?”

Your mouth waters unpleasantly as you continue to sit with your thoughts, yearning for distraction. You nod.

Tommy grins wide and takes your hand into his own.

He wasn’t lying. Under the moonlight, it was a huge lake with eerily undisturbed water. Pitch black and despite the hot and sticky heat, the water was cool to the touch as you dipped your feet into the shallow edge. Tommy is already wrestling with his belt, shucking his jeans down hastily and it forces you to move, stripping your own clothes off in time with him.

Down to your underwear you edge toward the deeper waters, hissing as more of your skin becomes engulfed in the ice cold plunge, feeling Tommy hover around you as he dipped under the water for a moment of time before emerging in front of you, pushing his damp hair from his face.

The cold water has you frozen, paralyzed.

“Come on,” he jests, “dunk yourself, it’ll help.”

You shake your head hesitantly, managing the inch by inch efforts as you move forward slowly.

“I’ll do it with you.” Tommy suggests, his fingers wrapping around your wrists as he wades the water—you feel yourself rising on your tiptoes to give yourself a few lingering moments before you have to force yourself under.

Tommy doesn’t force you, only waits for your reassuring nod after a long moment of indecisiveness before he’s doing a slow countdown and you’re both slipping under the water.

Moments later, you emerge with a gasp but it is full of elation. Tommy had pulled you out deeper, forcing you to swim until neither of you could touch and you clung to him instinctively, feeling the words that fall from his lips brush the back of your neck, “Distracted enough?”

It had, truthfully. You nod in response, feeling deft fingers at your hips as they turn you, your legs kicking in a melodic synchronicity. His touch lingers for a moment before he’s pushing away, using his arms to gain momentum and swim away, looking over his shoulder with a silent challenge.

Chase him.

You giggle to yourself before following, moving gracefully through the calm waters. It continues like that for a while, minutes passing away effortlessly. The monotone buzz of insects hovering over the lake water and the insistent chirp of the crickets hiding in the grass kept your mind busy. It was peaceful out here, like the rest of the farm.

“So, you grew up here?”

“All my life,” Tommy answers easily, “it isn’t exactly tourist worthy sights out here, but it has perks. Where are you from?”

“Here, there—” you answer noncommittally and shrug, earning a dismissive laugh from Tommy, “everywhere, honestly. I don’t stick around places for very long.”

“Which reminds me,” Tommy interjects, “your car should be fixed up soon—but, if you wanted to stick around—”

“I don’t think Joel would appreciate that,” you respond, feeling the heat of his gaze on you despite the farmhouse being miles away, “besides—I’m just another mouth to feed.”

“Most people who pass through here don’t last more than a day,” Tommy admits, “it may not seem like it, but he’s warmin’ up to you.”

You reminisce on the heat of his palm against your throat.

If looks could kill….

Joel would have maimed you at that moment.

“He’s a dick, but he ain’t immune to pretty girls,” Tommy teases and it makes your gut twist, “we don’t get many women through here anyways—I think he’s just forgotten how to talk to ‘em.”

You think back on Joel’s words again and decide to poke the bear.

Swimming toward the shore you turn your head over your shoulder and speak, “You know, he said this is a bit of a routine of yours,” you begin, “seducing helpless women who come asking for help.”

Tommy rolls his eyes lightheartedly, chuckling at the absurdity of your words.

“Joel told you that?” Tommy inquires, swimming toward you. You turn on your hands, slowly scooting your way upshore with your palms until your ass is pressed against a bed of rocks buried in the dirty, shallow water lapping at your shins. “Honey, it’s been nearly a year since any type of lady came across our farm—and the last one? It was some old lady needin’ a jump on her car.”

Tommy is edging closer now, on his hands and knees as he works his way forward.

“People see the farm and they drive in the other direction,” Tommy admits, “but, not you.”

You lean back slightly as he hovers over you. Your heart pounds in your chest, a salacious grin spreading across his face.

“Helpless, remember?”

Tommy shakes his head slowly, “Ain’t nothin’ helpless about you.”

You bite first, silencing him with a heated press of your lips against his own, your hand curling around the back of his neck and your blunt fingernails pinching at his skin. His hiss turns into a warm chuckle. He spreads his palm out over the inside of your thigh and beckons your legs apart until he can fit between them comfortably before it curls around the side and pulls you back in, your knees barricading his hips.

He coaxes you back, taking the balled up shirt on the shore and sandwiching it between the dirt and your head as he pulls back with a low sigh, eyes half-lidded and switching between your lips and your steady gaze, catching the way your tongue licks at your bottom lip.

“Need a little more distraction?” Tommy asks softly, the fingers on his free hand toying with the waistband of your panties, awaiting the nod of confirmation. It comes without thinking and he’s peeling the fabric off gently, watching as it stuck and rolled against your skin, sopping wet from the lake water as they fall to the ground with a soft squelch.

His fingers curl around the back of your neck, pushing forward in a way that beckons your chin up, meeting his lips in another hot and messy exchange of tongue and sweet, soft sighs breathed into each other’s mouths, feeling the tingly pulse at your core as his fingers drag through the center of your pussy. There was no mistaking the slick that had gathered there amongst your heated exchange, a low hum rumbling in his throat as he leaves you, sinking further and further down your body, eyes locked on your own.

“Open up for me,” he commands gently, his hands curling around your thighs as he settles on his stomach, “fuck—that, just like that. Goddamn girl, she’s glistenin’ for me.”

He chuckles at your meek response, looking away with a subtle smile that made you want to crawl away from him, but he held you firm.

“Nothin’ to be shy about,” he reassures you.

You exhale slowly, a calming breath that quickly melts away as he licks a broad line up your cunt with his tongue, through your folds and slurping up with sweet, sticky slick. You gasp, hands curling into fist helplessly, moaning out into the silent night. There was the softest wisp of a breeze that blew over your skin, prickling your skin. But, it’s beat out by the heat of Tommy’s touch as he pulls your hand to his scalp, silenting guiding you toward his long locks and hoping you get the idea. You curl your fingers into his hair and tug, pulling his motions up toward your clit and he sucks, sucks so hard you think you start to see white before he smooths the intensity out with the gentler licks of his tongue.

It doesn’t take long before you’re coming with a loud moan, nearly uprooting yourself from the ground as he holds you still, the insistent wiggling of your hips from the overstimulation of his tongue enough to make you beg, plead even.

“Tommy, please—stop, s’too much. Too much.” You breath out in a hurry and eventually, a few greedy seconds later, he relents.

He rises with a sated smile sometimes later, watching as you desperately try to catch your breath. Whatever uneasiness you were feeling in your stomach earlier was long, but it didn’t snuff out the mental feeling of it. Fear, worry—like you were being watched.

The weeks beyond that pass with ease, falling into a steady routine.

Your car still sat untouched, but you couldn’t find it in you to be a pest about it—things were going well, a steady paycheck and roof over your head. You could bother them about it eventually, but not now. Not while things were good.

By October, the air is cooler and the work is easier to handle. Sometimes you help Tommy on the administrative end, filing away paperwork with information that doesn’t make much sense to you, as much as you try to piece it together. But, you do know they’re bringing in money. And lots of it. Absurd amount, actually. You don’t press Tommy on it either, worried that it would pop the pristine bubble around you both.

He was smitten, kind—sometimes he would sneak into your room at night instead of the latter for you, tiptoeing around Joel in the chances he might have something, anything to say. He’d lied to you about Tommy for his own benefit—but why? You tried not to dwell on it.

But, eventually you find yourself around Joel more often than not. Or, attending to him.

He still barricades himself in the barn most days, only popping his head out as he calls for things—but there’s one particular evening where things, usually calm, fly off the rails.

Mentally, at least.

And it isn’t the most auspicious way to let you in on their secret, but Joel can’t seem to rid himself of you. You’re always there, lingering, and even if you weren’t certain of things, suspicion had been raised long ago.

You weren’t even sure what you were trying to confirm, or if Joel’s unsettling nature was just a ploy to scare you into behaving, but you could feel it. Something was up.

He’s tasked you with feeding the pigs a number of times—it’s always gross and messy and not a favorable task by any means, fortunately you’re used to it. But, a large, stray rock buried in the dirt robs you of normality and the bin of bloodied scraps spills out as you land on your hands and knees, the skin scraping off your shins against the rough ground and a loud hiss slips beyond clenched teeth as you scramble to get back on your feet, looking around in desperation and hoping that neither of the brothers had witnessed your misstep.

Your nose scrunches up in disgust as you hold back a gag, scooping the discarded scraps back into the bin, the meat like mush beneath your fingertips and you reach for a bigger chunk, immediately startled by the more solid texture of it.

Joel usually grinded up the meat, making it easier for the pigs to consume. But this, it was a whole and solid chunk. You push the bin away gently and swipe away the chunks of congealed blood and fat and rub your thumb over the texture of it. Thick, solid. The color was dull and pale but there was no mistaking it. It was skin, but more notably amongst that was the tattoo. It clearly wasn’t the full piece, a couple letters surrounded by an intricate design where it was precisely sliced.

You’ve heard of people using pig skin for tattooing, wondering if Joel was taking up a side hobby amongst the already interesting career path he had taken, but something doesn’t sit well.

Five pigs, that was how many you’d seen since you arrived. You push the bin weakly toward the pin on your hands and knees until you can find the strength to dump it into the trough, allowing the metal to clatter to the ground carelessly as the pigs flood to their food. One, two, three…and two stragglers trotting over leisurely. Five pigs, not a single one missing.

The creak from the barn has you peering quickly over your shoulder, eyes landing on Joel as he leaned around the door, a perturbed look on his face. You thought it was worry for a split second and as he came closer—curious and cautious over the loud noises he had heard when his saw cut dead—it was.

He spots the blood on the ground first, a mess you had made. His eyes follow the trail of blood to the pin before they travel over you, covered in the rest of what didn’t make it inside the trough and then your legs—you don’t feel the sting until he kneels, his fingers running over your knees, tiny bits of dirt and gravel buried in the wound as his fingers continue down your shin. His eyes scan the expanse of the property before they’re locked back on you.

“Get inside,” It was a cold demand, detached and emotionless but you can’t move, frozen with a fear that didn’t hit you until Joel’s fingers touched your skin, “go on—you can walk, can’t you?”

Vehemently, you swallow down the lump in your throat. Human skin, not pig skin. You weren’t feeding the pigs scraps of other animals—it was humans. Weeks of clueless wandering, the itching feeling of uneasiness was confirmed for you in seconds. The bile in your stomach was threatening to escape as you walked on wobbly legs to the house, falling down into a chair tucked under the dining table, flexing shaky fingers into fists over and over, slowly in an effort to calm yourself alongside your practiced breaths.

Tommy wasn’t here. He would’ve come running otherwise—you vaguely remember the truck missing as you made your way inside, wondering how distracted you had to be to not realize he left. You hear Joel clearing his throat as he approaches the door, swinging it open harshly as it nearly pops off its hinges.

You make the effort to move, but Joel is quick to snap at you.

“Stay put,” He commands, eyes washing over your stoic expression.

You must’ve been a sight, wide-eyed and disturbed, following Joel’s every move. You were covered in a mix of your own blood and someone else’s—maybe not even one, it could be multiple. Joel seems to sense your stomach turning and lunges toward the trash bin in the kitchen and quickly shoves it in front of you, barely catching the vomit that spills from your throat as you retch your breakfast up forcefully.

Joel moves quietly amongst your sickened state, grabbing a few supplies that he slides onto the table beside you and waits, kneeled down at near eye level as you peer up, wiping the string of spit from your mouth and he looks enthralled, wondering what had caused such a chaotic string of events to unfold.

“You’re upset,” He notes, ripping open a package of cotton balls and pouring a handful onto the table, popping open the cap of isopropyl alcohol, dosing the cotton before he was pressing it into your leg without warning, earning a sharp whine of pain from you.

Was he expecting a different reaction?

“Fuck!” You shout, shoving the trash can aside as your fingers dig tightly into Joel’s shoulder, earning a fiery look from the man—but if he wasn’t willing to give you sympathy, you weren’t going to return the favor, “—you are too, are we pointing out the obvious?”

His fingers drag along the back of your calf, position your heel against his hips as allows no relief, haphazardly pouring a small amount of alcohol against the wound and you grip the wood of the chair so hard you swear you hear it crack.

“Jesus, ease up,” you snap at him, “I fell, I fucked up. I’m sorry, is that what you wanted to hear?”

“What’re you apologizin’ for?”

There’s a distinct rip of tape as you watch Joel smooth the gauze over your shin, securing the bandage over the wound before he works carefully at your knee, cleaning the cut before leaving it alone and moving to the opposite leg.

“Are you not mad at me?”

Joel chuckles dismissively, eyes flicking up toward you briefly, “Not everything is about you, girl.”

Fed up and simmering with your pain, you don’t think and the words slip from your lips before you can stop them, “Is it about Tommy then?”

Joel’s hands still, stopping the slow dragging lotion down your wound as he tilts his head up at you curiously, “You think I’m jealous of that little thing you got going on with my brother?” Joel shakes his head in amusement, his teeth peeking out beyond his grin, “I don’t get jealous. If I want somethin’, I’ll take it.”

The words pierce your chest, knowing there was deeper meaning beyond those words but you look away carelessly, feeling his less than gentle press into your skin as he continues.

“Business is slow, I don’t like it.” Joel admits, hearing the hesitancy in his voice as he admits it, but it seems harmless. In his mind, you have no clue of the nefarious nature behind their work.

Except, you do. Or at least you think you do.

“Is there any way to fix that?”

Joel shrugs, “Tommy’s workin’ the people around town, doing all the talking. We’ll see if it works.”

You have two choices.

Admit what you found or bide your time, poke around and see what you can find—you know that won’t go over well with Joel, or Tommy, even. So, you call his bluff.

Because something—be it Joel or that sinking feeling in your chest, tells you that whichever path you take would lead down the same road. You weren’t leaving here without a fight.

“Does the body reject it the first few times?”

You ignore the way your voice shakes, the recognition sitting with you, knowing that they had fed you the meat without your consent. Tommy, too. He’d sat there at the dinner table and tore into the meals all the same, less intrigued as his counterpart, but he was still an accomplice.

Joel’s expression changes, like switch flips. Bandaging up the opposite leg he rises, answering with a clipped, “Yeah.”

Silence amongst the clattering of items as Joel piled them into his arms and stored them away, another question slips past your lips.

“Was it on purpose?”

Joel’s brow raises, but he doesn’t answer.

“The tattoo,” You explain, “did you want me to find it? Or did you fuck up?”

At those words, he lunges. His hands grip the table behind you, pinning you against the chair as you lean back and look up, feeling the deep rumble in his chest.

“I don’t fuck up,” Joel retorts and your eyes stray from his hardened gaze, “No—look at me. Now.”

Your teeth dig into your bottom lip harshly, but you listen.

“You knew,” Joel challenges, “long before that, I’m sure. You could’ve ran if you wanted, granted you’ve got that busted car out front, but you could’ve ran. Hell, you could have while you were outside just now—but you listened to me.”

You know what angle he’s pushing, backing you into a corner and you feel it, that tingling feeling of guilt in your gut. He was right, you could have.

“What are you hidin’ in there?” He presses, eyes narrowing as his pointer finger taps gently at the center of your forehead, “I’m telling you we’re murderers, cannibals, and you haven’t screamed or shed a tear. You aren’t scared of me, are you?”

You shake your head and Joel speaks again, “Scared of dying though, right? What’s stoppin’ me from killing you? Tommy ain’t here.”

The finger on your forehead follows down the center of your face until Joel can reach your chin, tilting it upwards.

“You like it here, don’t you?”

There was no nod, but the subtle twitch in your cheek as you bite down hard on the inside of it was enough of an answer for Joel. Don’t give him those words, don’t give him the satisfaction.

“You killed before?”

Another question that goes unanswered, but your actions give you away.

You twist away, desperate to flee his touch. Joel isn’t done with you yet, one hand pressed against his knee as he leans down to your level and the other grabbing for your face, forcing you to look at him.

Admittedly, they weren’t all bad men. Some of them had tried to attack you on the road and ended up at the wrong end of a blade, but others—the few with bad timing and things you needed…it was collateral, in your eyes. Seven of them that you can remember, all unsuspecting men with an eye for the meek and defenseless.

