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sttoru · 1 year ago

Note

just saw ur fic ideas post .......... how bout semi public stuff with gojo @ some high end jujutsu event and he just is SOOOO enamoured with how you look and takes you to the bathroom and ..... 😙

GOT A FETISH FOR YOUR LOVE !

ෆ note. sobs dies ressurects… im so weak… i had to write a full on fic… everyone thank T for this cuz i went crazy on this one and it’s super detailed for no reason. this post contains smut, proceed at own risk !

ෆ tags. (perv)dom!satoru x female reader. semi public, p in v — unprotected, bits of manhandling, corruption kink, breast play, premature ejaculation, cervix fucking, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, teasing, cum play, creampies, spanking, pussy slapping, mentions of masturbation, perv panty stealer satoru, implied cunnilingus, fucked against a wall, lots of dirty talk, satoru calls you ‘slutty’ once, satoru with the famous ‘just the tip’ beg, satoru sometimes turns whiny and subby so you get the best of both worlds (hes pathetic), he has a big dick ehem, pussy drunk satoru.

satoru couldn’t believe his eyes when he saw you climb up the stairs near the torii gates of the high school he teaches at; your appearance only increasing in beauty due to the candle lights placed all around the environment.

your face and body were glistening under the moon light as you made your way up. you were silently cursing yourself for wearing heels while knowing that jujutsu tech was situated on top of a literal mountain.

unbeknownst to you, your boyfriend had been waiting your arrival near the entrance since the first guests started pouring in.

with a sigh, you finally lift your head up as you notice the entrance to the main building come into view. there were lots of known sorcerers gathered around, chitchatting about recent business and changes in the jujutsu society.

you were too enamoured by the elegant decorations that hung around the school and the people who were dressed accordingly to the theme to even notice the white-haired man walking up to you.

which was unusual, since satoru’s tall physique could be easily spotted in any crowd.

“baby, you should’ve told me you had arrived!” satoru exclaims almost embarrassingly loud, waving at you without a care in the world of all the other guests that were giving him stares. his gaze was only on you, “i would’ve come picked you up.”

you wave back at him, eyes lingering on the tailored dark blue suit he was wearing, the waistcoat and dress shirt underneath being undeniably attractive. a bonus being that he was wearing his glasses and not his blindfold.

“it’s okay, love.” you reassure satoru as you walk a few steps towards him as well.

“ya sure? you didn’t hurt yourself or anything, right?” satoru pouts, immediately wrapping his arms around your waist and hugging you tight, “my poor, poor girl.”

you roll your eyes at satoru’s antics. his one and only desire in life is to give you the princess treatment you deserve and it shows at moments like these.

“it’s fine,” you murmur, voice muffled as you bury your face into the crook of his neck; getting drowned in his familiar scent, “you look handsome by the way.”

satoru chuckles, feeling a bit giddy on the inside from your compliment. he almost responded with a ‘i know i do’, yet he held himself back. today was an exception and he decided to save you from any more cheeky remarks.

“thank you, pretty.” satoru hums, “you look ethereal.”

you could feel the way your boyfriend hugged you even tighter after his comment, pressing your body against his. you normally wouldn’t mind it in the slightest, however you could notice a few people glancing over at you two.

satoru couldn’t give a single damn about it; the only thing his senses were hyper focused on were your breasts that were squished against his chest—the curves of your body being easily accessible to the sorcerer.

“god..” his breath was shaky a little. satoru was really trying hard to repress his urges, the event hadn’t even started yet and even so, he was way too lost in his perverted thoughts.

he couldn’t help himself. you were just too addictive; your perfume, your warmth, your body, your face, your glossy lips… your breasts, your ass—

satoru clears his throat and pulls back after a bit, “shall we, m’lady?”

he bowed a little to you, putting his hand out for you to hold on while a subtle smirk played on his lips.

with a giggle, you grab onto his hand and satoru wastes no time interlocking your fingers as he guides you to the entrance of the main hall.

the building was scattered with even more sorcerers from all kinds of clans; some admiring the scenery, some sitting and eating various delicacies.

like before, you were too caught up in the scale of the event to realise that satoru was ogling you. it was a great thing that his pitch black lenses were blocking most of his eyes from the outside;

his gaze lingered on your side profile, your lips that were slightly parted in amazement, your hips which swayed from side to side with each step and your ass which he tried not to grope in public.

satoru hadn’t even noticed that he started to ball his hands into fists out of pure self control. his hand that was holding onto yours tightening its grip as well.

“something wrong?” you ask your boyfriend once you noticed, tilting your head to look up at him.

“nothin’, baby.” satoru lies and flashes you a reassuring smile, “c’mon. let’s enjoy some food.”

without waiting on your answer, satoru guides you towards a free cocktail table and stands near it, serving you an appetiser that was set on the table cloth.

you gladly accepted it and took a small bite, looking around the place some more and taking in the details, “it’s really pretty. the decor and stuff.”

satoru hums in agreement even though he hadn’t taken a single proper look at the environment when you were the main event in his eyes, “yeah. i think so too.”

everything about you somehow drove him crazy today. on most normal days, he could wait until you were at home to show you how much he adores you. that was not the case at the moment since he was fighting with his own self on the inside.

he was absolutely whipped for your elegant look.

“very pretty.” satoru mumbles under his breath. he most definitely wasn’t talking about the interior or exterior of the place.

it was getting harder by the minute to not give in to his primal needs. the more you talked to him, flashed him your innocent smile and let him hear your voice, the more he was struggling to keep his (now hard) dick in his pants.

you continued rambling about something that you noticed around you and satoru took the chance to place his hand on your hip, pulling you closer. it wasn’t anything unusual, thus you kept on talking.

it started off by him rubbing the area around your hips to his fingers subtly sliding downwards, eventually reaching the hem of your dress. his index finger dipped under the fabric, caressing your upper thigh. that small skin to skin action made satoru’s breath hitch and his cock twitch in its restraints.

“fuck.”

“what was that?” you abruptly stop yourself as you heard your lover curse under his breath. you weren’t aware of all the lewd thoughts going on in satoru’s mind and that made it even better. your innocent confusion wasn’t going to last long, however.

satoru lowered his head a bit until his lips were right next to your ear. the warmth of his breath made you shiver.

“i said,” he starts off in a low tone; one which he knows would make you weak for him, “i want you.”

it was as if time froze for you for a split second. you knew what satoru meant with that. you could’ve easily guessed the hidden meaning behind those three words just by his tone. the light but daring touches on your legs were your second hint.

“love, we’re in public.” you whisper back. satoru has a reputation to uphold as the strongest sorcerer in this entire building, yet there he was; implying that he wanted to take you right there and now.

a sigh left satoru’s lips, the air hitting your ear once again, “please, baby? for me?”

satoru was running out of patience. he could act out in the midst of the hall and disregard his image for all he cares. he just needed you. badly.

“promise i’ll be quick, yeah?” he adds, tone pleading but also a tad dominant.

you gulp and wanted to give in. you stood no chance to your whiny boyfriend, who always knew the right buttons to push to get you to comply to his requests.

satoru saw the hesitation in your eyes and he decided to plead more, “just the tip. i promise, sweets—tha’s all i need.”

a intrusive mental image of satoru fucking your brains out made him grip your thigh a bit harder; his voice suddenly growing deep and dominant, his expression filled with only lust.

“shit—please. have to feel your sweet pussy wrapped around me or i’ll lose it.”

his words were growing explicit and it was only a matter of time before he actually touches you improperly in front of everyone. you could tell by the way his long fingers inched closer to your clothed cunt.

“..fine. just the tip, like you said.” you breathe out shakily out of pure desire. though, both of you knew that it was going to be more than ‘just the tip’.

satoru grinned and immediately put down the appetiser he was holding onto, grabbing your hand and almost rushing out of the hall.

there were a few sorcerers trying to greet him on the way, yet he didn’t even glance at them once. his eyes were dazed with hunger as he swiftly made his way through the crowd—his thoughts being filled with the ways he’ll have you moan and beg.

satoru opens up the door to the nearest bathroom, pushing you against the wall the moment the door closed behind you.

his glossy lips crash against yours, the lipstick you’re wearing smearing on your lover due to the aggressive and almost sloppy way he kissed you. his tongue prodded against your lips before entering your mouth—strings of saliva and heavy breaths being exchanged between you two for what felt like minutes.

“ah, fuck. i wanted this so bad,” satoru moans against your mouth, sucking on your bottom lip, “..since the moment i saw you in that dress.”

his big hands were all over your body; groping and grabbing onto your flesh, from your ass and thighs to your tits.

“mhhh— ‘toru, god,” you sigh, feeling yourself get wet from just his confessions, “you can have me, all of me.”

your lover grunts at your words. they were exactly what he needed to hear. he roughly pulls the hem of your dress up, revealing your white panties. his all time favourite. a small, lustful grin instantly appears on his face. he always thought that you looked extra innocent in those; and that by ripping those off, that he’ll corrupt that ‘pure’ image.

and don’t let him start on how many times he’s used that specific pair of panties to jerk off. he vividly remembers how his sticky cum covered the cloth afterwards.

“haah—fuckfuckfuck,” satoru curses repeatedly as his fingertips tremble out of pure desire, “can’t wait any longer. you’re gonna walk around the avenue with no panties later on, ‘kay?”

“sato-” your eyes widened and before you could even protest, you hear the fabric of your underwear tearing. the ripped off cloth falling down onto the cold floor.

“there we go,” he mutters in delight, his eyes gazed at your exposed pussy. his fingers rubbed over the skin, grazing the wet folds. a deep, breathy chuckle echoes throughout the bathroom, “this pussy’s just ready to be filled, don’tcha think?”

you nod feverishly and nibble on your lower lip at the way satoru was teasing your clit. his hand slowly cupped your slippery cunt, his palm covering the area entirely before slapping the velvety flesh. three small smacks, each making your limbs tremble.

“ya hear that?” satoru hums, completely overtaken by his desire for you as the squelchy sounds ring in his ears, “so ready to be stretched out and fucked.”

“hnnnh, ah, baby—please just, just fuck me.” you whimper; feeling the pressure of his hand’s thenar against your clit while his fingertips traveled across your vulva.

“oh, i definitely will.” satoru responds with a grunt as he undoes his belt and zipper with his free hand. his trousers and underwear fall down to his ankles, revealing his cock to you.

your mouth watered at the sight as it slightly slapped against his lower abdomen due to the speed at which satoru took his boxers off. the moist drops of thick pre-cum coating his pink tip, the slight curve of his big shaft and the veins covering it—you needed to have him in you.

when satoru thinks that he prepped you enough to take his cock, he removes his hand from between your legs. of course, he isn’t going to waste a chance of tasting your slick that gathered on his skin.

“turn around,” he orders after licking off his fingers and you do as said, “ass back towards me, pretty.”

one of satoru’s hands was on one side of your hips to hold you steady against the cold tiles of the bathroom wall, the other occupied with stroking his cock. satoru was already contemplating on where to cum; in or on you. he’s obsessed with spurting his sticky cum on your plump ass, however he also loved stuffing you full of it.

“deep breaths,” your boyfriend reminds you as he prods the swollen tip of his cock at your entrance—despite the prep, it was always almost impossible to avoid a slight discomforting sensation in the beginning. that man’s length was no joke.

“ahhhh, fuuuck! satoru!” you hiss and your fingernails try to dig into the wall you were pressed against. you felt your folds being forced apart to fit his cock inside of your small cunt.

“shiiit.. you’re fuckin’ tight.” satoru grits his teeth. no matter how many times he breaks your pussy in, you still feel as tight as ever, “..mmh—relax, princess.”

satoru pushed in, inch by inch, until he bottomed out and you both took a deep breath. a sloppy kiss was placed against the back of your neck as reward for taking him in. it was his habit of doing so every time the two of you get intimate.

“‘m gonna start moving. that alright?”

a simple nod coming from you was plenty to let satoru begin with slow, soft thrusts which soon enough turned into deep and firm thrusts—the pounding sounds echoing in the bathroom, “there we go—ahh, yeah— fuck!”

“mhhhg, s’good! ngh!” you slur your words a bit as satoru started to speed up the tempo, feeling his heavy balls slap against the skin near your clit every time he drove his thick cock into you, “mmph! more, wan’ more!”

neither you nor satoru could care anymore if your desperate mewls or the harsh skin-to-skin sounds were heard outside of the dimly lit bathroom.

satoru was slowly losing his mind as he gazed down at your ass and the way you moved your hips back to meet his rough thrusts—he never got enough of you in that position. his hands held onto your hips before moving to your lower back to deepen your arch a little. his eyes were in a trance; he needed to see more of that chubby ass and the recoil of it.

“i swear—you’re gonna make me,haah, cum already,” satoru moans as he tried to find a way to distract himself from the pleasure building up to a breaking point. he decides to gently bite onto your shoulder, running his tongue over the slight mark he left and then continues to suck on the flesh.

“hmmmh, haah, yes! need- need your cum in me, please- please, ‘toru!” you beg in such an erotic tone that satoru can’t help but bite down harder on your shoulder.

“princess—y-you can’t say that-” he swallows a lump in his throat as he forces his cock so deep that you felt it hit your cervix repeatedly, “please- don’t say that.. don’t, oh god—“

satoru was the one begging this time; his voice sounding more whiny than it had ever been during your little session. he can’t help it when it comes to you. he had desired to fuck you since he saw you and now that he was finally doing it, his senses were utterly overwhelmed.

“nonono,” you hear your boyfriend curse as the strokes inside your tight cunt turned harsh and quick, like he was on the verge of his climax, which he didn’t want. he didn’t want to cum in under two minutes, but he’s just so weak when it comes to you. so damn weak.

“ahhh, fuck— s-sorry, baby— can i cum? can i cum in you? please?” he bites his lips, shutting his eyes so tight that he could see colors.

“please, please, let me. mnghhh, please let me cum in you. wanna fill you up.” satoru repeats his words like a chant in your ear. you were as lost in the feeling of ecstasy as your lover was and just nodded at his whiny pleas.

“mhmm, yes, do it—cum in me!”

your permission was all satoru needed and not a second later, you felt ropes and ropes of hot cum flood your cunt and some drops gush out of your pulsating hole.

satoru was quivering slightly as he kept moving his hips in slow pumps, fucking the cum deeper into you. you were full of surprises; he didn’t know he could cum in under two minutes until right that instant. you really had him wrapped around your finger.

and the best thing? he was already starting to get hard once again.

satoru slowly pulled his dick out of you and only let the tip stay a few centimetres in you. one hand went to grab onto the base of his length and he started to tap and move the tip in tiny circular motions in your cum-filled pussy—making sure every single drop is dumped where it belonged.

“fucking greedy, ain’t ya?” satoru hisses as he feels you clench onto his tip like you were doing to his cock earlier, “your pussy just wants to milk me dry.”

you whine and push your hips back a little in attempt to push his cock further into your needy cunt again, “wan’ more.. please, ‘toru?”

gojo satoru was a weakling.

he slammed his cock fully inside of you again and didn’t care if you expected it or not; he was fucking you like there was no tomorrow. his hands were kneading the flesh of your ass, spanking it every now and then to feel you tighten up more around him while his hips were working full time.

“yeah? gonna take another load in your slutty cunt again?” satoru groans as he feels your pussy gripping onto his throbbing cock like it was pleading to be stuffed, “haaah—you’re incredible, nhh, never had anyone make me cum this quick and hard before.”

your body squirmed and shivered each time you felt satoru spank you, ending up in a repeated cycle of you tightening up around him and him smacking the fat of your ass, “yes, yes, yes! want it, please!”

it was incredibly difficult to hold back your own orgasm when satoru was whispering filthy things in your ear, pounding into your creamy pussy while also stimulating your clit.

satoru instantly caught onto the fact that you were nearing your climax. you always started to get more noisy whenever you were close, “aah, mhm—cum on my cock while i dump another load inside of you. c’mon, you can do it.”

satoru’s words made your stomach fill with butterflies, the coil inside of you threatening to finally snap.

“‘m gonna.. gonna cum! gonna cum!” you cry out between ragged breaths, eyes rolling into the back of your head once you reached your long-awaited climax.

the sight of you arching your back even more while you came was the hottest thing satoru’s seen. he rushed his thrusts, becoming more precise to hit your cervix over and over again.

“mhm, jus’ like that—tighten up more.” your lover hisses and his nails dug into the flesh of your hips while he felt your pussy throbbing from overstimulation, “milk me dry, pretty—fuck!”

your mind was foggy with that euphoric feeling after reaching your orgasm. but also due to satoru continuing to bully his thick cock all the way in you, seemingly needing to drain his balls inside your cunt.

“mhhhhnn, ‘m gonna fill ya up again,” he whimpers a bit into your ear from behind while sweat drips from his forehead, “take it all like a good girl, yeah? don’t—haah— waste a drop.”

and with that he spurts and squirts strings of cum into your womb once more. it felt like there was no ending to it as his semen just continued to pump out of the tip.

“fuckkk! got more for you,” satoru almost sobs out, his tongue peeking out from behind his lips as his muscles tense up. he came so much into you that even more of the liquid drizzled down on the floor beneath you, “take it—yeah—jus’ like that.”

a few more deep and chaste strokes and satoru was done. he exhaustedly rests his chin on your shoulder, white locks clinging onto his forehead and his cheeks colouring a reddish hue.

“haahh.. that was amazing.” satoru sighs deeply, trying to catch his breath while wrapping his arms around your waist. he buried his face into your neck, leaving small pecks there while mumbling about how good you were for him.

your eyes were closed as you rest against the wall, enjoying the affection from your lover while you feel his dick go limp inside you. satoru slowly pulls out afterwards, biting his lip as his gaze lingered on all the fluids leaking down your trembling thighs.

“hold on,” satoru murmurs gently, “gonna clean you up, princess.”

his own legs were shaking slightly as he quickly put his boxers and pants back on. your boyfriend grabs a few tissues from a nearby dispenser, kneeling behind you afterwards.

your eyes followed his fingers as they held onto the wipes and started to clean you up slowly. the comfortable silence—excluding the muffled sounds of chatter and music from outside the bathroom—was perfect for you to catch your breath.

satoru was diligently sliding the tissues over your skin, making sure to not be too rough.

as much as he tried telling himself not to get turned on again from the sight of your ass and sopping cunt in front of his face, he just couldn’t.

your lover was breathing heavily and stopped cleaning you up for a second. he really tried his best to stop himself over and over, though the title of being the strongest didn’t apply to his self control.

his large hands came up to hold onto your ass, spreading the cheeks apart which made your lips part in shock. you looked over your shoulder at him and sensed the resurfacing lust in the air. not only that: his warm breath hit your sensitive pussy as he panted in a hungry way.

satoru lifted his head up to meet your eyes, flashing you a (not so) apologetic grin;

“sorry, pretty. i need to get my dessert.”

#sttoru writes.#jjk smut #gojo smut #jjk x reader #satoru smut #gojo satoru x reader #jjk x you #gojo satoru smut #gojo fic #banner by cafekitsune

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mncxbe · 7 months ago

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Sfw 8 + NSFW 12 + 17 with Denji

My babygirl deserves some love <3

the way i ate this up😳 the brainrot is brainrotting. collegeAU with Denji cuz I like to believe he'd be as much of a loser then♡ gaah i love him so much. also y/n is rich rich👀 for extra silly and damn this turned out way longer than i anticipated.

8– accidentally walking in on them while they're changing

12– catching them stealing your panties

17– they worship your body

ღೀ๋࣭ ⭑𝒄𝒘: alcohol cunsumption (reader is tipsy), cunnilingus, Denji being a perv, implied virginity loss, subby Denji

For your 19th birthday you decided to host the greatest party of the year and everyone in your grade was invited.

The penthouse your parents allowed you to live in during college was nicely decorated– black and white balloons and drizzle, flashy lights and speakers that started blaring loud music as soon as the sun set. Everyone was having a blast, downing glasses of neon colored punch and cheap beer, dancing and chatting in groups. Well, everyone except you. You were painfully bored.

When you threw the party of the year you didn't expect everyone to forget the purpose of the whole fucking event– celebrating your birthday.

You've been sitting all by yourself on the couch for the past half hour, sipping on a plastic cup of cocktail. Your gaze mused on the livingroom of your apartment, trying to find someone interesting to talk to. The only people who approached you were some guys from Arts who tried to chat you up, but they rambled on about some uninteresting exhibitions and you soon got bored and shunned them.

As you got up to refill your glass, you noticed someone slipping inside your bedroom. The fuck.. you thought, pushing past drunk people on your way towards your room. You swung the door open and saw a blond guy about your age standing in front of your dresser. When he heard you barge in he immediately slammed the drawer shut, his head snapping in your direction.

It was Denji. Just Denji.

Though you briefly interacted with the Denji, you knew him from highschool. He was the guy who used to let other students use him as a chair during breaks for some spare change. You remembered working on some group projects with him back then but you seldom saw him around campus now. He mostly kept to himself, so you were surprised too see him at your party in the first place— not to mention you certainly didn't expect to catch him going through your lingerie drawer. Still, maybe this wasn't such a bad thing...

"Well, well what do we have here?" you chuckled, leaning against the doorframe with your arms crossed.

"Y/N hi" he said nervously, tugging at the collar of his shirt "I was just um... looking for a place to change. Someone spilled some punch on my clothes"

You noticed the stain on his shirt and smiled, closing the door behind you. "And you thought you'd find a clean tshirt somewhere next to my panties?"

A blush crept on his face as he looked down at his shoes. "No, I mean I was just looking..." he fumbled "It's not like I was snooping around on purpose, i'm not that kind of guy" His voice was weak, half hearted as he looked around the room. At anything but you.

Swaying your hips, you closed the distance between you "So you're not some perv who's trying to steal my panties?" you asked and he shook his head. "N-no I'd never–"

"The show me your pockets"

Denji's face grew livid when he heard your command and you knew you had him. He was caught red handed and there wasn't much he could do about it. If he admitted maybe you'd at least allow him to stay at the party for a bit longer The boy couldn't bear to look you in the eyes as he reached a hand to the back pocket of his jeans and procured a pair of your lacy panties.

"Here, take them, but just know it's not what you think." It was cute that he still tried to find excuses for his actions and you blamed the alcohol for the heat pooling in your lower abdomen. Taking a seat on the edge of the bed, you gazed up at him with droopy eyes.

All the while, Denji was getting more and more nervous. His palms were sweaty, heart hammering in his chest as he peered at you. God, you were so damn beautiful– Though he didn't admit it, Denji had a crush on you from the first moment he saw you. You were the pretties girl in school, which meant you were way out of his league. A goddess like you would never spare a moment of her time on someone like him, right? Well, his conviction was starting to crumble now that he saw the way you eyed him down with that taunting glint in your eyes.

"Ya know, Denji, I don't recall you giving me a gift or wishing me happy birthday. It's awfully rude of you." you slurred, tapping the floor with the tip of your heels.

His sorry excuses were half drowned by the blaring music in the other room. Your head was starting to get foggy from the alcohol, limbs growing heavier, as if an invisible weight was pulling you down against mattress. "Jee... quit the whining" you giggled, waving a dismissive hand in his direction "I'm not mad at you. However, I do think you need to make up for it."

"Y/N, I told you I'm in a tight spot with money this month, but I'll buy you something nice once I get my paycheck."

"I'm not talking about that" you deadpanned, a sly smile tugging at the corners of your lips. Your gaze drifted down towards his belt and then back up to his face, taking in his frame. You couldn't deny he wasn't bad looking. Out of all the guys at the party, he seemed the best option for a casual hookup– not to mention he was already interested in you, so why not give it a try? With a motion of your finger, you beckoned him closer, pointing at the floor "Get on your knees."

Denji swallowed the lump in his throat and gathered the courage to step away from your dresser. With hesitant steps he covered the distance between the two of you and kneeled before you, his hands folded in his lap. His fists clenched and unclenched as he anxiously waited for your instructions.

To be frank, you never expected him to obey so you were quite taken aback by his attitude.

"You still let people order you around, Denji? How cute" you cooed, hooking your right leg over his shoulder and pulling him closer to the edge of the bed.

The blond tried his best not to peek under your skirt, his face turning red from embarrassment. He's never been so close to a girl before, let alone someone as beautiful as you and he was nervous. As if reading his mind you let out a low chuckle, hiking up your skirt.

"Come on, Denji, take off my panties. If you make me feel good I'll let you keep them."

By this point Denji was too far gone. Your silken voice put him under a spell and he eagerly pulled down your lingerie. A small moan slipped past his lips when he saw the string of arousal connecting your pussy to the silky fabric, his features melting into a pleading expression. He looked so needy, gazing at your bare cunt with those puppy eyes, his hands shaking lightly as he fully removed your panties and let them fall in his lap.

"There you go, Denji. Get a good look of it." you encouraged, running your fingers through his tangled hair to ease him into the new situation. You could tell it was his first time seeing a woman naked and didn't want to scare him off. So you took things slowly, waiting for him to get comfortable. Little did you know there was no need for that.

Denji was basically drooling over your pussy. He rested his head against your thigh, leaning into your touch as he spread your puffy folds with his thumb. His breath stuck in his throat when he noticed just how wet you were and it was all because of him. With shaky fingers, he collected the slick from your hole and spread it nicely along your clit, making you flinch.