You snarl slightly, fighting against his hold but Joel is stronger, much stronger.

“Knew you’d be useful,” Joel admits, “s’why I let you stick around. You got that…look about you.”

Your brow furrows in a mix of disgust and confusion and you catch the way Joel spaces out for a moment, admiring your expression and you twist, shoving him hard with both hands in an attempt to send him stumbling back. It only forces him off-balance and your attempt to flee is stopped by his large, bear-like grip on your forearm as he throws you against the wall, knocking the air from your lungs.

“Nuh uh,” Joel mocks, “can’t letcha go that easy, sugar.”

Joel's grip on your wrist is deadlocked, crossing your arms over your chest tight, pressing himself against you. Under this light, this closeness, you notice the small scars, years of healing left it fading into the skin and Joel notices you admiring for a brief moment—incredibly brief as your teeth clamp down around the side of his hand. Hard. It breaks through the skin and forces blood to spill from his hand and pool into your mouth before he pulls the wounded hand back and balls it into a fist, freezing as you spit his blood back into his face, an instant chuckle ripping from his throat.

“There you are, ya little killer,” He goaded, his eyes ticking up at the sound of a car door slamming outside and a wide grin spreading across his face, “well, isn’t that some fine timing.”

The door swings open a second later and Joel has already pushed away from you, nursing his flesh wound with a dry, clean kitchen towel, leaving Tommy to examine you both with a less than auspicious gaze, blood ringing your mouth and a smug expression on his brother's face.

You approach Tommy hesitantly, reaching for the door with a worried gaze but his hand comes up too, slamming against the flimsy frame and preventing you from roaming further.

“Can’t let you out, honey,” he apologizes, his voice more sincere than you’ve ever heard it to be before his head turns up toward his brother, waving around a white envelope addressed out to the both of them, “we gotta figure somethin’ out.”

He tosses the letter on the dining table and slides his hand down your forearm, a softer grip than his counterpart but it didn’t leave room for argument, jostling you around until he could get the front door locked, dead-bolted, and secured.

“This is home now, baby.” Tommy soothes.

Because really, where else did you have to go?

#joel miller x reader #tommy miller x reader #joel x reader x tommy #joel miller smut #tommy miller smut #joel miller x you #tommy miller x you #joel miller x y/n #tommy miller x y/n #the last of us fic #the last of us #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller fanfic #cannibalism tw #my writing #wouldn't be me without a fucked up concept

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nastybuckybarnes · 2 months ago

Text

Street Mouse

Pairing: Simon 'Ghost' Riley X Reader

Summary:

Warnings: Language, Violence, Minor Angst, Hinted attempted assault, fluff, military inaccuracies (teehee)

Word Count: 2.3K

A/n: i've got a whole bunch written for this pairing, and i might make some hc explanations. I've never played COD, sue me. I hope y'all enjoy and I'm gonna probably keep pumping out more parts of this cause i love love love it.

~*~

The distant sound of gunshots is akin to a lullaby now.

You're curled up in a rundown building, a tattered blanket draped over your legs as you try to get some rest.

The sound of more gunshots, these ones much closer, jolt you upright.

Risking a glance out the broken window, you peer down at the street below you, eyes widening as you see two men fighting intensely.

Your heart jumps into your throat at the display, and you can't tear your eyes away.

Eventually, the larger of the two plunges a knife into the smaller man, watching as his body crumples to the ground in a heap.

A shiver races down Simon's back, and he straightens, eyes carefully scanning the area for danger.

He turns around, glancing into each window before finally resting on the eyes he could feel piercing through his gear. His hand twitches toward one of the many weapons strapped to his body, but something about the wild curiosity in her eyes has him pausing.

You hold his gaze, unblinking and absolutely entranced.

He's a huge man, with a skull mask covering his face. Only his eyes are visible, and they all but gaze through your soul. He holds the staring contest, turning to face you fully until there's a soft grunt from behind him.

He glances over his shoulder as his comrade comes into view, and when he glances back at the building, you're gone.

He turns back to Soap slowly, risking one more glance over his shoulder, but it's as if you were never there in the first place.

"What is it? Ya see somethin', Lt?"

Ghost says nothing, only starts heading back the way he came, pausing to rid the corpse on the street of the weapons he was carrying.

You slowly peek out the window again, watching as the two disappear into the darkness of the night.

For weeks, maybe months, the country you now call home has been war-torn.

Schools have long since shut down, and the majority of the population has fled to find refuge elsewhere.

Which makes it a perfect place to hide.

And even though you know you should be keeping a low profile, you can't help but be intrigued by the skull-faced man.

And so you begin to follow him.

The streets are familiar now, as are the schedules of the soldiers and the hostiles.

Which is how you find yourself here.

You're not dumb enough to follow him onto the base or anywhere near it, but in the city when he's on patrol, those hours are all yours to observe.

Your curiosity does have you venturing farther outside of your comfort zone than you normally would, but it pays off every time your eyes meet.

And he's not oblivious to the new eyes that seem to be following him whenever he's in the city. Sure, he's gotten used to the locals staring whenever any of them walk through the streets, but these eyes aren't afraid or hostile. No, these ones are curious. Excited.

The next time he feels the gaze on him, he's outside at just past one in the morning, puffing on a cigarette in one of the few safer areas of the city. Goosebumps rise on his skin and he flicks the end of his cigarette, watching as the ash floats to the ground.

"As much as you try, you're not going to sneak up on me," He says softly, flicking his cigarette onto the ground and crushing it with the steel toe of his boot.

You say nothing, only watch curiously from the second floor of the house he's leaning against.

He turns around, backing up a few paces as his eyes dart from window to window, searching for your face until finally, they land on you.

"Show yourself."

You cock your head to the side, eyes shining in the moonlight.

"Come on, I won't hurt you, but I won't ask again," he warns.

A little grin pulls at your lips and you lean forward in the moonlight, not enough to fully show yourself, but enough for him to see the outline of your face.

You shake your head at him and bring your hand up to the side of your head. With your pointer and middle finger extended, you curl your ring and pinky finger in, pointing the faux gun at your head.

'Bang,' you mouth, knocking your head to the side dramatically.

Ghost lets out a breathy chuckle at your theatrics, his hands resting on his tactical belt.

"Why have you been following me?" He finally asks.

He's not one to second guess himself, not after all he's seen, all that he's endured. But he has to give you credit - you made him question his sanity for a day or two there.

Knowing that you're real, that someone has, in fact, been following him, puts his mind at ease.

You give him a soft smile then lean forward and press your lips to the glass.

He stares at the kiss mark left on the window, traces the soft pink mark with his eyes and then looks back up to where your eyes were, only to find that you've disappeared once again.

Simon Riley is a man who prides himself on his attention to detail, his situational awareness. But he cannot, for the life of him, understand how you manage to disappear into thin air like that.

This starts happening more and more frequently. Little run-ins, kisses left on windows, your twinkling eyes in the pale moonlight.

It's gotten to the point where he volunteers to go out on patrol if only for the possibility of catching a glimpse of your pretty eyes hidden between shadows.

And soon enough, the drawings start to appear.

The first one is drawn on a window, and he doesn't even notice it. Soap is the one who points it out.

"Look, Lt, looks like you've got a fan," he says, pointing to the window across the ally.

He glances over, following Soap's finger, and his brows raise.

On the window, drawn in what looks like marker, is a skull that matches the hard-plated mask on his face.

He scoffs, but deep down, he knows exactly who put that there. His suspicions are confirmed when he catches a lightning-quick glimpse of your eyes peeking through the curtains.

He starts seeing them more often. It surprises him how you manage to get into some of the most dangerous parts of the city and leave nothing but a skull drawing behind.

What really gets him, however, is one particular day, when they're tasked with a particular assignment.

Hostage rescue.

But the exact location of the hostages is unknown.

That is, until he notices little skulls drawn on the windows of one building. More skulls than he's ever seen you draw before.

Trusting his gut, he nods toward the building, signalling for his team to follow him as he approaches.

Sure enough, the skulls lead them better than breadcrumbs exactly to the hostages, and the hostiles are taken out quickly.

"How did you know it was this one?" Gaz asks once the building is secure, leaning outside with his Lieutenant as he lights up a cigarette.

He takes a long drag from it the blows out a cloud of smoke, his eyes flickering around in search of his helper.

"A little mouse told me," is his reply.

Never one to question his Lt, Gaz only nods and heads back inside to meet up with Soap.

As he smokes, Ghost notices a small piece of paper fluttering in the wind, half hidden beneath a rock on the ground.

Crouching down, he picks it up and unfolds it, scoffing out a chuckle.

On it is none other than one of your signature skulls. His little Banksy.

With his cigarette tucked between his lips, he grabs a pen from his breast pocket and scribbles down a half-assed picture on the paper, then tucks it beneath the rock one more time.

Though he can't see you, he knows you're nearby. He can feel your ever-present gaze.

"Ghost! Let's go!" Price calls from inside.

Tossing his cigarette onto the ground, Ghost turns on his heel and heads back inside to meet up with his team.

His back is turned for what feels like only seconds, but when he glances over his shoulder to check on the paper it's already gone.

~*~

You don't see the man with the skull face for a while after that, but you keep his drawing on you at all times.

It serves as a pleasant little reminder that life isn't so bad. Not all the time.

Your thoughts are shattered when you bump into a hard chest, tumbling to the ground with a grunt.

The night may be dark, but the moon shines brightly enough above you to illuminate the back alley you were sneaking through.

"Well, well, boys. Look what we've got here," the man says, a sick grin on his face.

He wears a similar uniform that your skull-faced soldier does, but this man's eyes are sick and snake-like. They send a shudder racing down your spine as you scramble back, scraping your hands on the ground until your back hits a wall.

"It's a long time past curfew, sweet cheeks. What're you doing out so late?" The ringleader asks, stepping closer to tower over you while his comrades circle around you, leaving you with no escape.

One of them grabs your arms and yanks you to your feet in front of them, and your heart almost jumps out of your chest.

The leader drags a dirty finger down your cheek, his brows drawing together when you yank your head back.

"I asked you a question, bitch," he snarls, grabbing your jaw and forcing you to keep your head where he wants it.

You glare up at him, then spit directly in his face, watching with satisfaction as he flinches back.

He chuckles after a moment, squeezing your face harder and glancing at his friends.

"Looks like we've got a fighter. That's okay, we know what to do with those, don't we, boys?" He asks.

This elicits chuckles from the men around you, and you feel your stomach drop.

"Do we?"

The voice is like the crack of a whip in a still room, and the laughter stops immediately.

The men beside you straighten up, hands coming up in salute.

Like water dousing a flame, you feel some of your fear ease at the newcomer.

"Tell me, Corporal, just what might we do with those?" Ghost asks, stepping out of the shadows.

"Lieutenant! We were just... this street rat was out past curfew," the man holding your chin tries to reason, quickly dropping your face.

Ghost nods, looking between the men, his eyes scanning over their names before finally resting on your eyes.

"This is what you lot spend your nights doing? Terrorizing the locals? The people we're supposed to be helping?" He asks, stepping even closer.

The tension grows thick, and you watch as the man in front of you turns around to face his superior.

Ghost chuckles dryly, the sound lacking any humour.

"You know bloody well what we do to terrorists, Corporal," he whispers, his voice deadly, dangerous.

"Now, would you care to explain to me what exactly you were doing to this nice young lady?" He asks again.

You stare up at his icy blue eyes as he makes the man cower, absolutely bewildered and warm inside.

"She's out past curfew," the Corporal tries again, his voice whiny and afraid.

Ghost nods, "and if I remember correctly, we give the citizens a warning and escort them home, we don't corner them against a wall and try to have our way with them. Or did you miss that day of training?"

The soldier's mouth opens and closes several times, but Ghost stays stoically staring at him, gaze sharp enough to kill.

"I asked you a question, Corporal, and I expect an answer!" He snarls, stepping into the man's personal space.

"There's a place for scum like you, and it's not on my team. You're removed, go back to base." His eyes find the other men, "if I ever catch you lot in the city pulling a stunt like this again, I won't be so forgiving. Dismissed."

With that final word, the three men all but sprint away, leaving you alone with the man who's consumed your every thought for the past several weeks.

He watches the men leave, and you're tempted to make your escape.

As if reading your mind, his gaze snaps back to you and his head cocks to the side.

"Even you can't go everywhere unseen, can you, mouse?" He asks.

You blink up at him, your heart racing in your chest.

He watches you for a moment longer, his brows drawing together.

"You speak English?"

You blink up at him again and he sighs, "Christ."

Slowly, you reach into the pocket of your sweater and pull out a piece of paper, opening it up and showing it to him.

His lips twitch upward when he sees his scribbled mouse next to the skull you've drawn.

"Mouse," you whisper, touching the paper.

He nods, pointing to the little drawing.

"Mouse. S'what you are. Quick, hard to catch."

You cock your head to the side and he takes that moment to take you in.

Since that first day, he's imagined what you look like, what you really look like, and he has to admit, he's not disappointed.

You're pretty, lovely even. If circumstances were different... if he were to see you in a bar, he might buy you a drink, ask for your number.

But you're a local, a street mouse, and he's here on business.

He gently pushes the paper back into your grasp and takes a small step back.

"You keep yourself safe. Try to stay out of the streets after curfew." He turns his back to you and takes a step away, then pauses.

"Or at least don't get caught."

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emilys-bangs · 2 months ago

Note

The last thing you reblogged gave me an idea !

Touch starved Emily who is friends with you but would never dare ask you for unnecessary hugs etc., you two are close but she doesn’t want to cross that bridge since she definitely likes you a lot more than just a friend and also she’s scared of being so open and vulnerable that she admits she needs a hug and a cuddle.

You two are on a case once again, end up rooming together and there’s only one bed. You both don't really mind and go to sleep, each one on their respective side of the bed - except when you wake up in the middle of the night, Emily is cuddled around you, having subconsciously seeked your touch while she’s asleep.

You can decide how to go from there if this idea is any good to you, no worries if not and I hope you have a great week 😘😘

Tysm for requesting, I hope you have a great week as well! I sincerely thank that one post about touch starved Emily that made us all go insane <3

----

midas touch | e.p

Tags: touch starved Emily, room sharing, bed sharing, fluff, a ridiculous amount of yearning

Word count: 2.5k

You’d have to be blind not to notice Emily’s affinity for touch.

It’s something you’ve picked up on after a mere week in the BAU, and honestly, you’ve never seen anything like it. It’s like she craves touch, physically needs the added comfort of hands wrapping around elbows, arms slung across shoulders and casual side-hugs. In the more lax confines of Rossi’s living room or o’keefe’s, it’s not unusual to see her wrapped around somebody, or at least closely sharing what’s meant to be personal space.

At work, however, it’s different; a bit more subtle, but still palpably flowing with love—the way she sneaks behind Garcia’s chair and wraps her arms around her neck in hello, Emily’s cheek pressing against the analyst’s. How she runs her fingers through Spencer’s messy curls, and how—despite his protests—he lets her, almost imperceptibly leaning into her hand before she pulls away. Her hip is frequently attached to JJ’s, their temples touching as she slides her palm into the back pocket of JJ’s jeans. Rossi is given paternal kisses on the cheek, Morgan dragged around with his hand in hers, their fingers interlocking in a weave of pale and dark. Even Hotch gets his fair share of physical affection from her, though more subtle but no less loving; a tugging at his belt loops, a nimble fixing of his tie, the brush of her fingers along his elbow.

Everyone gets a piece of Emily’s attention.

Everyone except you.

It upsets you in ways you can’t fully explain—at least not without admitting to yourself that you’re falling deeply and helplessly in love with her. None of it remotely makes sense; despite her very deliberately withholding her touch from you, she’s been nothing but lovely, always having your back and gently correcting you when you slip up.

But still, when an overbooked hotel forces Hotch to relay the unfortunate news of doubling up and she turns to you, surprise renders you silent.

“Me and you?” Emily asks, paying no mind to JJ next to her.

You speak through your dry throat, “Um—yeah, sure.”

Hotch places the key in your hand, glad to have one pair down. You dig it into the flesh of your palm.