"There?" he asked in a barely audible voice but you heard him nevertheless. "Y-yea, right there."

He slowly drew circles on your bud, making you writhe on the mattress and you spread your legs wider, shamelessly grinding on his hand. Sloppy movements over your clit had increased in intensity and you could feel the knot in your abdomen tighten with each swipe of his digits.

"Go on, baby, give it a taste" you said in a hushed voice and he immediately obliged. Hooking your other leg over his shoulder, Denji's hands gently massaged your thighs. He kissed his way up to your core, wet lips tracing the inside of your thighs, teeth nipping at your skin but not enough to leave marks.

He licked a stripe of your cunt from your hole to your clit, relishing the taste of your arousal. You were basically melting on his tongue and he was adamant to please you. As the grip on your thighs tightened, Denji collected some spit in his mouth and let the blob slide down your slit. He started eating you out slow, savouring the heat on his tongue but he soon increased the pace. It was clear that he had little idea of what he was doing– he was sloppy, messy, a mixture of slick and spit coating his chin as he lapped at your juices and you swore you got ten times wetter just by hearing him moan into your cunt.

His tongue flicked your clit so eagerly, lips wrapping around your bud, giving it an experimental suck. Your hips jolted up in pleasure but Denji quickly pulled you back on his face.

"Is it good?" he mumbled, pussy drunk eyes briefly meeting your as you nodded.

"Y-yea. You're so good Denji, gonna make me cum soon."

He mewled at your praise, his ministrations growing in intensity as heat pooled in your core. You were so close, choked moans spilling from your lips as your vision blurred. Denji made you feel so good you were starting to regret not paying more attention to him all those years back. He ate you out like it was his lifeline, hugging your thighs closer to his face to keep you from squirming too much. When you came you came hard, nails grazing his scalp as you pulled him closer to your cunt, grinding down on his face to ride out your high.

"Denji fuck—" you whined, arching your back off the mattress and he gently massaged the fat of your thighs and hips, his hands seeking your body you.

"I got you, just cum for me ok? Please feel good" he said softly, kissing your pussy and the inner side of your thighs before working his way up to your belly. He didn't dare go past the line of your dress, though all he wanted was to keep touching and kissing, to soak you up in all the love and affection he harbored for you during all these years.

When you looked down at him with those droopy, drunk-dazed eyes his heart sank, a soft smile etching onto his features.

"Are you okay?" he asked in a small voice as you pushed yourself up to sitting and held his face in your hands, leaning towards him. Denji's eyes rolled back into his skull as you kissed him, his lashes fluttering shut. You could taste yourself on his tongue along with the sweet punch he drank earlier that night. The kiss was heated and you pulled him on top of you, tugging at the wristband on his jeans.

"H-hey wait a minute I've never done this before" he tensed up but you shushed him with another needy kiss.

"Shit, I don't care if you're a virgin Denji I just need you so bad right now. Please" you huffed out and he felt his dick getting impossibly harder. He could almost cum in his pants at the sight of your pleading expression.

"Okay..." he whispered, hesitantly unbuckling his belt and you could tell he was nervous again. With sloppy movements he managed to allign himself to your entrance, shuffling around to make sure everything was alright, but just as he was about to push himself inside he perked up, patting your thigh. "Oh, Y/N I almost forgot."

"What?" you whined, grinding your needy pussy on his length. Why can't he just fuck you already?

The blond looked down at you with a lovesick smile, his eyes sparkling with adoration "I think I still haven't wished you happy birthday"

#this turned out way longer than i expected #i believe in denji eating reader out supremacy i'm telling you this man gives good head #𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐝ღೀ๋࣭ ⭑#chainsaw man #chainsaw man smut #csm x reader #csm denji #chainsaw man denji #denji #denji x reader #denji smut

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sweetimpurity · 1 month ago

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💓 day 25!! we're reaching the end! almost spooky day! cw: violence and blood, the boys are fighting over you wc: 2.4k

question: what's better than having two boyfriends? answer: both of them being Miguel O'hara enjoy!

please read parts one, two and three or else this part will not make sense hehe

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

Earth 546

A smash of glass sounds from the living room brings your attention from his lips to the door. A small smack of your lips disconnecting from his and you look to see what that just was. But Mig brings you right back, holding your face in his hands and forcing your lips back onto his. Forcing your lips apart with his tongue as if he’s desperate. He’s just desperate for these last few moments with you. In this fantasy he always dreamt of. Before reality walks through the kitchen door.

“Y/n…” You hear Miguel’s voice. But how can you when his tongue is in your mouth. Gasping against his lips and your eyes flutter open. Catching view over Mig’s shoulder of Miguel standing in the kitchen doorway. And instantly you’re surprised, hands pressing to Mig’s chest and pulling from his grasp, not understanding what you’re seeing in the slightest. “What the hell-”

A seething anger roots in Mig’s chest, at the front of his mind. Looking over his shoulder and keeping his hands on your hips. You’re his now, this doesn’t change anything.

“Hey babe…” Miguel sighs, eyes flicking between you and his variant with his hands all over you.

“Wh- what- what the hell is going on…” Your heart beats out of your chest. Looking between them. Mirror images of each other. Except for the bruising and scratches, those are placed differently. Not understanding what’s happened or how you’re supposed to think about this. “It’s okay, baby… you’re okay, everything’s okay…” Mig hums, pulling you closer to him.

“No… no everything is not okay. Tell her what you did.” Miguel demands, not wanting to get violent now. Not with you in the middle of it. Mig glares back at him, not daring to meet your eye. Not wanting you to see the guilt in them. “Tell her.”

“What’s going on?” You sigh, not knowing what to think but you do know Mig is holding you so tight and secure as always. And the touch feels familiar so you lean into it. Watching the other Miguel at the door narrowing his eyes in anger. How are you supposed to figure this out? “Tell her or I will…” Miguel threatens.

Mig turns to look down at you nestled in his arms, a guilty look on his face but all adoration in his eyes. “I love you…” He says. Making Miguel scoff at the door. “I did this for you… for us… I just want you to be happy-”

“Alright that’s enough-” Miguel sighs, stepping through the door and into the kitchen. You’re supposed to be his, you’ve been his for the past three years minus the two months you were stolen from him.

“No! You stay away from her.” Mig growls, pulling you tighter into his chest. Your cheek pressed to his sternum, watching Miguel with wide eyes.

“Alright, that’s how you want to do this? Babe, he kidnapped you!” Miguel shouts, pointing to Mig wrapped around you. “He took you away from me, away from your home, this guy does not love you! He’s a fucking creep, he’s insane!”

“Hey I do love her and I’m not insane, I would never do anything to hurt her!” Mig protests, keeping you pressed to him, squished in his muscular arms.

“I know everything you did, I saw everything, the monitors, the lab, the surveillance footage! I had to backtrack the damn portal, it took me two months to figure out where a rat like you came from and where you went to!” Miguel shouts. Mig’s eyes widening in realization that Miguel knows all about what he was doing. Watching you for months on the surveillance and picking his perfect moment to swoop in and take you for himself.

“Fucking perv, probably jacked off to videos of you.”

“I did not! I would never do that!” Mig rebuttals. Defending himself and at the same time he admits it’s true. “I watched you ignore her and push her aside for months! She doesn’t deserve that and all she wanted was you! A-all she wants is me!”

It dawns on you what’s happening. What’s already happened. Is the Miguel you’ve been living with, loving, not the same Miguel you spent three years with already? That’s why he’s changed. Because he’s not the same person. But you’ve been happier than ever lately.

“Babe, come with me, I’m gonna take you home where you belong.” Miguel steps forward. You’re trying to see him as the person you’ve known all this time but your mind is all messed up. Not knowing whether to trust the Miguel telling you what to do or the Miguel holding you against his chest. The sound of his heartbeat beneath your ear.

“You can’t just take her away, you don’t control her.” Mig says, almost making Miguel laugh out loud. “Control her? Me? You’re the one that kidnapped her and have been lying to her for two months, pretending to be someone you're not! Babe, he’s pretending to be me, I’m the one you know!” Miguel looks in your eyes, trying to get that through to you, that he’s the one you’ve spent all this time with.

“You neglected her and manipulated her feelings!” Mig shouts across the kitchen, his arms still wrapped around you. “She shouldn’t have to beg for your time when you were supposed to be her boyfriend! That’s bottom of the barrel and the only reason you came to look for her is because she’s not there for you to fuck whenever you feel like it!”

Miguel lunges across the room at that, growling in anger and out to kill this man. It’s beyond the point of discussion, this is getting nowhere. His fists fly and Mig tries to shield you from everything while trying to fight back. Each of them grabbing each other by the suit and wanting to rip each other to shreds. Miguel throws a punch, Mig shoves his arm out of the way, jutting his elbow back and hitting you square in the nose.

“Owww-ah-” Your whimpers cause them to stop. It was an accident but nevertheless painful. Clutching your nose as blood instantly starts pouring down. Down the front of your face and lips.

“Shit-” The boys instantly stop their wrestling and try to take a look at your face.

“Baby-” “Babe…” They say at the same time, shooting a glare at one another before bringing their attention back to you.

“Ow it really hurts…” You whine, tears in your eyes from the direct blow to your nose, making everything in your head stuffy and achy. Like a ringing in your skull it was such a powerful hit. “I’m sorry, honey…” Mig says, knowing it was his elbow that hit you accidently.

“Now look at what you did…” Miguel sighs, his hand going to your cheek to soothe the pain. “I didn’t do it on purpose, you were gonna hit me.” Mig says in defense, unable to stop himself. He’d never do anything to bring you harm ever. Miguel rolls his eyes, knowing it’s true but not wanting to admit that it was accidental.

“Let me get some paper towels…” Miguel says, looking around the foreign apartment kitchen to find a roll. Grabbing some and folding them up gently while Mig holds you close, trying to soothe the pain and apologizing for you getting caught in the crossfire. “Oh god… let’s get you to the bathroom, it’s getting on you…” Mig says, looking down at blood dripping down your chin, getting all over your clothes and the floor. Guiding you gently towards the bathroom.

“Pinch your nose babe… it’ll help it stop.” Miguel says, coming over with the towels and following the two of you to the bathroom down the hall. Mig nods at that suggestion, knowing that would do the trick, watching you attempt it but the pain is too much. “Is it broken?” You whimper, getting to the bathroom sink and Mig helps you to sit on top of the toilet cover, kneeling down to your level. “I don’t know baby… I don’t know…”

“Here, love…” Miguel comes through the door with paper towels in his hand and an ice pack too from the freezer. Walking over to you and Mig reaches out to take the towel from his hand. To help you wipe up the blood.

“I can do it.” Miguel huffs. And Mig presses his lips together in a straight line, trying to stay calm, trying to focus on you and not his urge to beat the crap out of Miguel right now. Each of them seeing the other at fault.

“Don’t press too hard…” Mig says, watching carefully, protectively, your expression and everything as Miguel gently holds the paper towel up to your nose and your lips to wipe the blood away. “You’re all bloody… go get her a new shirt.” Miguel says, turning to Mig with a serious expression. And Mig hesitates. Not wanting to leave you two alone. Mostly not wanting to leave you alone at all. “Fine.” He huffs, letting go of your hands and getting up to get you a fresh shirt from your shared bedroom. He steps on a few drops of blood that fell outside the door, trying not to track it all through the apartment. Eventually getting to the bedroom and searching for a t-shirt in your dresser. Grabbing a random one then heading back to the bathroom.

He stops, stiffening when he sees you wrapped in Miguel’s arms. Your head resting on his shoulder, sniffling and holding the tissue up to your nose. A million words want to leave his lips, but ultimately his guilt shuts him up. As much as he hates Miguel, he loves you and he knows you have a connection with Miguel he can’t just erase as much as he might want to. “Here…” He hums, holding out the shirt and Miguel flinches, so caught up in holding you after all this time of searching. Looking up and nodding, grabbing the shirt from his variant’s hand.

“Lets change your shirt, love, okay?” He pulls back, seeing the tear tracks on your cheeks from the physical, mental and emotional pain of this whole ordeal. Rubbing the tears away gently with the pad of his thumb. Mig has to stop himself from pushing Miguel out of the way and helping you himself. Crossing his arms and leaning against the bathroom counter, watching with a frown.

Miguel gently helps you pull your bloody shirt up and off, pulling it over your head and your hair falls back down around your bare shoulders. Sitting there in your bra, a sight neither one of them is unfamiliar with. “Ow ow…” You sigh, the movement making the tissue move around, pain shooting up into your skull.

“Sorry, love…” Miguel hums, looking at your features scrunching up in pain and he can’t help himself from kissing your cheek softly. Much to Mig’s displeasure, clenching his fists under his arms.

Miguel helps you pull your new shirt on, wrapping you up in his arms again once it’s done. And Mig’s reached his limit. “Okay let’s check on that nose, alright?” He sighs impatiently, stepping closer as you untangl from Miguel’s arms, looking up at Mig. “It might be broken, baby… we’ll have to take a look…” He says, tilting your chin up slightly to see better in the lights. The two of them crowd around your face, each trying to be the one to make the decisions. Your eyes flicking between the two of them. Are you dreaming? Maybe you hit your head and this is all a dream. Their faces mirror each other, your mind all mixed up trying to decide what to believe.

Carefully you pull the tissue away from your nose. Thankfully the bleeding has slowed but it still hurts badly. The both of them wincing at the sight of your mangled nose.

“Does it look horrible?” You whine.

“Yes it does.” Miguel sighs, getting jabbed in the side by Mig’s elbow.

“What- no it doesn’t baby… you’re gonna be okay.” He shoots Miguel a hard glare, not wanting to panic you any further.

“Is it broken?” You whine again.

“Yes, definitely.” Miguel speaks up, and Mig can’t handle this.

“Are you serious? We’re trying not to freak her out!” Mig raises his voice slightly, glaring at the variant to his side.

“I’m just being honest, she wants an honest answer, right babe?” They both look at you. Watching you nod weakly, tears in your eyes from the pain in your face. And Mig huffs.

“Look, just everyone calm down, let’s go to the hospital and they can help you okay?” Mig declares, standing up with his hands on his hips.

“Maybe she doesn’t want to go to the hospital.” Miguel stands up too, the two of them glaring in a standoff. Exactly the same height, everything about them is so exactly the same it’s sort of scary. “I do want to go to the hospital.” You sigh, dabbing your hurting nose. And Mig smirks in victory because at least he won this one. “See?”

“Alright well let’s go then.” Miguel huffs, shaking his head and moving to take your hands before Mig gets the chance, helping you up from where you were sitting. Mig can only sigh and watch. Not wanting to make this situation any more horrible for you. Leaving the bathroom and walking ahead of you two. Making sure you’re walking okay and you’re not dizzy or anything. He grabs a few things, his wallet and phone, your phone too. All while Miguel helps you get to the front door to leave.

Mig grabs the keys, following you and Miguel out, unlocking the car.

“You drive.” Miguel says, helping you get into the backseat and moving to climb in beside you. Mig panics. “No, you drive and I’ll sit with her.”

“It’s your car, dumbass…” Miguel scoffs, rolling his eyes. “Yeah well-” Mig starts, cut off by the slam of the back door, watching Miguel cozy up to you in the backseat. His fists clench, walking around the car and getting in the driver's seat. Starting up the engine. Glaring in the rearview mirror to see Miguel guiding your head to lay on his shoulder. Pressing a kiss to your hairline. It’s all so frustrating. He clenches the steering wheel tightly, pulling away from the apartment. It’s going to be a long night.

Taglist!! love my sweeties!

@spooky-sculder

@slushycoookie @xxyaoi-nationxx @snails-doodles22 @scaryplanetdestroyer @fate13

@divorcepaperz @yeahnohoneybye @zaunsin @tomalymme @drefear

@mrs-pondwater19 @saintdiior @aphinthestars @hyjionie

@palomanh @maxad99 @muuuwoppppp @reader-1290

@sp0ck136 @lazyninjaphilosopher

@pinkdizzyship @opalwitchart

if you'd like to be added/dropped from the taglist, please comment on my masterlist post. Or else I might not see it! thank you! 🩷

plus those who requested a part 2+:

@d3stin7 @laysmt @yougavemeyourheartyouknow @marshhbs

@twwcs @resident-clown @haveclayeveryday

@fullmetal-spiderling @grumpyahjumma

@lxverrings @lazyjellyfish300

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thelastofhyde · 2 years ago

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the likeability paradox.

pairing. joel miller x fem!reader

synopsis. joel miller is not a man who strives to be liked, with a chip on his shoulder and a scowl on his face, until his world is flipped on its axis when the pretty young thing living under bill and frank's roof, with an irritatingly unwavering smile and the literal sun shinning out her ass, says those five damned words: i don't like you, joel.

warnings. no use of y/n, enemies to lovers, slow burn ( i have several oneshots planned for this couple ), unrequited love ( except you will never catch joel miller admitting he feels anything beyond grief, hunger and exhaustion ), pining, poor communication no communication, no seriously joel is down bad it's actually disgusting and highkey 🚩toxic🚩 but luckily red is your favourite colour, sunshine!reader, grumpy!joel aka canon joel, kinda perv!joel ( if you squint ), implied queer!tess, undefined age gap ( reader implied late-20s ), descriptions of canon-typical violence, smut ( oral- f receiving, fingering, degradation, panty stealing, hair pulling, dirty talk, dubcon due to intoxication, joel kinda gives her a wedgie at some point and honestly i don’t know what i was hoping to achieve with that, discussions of a lacklustre sex-life pre-apocalypse ). reader is a) hinted at being shorter than joel but it’s not central to the plot and b) described as lithe but the meaning intended is graceful, not thin!

word count. 12.9k

hyde’s input. half-way through, the regret of choosing to write this from joel's pov started to settle in but lmao i was too far in to not commit to the bit. don't come at me for the fact the timeline or events may not seem plausible with canon, i just wanna write this silly little depraved fic about joel in peace :( anyway, enjoy my first attempt at writing for tlou, forming a prayer circle rn in hopes that this doesn't flop because i will cry and you will hear about it

read on ao3. series masterlist. next chapter.

Distaste is not new in the life of Joel Miller.

In particular, one that is loaded, aimed and fired directly at him. He is not a likeable guy, often by choice and rarely by accident. The years of pain from a bleeding wound have now scarred over into nothing but an empty shell of the man that once was, from a world that no longer is, and he’s tried little to fill himself back up.

If anything, he’s made himself more empty.

Rid himself of feelings, that which saves him the weakness of appearing sympathetic. Discarded the need for luxuries, for which he’d scarcely cared for prior to his world ending. Lay to rest what was left of the optimist inside him, leaving behind the danger of hope for it to rot with the rest of the infected.

An apocalyptic world brings out all sides of man that one would never dare to engage with in normal civilisation. Joel learned swiftly that he was built to endure, quick to evolve and adapt to the new world order. The man who once worked his hardest to keep the peace among his neighbours, smiling that little bit wider on days he’d catch them scowling to themselves in hopes of brightening one part of their day for even a simple moment, would be at odds with the man who wears a heavy layer of enjoyment when met with the scowling glances and the hushed voices, all the watch out for that Miller guys passed between cowardly members of FEDRA and the keep away from Mr Miller's lawns spoken harshly from mother to child becoming music to his failing ears.

This plague of fear-driven dislike keeps him alone, how he likes to be, no one to lose and nothing to be taken. Somewhere along the years the idea of safety in numbers has morphed into an illusion, something people say and never truly mean, to distract themselves from a reality more bitter than a snowstorm: in times of survival, people become deadweight.

“So that’s all I am to ya, huh? Dead-fucking-weight?” His brother’s voice still echoes in that damned space he calls a home, weeks or months or years since the day he’d departed for something else, somewhere else, leaving Joel to do what Joel does best: endure.

Somehow, silence was easier than telling the man he’d taught to tie a shoelace, to shave his beard, to tune a guitar that he was the deadweight, doomed to drag all those who remained too close down into his pit of despair.

She was an exception, his Tess, buried 5-feet-under in her own swell of darkness, nothing but the tips of her fingers stretched out above her head to feel the sun upon her skin and keep her from going that last foot deeper. They’d made a home for themselves in one another, one where he keeps them fed, and she keeps them safe, and neither of them keeps the place clean.

She never asks for more, and he never offers it, both content to survive without the weight of affection smothering them. Contrary to the belief of any misfortunate soul who’s encountered the pair within the quarantine zone, she is the one who holds the leash, tugging Joel along close by her heel and keeping him from wandering off into the wild to surrender himself to a feral lifestyle.

Which lands him here, sat at a table playing happy family, each time he dares to snark out a few words being met with the sharp kick of Tess’ foot against his shin.

“... And then,” Frank struggles over a cough, so excited in his story-telling that he fails to separate taking a breath from taking a sip of his wine. With a roll of eyes and a disapproving grunt, Bill’s no more than two seconds away from clapping down on his back, urging the other man’s wind-pipes to unblock and welcome back airflow. “Otis dragged his muddied self over the whole house. We were finding paw-prints for days!”

Joel's unamused, too keen to think of what a nuisance that would be. As if incapable of feeling the buzzing energy of disinterest, the German Shepherd drops its head further up his lap, begging for a morsel of anything that sits atop the table.

“Which means I was cleaning paw-prints for days.” Bill, the only one at the table besides himself who wears the looks of a cynic, grumbles out before shovelling what remains on his plate into his mouth.

Frank is quick to shush him.

“I’m sorry, again, Bill,” he doesn’t mean to break eye-contact from the mutt at his thigh, but the voice calls to him like a siren calls to a ship in the night, like a flame dances and seduces a moth into its brightly burning touch of death, a spotlight in the dark which promises- or threatens- more light to come. “I’d no clue there was a storm coming till we were already a good few miles away, and there was nowhere to take cover to wait it out.”

There you sit, parallel to him.

The sun rests lower in the sky as time carries you all into the late noon, its rays a beacon of light bursting out just behind your head, painting you in the glow of the golden hour and staining a mockery of a halo above you. It hurts his eyes, this brightness that you so easily bask in, forcing him to squint and deepen the frown on his face.

You catch him with his sights on you, at some point, and the smile you meet his scowl with has him cursing at the sun, and the moon, and every star that sits between.

The threat of a great war looms in the air as you rush to rise up and help clear the table of the remnants left behind- none of which Joel can account for, mouth too keen and body too starved to skip out on enjoying the mundane luxury of a fresh, home-cooked meal. The battle ends swiftly as you surrender to Bill’s hardened stare, and Frank’s disapproving head-shakes, and Tess’ own plan of action to simply force you down back into the seat you’d been sat in- the one you always sit in.

“You, sit. No one should have to clean up the food they made.”

They get no fight out of him when they insist he’d done enough catching the so-called food.

Silence casts its shadow over the table, dampening the light and smothering you both in a mockery of greyed tones- truthfully, it is the disappearance of the sun behind a large cloud that causes such a thing.

Being alone, with you, is something Joel’s never mastered. The affliction of your presence is so much greater when there’s no one else to balance out your natural shine- the kind that has his head spinning and his cock aching-, no one but him.

Were he not a sick bastard, he’d try harder to not make you sad.

Something bumps his hands, ripping him out of his moral self-condemnation. The dog meets his gaze, eyes a widened mess of puppy-dog pleading that punctuates its existence with an impatient whine.

Just like your owner, he finds himself thinking and not saying- never saying-, yet to find your bark.

The ball’s a sticky mess of slobber and dirt, and Joel touches it all the same, throwing it up in the air once, then twice, before tossing it across the yard. He’s slumped back in his chair by the time he registers the dog’s departure, a ball of dark fluff bouncing its way across the garden, and all the man can think is fuck, he’ll be feeling the effect of that throw on his shoulder come the morning.

The pain is not enough to stop him from tossing the ball again, and once more, and then yet again, sending the dog in a never-ending loop of chase, grab, retrieve- a parallel to his life of wake, survive, sleep.

“He likes you,” you never leave things the way he wishes them to be, bursting his bubble with the vocal reminder of your presence.

As if on queue, prompted by your addressing of it, the dog drops its interest in Joel, and the ball, and the chasing, tail wagging uncontrollably by the time it reaches your side. Standing on its hind legs, it collapses the front of itself into your waiting lap, and Joel watches how you wrap your arms so easily around something that could cause you harm.

To envy a creature that licks its own shit off its ass is a new low for Joel.

“Thinkin’ he might like ya more, Sol.” The nickname rolls off his tongue with ease, the safer option than uttering your name, a vice and virtue he’s only permitted himself in idealistic fantasies that play out in his own troubled thoughts.

“Most people do,” whether you mean to make it seem like you’re degrading his very existence or not, he’s unsure, but it rouses a chuckle out of him.

He takes note of how you don’t protest the name he’s branded you with, not like how you’d fought tooth and nail against it every other visit he and Tess have made.

“You’ve got a whole load in common, you know? I think that’s got something to do with his fascination-”

“How the hell’s a man like me got somethin’ in common with a four-legged mutt?” There he goes again, making that smile slip down your cheeks with a simple use of his voice. It helps as much as it hurts, frown loosening up and eyes no longer strained beneath the bright shine of your visceral optimism.

“Well, you’re both... hairy,” he restrains himself from reacting, washing down a laugh with the help of the dregs of wine that lay collecting at the bottom of his glass. He’s let his appearance grow more rugged over the past few months and your noticing of this brings an unwanted warmth to his aching bones. “And have the most kickass women in your lives to stop you from dying.”