“I’ll take that one, thank you.” Rossi plucks a key from Hotch’s hand and turns away, leisurely walking to the elevator as protests rise behind him.

Hotch shakes his head, exasperated. You almost feel sorry for him. “Morgan?” He says, looking at him. Morgan nods, which leaves JJ with Reid.

Reid looks pleased; JJ less so, but she doesn’t protest as she takes the key from Hotch.

“Aww, good luck, pretty girl.” Emily coos, cupping JJ’s cheek and tapping it playfully. Jealousy stirs in your stomach, hot and acidic as JJ shrugs off her hand with an eye roll, a small smile lifting the corners of her mouth.

The key is in your hand so you turn on your heel, a bad taste in your mouth as Reid starts to protest, the sound getting lost somewhere between Emily’s soft laughs.

She knows them longer than she knows you, you think as you take the stairs two at a time, trying to outrun the beating of your heart. Your somewhat blurry eyes pick out the door with the matching number on your key. Your legs take you to it, almost on autopilot.

“Hey, wait up,” Emily’s voice carries, reaching you in a cloud of spun silk. There’s a rush of air behind you and you feel her creeping over your shoulder, the scent of her perfume choking you sweetly. “You don’t want me to sleep in the hall, do you?”

You can’t bring yourself to rise to the teasing in her voice. Fitting the key in the lock with unsteady fingers, you mumble, “Would’a let you in if you’d knocked.”

But trying to keep your distance doesn’t work, because the one bed in the room glares at you as soon as you push the door open.

Your throat goes dry.

Emily hovers impatiently at your back and you swallow as you take a step into the threshold of the room, wondering how the hell she’d share a bed with you when she seems reluctant to touch you in the first place.

Panicked, you take your bag and head into the bathroom before Emily can say anything, desperately needing a moment to compose yourself. It’s safe to say you spend more time in there than you usually would, lengthening your short routine to busy yourself.

Only when you’ve semi-calmed down do you go out, finding her perched on the edge of the large—king sized, at least—bed.

“Hey. Are you okay with this?” Emily’s eyes are wide and dark, shining with concern.

There’s no place for you to sleep anyway if you said no, but somehow you get the feeling she’d make it work if you were uncomfortable. A confused rush of emotion runs hot under your skin; lingering jealousy and ever present bitterness and confusing pleasure at her concern.

God, you need to go to bed.

“I’m fine with it,” you force a smile. It must not be very convincing, because Emily frowns, a delicate pull drawing her brows together. Just before she says something, you speak. “Are you okay with it?”

That snaps her out of it. “Yeah,” Emily murmurs, a dimple winking at you as she gives you a small smile, “as long as you don’t kick.”

You didn’t expect her to agree so easily. Some part of you wonders if she’s lying, but you can’t look at her eyes long enough to decipher that—you’re mildly afraid if you sunk into their depths you’d never be able to claw your way out.

“I haven’t had any complaints,” you try to shrug casually. “Do you prefer a side?”

“No, go ahead. It doesn’t matter what side I sleep on, I always somehow find my way in the middle.”

That makes you crack a smile.

The bathroom door clicks shut behind her and you press your knuckles into your eyes, wondering if you can possibly get through this night without losing your already delicate composure.

It’s just a bed, you tell yourself as you take out a pair of sweatpants to serve as pajamas. And it’s just for one night. It’s fine.

It’s fine. Sure it is.

You’re already in bed and beneath the sheets when Emily walks out of the bathroom. It’s a mistake to look at her, because you think you’ve just fallen deeper in love.

She’s shaking her hair out from the confines of its ponytail and it falls in soft waves around her shoulders, curling at the ends where the water sprayed it. A cotton tank top gently hugs her body, and pale blue shorts skim the tops of her thighs.

She’s not wearing a bra.

You’re staring.

“Sorry, I wasn’t expecting to share tonight,” Emily smiles sheepishly as she lifts the covers and climbs into the bed. A lump is lodged in your throat at the sight of her bare legs slipping through the sheets, shimmering softly from her lotion. It smells sweet, she smells sweet—like warm cocoa butter—and it takes everything in you not to inhale deeply like a creep.

“Neither was I.” You croak. Emily settles her head on her pillow and you try not to stare at her lashes, so naturally long and thick even without her usual mascara.

She’s literally going to be the death of you.

“G’night,” you mumble and turn away before she can answer. The heat in your cheeks burns, and you dig them into the pillow in hopes of cooling them down.

“Night,” Emily whispers back. The sheets rustle as she presumably turns, too.

Needless to say, it takes a while for you to fall asleep.

It must happen at some point, though, because something wakes you. You open your eyes to the darkness of the room, unsure what it is. You just know that you’re abnormally warm and trapped beneath something smelling like cocoa butter.

Emily.

Your sluggish brain slowly puts the pieces together. Her arm is around your neck, cutting across your chest; her thigh is hitched over your hip. Cold fingertips are hooked into the collar of your t-shirt and you shiver despite the warmth of your own body. Slow breaths puff across your neck, warm and even.

Briefly, you think you’re dreaming, but just as quickly that thought dissipates. She’s too real, too warm—and anyway your imagination could never come up with something as divine as this.

You’re not completely innocent either. Your arm is hooked around her waist, your skin directly touching the warm skin of her waist. Her tank top has risen up and your blurry eyes catch a tattoo on her hipbone; a faded butterfly.

You should let her go.

It’s an internal battle, because she fits there, perfectly, and even though you know it’s wrong, you close your eyes and continue holding her.

It’s wrong, it’s so wrong. She doesn’t want your touch. She’s made that perfectly clear, but her warm body, the soft tickle of her hair, they cloud your senses, fog your brain and hide all traces of reason or sensibility.

But still, half asleep or not, you can’t betray her trust like this.

You’re just about to force yourself to let go when Emily snuggles closer, a long sigh escaping through her nose. Her lashes tickle your skin, wispy and light across your neck as she nestles into your collarbone.

Fuck.

You hold still and wait for her to move again. She doesn’t, other than the steady rise and fall of her chest, so you close your eyes too. You would’ve thought it would be difficult to fall asleep with almost every inch of her body touching every inch of yours, but you’re encompassed in warmth and softness and the scent of cocoa butter.

Really, it only takes a minute before you’re asleep again.

———

She’s still in your arms when you wake up. Your alarm didn’t ring yet—it must’ve been a combination of Emily’s warmth and your internal clock that woke you up.

Her head is now on your pillow, one of her knees slotted between yours and her arm around your waist. She’s like a clingy koala, even in her sleep, and it only makes your heart ache.

Through the blurriness in your vision you see the small freckles that dot her cheeks. They’re tiny, almost unnoticeable, scattered over the bridge of her nose and under her swooping lashes. Her fingers tighten in your shirt and again the guilt surfaces, but it’s so slow to rise in the pale morning light, when you’re sluggish with sleep.

Emily’s eyes flutter open.

Shit, you freeze, your muscles stiffening.

You’re caught.

Suddenly you’re staring into dark chips of obsidian, clouds of sleep swirling through them. At first Emily gives no reaction, but then her brain evidently catches up and her eyes widen, her fingers letting go of your shirt.

Just before you apologize, she does.

“I’m sorry,” she blurts. Her voice is raspy and you fight the shiver before it travels down your spine. “I get really—”

“Clingy,” you mumble. “Yeah, I know. It’s obvious.” Your voice is soft, mainly because you’re too tired to fight with your own demons so early in the morning.

“I’m really sorry,” Emily whispers again, mortified. Her cheeks flush a pretty pink as she retracts her arm and her leg, curling back into her side of the bed. The sheets she leaves behind are warm, and you fight the urge to place your hand where she once was.

“S’okay. You do it with everyone, I know that.” Then, because it’s the morning and your brain is half asleep and still fogged from holding her, you ask, “Why not with me, though?”

Her teeth chew down on her lip. “Why not with you, what?” She mumbles.

“Emily,” you sigh, “it’s too early for you to mess with my head. You know what.”

Emily gives a sigh of her own. She doesn’t look at you as she fiddles with the hem of her tank top and drags it back down, hiding the exposed sliver of her torso. It doesn’t help that your eyes follow her movements, because her shorts have ridden up her thighs.

“It means…more when it’s you.” She eventually says, her voice quiet. Your breath hitches and she continues looking down, frowning at the hem of her tank top. “Everything does. Can’t touch you like that and pretend it means nothing.”

The slight slur to her voice makes her confession all the more intimate. As does her bed head, the red sleep lines on the underside of her arm. This is a soft Emily, a vulnerable one, and she’s laying herself bare for you in the morning light while sleep still lingers in both your eyes.

It only confirms your love for her.

Your relief is palpable; it quickly shifts to affection, something flowery crowding the back of your throat and making it hard to swallow. She doesn’t hate you, she doesn’t think you’re disgusting or repulsive.

She couldn’t touch you because it would give her away. Because it’s the most genuine aspect of her, one she can’t dampen or hide any more than she can stop her heart from beating.

It seems almost too big a revelation for this small hotel room bathed in morning light. Still, your hand reaches for hers. You wrap your fingers around her own, both of them now resting gently on her stomach.

“It doesn’t have to mean nothing.” You whisper.

Emily’s eyes snap to yours. They’re like the black, bitter coffee you have no choice but knock back in precincts all over the country. They make your heart race, because they come closer—she comes closer—until both your heads are resting on the same pillow again. Emily cups your joint hands with her free one, reverently protecting the tenderness of your touch.

“You’re…” Her breath hitches and she falters, then sucks in a breath, “You’re telling me you want this?”

You squeeze her fingers. “More than anything.”

Emily blows out a low sigh. You bring your free hand up to trace the curve of her brow; she leans into it. “I do, too.” She confesses. “More than anything.”

Your thumb travels down to the corner of her mouth. “Then there’s nothing stopping us. Is there?” You ask gently.

“No.” Emily sighs. “Nothing.”

She tilts her head, lets you continue exploring her face with your fingertips. Her features are gently traced; the bridge of her nose and the outline of her lips and the shape of her brows. Slowly, her knee worms its way between both of yours.

You smile and Emily smiles back, a shy dimple in her cheek.

“Be clingy. With me,” you murmur, keeping your voice low because you’re afraid love already spills from it, “I want you to be.”

Her nose nuzzles into your cheek. “You’ll soon regret saying that.” Emily mumbles, the vibration of her voice reverberating through your skin. It fills you with strange peace.

“Never.” You whisper.

Until the alarm rings, the two of you spend your time erasing away the boundaries, learning the lines of each other’s bodies with your fingertips with slow confidence.

Because now, you have all the time in the world.

taglist: @suckerforcate @sickoherd @lextism

#emily prentiss #emily prentiss x reader #emily prentiss x y/n #emily prentiss x you #emily prentiss imagine #emily prentiss fanfic #emily prentiss fic #emily prentiss fanfiction #emily prentiss blurb #emily prentiss drabble #emily prentiss fluff #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds fanfic #fic

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dropsnectar · 2 months ago

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Fawning Rose: Vine Monster x GN!Reader

The Adventures of an Elven Herbalist Part One

NSFW or NSFT

This is my first time writing anything in 6 years so keep that in mind. Also my first smut fic. Or monster fic. I literally learned about the sexual parts of plants for this fic. Don't know how I got here but this was fun! btw if you don't like oviposition, I marked the parts with three !!! before and after that scene, so you can skip it if you want.

WORD COUNT: 3167, or 7 pages on Docs

It had been a long journey from your home country, having to cross an entire sea to get to the sleepy elven town of Hairevick. An Herbalist, you could craft pills to treat a human flu, create a poultice for a dwarves sore, work-tired limbs; even brew potions to help a beastmen ease out of a mating season-- but it was still lonely. Their were no elves about, except for the rogue eccentric nomad.

Feeling as you had fully mastered your craft in that area, and curious about your kind, you set forth in hopes of bettering yourself. However, when introducing yourself to your neighbors, you found everyone to be polite, but detached. As far as elves went, you were quite young, and the people of Hairevick were elder and not so trusting of outsiders. But worse of all, everyone here seemed to have an excellent knowledge of the local flora and fauna, and their uses in maintaining health. There was no need for an herbalist, especially one so unfamiliar with their lands.

You spent the entire week mourning your state over glasses and pints of botanical alcohol-- The local tavern drinks were amazing!-- until you finally met a sympathetic face.

He had long silver hair and the wisp of a ginger beard around his sharp jaw; a peculiar trait. He greeted you friendly enough, asking how you were settling in. It turned out that he owned a store in town, selling odds and ends. He even had a little apothecary in the corner, where those who couldn’t be bothered to make a forest run would buy herbs and tinctures.

Starved for companionship, you bombarded him with questions about clients, and local herbalism. He was jovial, and after quite a few dregs of honey yarrow grog, offered you a book on the local flora. After some midnight bonding over stories of patients, he gave you a proposition.

He was having some issues procuring some materials from a special plant, a Fawning Rose. It had incredible healing properties, but a bad habit of uprooting itself and fleeing from anyone who wasn’t a youth. If you could lure it out and bring back anything, be it petals, roots, greens, he would pay you handsomely. Maybe even give you some lessons on how to work with local plant life.

It was for this reason that you found yourself two days into a trip to the heart of the Haire Wilds bordering town. It was not going well.

***

The cool air caressed your skin as you entered the grove. You had caught a peculiar sweet smell, somehow floral and buttery at the same time, and had followed it with hope filling your heart. The scent had gotten so thick you could taste it, strong as a tea on your tongue. Blue wildflowers covered the ground, interrupted by the common tree route or vine.

Your eyes followed the vines or small roots, colored a sage with a speckled gradient to midnight blue. They traveled up into the middle of the grove. Sunlight, so rare this far into the Wilds, fell down in large delicious specks from the trees. They refracted off a large flower, almost two yards in width. Its petals were raspberry pink, turning blood red in the middle. Vines from its base led upwards and rested on the low boughs of the nearest trees, framing the flower and its various young buds like some sort of ethereal art study.

You grew excited, feet tripping over roots as you ran forward, losing a shoe. You lost balance again and landed face first into the crook of a particularly large vine and hit your head. Hard.

Hot pain crashed through you, making you curse as you steadied yourself. You tried to get up but the heat struck your temple like lightning as you moved upwards. Alright. Best to stay down then.

As you waited, you were able to see past the stars in your eyes and notice a slight powdery substance on the vines. It, too, was pink.

Maybe it was the thrill of finally finding the damn thing, or the head injury, but you felt different. You could hear your heart pumping hard in your chest, pleasantly tight. Your breath was ragged, the air pushing a hard, chilling heat through you.

Like a particularly good run, your mind registered. A high.

Your limbs started to tingle at the tips.

The rose’s perfume felt more like a mist now. You were only a few feet away from the base flower, and the scent had turned heady. Your hunger from a missed meal seemed to be surfacing, goaded on by the delectable smell the plant was giving off. While the pain eased and the stars disappeared from your eyes, you noticed that the lightheaded fuzzy feeling stayed.

Uh oh. Not a concussion.

You had to work hard to bring the fear into your mind. There was very little anyone could do to help you out here. The best you could do was not move around too much, and hoped the Fawning Rose would cooperate.

Suddenly, you notice some movement from the roots under your palms.

No no no not now! Please, I haven’t harvested you yet! You thought as you tried to scramble up.

The roots moved upwards with you, shoving you onto your side. Sliding around your feet, one took your other shoe with it as it slithered about under you. Another seemed to upend itself and squeeze cooly between your toes. You jumped a bit, but your gaze and mind were slow.

Something thick gilded itself on your shoulder making you look up. Vines, three, four, five of them descended and started rubbing themselves against you like cats. The movement was kicking up clouds of the pink pollen, making you sneeze as you wiggled against the plants outer limbs.

A part of you was horrified, thinking that perhaps you had scared the thing off. After all, you had been warned that this type of rose was particularly skittish. But the plant did not seem to be gathering itself to run away, rather it was pulling you closer to itself, the dragging tearing at the underside of your clothes.

Try as you might, you couldn't seem to think. Foggy, fuzzy, your mind was like cotton. The tingling in your fingertips has spread through your body, and an embarrassed part of your brain noticed your lower body was starting to awaken too. A warmth was beginning to pool in your gut, slow and lazy. Tingly. Fuzzy, like your head.