He’s interested to know what life would be like under your protection.

Discovering the answer brings the threat of pain, and loss, and an openness to vulnerability he can not afford himself, so he takes the safer option: “‘S easy stayin’ safe when you live in this fantasy land. Doubt your mutt’d last any longer than a day out in reality.”

With you as its protector.

He doesn’t say it and, still, it somehow hovers in the space between you both, a heavy, syrupy implication that slips down your throats and threatens to suffocate you. He watches you choke on it, coughing on his cruelty and feigning it to be a simple clearing of your throat. Your eyes glue themselves on the dog, delicate fingers smoothing over the well-groomed hairs down its back.

Survival has turned him into a man who knows when to seize an opportunity, and this is one he takes with both hands, basking in the simplicity of staring, watching, observing you without the crime of being caught.

But I could keep you safe.

He toys with the danger of uttering such a thing aloud. It’s not the first time he’s thought it. Truthfully, he’s unsure when it first nestled its way into his mind.

His memory, which ails him more than it aids him these past years, would have him believe it was way before the dog had even appeared, back when it was just Bill, Frank and you. A few whiskeys in and a campfire lit for you all to gather for warmth around- why you’d all chosen to sit out in the gardens on a winter’s night Joel remains unsure of to this day-, it was Frank who’d prompted the question. “Where were you all when... this started?” Tess went first, braver than most people he knows, sharing stories of a version of herself he’d never meet.

He never imagined her working in a bank.

Bill, with reluctance, took the next step, keeping his account factual and to the point. “Was shit-faced drunk and getting my stomach pumped.” He’d been quick to skim over the story of the young nurse who’d guided him to safety out the hospital, losing her own life in exchange for his survival. She was barely out of school. “I knew her dad, bit of an asshole, but boy, was he proud of his baby for graduating.” Frank couldn’t let him swim too deep in his thoughts, afraid a current of guilt would trap him and drown him in the depths of it, and so he raised his own voice and began his tale.

Joel had always been a good listener. Being a single parent to a teenage girl required him to be, or so... she would have had him believe, nights at the table set for two spent listening to the playground he-said-she-said gossip. Years later and he at last prefers things this way, a rare gem of safety found in the act of saying nothing and hearing everything- that his hearing will allow. All this to say, he’d tried his best to pay attention to Frank’s impassioned retelling of his heroic misadventures that had lead him to the unintentional arms of Bill.

But you weren’t smiling.

He watched you, you watched the dancing flames, face stoic and drained of that natural shine his eyes had only just started to be able to gaze upon without the threat of being blinded by such light.

The desire crept up on him like a tiger to it’s prey, hiding in the far off bushes until the opportunity to strike presented itself and the feeling lunged for Joel’s back, gripping him in its claws and piercing his ribcage with its gnashing teeth. With each bite, it plagued him with the delusions of a wandering mind, imagination left free to run laps around his head with visions of you from another life, another time, another set of people gathered round a dining table. He’d wanted to hear about the ones you’d lost, and comfort you with all the things he hated hearing (“You’ll keep ‘em alive, in spirit and memory!” “Those we remember never truly die!”). He’d needed to bend a knee and swear a vow to be the one to stand between you and death, to fight for your survival on your behalf. ‘Could keep you safe. There, then, the thought did cross his mind.

He’d washed it down with a swig of lukewarm, flat beer.

“-Could fix it, you know. I’m good with my hands.”

He almost chokes on his own breath.

I'm good with my hands, it swims in circles round his mind, replaying and echoing off the walls of his skull. And he knows- oh, how he knows- that he’ll be replaying it in those moments of solitude for the next few nights, weeks, months- however long it may take till he forgets the way such thought-provoking words sound on your lips.

“What?” The question leaves him harsher than he intends, drawing an enemy line between you both with the foul sound of it. In the corner of his eye, he swears he sees you flinch backwards, physically recoiling from the disdain-filled bullet he fires in your direction.

The mutt in your lap retreats, hackles rising as it turns to face Joel once more.

He sees it, in the dog’s brutal protectiveness over you, this similarity you claim exists.

“Your watch, it’s broken.”

“Hadn’t noticed,” he’s retreating into his own space now, mentally and physically, scraping the legs of his chair against the ground as his mind works to strengthen those walls that threaten to crumble so often in your presence. “Don’t need ya to fix it.”

You pull a face, brows furrowing and lips pouting. Confusion.

“Don’t you want to know the time?” You ask, as if time could ever be relevant in a rotten world where down is up, and up is down, and Joel Miller is not the overprotective father to the most delicate creature the god he’d stopped believing in had gifted him, just to force him to watch as life snatched her away.

“I don’t keep it for the time.”

You smile, and this one’s a killer, piercing straight through the cages of his ribs to carve itself into his withered heart.

The German Shepherd relaxes with the rebrightening of your aura, shaking out the tension from its body before sauntering its way back over to Joel, ball in mouth and tail wagging excitedly, as if it hadn’t just contemplated having its first taste of human flesh.

He’s throwing the toy in a matter of minutes, enjoying the repeated run and retrieve game, and the renewed silence that comes along with it. Nature sings its tune with rustling leaves, cawing crows, and pounding paws. It’s almost so easy to leave your offer, your words, his broken watch in the rearview mirror of this otherwise pleasant afterno-

“Ooh, so there’s a story to tell!” You’re blinding him with your excitement, lithe limbs leaning forward in your own chair in an attempt to reach closer, table between you be damned. “I’ve never heard any of the Joel Miller backstory, this should be-”

“I get that likin’ everyone is your thing, but would’ya give it a rest?”

Nature falls silent.

Skies grow dull.

You juggle sadness.

There’s a crash that comes from within the house, followed by the unmistakable sound of Tess’ sailor mouth, cursing whichever delicate dish she’s broken into smithereens with the help of her accident prone hands. The dog’s lain itself down upon the grass, ball between it’s paws as it begins to bite, and chew, and break it under the pressure of its canines.

Joel wonders what the mutt’s practicing for.

“Sure,” then, with the return of your voice, all sounds resume, harmony upon planet earth once more. Only, the gates have been shut in his face and Joel finds himself forced to watch as everything unfolds from the outside, an unwelcome visitor forced out into exile with the fungal freaks and the inhumane. “But you’re wrong. I don’t like everyone.”

“‘S that so.” His eyes roll. The hole he’s dug for himself sinks deeper, casting you higher up on the pedestal Joel will always be wiling to place you on.

“Yeah,” you’ve risen out your chair, gifting him the view of how the fabric of your dress dances above your knee, a final twist of the knife in his heart that he lets you pierce his flesh with each time he surrenders himself to your existence. “I don’t like you, Joel.”

The hours come and go, but your words linger like a bad tattoo, shamefully engraved into his skin and banning him to a life of noticing the horrendous thing each time he passes by his own reflection.

We’re staying, for tonight. Tess had called the shots, and he’s been learning not to argue when she gives him one of her stern looks, biting down on the comments he’d wanted to make of the dangers of being out of the QZ for too long, which would likely earn him nothing but a shrug and the reminder that they both were off duty the following day

The nights are beginning to grow darker as winter grows nearer, leading Bill and Frank- mostly Frank- to excuse themselves to bed, bidding the two visitors with a final reminder to make themselves comfortable in whichever room they can find. If only Joel could remember which door leads to yours.

The two women in his life remain awakened, passing a bottle of wine between each other as you both converse back and forth, catching each other up on one another’s life, satiating that craving for mundane gossip.

Tess recounts the scandal of the poor boy who’d been caught sleeping with a FEDRA agent’s wife, you whisper that Frank and Bill had been fighting again recently. The memory of being ambushed by raiders- now dead raiders- comes to life once more with the help of Tess’ voice, while the promise to uncover what exactly Bill and Frank were hiding from you as of late is sealed in your words.

At some point, he lays himself to rest atop the couch, legs stretched out and arms crossed over his chest, ignoring the squeeze of the fabric over his forearms as the too-small flannel struggles to contain the muscles forged by the need to survive. At another point, he’s lulled to sleep by the lullaby of your mingling voices, a safety blanket draping itself over his tired body and enveloping him in the comforts of having that which he struggles to care so little for, so near him once more.

-N’t tell me you’re a virgin.

The words are muffled as the man slips back into consciousness, a frown coming to rest on his forehead as he battles against the demons urging him awake, the nightmarish memories of car crashes, and soldiers, and so much red chasing him away from the sleep he longs for so badly.

A protest rings true in his head and his ears.

Was gonna say. Knew you were young, but not that young.

It’s the sound of your laughter that awakens him fully, saving him from the tortures of his own mind.

“God, no! me and my ex, we... a few times. It was alright, I guess. I just, yeah, there’s not much to miss.”

He’s unwilling, unable to reopen his eyes, curling in on himself as he rolls over onto his side. A groan slips past his lips, one he’s hoping Tess and you will dismiss as nothing more than the sleep-filled rambles of a dreaming man.

Neither of you make any acknowledgement of him.

“Not much to miss?! Sweet Christ, you’re breaking my fuckin’ heart.” He’s learnt over time the common traits of a drunken Tess. Each word becoming an exclamation, curses becoming more frequent, and that irritating habit she’s picked up of imitating his own accent. There’s no need to bother opening his eyes, Joel’s already sure he’ll find his companion with flushed cheeks and glassy eyes. “I’d give up a hand for some head!”

You must do something, pull a face or shake your head, for the sound of Tess’ renewed shock fills the room. He wonders, as the sound bounces off the walls, how late into the night it’s grown.

Late enough that the cicadas singing outside the window are now accompanied by the hoots of an owl.

“You’ve got to be shittin’ me.”

“It bores me!”

“It bores you!?”

The couch beneath Joel creaks as he shifts once more, turning his back on you both as the ability to contain his laughter grows harder with each word you exchange and each gasp Tess gives. The last thing he needs is to be caught eavesdropping on your sex life like some dirty old pervert.

The crueler part of his mind replays your voice, I don’t like you, and the knife twists in his guts this time.

You like Tess. Love her, even. It’s been that way since the first time you’d met the duo, eyes giving one look over the woman before the smile on your face grew even wider, voice as sweet as honey sighing out Finally someone with a pair of boobs, I’m bored of the sight of my own. Joel’d gotten caught up in the thought of how he’d never tire of such a sight that he’d failed to acknowledge your greeting towards him, catching just the moment you drew your outstretched hand back to your side and offered him an understanding smile.

Maybe that was the moment you decided you didn’t like him.

“Must not have been doin’ ya right,” The bottle of southern comfort is working its wonders on the older woman, accent growing further and further from its true nature with each glass she nurses. Joel hears the faint sound of ice smacking against glass and knows it must be yours. You’ve always struggled with liquors, slipping as many ice cubes as you can manage into a glass in hopes that they’ll eventually melt and water the alcohol down. It’s oddly endearing that you think no one has noticed. Because he has, he always notices the little details that surround you. “This fella of yours.”

Joel has no right to despise the idea of you and some fella.

He does so, regardless.

“Well,” he imagines the shape of your meek smile and the way you shrug your shoulders. “We were each others firsts.”

“That’s no excuse! Trust I left mine cryin’ into her pillow the first time I went down.” Tess and he have a silent agreement to never speak of the nights Joel would take refuge on their beaten-up couch while Tess indulges herself between someone’s thighs in the bedroom. No discussing the sounds she pulls from her concubines, no addressing the wet patches left behind to stain their shared sheets, and definitely no speaking on how his hand winds up stained in his own cum.

You scoff and follow it up with a saccharine laced giggle, so sweet its bound to rot your teeth if you even attempt to hold it in. “What, are you offering your services?”

tThis he likes less than the image of you with some fella, the thought of having to lay upon a mattress on which Tess has raised you to heaven on while he once again remained locked out in the dark leaving his skin crawling with unwarranted rage.

“‘As sure as I am that you’re sweet all over, ‘fraid to tell you I like my women a little older than you.”

He knows he should do the same, should lust after those women his own age who shoot him carnal looks in the streets of the QZ. It should be skin his own age that he longs to taste, and eyes who’ve seen as much as his own he wants to stare into, and lips as cruel as the ones he owns that he fights off the urges to kiss. But he can’t, and he won’t.

And you’re the one to blame.

You, with the glow of a thousand suns. You, with the hands that tend to flowers instead of corpses. You, with the gentle nature he’d have to spend the rest of his days fighting off every other living thing just to protect.

His own self being the first he’d need fight.

Joel wonders what he’d missed in his hours- if it had even been so long- of rest, how the playground gossiping dissipated into reminiscing the pleasures of supple flesh and the sins of unfulfilling lovers. Sleep steals him away once more before he can find the answers.