The vines continue to rub against your body, tearing the rest of your clothes away until only skin remains. They were relentless, cool against your hot skin. Their outer layers were textured but still smooth; a foreign sensation but extremely exciting. It felt almost like something was licking you, the powder giving a wet feel as it spread itself all over. Liquid heat glazed the innermost parts of you, much to your embarrassment.

Aphrodisiac. You finally registered. You started to curse out that damned store keeper.

You’d been played.

You were now at the base of the flower, with even more roots and vines cradling and moving over your body. You were… pushed? Pulled? A foot into the air, close enough so that some of the smaller buds were leaning over you, as if they were getting a good look at you. You felt a knowing, a presence from this plant now. It really was looking at you.

Some desperate part of your mind, far far back in your mind, tries to set off danger bells. That you needed to get up and run.

Ooze started to secrete from the smaller buds, and the already overpowering scent of floral butteriness seemed to multiply. It dripped out onto your belly, warm and tingling, then your chest, your inner thigh, even a bit on your cheek.

The syrup dribbled down into the planes of your mouth as you wriggled under the vines. A particularly mischievous one pushes through the plush cheeks of your ass and moves up, poking at your entrance, causing you to gasp.

The liquid touches your tongue. It tastes just as it smells, deliriously delicious. Sweet. Hot. It was divine compared to the little rations you’ve been eating the last few days. Like youd been starving and had sudden.ly been given free reign of a pastry shoppe. But no pastry could top this silky butteriness

What little heat that had kindled inside you was now a roaring flame, putting your past arousal to shame. You groan, and pull your head up, sticking your tongue out for more. A part of you is screaming to stop and run, but it is a stupid part that is buried instantly under your sudden overwhelming need. You are desperately horny, and you deserve to feel good after all the trouble you've been through lately.

Still sticking out your tongue, you start to moan even louder as the vine messages your entrance with its thick girth. At the same time, one of the buds above your face seems to notice your desperation, and leans down to your lips.You lick at its plush petals and sweet sweet nectar seeps into your mouth. It tastes much like a floral pastry and you suck greedily as it pushes itself deeper in.

The petals are so soft, yet still firm in your mouth as a river of nectar floods your throat. You giggled around it as it started to take its full effect. You felt light as air, so good.

The vines had moved over to allow a bud to circle itself around your most sensitive part. You gasped out as it started to suck you, making stars flood your already glistening eyes. Your wet lashes fluttered as it began to suck wave after wave of pleasure out of your body.You had never felt so good, you noted somewhere in your sex drunk mind. The whole time, the bud leaked nectar, completely soaking all parts of your groin.

The nectar left your skin feeling sensitive, and completely soaked. This seemed to please the vines, which continued to massage the oil about you, then finally push in. You cried out at the sensation. Drool started to pool out of your mouth, mixing with the nectar.

The vines rubbed lazy curving lines around your walls, making your hips jerk and shake. They seemed to know what they were doing as they started out slow for a time, then sped up their pace, thrashing about inside you. You clench around them, overwhelmed by the unyielding sensation. The pooling heat in you was building high, and you could tell the walls were about to break.

A rogue, mischievous bud had decided to examine your hole, tracing around your entrance in lazy circles. The petals were so soft, softer than skin. The texture made you feel desperate. As if to read your mind, the bud stopped. It must have been blooming because you felt little feelers, probably stamans, tracing about your genitals, wet with its lovely, delicious pollen.

You swore and whined and pleaded for more as the vines fucked you through it, voice garbled by nectar. Another, thicker vine veined in indigo added itself to its companions and you finally came. The rush was like being tossed in the ocean, a shock that completely enveloped your entire body in cold, pulsing ecstasy. Eyes rolling into the back of your head, your juices spilled down on the forest floor below.

The echoes of the waves of pleasure were still rocking through you when the vines surrounded your body started to move you upwards again. The vines were slow and delicate as they handled you, as if you were precious cargo. You were brought upwards, almost as if they were about to set you on your feet. Your neck was out, as you were still suckling the addicting flower liquid.

You noticed through your long damp hair that you were positioned just over the center of the Fawning Roses main flower. A drop of nectar slipped out from inside you and dribbled down and onto the flower's green pistil. The stigma was thick, with four fat lumps at the top. The stamen surrounding it swayed, almost as if there was a breeze. Their magenta anthers rained down more pollen, causing a beautiful gradient against the deep red at the middle of the large petals. It was a truly breathtaking sight.

A single vine wiggled towards your face and pushed back your hair. You found the gesture almost sweet, leaning into its touch. You remained like that for a time, before the vines started to lower you on to the stigma.

No no no, you tried to whisper, some understanding dawning; but the bud was being aggressive with its feeding, pushing further in your mouth. It had a job, and its job was to make you so desperately horny and stupid, you’d let this flower breed you.

The stigma was a hard fit at first. Its lumpy texture felt so good rubbing against you, you couldn’t help but hump back into it. The vines around you squeezing your skin, tilting your hips this way in that, trying to make the fit. The surrounding stamen started to rub their anthers against you, two started focusing on your nipples. You continued to hump the stigma, smearing the nectars from your groin all over it. Then, finally, finally, You were able to squeeze it in.

The vines had taken over the humping for you now, pushing you down harder and harder onto the pistil. The lumps dragged against your walls in such a beautiful way, that you screamed out babbling whines. Your skin was covered in nectar and bright pink pollen. Every part of you was being squeezed, rubbed, oozed upon with tingling liquid, that you weren’t even sure you had a body anymore, just pleasure. After you came for the fourth time, you started to feel a pulsing within the pistil. It was like the thing seemed to grow within you.

! ! !

Ridges started to squeeze against your entrance, rubbing against your walls. They moved up, up, up, into the deepest parts of you. There was a sudden burst of warmth, then something small and squishy. You marveled at the texture, as the flower continued to lower you down on the pistil, now at a slower pace, in smaller movements. You ached so badly, but the new sensation of the objects and warmth inside you made you wanna keen louder. They felt sort of like eggs.

Seedpods. You registered lazily. You were being turned into a seedbed.

This realization only seemed to turn you on even more. They felt so good, rolling about inside your walls. The warmth they brought rivaled the cool temperature of the pistil, a delightful duality.

You moaned with every bulge, push, then pop of warmth and heaviness. It was getting to the point now where the vines were pulling you up off the pistil to make more room for the seeds.

! ! !

You were cumming so much now you lost count. It was getting to the point that you were just continuously orgasming, as the seeds and the pistil dragged against your most sensitive parts.

You may have been like that for hours, days even, the nectar kept you so dizzy you couldn’t tell time. But at some point you were so full that the pistil seemed satisfied. The wriggling stamen around you stilled, and the vines carefully lifted you off the pistil, giving one last drag within your walls.

The bloom inside your mouth slowly dragged itself out, making you whine in protest. The vines carefully laid you down at the foot of their roots, arranging your body in a comfortable position. The vines slowly retreated from your body. They lazily moved about, sometimes knocking into each other in a way that was almost comical. Their movements seemed lazy, almost like it too was spent.

As the last vine left your skin, it caressed your cheek. Within you some affection of your own seemed to bloom. The haze that was in your mind was starting to dull, and replaced itself with the need to rest. Your heavy eyes closed and you gave into sleep.

***

You awoke without opening your eyes. You could feel that the curving mound of roots you’d been sleeping on had been replaced with fluffy grass and soil. The smell of freshly tilled earth flooded your nose, and you jolted upright, eyes wide.

The grove was quiet, and empty of the Fawning Rose. All that was left behind was you, the upturned soil it had left behind, and light dusting of pink pollen on the trees. Even the sweet pastry-like smell had left the grove.

You looked down at your naked, sore body and groaned. You could see a trail of bruises from where the vines had gripped you, along with dried out nectar and tons of pink pollen. Your stomach puffed out a bit more than normal, meaning all of this had NOT been a dream. Much to your surprise, nothing hurt though. Your body felt great, healthily spent like you had just run a marathon. Considering how hard you had been working there should have been some pain, but there wasn’t. Just the pleasant pressure of the seedpods against your insides.You recall the conversation with the shop owner at the tavern. Looks like this is the flower's healing abilities at work.

You continued to search around the grove. Your clothes were still in shreds on the forest floor, but your bag was safely tucked under one of the trees the flower had rested its vines in. With some effort, you managed to get yourself off the ground to pick it up, waddling the whole way.

The pollen was still working its magic on you, but you guessed you had been exposed to it long enough to build a slight tolerance. Or maybe the growing rage within you was doing the trick. You pulled out one of the many glass bottles, and a silver knife. You went to work, scraping the dried nectar and pollen off your body, into the jars.

I’m gonna charge that asshole so much money, his kids will be poor. You seethed as you spent hours getting your money's worth off of every plane of your body. You’d have to birth those seed pods later too. Your insides grew warm at the thought.

You tried not to think about how you were going to have to walk home naked, where you’d been and what you’d been doing laid bare upon your skin. It’d be free advertising tho, you tried to reason.

You'd make a killing. Aphrodisiacs were rare, and extremely expensive, especially to a crowd of immortals. I think I'll sell these seed pods on my own though. You smiled.

You’d make sure to be properly prepared the next time you went into the wilds.

Might do a part two, maybe with slimes next time? Also sorry about any switching of tenses, I have a hard time with that! Hope you guys enjoyed!

#monster x reader #monster fucker #monster lover #monster #vines #tentacles #monster x gn reader #teratophillia #terat0philliac #tentacle smut #vine smut #monster smut #ovipositor

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blackbirdie1234 · 11 months ago

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Hey!! I love your fic's so much!

Can I request a Jacob x Fem!reader where they are friends but reader has a crush on Jacob. When he shifts he leaves and does what he did to Bella like ignoring her and Billy won't answer the door.

Mutual pinning but neither knows. He imprints on reader.

Thank you so much keep up the great writing :)

Also, I was wondering if you are going to be doing the vampires as well?

Hi!, Thank you so much for the request! I appreciate the kind words <3

I will be doing fanfics for the vampires as well! As of right now I only have the wolves, but I am planning on making a master list for the vamps and Bella. If you want to make a request for them I can definitely do that! I am planning on making a fic for Jasper soon!

A/N: Not proofread! I aged Jacob up a bit, you both are seventeen here. I didn't know exactly how to end this but I think I might do a spin-off series off of this fic so if you are interested in that let me know. Also, sorry for the late posting I am currently sick and going through it lmao. Hope you enjoy <3

Warnings: Jacob being an ass, cursing, angst, Y/N with a backbone.

Wolf’s Out Of The Bag

Jacob Black x Fem!reader

You were staring blankly down at your phone. Ten phone calls, ten phone calls sent to voicemail. Ten desperate, pleading voicemails. No callback, no text, nothing received. You snapped your phone closed and threw it down on the bed.

It had been two weeks since Jacob stormed off from your house after getting into a small disagreement, at least it started off that way.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~"It's nothing you need to worry about, Jacob," You grumbled with a slight roll of your eyes. Hoping he would drop the subject.

He was giving you an irritated look. You lightly pushed him with your shoulder giving him a small smile.

"I didn't think you'd care that much, it was one date and it's never happening again," you noted with a light-hearted laugh to ease the tension.

He turned to face you, irritation turning to anger. You could actually feel the heat radiating off of his body next to yours.

"Wow you must be really dumb, I mean how could you even think about going on a date with that pig. He's not good enough for you, but then again if you were desperate enough to give him a chance maybe I'm wrong" He barked getting more bitter with each word.

You look at him in shock.

"Why would you say that to me" You said not believing what you were hearing. "It's really none of your business who I go out with, you aren't my bodyguard, you don't have to 'protect' me. When did you get the right to decide who is 'good enough' for me? Huh? You're being a dick and I don't know why but it better change right now." You say sternly. He has never acted like this before and this sudden behavior change is not sitting well with you.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Jacob left shortly after that. He had gotten so angry he was shaking, you can't even remember the words that were thrown after that. Now, he wasn't answering the phone. Billy said he came down with mono, you didn't know how much you believed it but decided to trust that Billy wouldn't lie to you.

Jacob was your best friend, you loved him a lot. You had never had such an intense fight, you never thought he would react the way he did. You only went on the stupid date to get Jacob out of your head, you thought that maybe you would get over Jacob if you found someone else to pay attention to. You were wrong, no one made you feel the way that Jacob did. Jacob made you feel at home, you couldn't explain why but it was like he was the person you were meant to be with. He was the one who understood you fully and would never judge you for anything you said or did. Until now......

You were deeply hurt by what Jacob said to you, and if he thought that you would get over it he was surely mistaken. He had never said anything more hurtful to you in your entire friendship. You had thought about just letting it go, letting life run its course even if it meant Jacob being out of your life, but you couldn't just sit and let him speak to you that way. You wanted answers. Sitting in your room waiting for him to call and explain was becoming too stressful. You sat there for hours overthinking and no matter what you were doing you were replaying the moment in your mind.

You must be going crazy. At least that's what you were trying to convince yourself after seeing Jacob cliff-jumping with Sam Uley and his gang. You had decided that you would go to La Push, and relax your body and mind on one of the only partly cloudy days in Forks. The skies were pretty clear but there was a storm coming soon, so you decided to do it now. Never in your life did you think you would see what you were seeing now. Are you fucking serious? was all you could think as you drove your car straight to Billy Black's house. You wanted to make sure it was really Jacob, so you went to the man who had told you how 'serious' his condition was in the first place.

As you pulled into the driveway the clouds began covering the sky in a dark grey mass. You hopped out of the car and began walking to the front door, Billy had opened the door as soon as you stepped onto the wood. His face had a mix of concern and confusion as he noticed your agitated expression and the way your chest was slightly heaving from anger.

"Where is he" you say with a grumble.

"He's not here, he went out," He says seriously but looking down a bit not wanting to make eye contact. Billy didn't like lying to you and to your face it was even worse.

Just as you were about to speak you looked to the side and saw that far away down the hill, Jacob stood playfully nudging another man as a few more came out of the woods.

"Don't Y/N" Billy said in warning.

You started stomping down the hill, ignoring Billy's yells. Billy calling your name caught the attention of Jacob, as his face shifted from laughing to completely still. You continued to walk towards Jacob as the rain started, it quickly went from a drizzle to full pouring as you finally reached him.

To say you were fuming would be an understatement.

"What the actual fuck Jacob!" you say basically screaming at the shirtless man, who was now staring directly into your eyes with what looked like pure amazement but you ignored it the best you could, whatever love for him you felt in that moment may have been strong but you were too angry to care so you continued.

"So we have one fight and you ignore me for two weeks?! I called you ten times, ten times Jacob. You couldn't bother picking up the phone at least once, you could've told me you didn't want to be friends but no! You had your daddy lie to me" You say with an angry laugh.

"I thought you were sick Jacob! Too sick to pick up the damn phone and text me! Come to find out you were just having too much fun cliff jumping with the guys we used to make fun of! You know what you can have them, If you want to throw away seventeen years of friendship then be my guest." You say finally taking a breath.

The weight off of your chest feels amazing, but as you finish Jacob falls to his knees. The boys behind him look between you two with pure shock on their faces before they start laughing and smiling. You look up at them shocked and confused thinking they were making fun of you. They start walking away but not before patting Jake on the back. Sam leans down and whispers something to him as he sits there still on his knees staring at you.

"Do you even care about a word I just said to you? You know what never mind if you think this is a joke I might as well leave," You say turning around and starting to walk away.

Jacob suddenly found his voice as he quickly got to his feet and stumbled trying to reach you.

"WAIT! Wait, wait, Y/N please hold on!" He spoke hurriedly. Grasping for your hand and pulling you around. Hand now resting on your waist.

"I am so, so sorry. Please let me explain everything, I promise I won't lie to you anymore. I can explain everything now, just come inside and dry off." He said pleadingly, trying his best to get you to listen to him.

You thought for a moment, you didn't trust him at all but the way he was speaking you knew he was telling the truth to some extent. It was hard for him to lie to you, you know how Jacob works, you know the subtle mannerisms he has when he's not telling the truth. Considering all of this you finally speak.

"Fine, but if things don't add up or I find out you are still lying, I am gone," You say sternly, pulling his hands away from you and walking up the hill.