The next time he awakens, he’s drowning in a plight of cruel memories, a cold and brutal ocean of faces, places, and traces of the ephemeral sentiment of happiness he’d possessed once upon a time, back when the price of letting one’s guard down was not so high.

He’s learnt, with time, that losing her comes in waves. Some small, meaningless little things, that ripple Joel’s surface and coast gently over his dirt ridden skin. Others, tsunamis. Big, angry, all imposing. They’re born in ground-shaking explosions of grief, building speed, and height, and weight the closer they grow to crashing over him.

Amidst the passing of time, he’s tried to keep himself busy in his awakened hours, to keep his mind occupied and avoid thinking about her too much. But the waves always come back, no matter how hard he tries to fight them or swim away from them. They catch him off guard, crashing over him when he least expects it. In the middle of a raid, lost in thought and standing ten inches deep in grime, blood, infected, and suddenly the weight of her absence will hit him like a ton of bricks.

The currents grow more violent whenever he closes his eyes.

This evening, it had been a minuscule wave, yet it’s damage still leaves him with sweat slicked skin. He reenters the land of the living choking on his own fear and shooting up-right, hardly registering his surroundings till his feet hit solid ground. The gentle, barely-there croon of a Sinatra record punctuates the room alongside the dim glow of a lightbulb which flickers with the threat of expiring and leaving naught but the moonlight to wash over the dark of the night. Across from him is Tess, nursing a half-emptied cup against her chest and wearing tired eyes. Snoring comes from below him, where Joel finds he’s a mere foot away from having stepped upon the sleeping dog, curled in on itself and laying soundly by his side.

You take up no space of this room.

Neither the dog nor the drunk pay him any mind as he pushes up onto his creaking knees, stretching out his limbs in a fight to undo the tension in his aching bod. Languid steps carry him out into the hall, where he freezes under the self-questioning of where he’s going.

There are three answer to this: where he should, where he could, and where he would.

He should find himself a bedroom, perhaps be ostentatious enough to rid himself of those stale clothes and let the warmth of running water wash away the sins he’d committed throughout the day. A good night’s sleep, atop a mattress where springs do not dig into his back and the sheets are clean as could be, it would do him good.

He could head towards the kitchen, quench that thirst that he’s awoken with, cottonmouth and a headache to go with it too. Perhaps he’ll find himself something to eat, indulge in the luxury of readily available food just this once, he’s sure Frank wouldn’t mind. Bill definitely would, but that’s not something he’ll need care about when he’s miles out and heading back to the QZ.

He would try find you, open whichever door it is that leads into the haven that must be your bedroom. He imagines its clean, and organised, and smells of some syrupy lavender that is bound to nauseate him as he smothers his face into your bedsheets, eyes shut, and mind relaxed, the threat of those violent waves no concern to him as he anchors himself with an arm around your warm skin. Skin he’s never felt, yet he stands firm in his belief it must be the most soothing thing to touch, as gentle and inviting as the heart it keeps safe within it.

I don’t like you, Joel.

Those words stop him from trying.

He tells himself it’s for the best.

With a mind of their own, his legs have made the choice for him and deliver him outside the opening to the kitchen. He swallows down a gulp of his own saliva at the prospect of a glass of water. The door’s already half-opened, and Joel nearly thanks Christ for it as the fear of waking anyone with the squeaking of the handle is eliminated. The darkness of the night encompasses the room, even with the moon’s shine reflecting off every surface it touches: the counters, the knife stand, the metal drawer handles, the refrigerator.

The refrigerator.

It’s open, a blue light shining out of it and illuminating anything it its proximity. A subtle beeping noise rings from it, and suddenly Joel’s back in his thirties, dead-beat yet well-intentioned brother stealing the food off his own plate as he beckons his pre-teen daughter back into the kitchen.

Keep leavin’ this open and it’s a job you’ll be gettin’ this summer, not a dog.

She never lived long enough to get either.

He catches something move beneath the artificial light. Cautious at first, it’s all the more startling to find the object of his ire and the embodiment of his desire stood leaning back against the countertop, a glass full of orange liquid pressed to a mouth that parts and welcomes in the sugary sweet delight.

“Why aren’t ya sleepin’?” The words rasp out his throat, catching and scratching on the parts of him that still yearn for something to wet his tongue with.

Beneath the light, you shrug. “Could ask you the same thing, Texas.”

He curses Tess for teaching you such a nickname.

He curses himself more for the way you saying it twists up his insides.

You’re teasing him, smile a little looser and eyes less focused than he’s used to seeing. Whether you’re tipsy or simply delirious with exhaustion, Joel remains unaware.

He grunts, daring to take a few steps further into the kitchen. The door behind him closes over and gives the illusion of the space becoming smaller, tighter, more compact.

“I asked first.” You laugh, at him. Full on chest-rumbling, hand over your belly, head thrown back- so abruptly it nearly crashes against the corner of the opened cabinet door. The corner of his mouth is curling upwards before he can catch himself. He hopes the refrigerator light shows less of him than it shows of you. Bare legs, and messed hair, and pointed nipples all on display for his undeserving eyes. “‘S so funny, huh?”

“Nothing, nothing,” he successfully fights off the urge to follow the drop of orange juice that spills down the side of your mouth, over your chin, down your neck, disappearing beneath the collar of your dress. Perhaps he is not as successful as he believes. “Just never heard the Joel Miller say something so childish. You’ve usually got your panties all in a bunch if someone so much as looks at you for too long.”

You make way as he inches closer, sliding yourself over to rest against the island counter. A fragrance of things he can’t quite pinpoint, but enjoys nonetheless, wafts in his face as he travels down the path to the sink. Uncouth and unbothered, Joel opens the tap and cups his hands beneath the stream of water.

“You know there’s a cupboard full of glasses right next to you, right?” You call out behind him as the man brings water to his dry lips, splashing and just about guiding his head beneath the stream. The thirst does not budge. He hums an acknowledgement of you, yet continues with his method.

By the time he switches the water off, you’ve made yourself busy, back facing him while you work at something atop the counter, a consistent chop-chop-chop filling the silence that settles between you both.

“iIm making soup,” you state, like there’s nothing quite more logical you could be doing at whatever-o’clock in the morning it is. “Make sure you take some with you when you leave. Tess said she’s been fighting off a cold the past few days, need you to keep her warm and fed for me.”

Would you do the same for him, if you knew he’d been the one to catch that damned cold in the first place? Four days of just about coughing up his lungs, and not a single soul- not even his Tess- had offered soup, nor warmth, nor sympathy. He’d not needed it, until now, when he hears you gifting it to someone else.

I don’t like you, Joel.

Of course you would do the same. Not because you care, nor because doing otherwise would way heavy on your conscious, but because you’re nice. Nice in a way he’ll never be, has never been. Patient, welcoming, comforting, warm. All words that spring to mind when one thinks of you. They violently oppose the closed-off, angry, dark cloud that had rolled in years ago and casted it’s shadow over Joel’s entire persona.

He straightens his back, weight shifting from one foot to another as he contemplates you from behind. The sway of your dress as you move has him in a trance, beckoning him closer before he can even realise he’s taken a step. His hands drip water onto the floor in a rhythm, the record player sings in the distance as a reminder of Tess and your sweet out-of-tune humming fills the empty kitchen with a brightness greater than the moon, but that’s not what Joel hears.

I don’t like you, Joel.

Over and over, you taunt him without even trying, nailing the words into his head and heart, impaling him with your sweet condemnation. You’re not the first to say it, to his face or otherwise, yet you’re the first to evoke such a reaction out of him, to leave a lasting impression hours after you’d declared such a thing.

And, suddenly, Joel’s angry. At you, at himself, at the sound of that damned knife in your hand slicing down onto the chopping board. The fog of his ire blurs his vision, rendering him to move blindly through the night.

Only when he finds himself looming over you from behind does his vision clear.

A hand meets the curve of your hip and you gasp, leaving Joel to wonder if it’s because the shock of his cold, damp touch or, simply, because it’s his touch. Without a thought spared, he firms his grip, fingers squeezing tight enough he feels your flesh bulge between each one, a bruising promise Joel gifts you.

You may leave your marks emotionally, but Joel’s will always be physical.

“Why,” he pulls in a breath, loading up the will to keep his voice a low rumble, a quiet disturbance in the night for no ears but your own to hear. “Don’t ya like me?”

If not for the pause in your practiced movements, knife stilling midway through slicing a carrot, he’d believe you’re unaffected by his proximity. “Why do you care?”

He scoffs, “I don’t.”

“Hmm,” this hum is far less delightful than the way you’d been following along to whatever melody Tess was playing in the living room. “Sure sounds like you do.”

“Yeah, well, I don’t,” he insists, and he swears he almost feels the way it only digs deeper the hole he’s created for himself.

Joel knows he cares. It’s been burning at his skin and itching on his mind since the moment you’d welcomed yourself to a little bit of unfiltered honesty, dropping the perfectly poised and eternally polite mask you’d worn since the moment he’d first met you, an attitude he loathes as much as he anticipates surrounding himself with it each time he’s tugged along for the trek to Bill and Frank’s.

What Joel doesn’t know is why he cares. There’s nothing to be desired about him, no traits to respect and certainly no looks to admire. He’s near crafted his entire being in a way that makes sure of this, the more undesirable his presence is, the less likely he is to be approached, be it by other people or fate itself.

Maybe there was a part of him that had wrongfully imagined you being the exception.

Instead, you’re stood barefoot in the latest of hours, knife working away the vegetables in front of you, dress sticking to skin beneath his damp hand, and you don’t like him.

Not one bit.

Joel grabs at your hips harder, his free hand curling round the shape of your left forearm. His feet shuffle forwards, until there comes a point where one would struggle to make out where you end and he begins. His chest pressed to your back, his muscular legs trapping your soft thighs, his forehead digging into the side of your head so intensely it threatens to shatter both your craniums and leave nothing but dust made by bones blown into smithereens.

He inhales, and finds you don’t smell of lavender.

“For the record,” he watches your movements over your shoulder, entranced with the back and forth sawing of the knife through unidentified vegetables. ‘S just like how I sliced that raider’s throat, he thinks, and instantly regrets it. No part of him should ever be compared to you. “I don’t like ya either.”

He’s lying through his teeth, hoping you don’t notice.

The knife never ceases its movement. Back and forth, back and forth. Chop, chop, chop. Blurs of greens, and oranges, and more greens cover the counter before you. It’s oddly soothing, this repeated and unbroken pattern, reminding Joel of times he’d found comfort in the mundaneness of cooking a meal after an emotionally exhausting day. Perhaps, this has the same affect on you, a momentary lifejacket to keep yourself afloat amongst the waves that haunt you awake.

The hand on your forearm travels, mind of its own, drawing up the shape of your shoulder with featherlight touches that contradict the way his nails dig deeper into the the skin you hide beneath the waistline of your dress.

“That’s not news,” you must think he’s blind to the hitch in your breath when his fingers slip over your pulse-point.

It’s his turn to respond with a hum.

“You only like yourself,” words more untrue have never been spoken before the man who’s every moment is spent drowning in his loses. His wandering touch halts. “A little selfish, if you ask me. but, that’s just what I think.”

This strikes a nerve. Fury commands his hand into a fist and fingers find themselves tangled in the tresses of your hair. The realisation of how surprisingly soft it feels barely finishes registering when he’s pulling on it, dragging your head along with, till it lays flat on his puffing chest and your eyes stare up at him. “D’ya know what I think?”

Even upside down, your beauty is striking.

“No, unlike you I don’t care what you think about-” Joel tugs on your hair once more.

“I think you’re a brat. A silly little girl who thinks she can smile and get away with murder.” You could. He’d forgive you as you soak your hands in the blood you draw from him. Knife in the heart, bullet through the brain, bat to the face, he’d slip away easily from this life if only to have you smile as he goes.

“You’re hurting me,” you whine, Joel growls.

Animalistic, beastly, a rabid animal sinking its claws into its defenceless prey. His gaze dances over your features, catching himself before he can sink deep into your captivating eyes, tracing the shape of your mouth, slipping down the peaks of your collarbones.

Your dress- red, a colour Joel Miller will no longer associate with bleeding wounds and stained weapons- sits tight on your chest, squeezing the swell of your chest beneath the fabric, and gives away all your secrets.

“You like it,” he speaks in awe, unable to pull his eyes off the two stiff buds that poke against the red fabric.

“No, I don’-” Dampness follows wherever his hand goes, fleeting as he makes the journey around your waist and up your side, crawling higher and higher to where he can feel your heart beating from within your chest. “Joel.”

He retightens his grip on your hair, aiding you with the way your curve your spine and force yourself deeper into his uncaring, ungentle, enamoured touch. Whoever Joel had been in a past life must have moved mountains or performed miracles to grant him the luck to be holding you this way, the fingers he’d gifted with nothing but the cocking of guns and the feel of his own pulsating lust now expertly tweaking at one of your stiff nipples, all thoughts of the fabric scratching at your sensitive skin dissipating into the abyss as he realises you’re enjoying the pain.