When you get to the house, Jacob gives you warm tea and a blanket which you take from him without a word. He comes over and sits across from you. He almost reaches for your hand but stops himself.

"The day that I left your house, something changed, I changed...." He claimed, looking at your reaction with a hint of fear but continued "This is going to sound crazy, but you have to believe me on this..... I am a werewolf"

You stared at him for a moment before throwing the blanket off and standing up, Jacob followed suit immediately. You threw him a glare before starting to walk out.

"No, No, Y/N wait!" he shouted after you, reaching out and grabbing your hand. "I am telling the truth let me show you" He spoke as he continued outside your hand still in his.

" I swear Jacob if this is a pra....."

You went dead silent as he began taking his boots, and then his shorts off. Now standing in just his underwear. He gave you a curt nod and then started bending and shaking profusely. You could barely blink before your best friend stood in front of you only he wasn't human anymore, he was a massive wolf.

You jumped back a bit as the wolf started coming towards you, noticing your fear he slowly laid down on the ground and gave out a small whine to signal he would not hurt you. You were in complete shock, how was this possible? Everything you ever heard about the stories of the Quileute tribe growing up was true, and your best friend was living proof. A thousand thoughts ran through your mind, but they were silenced by the wolf standing up and trotting to the back of the house. Jacob then emerged in different clothes than before.

"I'm sorry, but I couldn't tell you Y/N" Jacob expressed, grabbing your hands hesitantly until you leaned into the touch slightly.

"Why couldn't you tell me, you know I would never judge you, nor would I ever tell anyone " You pressed before giving him a confused stare "Wait why are you telling me now?"

He looked at you a gave you a crooked smile.

"It's one of the rules that came with the gig" He laughs a bit before pulling you a bit closer. "The reason I can tell you now is because you are my soulmate," He says beaming down at you.

You stare up at him with a bewildered expression.

"I'm your what?" you say breathing out.

"You are my imprint, Y/N. It's a wolf's soulmate, it is the reason for their existence, you feel like it isn't gravity holding you to the ground anymore, it's them. You can be anything the imprint wants you to be, a friend, a protector, a lover, all that matters is that the two are connected. Like vines on trees overlapping each other both on the same path, interlocked." He pauses, putting his hand on your face and caressing your cheek gently.

"I know this might be overwhelming and a lot to handle. I really want you to know how deeply sorry I am for everything that I said. I'm not going to sit here and blame it all on the wolf because it wasn't, I was jealous. I was jealous that you went on that date with someone that wasn't me and I didn't mean a word that I said about you. I'm going to be fully honest with you from now on, starting with the fact that I have been in love with you since the second grade. I know that trusting me will take time, but I am willing to do whatever it takes to earn it back. I understand that I have hurt you, so it might take a very long time but I will always be there for you. Everything is up to you, I understand if you want to reject the connection. The connection can be anything you want it to be, but I really truly do not want to lose you and the past two weeks without you have been hell on earth for me. I'm just really sorry Y/N." He pleads letting go of your hands and allowing you to process.

"I... I love you too Jacob. I have for a while now. I'm not going to forgive you easily but I am glad you understand how much you have hurt me. I am willing to give this a shot, mainly because I can feel the connection and would be an idiot if I said that I didn't." You laugh a bit as he looks at you with the biggest smile on his face.

"But if you ever say or do that to me again I will put you in a dog house and leave you there," You say with an evil smile laughing at the way his face drops before he joins in.

You two get out of the rain and drive separately to Emily's house where you meet the pack and they explain in much more detail what being a wolf really entails. You and Emily become quick friends, and as the days go on you slowly fall into a routine that is pure chaos but you wouldn't have it any other way. You and Jacob work on your relationship, slowly building back trust and falling deeper and deeper into love with each other. You have fully accepted your place in a world filled with wolves and life seems to be going great, that is until they tell you exactly why they turn into the big ferocious beasts....... there are vampires in Forks.

#jacob black #twilight saga #the twilight saga #twilight #twilight imagine #new moon #jacob x reader #jacob black x reader #jacob black x female reader #jacob black imagine #jacob black x you #twilight werewolves #twilight wolves #twilight wolfpack #forks washington

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jflemings · 5 months ago

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— speak your mind

pairing: kate martin x reader

synopsis: upon realising that kate’s feelings for you might not run as deep as yours do for her, you spiral. kate’s there to set the record straight.

warnings: a lil angsty, a lil bit of anxiety, overthinking, insecurity if you squint

a/n: this is long and not fully proofread!! i hope this is okay for my first kate fic 😬 lmk how you feel!!

୧ ‧₊˚ 🎰 ⋅ ˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡˚

one of your favourite things to do was look at kate, admiring her had become somewhat of a hobby for you. you’re certain that you’ve memorised the placement of every faint freckle on the bridge of her nose; absolutely positive that you could pick out paint swatches that match her eyes perfectly. her side profile is committed to your memory, burned in your brain for the rest of time, and you wouldn’t have it any other way.

for so long you had pined after her and hoped that one day you’d finally work up the nerve to actually talk to her instead of spending your time gawking at her.

your hopes were met when the two of you found yourselves sat on the porch of some frat house talking the night away. she’d left her friends for some fresh air only to find you, and before you knew it she was giving you her number and waving you off in an uber at the end of the night.

now, the two of you lounge around on her couch lazily, trying to find something to watch. she’s got one arm around you, keeping you tucked safely under her chin, whist the other fiddles with the remote.

“stupid fucking remote” she mumbles to herself “i change the batteries three times and still, it doesn’t want to work. might as well just get a new one”

you allow yourself the time to trace her features with your eyes like you have so many times before, letting your thoughts run wild whilst she’s distracted.

you knew how you felt about kate. you knew all too well.

you loved her, wholly and deeply. if someone asked you to list off reasons why you loved kate, you’d be sitting for an eternity. there was no one reason for your feelings, and there was no one thing that led you to them, it was just a fact.

the sky is blue. grass is green. you love kate.

simple.

you’d often wonder how she got to you, though. of course, you knew how she physically came to be yours but you often found yourself wondering how emotionally, she could belong to you.

there had been others before you. others that didn’t really need to wait for kate to come around.

she wasn’t known to date or be a player, but she definitely wore her heart on her sleeve a bit. any girl that she dated knew that kate was all in, and it made your stomach churn to know that maybe you weren’t one of those girls.

what if she waited so long to ask you to be her girlfriend because she didn’t know if she wanted that? what if you dove in too quick?

“see anything you wanna watch?” she says before turning to you “or were you just not paying attention to anything other than my face?”

you crack a faint smile and sit up, suddenly feeling sick. kate’s hand falls to your waist “you okay?”

the bitter taste of doubt dances on your tongue and trickles it’s way into your stomach “i’m honestly not feeling too good, i think i’m just gonna go” you say quickly as you stand.

kate’s quick to follow your movement, sitting up and tossing the remote to the side “are you sure? you can lay down here. i’ll get you some water”

“no, no” you say holding up your hand to her as she stands “i’m just gonna go. i’ll call you later”

the blonde doesn’t get another word in before you’re running out of her door with your shoes in your hand. she stands in the middle of her living room puzzled, looking at the back of her door.

it’s been a week since you’d practically jumped up and out of kate’s arms and ran out of her apartment, and she’s barely heard from you.

since you said you weren’t feeling well, she’d offered to go over and just hang out. you declined and said you didn’t want her to get sick and that you’d just catch up with her when you felt better.

then when she tried to call you and you didn’t answer, you told her you’d been sleeping, or studying, or taking a shower, or doing anything that didn’t require you to have your phone on your person.

kate never really thought of herself as controlling, but not knowing how you were was certainly making her feel out of control. she was worried. she had the thought to maybe message your roommate leah, but ultimately decided against it when she realised that that might be overdoing it, especially since you told technically did tell her what was wrong.

there was a feeling deep in her belly that she couldn’t shake though, and it was beginning to eat her alive.

the feeling was only amplified when she crossed paths with leah on campus and still didn’t get an answer. your roommate had nervously shrugged and said that you hadn’t spoken to her before rushing off.

jada squints at her friend from across the room as she takes another slow bite of her bagel. she watches as the blonde seemingly zones out completely, a blank look etched upon her face.

the same blank look that had been plaguing her for the past week.

“what’s up with you?” she calls.

kate snaps out of it with a shake of her head “what?” she asks

“i said” jada starts again, dusting her hands of crumbs “what’s up with you. you’ve been acting strange all week and it’s really unsettling”

kate purses her lips “it’s not unsettling”

“it is when you see it first hand”

the blond rubs a hand over her brow bone and sits up straight, rolling her head on her neck before putting her head in her hands “it’s y/n” she says “we have barely spoken all week”

“i thought you said she was sick?”

“that’s what she told me, but i know something’s wrong. i can feel it in my gut”

kate is quickly beginning to resemble a kicked puppy, the slouch of her shoulders and her sad eyes making her look smaller than she actually is.

jada frowns “what about her roommate leah? have you tried talking to her?”

“we ran into eachother but she wasn’t much help” kate says as she shakes her head.

the brunette takes her bagel and plate and stands, walking over to plop herself down next to her friend and teammate “maybe you should just go over there” she suggests softly

kate slumps back again “do y’think?”

jada shrugs “you obviously know her a lot better than i do but, yeah, i do”

kate ponders for a moment before jumping up from the couch and slipping on her shoes by the front door. she grabs her keys off the hook, makes sure she has her phone, and gives jada a half assed wave before she’s out the door.

she doesn’t even bother walking or taking her time, she runs. the route is burned into her brain. she’s on autopilot as she goes as fast as her legs will take her. she’s run this route plenty of times, more times than she’d ever like to admit.

as late rounds the corner to your building she comes to a stop to catch her breath, ignoring the odd onlooker that was curious as to what she was doing. she waves them off and kept going, never once faltering as she got to your door.

she knocks three times and bounces on her toes impatiently, almost barging in when the door cracks slightly.

leah pokes her head out curiously “kate?” she cocks a brow.

“is y/n here?” kate has to resist the urge to just look straight over her head and into your place “i just need to speak to her”

“no, she’s not” leah says whilst opening the door wider , her expression telling the basketball player that she knows more then she’s letting on “but you’re more than welcome to wait for her if you’d like”

you slam your front door open and kick it shut, flinching slightly at the loud bang “i’ve fucked it!” you practically yell through your apartment “once again, i am my own worst enemy” you begin to ramble to your roommate as you dump all of your stuff on the kitchen table.

leah freezes and her eyes go wide at the sound of your voice ringing through your shared place. you barely acknowledge the way she’s gone stone still like a deer in headlights, too caught up on the fact that you have basically ghosted your girlfriend.

“what if she hates me, what if she never wants to speak to me again because of this week? oh my god” you groan loudly, the anxiety continuing to bubble inside of you “i feel fucking horrible, lee, she doesn’t deserve someone who’s gonna shut her out like this. i wouldn’t even know how to start making it up to her”

you begin to messily organise your things. you dump the water out of your waterbottle and rinse it and put your laptop on charge, your train of thought never faltering “an apology would be a good start, y/n” you mumble to yourself as if you’re stupid “hey kate! sorry for avoiding you for a week, that was super shitty of me, but i’m ready to talk about my feelings now!”

“y/n” leah hisses

you swiftly look at her and frown. her brows are pinched together and her teeth are clenched in an almost comical way, making you cock your brow “what’s that face for?” you ask.

her eyes shift from the direction of your bedroom and back to you once, twice, three times, before she raises her brows. you shake your head slightly to show her you don’t understand until dread washes over you like a tidal wave. a deep pit forms in the bottom of your stomach.

you screw your eyes shut momentarily before walking down the hall to your bedroom, puffing your cheeks up and releasing a breath as your hand grips the handle.

from behind you, leah gets up from the couch “i’m going out for a little while” she says just loud enough so that both you and the person occupying your room can hear. you turn and face her briefly, catching the sympathetic look on her face.

you turn the doorknob and push yourself into the entryway of your bedroom, coming face to face with kate.

she’s sat on your bed with her hands tucked neatly in her lap and her head hung. her shoulders are hunched slightly as she lifts her head to look at you, offering the smallest of smiles “hey” she says quietly “leah let me in, told me i could wait for you”

“oh” you say dumbly, not moving from the spot you stand in.

kate nods her head once “have— have i done something to upset you?” she asks quietly

you shake your head “no” you shut your door behind you “you haven’t done anything, kate, i swear”

“is there a reason you’ve been avoiding me?” she raises her head fully to look at you now but her hands still stay neatly tucked in her lap. she doesn’t look like she’s been crying, but the frown on her face and her glassy eyes tell you that she’s very close to it. you feel your heart crack, you’d never seen her like this.

you sigh and cross the room to her, placing your hands delicately on her shoulders “it was me” you start “i— i was getting in my head and i didn’t know how else to deal with it. i’m so sorry kate. it wasn’t fair of me to do that, especially since i’ve made you feel like you were the one at fault”

the athlete’s hands uncross themselves and come to hold your hips. she looks up at you with wide eyes like she’s trying to figure out what’s going on inside your head “i don’t understand” she says “we tell eachother everything”

“i know” you mumble, flexing your hands against her broad shoulders “i’m sorry”

kate looks down at your feet before spreading her legs slightly and pulling you towards her by your hips. you step further into her space just as she looks back up at you “you can talk to me about anything, you know that right? i’m always here for you”

you nod “i know that” you say quietly. kate squeezes you hip.

“you didn’t fuck anything up” she assures you, referring to your words as you walked through your front door. “more than anything, i was worried. i didn’t know what was going on and you weren’t answering me”

“i’m sorry for worrying you” your hands shift so that they settle in the curve between her neck and shoulder “but i still shouldn’t have just shut you out like that. it wasn’t fair”

her hands slither around your hips and hold your lower back. she tilts her head “do you wanna tell me what’s going on in that pretty little head of yours?”

you take your hands back and chew slightly on your bottom lip before taking a sudden interest in your ceiling. behind your eyes feels heavy as you try to push down the lump that has lodged itself in your throat.

the hands that are around you suddenly feel too cagey, too suffocating, and you take a step back from your girlfriend. a twisted look of confusion and concern crosses the blonde’s features as she furrows her brows and allows her hands to fall back to her lap.

“i love you” you say before taking a deep breath “and i avoided you because i didn’t think i could face you knowing that you might not feel the same” you screw your eyes shut just as the tears slip out.

kate’s face relaxes into something softer, and she slowly holds her hand out for you to take “babe” she says softly “c’mere”

you hesitate for a moment before taking her hand. she pulls you back in to her space and swipes a thumb under your eye “you got yourself all worked up because you didn’t think i’d say it back?”

“i—” you begin, only to then realise that she, in fact, hadn’t said it back. you shut your mouth and play with the hem of your shirt, quickly wiping away tears with the collar.

kate’s hand moves to cradle your face “i do love you” she says softly, ducking her head slightly so she can make eye contact with you “and i have for a while”

your lip begins to wobble and you cover your face with your hands in an effort to hide from her. she isn’t having it though, and hooks a thumb in the belt loop of your jeans so that she can drag you into her.

one arm loops securely around you whilst she uses her other hand to try to pry your own off you face “babe” she says.

she smiles as you reveal your face to her and she takes one of your hands in hers “why did you think that i wouldn’t feel the same? i tried to show it, but maybe it didn’t communicate well”

you chew your lip nervously out of habit “i just thought maybe you didn’t feel the same since it took you so long to ask me to be your girlfriend” you mumble “like, maybe you weren’t sure of me or something”

kate frowns “i waited so long because i didn’t want to mess it up” she says as she squeezes your hand “i knew i liked you from our first conversation, and i didn’t want to scare you off or make you think that i was moving too fast. i’m sorry, baby”

you furrow your brows “it wasn’t your fault” you say as you shake your head “it was just me and my way of thinking”

“we’ll next time that happens i want you to speak your mind, okay?” kate stands and drags her hands delicately up your sides before she cups your face “but there’s nothing you need to worry about. my feelings for you don’t come close to anything else i’ve ever felt before”

“yeah?” you ask quietlyleaning into her touch.