“Heard ya, earlier, in the living room,” at the time, he’d been mortified to be overhearing such intimate words between you and Tess. The blood that insists on rushing to his crotch now wants you to know, to hear the admission of guilt be spoken from his own mouth. “ Talkin’ bout your past.”

He doesn’t specify.

He doesn’t need to.

You give away your shock with parted lips, widened eyes, frozen eyelashes, pupils staring up at him like a wounded fawn he’s about to take his first bite out of and, hopefully, it won’t be the last one.

“Tess turned you down,” the hand on your chest switches sides, donning your other breast with some much needed attention. His hand must still carry residue of the water, for you gasp and shut your eyes in the shock of his touch, your own fingers shooting up to scratch at his wrist. Near convinced you mean to push him away, the pressure against his hand that pushes deeper into his unholy affection has him realising otherwise. “I wouldn’t.”

You say nothing. Joel pulls harder.

“Too bad I’m-” You cut yourself off as he presses himself closer to you, your poor hips bound to awaken with bruises from the counter he’s got you pressed against. With a distance so small he can hear your teeth grind, Joel watches you like a hawk. The twitch in your brow, the flutter of your eyelids, the bobbing of your throat as you silence what he imagines would be an otherworldly kind of moan, a whine he’d let kiss his ears and wind up poisoning himself with the torture of it replaying in his head each waking moment till he kicks the bucket, once and for all. The want to see you fall apart evolves into a need. “Too bad I’m not offering you the chance.”

Joel Miller is a hot blooded man, at his core, weak to emotions and vulnerable to the warmths of flesh. With notches on his bedpost and a tally of lives beneath his belt, he sees little wrong with taking what he needs.

“Who said anything about an offer?”

The descent to the floor is far from graceful, with bitten back groans of pain as clicking noises resound throughout the room while his joints bend and break in an effort to get him where he needs to be, where he’s needed to be for far longer than merely this exchange on kitchen grounds: on his knees for you.

A part of him would prefer it if you weren’t wielding a butchers knife.

The other part wishes you were facing him, eyes full of that repressed anger, hatred and discontent you likely harbour for him as you point the blade down at him and threaten to paint the floors with his blood. You’ve yet to do that, and so he takes it as his queue to progress.

Smoothing his hands up your legs, he admires the landscapes of your body from this angle, with legs that seem longer than any tree in the Amazonian jungle and curves with peaks that resemble the mountains of the Himalayas. Arriving at the top of your knees, the hem of your dress both welcomes and conceals his touch, inviting him into the wonderful world it hides beneath it yet denying him the privilege of feasting his eyes on your paradise, an island of safety amongst the open ocean of his mind.

Your breathing is measured, precise, too rhythmical to be natural, the subconscious action now turned into a practiced routine you mean to maintain nonchalance with. Perhaps you’re yet to realise that, while he may remain indifferent to those that surround him, Joel knows how to read people. And, right now, you’re a whole novel of lust, awaiting for someone to open up your pages and drink in every lyrical prose you promise to tell.

Joel finds purchase mid-way up your thighs, hands sliding around to the front of them to grip the buttery smooth skin and ground himself in the reality he kneels before.

You breathe in, you breathe out.

One knee buckles, ever so slightly, the weight of you collapsing into his welcoming hold. He revels in the feeling of supporting you, in every meaning of the word, thumbs not even waiting on a command from his consciousness to begin soothing your tingling skin with a gentle back and forth movement to match the knife in your hand.

Inhale, exhale.

Your legs straighten once more, a hand of his winds its way back out from under your skirt and shoots up to grab your free one, dragging it down his pits of desire.

“Hold,” he’s parched all over again, mouth drier than the Texan wastelands on a hot summer’s day. All he can do to survive is peel up that infuriatingly soft, red fabric of your dress, skin unveiling itself to his hunger struck eyes. With the skirt bunched up, he shoves it into your awaiting palms, pinning your hand against your own waist. “Don’t move.”

Where he expects protest, he receives more breathing.

Lace covers your skin, a delicate shade of a colour his eyes can’t quite distinguish in the dark of the night. One flicker of his sight to the very core of your body and he notices it, that tell-tale sign that you’re enjoying this little display of attention, despite what your measured breaths may have him believe. A wet patch, your wetness. The stickiest, sweetest of honeys that only a woman like you can possess, and a man like him should never bare himself witness to.

Curiosity gets the better of him- one day, Joel hopes, this will get him killed- and his touch is reaching for the lacy fabric, fingers digging themselves into the waistband of your panties and around the fabric that covers your right asscheek before curling his hand into a fist, tugging upwards.

In and out, shaky breathing comes from above.

The lace pulls tight on your delicate skin, no choice but to nestle itself in the slit of your cunt as two pretty soaked lips peak out from each side. A heady smell he can only begin to describe as stiflingly sweet, tongue-tingling tanginess hits his nose. He makes sure to take a deep breath, letting the blood rush straight to his head- the one that sits packed uncomfortably in his tightened trousers.

Delectable as sin, you keen back into his fist, back curving ever so slightly. There’s a tremor in the hold you have on the fabric of your dress. Joel basks in the visual affect he’s beginning to have on you, no need to doubt if the fabric of your underwear rubs at your likely aching clit. He wonders if the sting of the lace digging into your skin hurts. He thinks it must hurt.

His fist curls tighter, pulls higher.

“Ah,” at last, a ripple in your surface. Though you still wield a knife, the carrot you’d been failing to chop rolls off the counter and onto the floor, lost somewhere in Joel’s peripheral vision.

“Shut up,” he grunts, like it doesn’t make his balls throb to hear you whine. “People are tryin’ to sleep.”

You scoff, and for a moment you seem to have rediscovered your composure. “Tess is drunk as a sailor, and the old men could sleep through nuclear warfare.”

“‘S that an invitation to see how loud I can get ya,” he’s still caught in the way you mold against the lace, slickened skin carrying a reflection of the moonlight. This, he thinks, is what all them poets were writing about in their prose of love and beauty. “Or a challenge?”

“It’s an invitation to stop lecturing me on volume control,-” you catch yourself, he realises, right before you can gift him some nickname a sweet girl like you would never use. Asshole, dickhead, bastard, he’s heard them all and, still, he wants them on your tongue, in his mouth, condemning him for all the brutish, oafish ways he masks his obsession for you.

As coquettish as it may be, painting a picture worthy of a front-page on some Playboy magazine, the sight of lace becomes a nuisance he no longer holds the patience for. So he strips you of it, hand moving to pull the garment down, down, down the length of you, till it hits your ankles. He awaits no movement of your own, taking it upon himself to lift each of your feet individually out the leg-holes.

It’s merely impulse that has him shoving the soiled lace into his back pocket, though he’s sure he’ll make use of them on lonely nights.

“You’re drippin’,” his proclamation is ego-driven, pride swelling in his chest as he takes in the full sight of your bare heat. The view is a little obscured from behind you, but with the right amount of tilting of your hips at a certain angle and the widening of your legs, he’s bound to sit front row and centre for your private show. “‘S actually a little pathetic, sweetheart. Is it 'cause ya like it when men get mean wit’ ya?”

He can imagine the way you’d roll your eyes at his words, and it has him thinking about how you’d look with your eyes rolling back for different reasons, reasons he’s about to gift you.

But first, he curls one hand around your ankle and tugs the limb along as far as he wants it. Much better, he now faces no blockage in the path up to your slit, freely letting his wandering hands ascend to his newfound heaven. Perhaps he’ll revisit the life of gospel, if you promise to be the altar he prays before.

Cool fingers to warm skin, you swallow a gasp a little too late for Joel to not notice as he drags the tips of his middle finger up the length of your slit. Soft, puffy lips part for him, until he presses against that special button that’s bound to turn on your engines.

Rolling his finger over your clit a few times, he refamiliarises himself with the female anatomy, with your anatomy, memorising each soft bump and meaty lump he finds along the way.

It happens so suddenly, and unwillingly, the way his mind switches to thinking of Tess. He wonders what exactly it is she does to those poor things she sends home on shaky legs, where she even begins to touch them. Joel imagines she makes use of what she has and starts with her fingers.

So he does the same.

Working over your slippery wetness, he coats the tip of his middle finger with it, till he finds what he’s been searching for: the gateways to your heaven, your entrance. He breaches your walls with that single digit and somehow that’s enough to have you squeezing around him so tightly he wonders if blood still manages to flow to his digit.

Two, three, four pumps of his hand and he’s introducing his pointer finger too, pressing them both into you to witness the ways you mould around this wider stretch, the lips of your cunt a pair of cushions his knuckles collide against each time he fucks his fingers in.

“So now you shut up. ‘S the matter, huh?” He’s contradicting himself and he doesn’t even care, too busy focusing on curling his fingers inside you, delighting in the feel of that spongy tissue they press against. “Am I too borin’ for ya?”

“You’re the most infuriating man I’ve ever- Oh!”

A tongue meets skin.

The knife clatters onto the counter.

You lurch forward.

His hand pulls you back.

“Tess was right, ya know?” He can still taste you on his tongue, nothing more than a simple lick over your slit and your salty pleasure already seeps deep into his veins, staining his very being with the memory of his new favourite flavour. He pulls his fingers out, slipping them up to your clit. Three little taps to the pulsing bud- tap, tap, tap- and he’s slipping them into his mouth, tongue working overtime to clean up every last drop of you that coats him. “That boy of yours wasn’t doin’ ya right.”

The common sense that screams at him to not feel envy over some ex-lover, someone who was likely barely even an adult at the time and no longer appears to be around, is no match for the green eyed beast that commands him to tell you, without using words, that he can do better- touch you better, protect you better, fuck you better-, if you’d just let him.

‘Could keep ya satisfied.

That’s a new thought, one he’s never needed before yet never wanted more, a burning ache to be worthy of your trust, affection, lust. He’ll never forget the first time he thinks it, mouth salivating at the sight of you.

“Is this the part you say some cheesy line straight out a porno? What ya need is a man, a man like me!” The softness of your giggle is still sharp enough to cut through the tension. God, it’s never sounded sweet, and Joel finds himself freely smiling into the darkness, yet still too stubborn to laugh at the deep voice you attempt to imitate him with.

“Well, was you who said it,” his mouth finds it’s way back onto your soaked heat, taking his time to work his tongue up the length of it, his saliva mixing itself in a nasty cocktail with your wetness. He imagines the air is cold against your skin, and that you like it, memory of those hardened nipples hidden beneath the fabric of your dress. “But if ya insist.”

Diving in head first had always been his style, from his first lover to his last, and to now, knees aching on the kitchen floor. The tip of his tongue dances round your clit, tantalising you to grind your hips to the rhythm of his sinful touches.

Licking into you, he’s reminded how much he enjoys that swelling in the chest that only comes from bringing another pleasure.

He’d not been a perfect lover, far from it, but he’d liked to believe at one point he’d been trained by experience that only comes with age, years of touching wrong and kissing badly to learn the right ways to make those he shared a bed- or a counter, or a backseat, or a club bathroom- with see angelic white as they writhed and squirmed under his touch. You’re lucky to have him now, matured by past lovers and broadened by age, with all the knowledge he needs to open your eyes to how a man pleasures, kisses, loves.

He’s out of practice, sure, with recent years adding notches to his belt that were merely frantic, unexpected, barely undressed run-ins with strangers, in strange places, cock barely getting a moments affection before he’d be spilling his seed and tucking it, limp, back into the confines of his trousers and locking it away beneath a zip.

What a perfect excuse you are, for Joel to remaster the arts of lust.

It’s messy, wet dripping down his chin and staining itself into the stubble of his growing facial hair. It’s noisy, his mouth openly groaning depraved joy into your warmth as you sing him a song of sweet euphoria, slowly building towards that crescendo on the horizon. It’s animalistic, barely human as he revokes all earthly needs such as rest, and food, and socialising, his mind, and soul, and heart, and cock all screaming in unison to spend whatever remaining days he shall possess on his knees before you.

And all the while you writhe and wriggle, some times running away from him touch, other times rutting so far back into him that you threaten to suffocate him somewhere between your warm thighs, and sugar-sweet cunt, and the two well-rounded globes of your ass.

His only saving grace is that he can’t see you.

Hearing your pretty whines, and hand-muffled moans, and heavy intakes of breath is enough to curse him for the rest of his waking days, condemned to wander the wastelands of earth knowing the noises you make on the brinks of pleasure, with a touch-starved man satiating his hunger for flesh and blood with the sugary sins of your soaked cunt.