“yeah” kate flashes you one of her big, toothy smiles and connects your lips. her thumbs caress the sides of your face lightly, making your skin tingle. “i love you” she mumbles against your lips.

you can’t help but smile “i love you too”

#jflemings writes #kate martin #kate martin x reader #lv aces #iowa wbb #kate martin fic #wbb x reader #wnba x reader

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onsomenewsht · 7 months ago

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Helpless to the bass and faded light

About when she bribes you and you dance with her like a filled stadium isn't looking

》 Leah Williamson x Reader

》 words count: +1k

》 she took my arm / I don't know how it happened / we took the floor and she said

You don’t like football.

It’s quite a boring game if you stop to think about it for a moment. Two dozen and counting people running around a ball trying to kick it into a huge net.

Not something you look forward to sit through for almost two hours.

Despite your father’s best efforts, you being his only kid and his only hope to pass down his passion, the sport never managed to interest you long enough to care.

You even found yourself in the stands of your dad’s favourite club’s home more times than you’re able to remember, going beyond yourself and cheering when the other people around you did.

The things you do to make your parents proud.

How you managed to have the English captain wrapped around your finger, regardless of your well-known dislike for her biggest passion and purpose in life, is still a mystery for your families and friends.

“Pretty please, just this one”

“Oh, shut up!”, you hit her arm and push her off you, both still naked.

You can’t believe your girlfriend is actually trying to bribe you with sex, not even waiting for you to fully recover before asking to go to the game.

“No, you ruined the mood”, you state as the blonde tries to kiss you again.

The huge grin of her beautiful face is quite dangerous, she can win you over so easily and you both know it.

Leah rises off the bed to retrieve a warm cloth from the bathroom and a clean shirt from the closet. You accept her attention, she’s always caring when it comes to you, but you’re pretty sure the extra effort has a not-so-subtle second purpose.

“You can’t buy me so easily, Williamson”

She can.

“It’s a really important game, my love”

“For who?”

“For me?”, she tries as she slots herself under your open arm, a grin hidden between your neck and the pillow.

“I barely bear you playing”

“You love watching me play”

“I love you, period”

Leah knows how much you think the sport is boring, going way out of your comfort zone just to cheer her. She feels immensely supported when she finds your big smile in the stands, wrapped in one of her jerseys.

It’s not that difficult for you to sit and admire your girlfriend in her element, focusing more on her movements and attitude than paying attention to the actual game.

What you find quite annoying is enduring Arsenal’s men’s team.

The defender’s fingers on your side are slowly soothing you in a compromising position, too relaxed and smitten to keep denying her anything. You know she doesn’t need much more to lure you into her trap and, unfortunately for you, she’s perfectly aware too.

When the blonde’s lips find the particularly sensitive spot on the base of your neck, you’re doomed.

You’re glad your father is already dead or you’d have killed him as you take your seat in the Emirates Stadium, surrounded by the Gunners’ colours. Your girlfriend’s name on your back could be the final nail.

The things you do to make your lover happy.

“You know I love you, right?”

“You better never forget this”, you quip back.

The English captain has been looking forward to this game for weeks now, you couldn’t have been able to turn her down in spite of it all.

She doesn’t need to know though, you didn’t accept to spend one of your date nights watching the North West London derby for free.

“Maybe you will enjoy it at the end”

Nice try, you will not.

“You know, my dad was a West Ham supporter”

“Could have been worse”, she smiles at you, reaching for your hand.

Talking about your father is getting easier as time finally moves forward and your grief keeps changing its shape. Compared to the abyssal black hole it felt like the first year and a half, its progress.

Leah didn’t meet him, crushing in your life a couple of months after his passing, but she managed to find a space in your heart that keeps growing despite all your fears.

They could have hit so well, bonding over their shared passion for the sport and their never-ending determination to make you happy.

You told her some stories about him, mostly memories to make your girlfriend understand how stubborn and passionate he was about the thing he cared about.

The one thing you all have in common.

“Yeah, he used to gift me a West Ham jersey every year on Bobby Moore’s birthday”

Leah’s laugh managed to overcome the buzzing atmosphere of the stadium, making you feel like she was the reason all the people around you were cheering. You sure think so.

“He sounds like an incredible father”

“Football obsession aside, he was good”

When you turn to look at her, the blonde’s eyes are already on you and the smile on her face is enough to warm your heart.

The first goal coming within five minutes has you quite engaged in what’s happening on the pitch, you even drag your girlfriend in a kiss as you both rise from your seats to celebrate.

Your commitment declined quite easily after that, more entertained by Leah’s reactions than the actual game. You nod in amusement every time she tries to talk you through one of her analyses, placing a hand on her thigh to stop her from standing up every time the ball is somehow close to the box.

The second half is more eventual, at least that’s what you can understand by the excitement the defender and the people in the stands around you seem to radiate.

You’re not clueless, you’re perfectly aware a five-nil win against Chelsea is quite the result. You care enough to think you can’t wait to go home - Leah is always in the mood for a private celebration when her team triumphs, especially over another London club.

“Can we go now?”, you ask as soon as the referee whistles three times, declaring the end of your and the Blues’ torture.

Leah’s happiness is contagious, so you’re not mad when she drags you in her arms to join her cheers and enthusiastic dance. It takes you less than a second to indulge her, letting the blonde spin you around and matching her excitement.

When she dips you and seals the move with a kiss the laugh that rises out of you is genuine and loud.

At first, neither of you notice the stadium’s camera pointed in your direction, recording your little moment of pure bliss in each other’s arms.

Looking back at it, as all your friends sent you the viral video, you know Leah saw you two on the big screen and went along with her little cocky display of affection and excitement for the victory.

You’re sure your father could be laughing at it too, despite the colors you’re wearing.

fine.

#woso x reader #leah williamson x reader #woso fanfics #woso imagine #woso community #lw6 #woso #here we are #short and sweet #i hope you enjoy it #my wo(rd)so

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ohcorny · 8 months ago

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so! it's been a year since i put never satisfied on hiatus, and 9 years since i started posting it, and rather than make you read everything if all you want to know is "when's it coming back?" the answer is still: don't know! but the answer has also shifted closer to "it isn't" the longer i've spent on break, and i think it's worth being up front about that.

i talked about it a little here a few weeks ago, but the long and short of it is that between taking on better paying work, writing better stories, and looking back at what i'd already done for never satisfied... i just don't think i want to continue it? the year off has been incredibly good for my mental health, and i can't see myself wanting to go back after the two-three years still ahead of me on my current project. that's not to say i never want to return to the characters or the concept, but if i did, i imagine it would be with something completely new, in a different form. after all, i started this comic when i was 21 years old, a lesbian, and a sophomore in college. i am now just shy of 30, a bi man, and overall a completely different person than i was, back when i was writing without a plan and putting all of my insecurities into the comic--insecurities i don't identify with anymore. lord i'm closer to rothart's age than i am to lucy's. hate that

anyway. you have all been extraordinarily kind for following never satisfied for as long as you have, for supporting it as much as you have, and being as patient as you have. whatever form never satisfied takes in the future (god willing, with a more cohesive story structure and A PLAN FOR THE ENDING, WHICH BY THE WAY I NEVER, EVER HAD) i hope to see you there!

in the meantime, as an update on where i'm at with the thing that made me stop working on NS: i finished it! all the pages for Hunger's Bite (if you remember it with a different title: no you don't) have been turned in and now it's just revisions and covers and then........ waiting a year until it can come out. because that's how it is in traditionally published graphic novels! nothing releases for a full year after you finished it! and you're even getting it earlier than was originally planned, because i'm a creature and finished it like three months ahead of schedule. i've also already started thumbnailing the sequel book which i can't talk about whatsoever and will now be working on that for the next two years and then HOPEFULLY the first book will have done well enough that i can sell a third! so you better buy it when it comes out next february!!!!!!

to ease you all into it, i wanted to do a little crossover to introduce the main characters. we have emery, whose design is fully and unintentionally just Seiji Again down to his color palette (but seiji would bully him if they met. like so hard. he's a wimp). then we have neeta, a girl who dreams of travel and cares deeply about worker's rights, and wick, a vampire agent investigating the mysterious and sinister new owner of the 1910s ocean liner emery and neeta call home. he's also gay. but sorry lucy, you aren't his type. you're not mean enough.

the best place to keep up with me these days is probably here, as this first book gets closer to release, i will probably be posting about it a lot. and i will certainly post about it here when there's an official release date and cover reveal! i hope you'll go read it. i really think if you liked never satisfied and its themes, you'll like hunger's bite!

thank you again for reading!!

#corndraws #hunger's bite #never satisfied

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miss-hyoko · 2 years ago

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Privileged One

Character(s): Riddle, Leona, Azul, Kalim, Vil, Idia, and Malleus

Summary: What if you were his childhood friend?

Tag(s) and warning(s): GN!Reader, fluff, platonic but can be read as romantic, reader is NOT Yuu, a bit depressing for the character's part (not too serious)

Note: I initially plan to make you two a normal pair of childhood friends, but my stupid brain is acting up midway and makes it seems like he has a one-sided crush on you. I still hope you enjoy, though (⁠っ⁠.⁠❛⁠ ⁠ᴗ⁠ ⁠❛⁠.⁠)⁠っ

1. Riddle Rosehearts

Most of the Heartslabyul students are jealous of you. You are the only person who can (accidentally) break the rules of the Queen of Hearts and then get away with only a light scolding from the Housewarden.

There had once been a student who dared to say that Riddle played favorites on you, but then the red tyrant got angry and they ended up getting collared for a whole week. The punishment actually could have lasted much longer, but you who heard the news took pity on the student and asked Riddle to release him. That student is now a living example of what can happen to people who dare to comment on how Riddle treats you. Now, almost everyone knows how important you are to Riddle.

Every time you come to visit Heartslabyul, the students there will automatically lead you to Riddle without paying attention to your reason for visiting. You find it a little amusing, the way their faces light up whenever they see you before trying to get you to Riddle as quickly as possible, it's as if they have found a savior who can save them from a calamity called Riddle Rosehearts. You can't blame them, they became like that after noticing that every time Riddle's with you, he will be a bit lenient in giving punishment to the rulebreaker because his attention is too preoccupied on you.

When an Unbirthday Party was being held, you would definitely be invited and there's a special seat that has been arranged just for you, which is right beside Riddle's own seat. There's an unwritten rule that says the first slice of cake belongs to the Housewarden. But, since the cake belonged to Riddle now and that rule wasn't exactly written down on paper, then there's no harm in letting you have the first bite, right? In his defense, Riddle claimed that he didn't break the unwritten rule. The first slice of cake was indeed his, he just let you have the first bite.

If you have trouble understanding a certain subject, fret not because you have Riddle to tutor you. Once school was over, you two would have a study session in Riddle's room. Accompanied by tea and Trey's handmade cakes, Riddle will teach you with the patience he has never shown to anyone but you. Every time you answer correctly a question he gives, Riddle will give you a spoonful of Strawberry Pie from his plate. And if you answered wrong, Riddle will explain it again from the beginning until you fully understand it. This pattern will continue to repeat until finally all the questions are answered or the strawberry pie on his plate runs out.

Amidst his busy life as Heartslabyul's Housewarden, Riddle would always try to spend more time with you. Like; accompanying you to walk to school, talking briefly with you when you two pass each other in the hallway, having lunch together in the cafeteria, and when school is over, he'll wait for you so both of you can go back together to Heartslabyul and have a private tea party.

Whenever he's feeling stressed and exhausted, somehow you always show up at the right time and give him the comfort he's looking for. The two of you would spend time together in his room, with Riddle resting his head on your thighs while your fingers trace the soft strands of his hair. Accompanied by your gentle hum, Riddle then decided to rest for a bit together with his childhood friend before continuing his work later.

2. Leona Kingscholar

Rather than calling yourself Leona's childhood friend, you actually feel more like his personal assistant, considering how much work you have been doing for that lazy lion.

Together with Ruggie, you two were entrusted by the teachers to bring Leona back to class every time he skips class. But knowing Ruggie, he will surely let you handle it all while he himself returns to class to study (he would rather not waste his school fees, okay?). Left all alone, now start your journey, trying to find Leona. You already know where Leona is, but first you need to go to the cafeteria to buy some meat which you plan to use as an 'offering' so (hopefully) he will go back to class with you.

Every time you pick Leona up from his napping place, usually there will be two possible endings. The first one was that he will accept your 'offerings' and go back to class with you, although begrudgingly and full of complaints all the way to the class, then continue his nap in class, which makes you heave a long, weary sigh. While the other one is, he pulls you to accompany him to take a nap together, where you will be his pillow and also his partner in crime considering now you also skip the class together with him.

Even though he never shows it, Leona secretly loves watching you bustle around doing things for him. From cleaning his room, cooking for him, doing his laundry, and other menial work. Ruggie would do all that work for his money, meanwhile, you do all of that out of concern for your lazy childhood friend. It makes Leona feel as if you put him in as your priority that's more important than anything else, it makes Leona feel smug.

Every beastman in school knows better than to pick a fight with you. Never mind fighting, they shouldn't even talk rudely to you. If they dared to do so, then they should be prepared to face Leona's wrath. In Leona's mind, you who are his childhood friend are a part of him. Offending you means offending Leona as well, and Leona won't take it well.

But no matter how your patient is, sometimes you can also get annoyed with Leona's endless laziness. So, you will wake the lion up from his sleep and tell him to do his own business himself. And since it's Leona, of course he refuses and will try to go back to sleep, but you're not going to let him have that peaceful sleep until he finished all his works. The two of you then will start squabbling about it for a bit while the other Savanaclaw students will stare at you in amazement, for you're the only daring one to scold their lazy of a Housewarden. If it were anyone else, their Housewarden would probably kick that person away the moment they disturbed his sleep.

In your eyes, Leona is no different from an overgrown cat. Whenever Leona's mood gets worse, he will look for you and take you to his room to accompany him to sleep. You didn't try to cheer him up, you knew all Leona needed now was just your company, so you started telling him about your daily life and other interesting things you encountered today. And whether you realize it or not, Leona never sleeps even though his eyes are closed. He listens to all your stories in silence without missing a word. For him, your voice is far more effective in calming his nerve than sleeping.

3. Azul Ashengrotto

In the Mostro Lounge, there is one special table that no one is allowed to sit on, no matter how much they are willing to pay for it. If someone tries to occupy it by force, then they would come face to face with one of the Leech brothers and be banned from entering Mostro Lounge again. That table was specially prepared by Azul just for you, his most beloved childhood friend. Every time you visit Mostro Lounge, Azul will drop anything he's currently doing just to greet you personally and help you order your favorite menu.

Contrary to what people think, Azul doesn't give you free food just because you're his childhood friend. You still have to pay for your meal, but Azul doesn't mind giving you a little discount. And when I say he gives you a little discount, it means he will give you several discount coupons that you can stack with other discount coupons with a maximum of 100%. But in exchange for the coupon he gave you, you have to keep this nice thing a secret from the other customers. Because truth to be told, Mostro Lounge doesn't accept stacking discounts, but since you're his childhood friend, Azul doesn't mind making a little exception for you.

At school, you were always seen together with the three infamous Octavinalle's students or at least one of them, mainly Azul. Because of that, there are rumors going around saying that you are also involved in some kind of shady business alongside the three. You aren't concerned with the rumours, but Azul does. He would send the twins to find the person who spread the rumor and teach them a lesson or two about how one should not just jump to conclusions without any real evidence. People can talk shit about him and he couldn't care less. But talk shit about you, and Azul will take it personally.

Every time Mostro Lounge wants to add a new menu, Azul will call you to be the taster. If he sees you enjoying the new menu, then that same night the menu will already be on the Mostro Lounge menu list.

Since you're Azul's childhood friend, it's not surprising that you're also good friends with the Leech brothers. Together with Jade and Floyd, you three have fun teasing Azul. But different from the Leech brothers, who will be given additional work if Azul manages to get angry, you will only end up with a long scolding from the businessman.

Even so, you still feel a little guilty for making Azul angry. You know Azul usually has a fair amount of patience, but if he gets angry, it means the jokes you three makes have gone a bit too far. Hence, you volunteered to help out at the Mostro Lounge. Azul is a little touched by your sentiments. You have always been very caring and concerned with his feelings, ever since childhood. Well, that side of you is the main reason why you're Azul's favorite person.

But as a businessman, who is Azul to turn down the chance you're giving him? Since you asked for it yourself, then he won't be lenient in giving you orders. This resulted in you ending up in the VIP room, sitting on one of the soft sofas, cookies and tea served on the table in front of you, while Azul sits at his desk and goes through his documents. Azul has indeed given you one task, which is to sit quietly and accompany him to work until the closing time.

Azul is the type of person who is full of preparation and planning. It made him feel secure, knowing that he was ready to take on anything. But if something goes wrong and out of his expectations, Azul will become very frustrated and all he wants is nothing but to crawl back into his octopus pot. It was times like these that the twins would turn Azul over to you. Their childhood experiences have taught them that once Azul entered his octopus pot, only you can persuade him to come out. You won't blatantly coax Azul out because the first time you do it, Azul actually hides deeper into his octopus pot. So to solve this problem, you're going to sit outside his octopus pot for a few moments without speaking a word, giving him alone time while still reminding Azul that you're there for him. After a long enough silence, you will start talking about random things to completely turn his attention to you and forget his frustration. For a while, you will continue to talk alone, but you keep telling stories until finally, Azul starts responding to your words one by one. Azul realizes that all the topics you choose to talk about are completely useless, but oddly enough, he doesn't mind hearing all your ramblings at all. When he is finally back to normal, he will pop himself out of his octopus pot and act as if nothing happened. But the next time you visit the Mostro Lounge, Azul will treat you to a free meal as his token of gratitude.

4. Kalim Al-Asim

Even though you are not a servant of the Asim family like Jamil, but you still insist on taking care of Kalim because he is a sunshine boy who must be protected at all cost.

Usually, people will see you hanging out together with Kalim, with or without Jamil. You are the only person Jamil trusts to look after Kalim when he is too busy doing other things.

Kalim loves to tell you numerous things, from the big news he heard from Cater in club-meeting to the little things like how sleepy he was during Professor Trein's class. You always listen attentively to him, while occasionally giving a response as a sign that you pay attention to his story.

Kalim also likes to gift you random objects he found at shop. He said they reminded him of you, so he reflexively bought them and wanted to give them to you. Because of his habit, Jamil often scolds him and constantly tries to remind him not to buy things spontaneously. But did Kalim stop? No.

Everyone knows Kalim likes to throw parties, but when it comes to you, Kalim hopes to always throw a party for you if Jamil doesn't forbid it. Did you get a good grade on Professor Crewel's pop quiz? It's time to party! Did you get coach Vargas' praise for doing a zigzag flight? It's party time! Are you sad because your favorite novel character died? A party will make you feel better!

Look, Jamil is grateful that you often accompany Kalim so that he can focus more with another work, but can you stop agreeing to all of Kalim's requests?! What do you mean you can't say no to him?! What do you mean his twinkling eyes look so mesmerizing that you forgot to say no?! Great Sevens, please give Jamil's more patience to face your and Kalim's stupidity.

Kalim is the epitome of the sun itself, he is always optimistic and cheerful. But that doesn't mean his life is always smooth, sometimes Kalim can also feel down. If that's the case, Kalim will usually sneak out of the dorm using his magic carpet and then go to your place to invite you to join him. Flying his magic carpet and spending time with you is Kalim's best way to relieve stress.

5. Vil Schoenheit

Initially, little Vil didn't want to be your friend because he thought you were ugly (you're not, it's just Vil's standards that's too high). But the little you have been fascinated by his ethereal beauty, so you constantly try to pester him. Being a child, you can only praise Vil's beauty with a limited vocabulary. Like how clear his eyes are, how pink his lips are, how beautiful his hairstyle is, how melodious his voice is, and other little things you like about Vil. No one has ever praised him like that, so little Vil accepted you as his friend on the condition that you have to constantly compliment him, honestly and sincerely.

And that's what you've been doing until now. But even as a grown up, you still prefer to compliment Vil's beauty with straightforward words because you think it sounds more sincere than long poetic words. Vil says it's a stupid thought, but deep down he'd rather you keep praising him like that because your simple compliments are always better to hear than empty flattery people give to him to curry his favor.

As a result of having Vil as your childhood friend, your beauty standards have been greatly affected. When other people compliment someone as handsome/pretty, you can only awkwardly nod your head, even though in your heart you are trying to find which part of that person is handsome/beautiful. They didn't even have a thousandth of the charisma that Vil had! How can people call him handsome/beautiful? Do they have a problem with their eyes? (No, it's just your standards that's been raised very high by Vil).

Every time Vil becomes a model for a brand, usually he will share the products he got with you. And if the film he's starring in is coming out soon, he will invite you to attend the film premiere together.

You are Vil's first and number one fan, while Vil is your personal stylist and makeup artist. Every outfit and makeup that you will wear must pass through Vil's strict selection. He won't force you to look perfect like him, but he will make sure you look outstanding in any style of fashion that you choose.

With other people, Vil has this Untouchable Queen aura who is difficult to approach. But with you, he's just Vil, an ordinary young man with extraordinary ambitions. When both of your schedules are free, you and Vil will meet in his room to do beauty treatments together while exchanging stories. Vil tells you about what's going on in the entertainment world, while you tell him about the stupidity that some NRC students did when Vil was away.

Vil has one big secret that he doesn't even tell you. And that secret is the fact that you are his emotional support that always cheers him up whenever he feels down. When he gets frustrated every time he gets a villain role, you always stand for the character he plays instead of the main character. When people started to leave him for Neige, you still chose him. When you have seen all the bad sides that he has always buried, you remain by his side. For Vil, you are the most beautiful thing the world has ever given him.

6. Idia Shroud

Apart from Ortho, you are the only person who can freely enter Idia's room as you please. But before entering, please don't forget to knock on his door in the rhythmical order that you two have agreed beforehand, so he knows that it's you outside and not the normies that he constantly tries to avoid.

Just like Leona's childhood friend, you're also entrusted by the teachers to bring him to class. Together with Ortho, the two of you will spend nearly half an hour persuading Idia to attend the class. Faced with your and Ortho's pitiful faces, what else can Idia do but to man up and do the shit? At least, that's what he said to himself. When he just come out of his room, his anxiety gets the better of him and he will immediately scurried back to his room. In the end, you managed to bring Idia to class, but it's not the person himself and rather his floating tablet.

It is common knowledge among students that Ignihyde has a private Wi-Fi network with excellent signal. So, whenever you have homework to do, or you simply want to play online games, you will come to Idia's room and borrow their dorm's Wi-Fi. In exchange for giving you Wi-Fi, Idia will 'borrow' your hand to do his game's gacha. Apparently, you have this 'golden hand' that every gamer would kill for. The card with the highest rarity will come home in just one pull or the first ten pulls every time you gacha.

The limited time event just started a few minutes ago, but thanks to your 'golden hand', you immediately get the SSR event character, whose spawn rate is less than 1%, in just one pull. He will immediately jump around while squealing like a child, and then subconsciously hug you while thanking you many times. After that, he immediately posted the gacha's result online and starts being salty to other players who have to hit the pity system just to get it.

You spend more time in Idia's room than your own. His room just has everything, okay? Cool air conditioning, smooth internet network, comfortable bed, and various kinds of snacks. Every time you visit Idia's room, you will usually fall asleep in his bed listening to the sound of keyboard typing that's created when he plays his games or programming stuff that you can't really understand. Of course, Idia initially is a bit unhappy with that habit of yours since he only has one bed. But when he sees you sleeping so soundly in his bed, Idia can only sigh and decided to sleep somewhere else, maybe in his chair or just straight up lay himself on the floor. He'll be kind just for this time, the next time you fall sleep in his bed, Idia swears he will really kick you out of the bed (he lied, he still lets you hog his bed while he himself sleeps on the floor).

You may not know, but Idia is the envy of every gamer in his online circles. He often shows off Ortho and you to other gamers, saying how lucky he was to have a younger brother who is very considerate and also a childhood friend who has a 'golden hand'. How many introverts can have the same thing as he does? ALMOST NO ONE, SUCKERS!

When Idia's anxiety becomes worse and he starts being pessimistic about all aspects of life, Ortho will immediately go to you and take you to his brother. You both will find him huddled under the blanket on his bed. He asked you and Ortho to just go and leave him alone. But you two know better than to leave. So, you and Ortho will sit on the edge of his bed and start trying to coax him out, telling him about all the good things this world has. It would take a while for him to calm down, but that was better than letting him sink deeper into dejection.

7. Malleus Draconia

Becoming a childhood friend of Malleus means accepting Lilia as your father figure. And accepting Lilia as your father figure means being prepared to be chased down by Lilia who wants to hear you call him father.

You are the first friend Malleus has ever had, so he tries very hard to maintain your friendship. Something caught your interest? Next time you meet Malleus, he'll give it to you as a present. Are you having trouble learning magic? Worry not, Malleus will help you master your magic. Are you amazed by his status as a prince? Hmm, maybe Malleus could ask his grandmother to adopt you? (His grandmother also likes you, but she can't adopt her potential grandchild-in-law just anyone)

You've once tried to stay away from him because some people say you don't deserve to be a friend of Malleus, the crown prince of the Briar Valley. As a result, Malleus's mood became so bad that it threw the palace into a turmoil. His mood finally returned to normal when the two of you were reunited again. After that incident, Malleus became quite protective of you. Someone spoke badly of you? Malleus will meet him personally to have a 'friendly' discussion. Someone wants to pick a fight with you? The next second, they all suddenly fell to the ground for no apparent reason.

You and Malleus are basically one package deal. NRC students will often see the two of you walking around the school hand in hand like two little children, you talk to him and he listens to you. Those who saw that sight dared to swear by the name of the Great Sevens, Malleus had this very rare gentle smile graced his handsome face when he's looking at you.

Malleus loves spending time with you, even if all you both do is just sit quietly under a tree listening to the sound of birds singing in the distance. When the soft breeze starts to blow, you start to get sleepy and unknowingly end up falling asleep leaning on Malleus. Seeing your peaceful sleep expression, Malleus couldn't help but gently trace your face using his finger. He just wanted to make sure that all of this was real and you're not an illusion his mind created.

Having a Malleus as your childhood friend makes you get free bodyguards. For the starters, Malleus himself is quite protective of you because of what happened in the early days of your friendship. And because Malleus is practically glued to you, his two retainers, Sebek and Silver, will also stick to you for the sake of guarding Malleus. Then, there's Lilia, who doesn't want to miss the fun, so he will always appear suddenly and join your group of four. It's kind of complicated, but at least now you have four free strong bodyguards.

Even though he looks young, Malleus has actually lived quite long. Therefore, he's quite mature despite having a seemingly teenager's body. There are only two things that can affect his mature mind, namely anything related to you and not being invited to an event, usually it's the letter one because he always makes sure nothing bad happens to you. When he starts to sulk because he wasn't invited to an event, Lilia will call you to cheer Malleus up. As soon as he saw you, Malleus was practically beaming with excitement. You don't need to bother coaxing him, just doing any activities together with him like walking in the park, eating ice cream, taking care of Roaring Drago, or trying new things is enough to make Malleus entirely forget his sadness from earlier.

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flemingsfreckles · 8 months ago

Text

Better Boyfriend than Him (18+) pt.3

Jessie Fleming x Reader

Preview: Part 1, Part 2 the more time you spend in Jessie’s bed the more you start to realize maybe it’s more than good sex

Warnings: Smut (18+), frat boy Jessie vibes, oral (r receiving), fingering (r receiving), strap on (r receiving), rough sex, dirty talk, praise kink, overstimulation, edging, cursing

WC: 4.9k

A/N: this is like a 50/50 smut/not smut split. For the sake of this series continuing it unfortunately couldn’t just be straight banging, so there’s a little plot.

“Please, Jessie, please.” You yelled into your pillow as Jessie was behind you thrusting roughly, her thighs slapping hard against the back of yours. She was putting so much force into you that you were gripping the bed sheets to prevent your body from moving. Your body was exhausted but you fought against her thrusts to keep your knees under you.

Letting her use the strap on you had been like opening the floodgates of sex between the two of you. You had both fallen asleep together in her bed after the first time she used it on you. When you woke up Jessie had moved to the living room where she was sitting watching tv. You had sat down next to her, it only took a few minutes for her hand to move onto your thigh and before you knew it, she was kneeling in front of the couch with her face buried between your legs making you cum for the third and fourth time that day. Instead of coming over to just hang out with her, you came over to hang out, but also you weren’t going to turn down mind blowing sex.

You felt bad for both of your neighbors over the past few weeks, you alternated between your place and hers but it was still an excessive amount of sex being had that your poor neighbors had to hear. The sex had somehow managed to get better, you’re not sure how but it had. You were beginning to try more things, but Jessie was still hesitant about being too fast or hard on you. She still need some encouragement here and there, sometime getting caught up in the fact that she cared about you more than her other hookups, unable to completely let herself go. She tended to be soft, making sure her actions were slow, gentle.

You could feel when she would hold herself back from being rough. She’d get caught up and move faster or harder, you’d let out a whimper or a cry out of surprise or pleasure and she’d immediately slow back down much to your dismay. Despite your encouragement, she kept it gentle. While it was nice and made you feel comfortable and safe at the beginning, but you were secretly dying for her to be rough with you.

That’s how you both ended up here. You had decided to tease her all day in hopes it would lead to some rougher behavior from her. Today was one of the busiest days you had, 3 classes in a row followed by a lab. You had worn your lowest cut shirt and the smallest bra you owned, making sure your chest was fully on display. You had picked out a red lacy thong that you had just bought yourself with the idea of Jessie taking it off in mind.

When you sat down next to her in your first class you watched her eyes attach to your chest, her mouth falling slightly open.

“Like what you see Fleming?” You gently shake your chest in her direction.

“Are you trying to make me fail?”

“No. If anything I’m helping you. If you’re good today and pay attention during class I’ll let you see what I’ve got under my skirt.” You lean over, letting your hot breath tickle her neck and ear “not to give away the secret but it’s lacy and red and I bought it with you in mind.”

Her face flushes but she grabs out her notebook and a pen. You watch as she actually takes notes in class for once, instead of just doodling and then asking you for help later when she doesn’t understand something.

You continue to tease her over the next few classes, you can tell she’s becoming more and more frustrated as the day goes on. She’s more frequently glancing at your chest, biting her lip, she even tries to place her hand on your thigh in your last class. Quickly pushing her hand away she sends a begging glance your way. You turn to her and mouth ‘later’ to her. She rolls her eyes and goes back to taking notes.

That’s how you ended face down, ass in the air with Jessie pounding herself into you. You finally had broken through and she was being rough with you.

She had thrown you around the second you walked into her apartment. She had nearly ripped your shirt pulling it over your head and stripped you of your bra while you were still against the wall in the hallway to her bedroom. She had ordered you to leave the thong on after she pushed you onto her bed. She had walked to her dresser, grabbed the strap and lube as she usually did and came back over to you. Her hands had spread your legs, and she dropped her face to start teasing you.

She had licked and touched you through the fabric of your underwear, making you feel some of the same teasing that you had put her through all day. She had grabbed the fabric between her teeth, pulling it back before letting it snap against your skin making you moan.

Instead of taking it off Jessie had pushed the fabric to the side, holding it with her thumb, and let her tongue start pleasing you. Each time she would feel your legs begin to shake and your grip on her head get tighter, she’d pull back much to your disappointment. She was edging you, teasing you as much as she could and it was ruining you. You whined after she pulled away for the second time.

“Oh my god, Jessie seriously?” You were getting frustrated with her the way she’d get you so close to the edge and pull away.

“This is what happens when you’re a fucking tease all day. Wearing that tight fucking shirt, putting your tits on display for everyone, telling me about this tiny little thing.” She snaps the elastic of your thong again. “You did this to yourself.”

You were so sensitive, squirming under her as she held you in place, after the third time she pulled away when she returned she added fingers into you with her tongue. It took only a couple thrusts before you closed your legs around her, cumming hard on her face and fingers. Jessie wasn’t done, not satisfied with her reward for being a good student today she continued.

Giving you no time to recover she pulled down your now soaking wet thong, leaving you completely bare. She had flipped you over and pulled your hips up and toward her own. She had never fucked you in this position before, you usually were facing each other in some way. Not wanting to actually hurt you she had still paused to put lube on despite how wet you already were, your arousal dripping down making your thighs and the bed wet. She had pushed into you at a quick but still sensible pace. The new position made your hole even tighter, you felt her stretching you out.

Jessie didn’t wait this time for you to say anything, she started thrusting immediately pulling the whole length out, leaving just the tip touching your entrance before slamming her hips back into yours. The first few thrusts were pleasure mixed with pain but something about the mixed feeling, torn between pushing her away and wanting to pull her even closer was exhilarating.

“You’re taking me so fucking well. Being such a good girl.” You hadn’t explicitly discussed it but Jessie had quickly realized you had a small praise kink. She had accidentally called you a good girl another time in bed and you had blushed at the phrase while letting out a dirty moan. It should’ve been obvious given that you were a people pleaser, a teacher's pet, it made sense that being told you were doing well was a turn on.

“So perfect for me, you're being such a good reward, letting me take you like this, letting me do whatever I want to you. So good.”

Jessie’s words were surprising, in the numerous times you had slept together in the past week, she had never been this vocal. Some moaning and a couple words here and there but it was simple stuff. Her telling you you’re doing good, that you feel good, taste good, but never to the extent of what she was telling you now.

With the previous edging and orgasm it’s only a couple minutes before you’re shaking under her,

“You want to cum again? Make a mess on my cock?”

“Mhmm” not able to get out words you moan in response. Her thrusts stop, her dick fully inside of you. She leans forward somehow making it feel like the strap on was even further inside of you. Her hand comes up to grab your hair and pull your head up and off the pillow. You’re now looking at the ceiling and can just barely see Jessie’s face

“Good girls use their words.” Those words falling from her mouth in a husky voice is nearly enough for you to cum without any further stimulation.

“Yes I want to cum.” You’re able to get out the words now that she’s not pounding into you.

“Ask the right way.” Her grip on your head tightens as she waits for you to beg for her.

You weren’t fully sure what she meant by the right way, but you knew she’d tell you if it was wrong.

“Please Jessie, please make me cum, I want to cum for you, can I?” You’re whining, hoping she doesn’t deny your plea. You didn’t have much experience with dirty talk, you had previously felt uncomfortable saying much of anything in the bedroom, but with Jessie it was comfortable and she made you want to beg.

“Good girl.” She says as she drops your hair moving her hands back to your hips. Her thrusting picks up right where it left off, she’s picking up speed, you're being thrown forward so hard you have to put your hands on the headboard to make sure you don’t hit it.

“Fuck, I’m going to cum Jess, please.”

“Go ahead.” She says so calmly, as if she was giving you permission to take the last piece of cake, not for you to unravel underneath her in a writhing mess. Unable to hold yourself up as you give in to your orgasm you collapse onto the bed, laying down flat, your face turned to the side, eyes screwed shut, you’re biting your lip so hard you’re sure there will be blood, groans coming through your teeth.

Jessie doesn’t stop when you collapse under her or when she feels your legs shaking. She lowers herself to stay inside of you. She keeps thrusting as you cum around her.

“Jess” a whine comes from your lips trying to let her know you were on your way to being oversensitive, the edging from before taking its toll.

“Give me one more.” She demands from behind you.

“I can’t.” You’re really not sure if you can or not, the feeling between your legs is so overwhelming you’re not sure how much longer you can take it.

“Yes you can and you will. Be a good girl. You wanted to cum, I’m letting you cum.”

Her praise has you wanting to listen to her, wanting to follow her command. She puts her body weight onto you, she’s warm and sweaty, the new angle gives you a slight relief as she’s hitting a new spot inside of you but it’s only a few seconds later that you feel another orgasm surface again.

Your moans get softer until you’re left with your mouth open, no noise coming out as you have your third orgasm that afternoon. This one was short, pleasure running through your body only for it to be immediately followed up by the pain of overstimulation. Tears start to fill your eyes, you whole body feels like it’s on fire, every nerve ending screaming at you. Instinctively you try to pull yourself away from Jessie as she continues to fuck into you but her weight is holding you to the bed, unable to move.

“Fuck Jessie. Stop, stop!” You're able to throw your hand behind your back finding her hips that had already stalled at your word to stop. “Fuck.”

Jessie is frozen behind you, she doesn’t move at all. The strap is halfway into you, it remains there as she stops moving.

“What do you want me to do? Pull out?” Her voice that was previously full of confidence and arrogance is now one of concern and comfort.

“No, don’t pull out yet, just give me a second.” You were done, you wanted her to pull out but knew the sensation of her sliding out would be uncomfortable in the moment.

“You don’t have to be frozen Jess.” You could feel how tense she was behind you. Trying to reassure her that she wasn’t going to break you if she moved. She readjusts slowly putting more of her weight off of you and onto her own legs, making sure not to move her hips and change how she was inside of you.

“Take it out please.” Feeling yourself relax enough, you tell her to pull out. Jessie follows your direction, gently moving her hips back from yours to pull out. You curse into the pillow as she does, the drag of the strap against your overly sensitive walls was uncomfortable.

“Did I hurt you?” You can't see, still face down in the pillow, but she sounds quiet and far away, you no longer can feel her touch against your skin.

“Not really? I don’t know?” You’re really not sure, you’ve never been so overstimulated, it wasn’t necessarily painful but it wasn’t a good feeling. It was on the tiny line between pain and immense pleasure. Using what strength you had left you use your arms to push yourself up and flip over. Jessie’s hands grab your calves and help move your legs, resting one on each side of where she was sat back on her feet. “It was just too much I think. But I’m not hurt, no.”

“I’m sorry.”

“No need to apologize, you didn't do anything wrong. Technically you did everything right, you did it so well, I couldn’t handle it.” You make a joke trying to lighten her mood. She grabs the strap on the harness and slides them off, picking up each leg to slide it off and tossing it to the floor.

“Can I lay down?” You know she’s referring to if she can lay down on top of you, a small action she had started doing after sex. She had done it out of exhaustion the first few times and once when she didn’t do it, you had made a comment about it. Now she does it everytime. There was something so safe about both of you laying, skin to skin, after letting her do unmentionable things to you just moments before.

“Please do.” You weren’t sure if this time it was more for you or her. It was usually you asking for her to lay but the way you could read the guilt on her face made you realize that maybe today, being able to lay on you would help her more than it would you.

She gently places her body on top of yours, her arms wrap about and under your back, her face falls into the crook of your neck. You face goes to the same place on her. You stay wrapped together, neither of you moving, just breathing and holding each other.

“I think I got a little carried away.” She says into your neck. Jessie presses herself up, putting her face above yours. “I’m sorry. I just, with the teasing all day, not that it’s your fault. I just got so pent up, I should’ve checked in before we started. To see if it was okay to be like that.”

“Hey it’s okay, I would've told you to do exactly what you did, the whole reason I teased you was because I wanted to rile you up, to get you to be rough with me.”

“You want me to be rough?” She gives you a questioning glance.

“Yes, I’ve been trying to get you to be for a couple days now.” You let your hand gently drag up and down her back reassuring her with physical touch.

“Oh. Sorry I was too rough.” You can tell by her face she still feels guilty.

“Please don’t feel bad about what just happened. I really enjoyed it Jessie, it just became too much. But I really liked how you were talking to me.” Your hands come up to cover your face as you admit to her you liked her dirty talk.

“Oh yeah?” Her cockiness comes back for a moment. She moves your hands away from your face and plants a kiss on your lips. It’s a quick kiss, nothing sexual about it. She had been doing that more often. Giving you kisses when you’d walk by, giving you a kiss when you’d show up at her door, a kiss when you get ready to go back home.

“Do you need anything? Water? Food? Do you need pain meds?”

“Maybe just a shower.” Normally Jessie took the time to clean you up after you had sex, she’d bring a towel or washcloth with warm water and gently clean you up, but after today she had wanted to stay close to you, not wanting to even wander off as far as the bathroom for a couple minutes.

“Yeah of course.” Jessie moved off of your body, hopping off the bed and standing next to you. She held her hands out to you. Feeling the soreness already setting in you swung your legs over the side of the bed and hopped onto the floor. Jessie held your hands before moving a hand to your waist watching you wobble as you began to step toward the bathroom. She turned on the water for you and grabbed out a fresh towel.

“I’ll be in the living room if you need anything, just shout and I’ll come.” She turns to leave. Part of you wants to ask if she’ll join you. You decide against it. Jessie had yet to fully undress in front of you at any point during sex. She had made it routine to take off her shirt and pants but never further than that. You were okay with that, you didn’t mind being on the receiving end, but you also had a small urge to return the favor. You wanted to make her feel even half as good as she had been able to make you feel. You wanted to make her feel comfortable and safe enough with you to take them off if she wanted to.

You couldn’t help but think if she’d been intimate in that way with anyone else. You’re sure she had but the more you thought about it, you could only recall times she had talked about her doing things to girls, never anyone returning the favor. You shook that thought from your head, that was her choice, not for you to push.

Jumping from one thought to the next your brain brought up the question of what were you doing? What was the point with Jessie? Was it just experimenting? Was it just for fun? Was she just a good fuck? Friends with benefits maybe? The longer you stood under the water the longer you thought about her. The longer you thought about the brown hair, brown eyed girl waiting in the other room, the more you realized, you maybe didn’t want to just be friends with benefits. You quickly shut off the water, realizing you had been in the shower a significant amount of time and Jessie would probably come to check on you if you didn’t emerge shortly.

You stepped out, wrapping a towel around your chest. You moved to the other side of the bathroom, taking a second to look in the mirror. You pulled the towel open, to look at the full extent of Jessie’s work. You were littered with hickeys, some from days before, now a light yellow shade as they nearly faded. Others a deep blood red, from only a few minutes ago. She had put them everywhere, your stomach, your chest, your collarbone, shoulders, hip bones, there were a few on the inside of your thighs. There were a few tiny ones on your neck. All low down that they could be easily hidden with a hoodie, your only request to her. As you looked at each one you could remember the feeling of her lips and tongue, taking the time to make the mark on your skin.

“Admiring something?” Jessie’s voice startles you, causing you to jump.

“Just the marks you left.” You turn to her, holding your towel still open. Her eyes drag over your body slowly, stopping for a second at each mark.

“Some of my finest work.” She smirks at you. “Sorry I didn’t mean to scare you, you were just taking a while, wanted to make sure you were still standing.”

“Yeah sorry I just got lost in though. If your water bill is extreme this month I’ll cover it.” You wrap yourself back up in the towel.

“Do you want some other clothes? I can’t imagine that bra is in the slightest bit comfortable.” She’s already rummaging through her drawers for a shirt and sweatpants. She tosses both in your direction. “Underwear too? I think I have a clean pair of yours from a different time.” Her hands flip through a stack of clothes in a wash basket. The pair of underwear comes flying from her hand in your direction.

“Yeah it wasn’t super comfortable and neither was the thong but it was worth it.” You pull on the clothes she gave you. A pair of her UCLA sweatpants and a plain black shirt were a lot more comfortable than the outfit you had been wearing. After dressing you follow Jessie out to her living room. She had gotten out a textbook and notebook paper while you were in the shower.

“Wow, did I turn you into a good student or something?” You say sarcastically, Jessie usually didn’t pull out school work unless you encouraged her to. “If you had just told me all it took was a good bra and a tight shirt to get you to take your own notes I would’ve whipped out a tit a long time ago.”

She looks up at you, unamused by your joke. Moving into her kitchen you grab yourself a glass and fill it before moving back to where Jessie was sitting.

You both work side by side on your assignments, you notice you have to help Jessie less than normal, or maybe it’s just she’s trying harder than she normally does. You can tell when she starts to struggle with a question. Normally she’d turn to you for an explanation, instead today she’ll try it herself. She’ll use the textbook, she even opens the notes she had taken in class, and then if she still needs help she’ll poke you with her pen until you look at her. It’s a nice change, seeing her put forth more effort than normal toward school.

If anything it was you having a hard time getting your work done today. You couldn’t stop thinking about what it was you and Jessie were doing. The same question of was it just friends with benefits, crept up and over again.

“Can I ask you something?” You let the words come out before you have the chance to second guess it.

“Anything.” Jessie says not looking up from where she was writing on her paper. You both had always responded that way when asking each other if you could bring something up. It was what made you such good friends, the openness and communication with one another.

“What are we doing?”

“I’m doing calculus, I don’t know what you’re doing though, you have out your chemistry book but you’re doing physics homework.”

“No Jessie, I mean what are we doing? With the sex?” This draws her attention. She puts her pen down and looks at you.

“What do you mean?”

“Is it just meaningless sex to you?” You needed to know, was this just a hookup for her. You wanted to know if you’d be replaced as soon as she found someone else more suitable, someone who could handle her without stopping her.

“It’s definitely not meaningless.”

“Then what is it?”

“I don’t know, what do you think it is?” She deflects the question back at you.

“I don’t know Jessie, I thought it was just fun, originally I did. But recently, I don’t know. And it’s making me question things and it’s just a little overwhelming.”

“I know what you mean.”

Unsure of what to say you just sit, biting your lip as you think. “I’m not sure if I’m just confused, because we’re so close and we’ve been friends for a while, and now with the sex, I don’t know, I can’t tell what my feelings are, but they’re different then they were before.” You were pretty sure you were developing feelings for her. You had also never had feelings towards another girl so that added confusion on top of the confusion of her being your best friend. “I think about you a lot, more than I did before.”

“I do too, think about you a lot more than I used to. It’s confusing.”

“Would you want to try figuring that out? Like us together?” This was your poor attempt to ask her out on a date, to try exploring those feelings and seeing where they took you.

“Are you implying we date?”

“I don’t know, maybe?”

“I don’t really date, you of all people should know that based on my history.”

“Yeah well based on my history I don’t really have sex with women but apparently things can change.” You throw up your hands in frustration. Jessie doesn’t say anything. She just sits, her pen now back in her hand as she plays with it.

“You know what, forget I said anything.” Embarrassed now that she had essentially rejected your offer on a date you closed your textbook and started to back your stuff. You didn’t want to sit here with her after being rejected.

“No wait.” Jessie puts her hand on top of the textbook stopping you from putting it into your backpack. “I just don’t really know how to.”

“How to what?”

“How to do the whole dating thing. I haven’t actually dated anyone in years, and the last time I did it ended so badly, I just decided to ignore feelings and decided to just stick with sleeping around since, no feelings, no commitments, just the fun, and I’ve been doing that for so long, I don’t know how to do dating. I don’t think I’d do it right.”

“There’s no right way to do it. It’s however we’d want to.” You couldn’t believe you were having this conversation, that there was a small possibility that this could work. “That’s the thing about dating, it’s a trial and error process, that’s why people don’t just jump straight to marriage, dating is for learning. Think of it this way, nothing would really change with us, we already hang out everyday, we know everything about each other, we know the sexual chemistry is there, it would just be adding in the couple-y things.”

“Okay, trial and error, I can do that with you. I’m just nervous I’ll end up losing you. If something were to happen.”

“Is that a yes, you want to try this?” You gesture between the two of you.

“Yes.” Jessie nods, a small smile across her face.

“Okay. I should get going then.” You pick up the textbook you were in the process of packing up, actually throwing it into your backpack this time before sliding the bag onto your shoulders.

“What? Why?” She jumps up from her position on the floor, concerned why you’d be leaving after you just agreed to date.

“I have a hot date to pick up tonight, I have to get ready.” You wink at her and see the realization cross her mind that she meant you. “Be ready by 6.” You check your watch quickly, making sure that gives both of you enough time to get ready. She follows you to the door and you turn to face her to say goodbye. She leans in to steal a kiss but you move your head and place your hands on her shoulders stopping her from coming closer.

“I don’t kiss before the first date. Try again tonight.” You send her a smirk and she rolls her eyes at you. You step out and close the door to her apartment behind you. Reality starts to set in, you just asked her out, and she said yes. Butterflies build up in your stomach, you were taking her out on a date, your best friend.

#jessie fleming #jessie fleming imagine #jflem #jessie fleming x reader #woso imagine #woso x reader #canwnt x reader

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