Burrowing deeper into you, his consciousness rips through the fog of his lust to curse out his perversions as the tip of his hooked nose bumps against the puckered entrance of your ass. It does nothing to stop him tearing his tongue away from your clit, flattened as he drags it over the expanse of your cunt, and over your taint, and up the crack of your behind.

“N- Ah,” You can’t deny him while sounding so eager for more, the tip of his tongue now circling your back entrance, mimicking the treatment previously given to your little pearl. “No, don’t, not there.”

Next time, he thinks, we’ll try that next time.

Sights returned to his previous desires, he works to rip out every sigh, and every whine, and every dirty little song you’ll grace him with. The sound of whatever record Tess has put on in the other room becomes a safety blanket, dousing you both in the warm protection of not being overheard.

And, then, he does it, he makes the ultimate mistake.

His eyes flicker to the left and he finds himself faced with the stove that sits within Bill and Frank’s- and, by an extension he does not enjoy to remember, your- kitchen. There’s little that’s remarkable about the appliance, just your standard, everyday oven that he’s sure you’ve spent countless hours cooking up those comforting meals he’s come to anticipate each time Tess tells him they’re due a visit.

Except, the oven door is made of glass.

Glass which now paints the most pornographic masterpiece for no eyes but his own. You, with a hand gripping the island’s counter like your life depends on it, and the skirt of that goddamn dress he’s envied all evening for the way it got to rest against the warmth of your thighs now bunched up in your tight grip, and your head thrown back, curving your spine in a way that has him wondering about the other ways he’d be able to bend and break you beneath his touch.

And then there’s him, down on his knees like a devotee laying himself down to worship his goddess, face burrowed in the space between your legs, mouth devouring you from behind with the help of his hands, the same ones that had strangled a man less than a day before and reigned fire down on countless others for years, that now grip the meat of your thighs to pull you back onto him, fucking his tongue into your sopping heat.

The image will haunt him more than the face of any man he’s killed.

“D’ya touch yourself, Sol?” You don’t answer him, but that’s okay. In a sweet change of pace, Joel Miller’s perfectly fine with talking enough for the both of you. “Yeah, bet ya do. Late at night, right? Once you’re all alone in bed. Ya seem like the kind who can make herself scream.”

You back into him, smothering him under the weigh of your body. Becoming his holy grail, he drinks from you like it’s the key to eternal life, and what a way of living this would be, time disregarded as nothing but meaningless while your bodies melt together in the heat of passion.

Fucking his fingers back inside, he becomes frantic beneath the need to make you cry, fall completely apart with only his hands to hold you together. “Let me do the honours this time though.”

You don’t scream, can’t scream, hand over mouth muffling whatever profanities and theatrical proclamations he rips from within you with the stroke of his agile tongue, the only muscle of his that’s yet to develop aches and pains. He imagines that will no longer ring true once he awakens past sunrise.

He’s unsure how much longer he works his tongue over you, slipping and sliding through the liquid pleasure, but it ends with fingers tangled in his hair, pulling him away and tilting his head up.

You’ve never looked more holy, moon casting it’s shine around you, eyes glossed with unshed tears, lips parted and swollen from the pressure your own teeth had bitten down on them with. Your expression, he can’t quite read. Not sad, not happy, not mad.

Your eyes catch on something, abandoning his own for something closer to the floor, to which he follows and finds exactly what you’re staring at: the evidently dark patch that now stains the front of his jeans.

The discomfort of trekking back to the QZ will now be tenfolds worse in the stains of his own pleasure.

“Joel...” his name is nearly a beg, a prayer, an invitation. Hand still in his hair, you tug, pulling him upwards off the ground. Legs open wider and back arches deeper, a seductive sight that your body pleas for him with.

He swallows a groan, knees alleviated at last from the floor, and presses himself against you once more. Strong arms crush you in an embrace, pulling you back into him as his head slips to rest against your shoulder. He’s capricious with the way he lets himself litter a few wet kisses over your neck, breathing in the smell of you.

“That,” you grind back into him, a torturer who takes his aged body as her victim and toys with his barely recovered cock, the cum in his trousers sticking uncomfortably to his skin. He pulls tighter on your body, grounding himself in the weight of it against his own to find the sanity to finish his sentence. “Shouldn’t have happened.”

Joel hopes no one awakens as he slams the door on the way out of the kitchen.

People once spoke of how the only certainties in life were death and taxes but, nowadays, the words don’t ring as true and the guarantee of life with taxes has morphed into something else entirely; a reality where death and time go hand in hand. As sure as tomorrow will arrive, death will come too, eventually. Not today, however, and Joel Miller finds himself stood throwing a ball back and forth for a dog.

It chases and retrieves, trailing it’s happy self all the way back to him only to spit the ball down at his feet, siting and waiting to repeat the process once more. There’d been a time where this is all he’d wanted: white picket fence, dog in the yard, home-cooked meals filling a house with warmth.

That dream seems so far away now, even as he stands within it.

He cracks his back, huffing out a groan. “No, not again. My back’s fucked as it is, buddy,” with no one around to witness, Joel lets himself crouch down onto his knees- both popping obnoxiously as he does so- and rakes his hand over the German Shepherd’s head. It whines and makes an attempt to nudge the ball against him, protesting in the only way it can. A scratch to the ear does the trick to distract the animal, to which it tilts its head and forces itself deeper into his blunt nails. “Not so bad, are ya? Huh?” Never in a million years did Joel think he’d be talking to a dog when him and Tess had set out for their routinely visit to the Bill and Frank’s. Never would he have thought that would be the least shocking event to unfold on this trip.

He hears you before he sees you.

“You planning to make your knees familiar with every surface of this place, Texas?”

He tries to rise, he truly does, but the four-legged foe he’d been petting mere seconds ago betrays him the instant it catches sight of you, charging past him and knocking him over in the process, ass to floor and head to sky.

The world above is a storm of greys, clouds swallowing one another with a looming threat of danger on the horizon and not a lick of the sun’s warmth seems to make its way through.

So instead, it sends you.

Peering over him from above, hair a tangled mess, eyes a wreck of under-bags and sleepless tears, the collar of your jumper lowered just enough at this angle that he can see a tease of cleavage, you radiate a brightness like no other, more dangerous to his naked eyes than UV rays could ever be. He’s squinting again, frown etching itself on his forehead with the threat of becoming permanent soon. A few more years and his face will be nothing but frown lines and crows feet. At the very least, he considers, I’ve survived long enough to wrinkle.

The smile above him is worth a million laugh lines, a kindness laced within it that matches perfectly with the hand you hold out. When he does nothing but stare at it, you wriggle your fingers, enticing him to take a hold. He does most of the work, truthfully, but you play a part in pulling him back to his feet. Upright once more, he can’t help but bask in the way he’s able to physically look down on you.

“Thanks for tiring him out,” you’re the first to talk. You’re always the first to talk, and he curses you for it. “Won’t need to walk him as far tonight.”

A queasy feeling overtakes him at the thought of you walking the dog alone at night, nothing but the moon to light your way. He’ll need to remember to tire the dog out next time he visits. “No problem, thanks... for feeding Tess and I.”

“No worries!” You’re so kind, so good, smiling at him with a cheerful chirp in your voice. He can’t wrap his head around how you can bring yourself to treat him this way. “Oh, actually, that’s why I came out here, I was looking for Tess-” Of course you were, when would you ever be looking for him? “Hold on!”

You shoot off back inside so quickly that Otis just reaches the doorway by the time you return. With an idle pet to his head as you pass by, Joel once again sees, in the way such little affection can have the dog so elated, that resemblance between them you’d spoke of. In your hands, you carry an array of containers full of food- soup- each filled to the brim.

“I wanted to give you these, before you guys leave,” you’re explaining yourself, and Joel wonders if it’s nerves that bring you to need constant babbling to fill any gaps of silence. He can’t imagine how he could make you nervous and therefore that thought is quick to be discarded. “I know the journey up here and back can be long, consider them a token of my appreciation towards you both for-”

“Why don’t ya like me?” he cuts you off.

Pathetic, he knows, but he can not stop himself, a deer caught in the headlights of your brightly burning, too-good-to-be-true, too-pure-to-be-fake personality.

You show no signs of hearing him, smile unwavering as you continue to hold out the boxes to him. “There should be enough to last you a few days, if you watch your proportions.”

It’s too much for him to handle- the food, the smiles, the sweetly glistening eyes-, and Joel just has to know, needs an answer before the heat of his confusion consumes him entirely in its flames and leaves nothing but his smoking remains.

So he tries again, louder.

“Why don’t ya like me?”

“And I’d probably say you’re best to heat it up, especially for Tess,” you ignore him, again, lips stretching what can only be described as uncomfortably wider. “Winter is sure coming in faster than last year, isn’t it?”

He grabs at your arm, fingers curling round the swell of your bicep as he speaks through gritted teeth, "Answer me." Like a frightened dog backed into a corner, he bares his teeth and yells his bark.

"For someone who doesn't care,” you try his patience, knowingly or not, and his grip tightens. You don’t flinch, welcoming the sting of his blunt and bitten nails against your flesh. “You sure do talk about my opinion a lot."

"Answer the damn question, girl.”

“Or, what?” You’ve got him there, he’ll admit, holding no real plan as to how to punish your silence. “You gonna give me the same treatment as last night?”

Had he known you’d be so unabashed to mention the events on the kitchen floor so flippantly, as casually as one would speak about the weather, he’d never have dared to get on his knees. Truthfully, he’d not given things a second thought, disregarding the later for the now, living in the moment with caution thrown to the wind over what the morning would bring. Perhaps he’d hoped you’d been intoxicated enough to dismiss the memory as a nightmare, maybe he’d wished you’d keep away from him to free him of the volatile grip you have on his soul.

Instead, you stand tall, proud, eyes fiercely staring back at his own as you challenge him to retaliate, mock you with none of those saccharine smiles you hide harsh tones behind.

Joel says nothing.

“How about this, let’s make a deal, like the ones you and Bill make.” Inching closer, crowding in on his space and forcing him to take note of the smell of freshly cleaned clothes mixed in with your own fragrance. Clean, warm, inviting, scents he’d never given meaning to before now. “You get me something, I’ll tell you what you want to know.”

He grunts out a response, hands meeting his hips as he juts out one knee, the shifting of weight between feet a perfect distraction to the rising tension in his worn-out jeans. “What d’ya want? ‘Cause if it’s somethin’ like a gun, think again. I ain’t messing with none of Bill’s strange politics on you havin’-”

“A dress.”

“A dress?” The statement has him quirking his brow, burning questions swimming in the depths of his eyes as he stares back at you.

“Yes, and don’t look at me like that!” It’s hypocritical, he believes, for you to berate him for the looks he sends you when all you do is cast stones his way with your gaze yet shake him to his very core each time you smile. “I need a new one, my favourite one got ruined whilst making soup.”

Unaware he’d even began to lean closer, Joel’s quick to recoil, as if your words are bullets and his skin the target you hit on the bullseye every time.

“Joel!” his name resonates from somewhere in the house.

Neither of you dare to break eye contact. Again, his name is yelled. This time, he manages to identify Tess as the owner of the voice. Habits have him used to running to her whenever she calls, but habits have never been caught between the choice of Tess or you.

His feet remain glued to the ground.

Tess yells once more and, though you speak up, you don’t dare look away. “Think you might be needed inside, macho man. Your missus is calling.”

“She ain’t my-”

“You two just gonna stand and stare at each other all day, or will you help a woman out already?” Tess enters the scene somewhere behind you, a blur of her familiar shape standing out the front door.

Only when your head spins and he no longer finds himself lost in the black of your eyes does Joel take her in completely, hair clearly damp and complexion a little paled by her hungover body. In her arms, she struggles with the weight of a folded table. You approach first, he follows, his two hands aiding in carrying it out into the front yard as you retighten your grip on the boxes of soup in your arms.

“I should probably,” laying the containers down on the now unfolded table, you fidget with the sleeves in your hands, eyes downcast with something he can only read as guilt. He decides he much prefers the fire they hold when you berate him. “Go check on the food, before it burns.”

You’re in the door and out his sight before he can so much as ask you to stay.

Tess and him hit the road by noon. Earlier than predicted, later than he’d wished for. The bite of cold already marks the air, despite the sun breaking through the clouds and heating the world with its rays. He walks a little ahead, feigning ignorance to the repeated coughing coming from Tess and wracking his brain for answers.

Answers to why he’d never noticed how hoarse she’d been sounding till you pointed it out. Answers to what awaited them both upon returning to the QZ. Answers to when will be their next chance to visit the safe haven Bill’s created. Answers to why you don’t like him.

I don’t like you, Joel.

It motivates him to walk quicker, faster, racing to put as much distance between himself and that damn kitchen floor, miles upon miles not enough to rid him of the dull ache in his knees that goes hand in hand with the throb within his too-tight-jeans. If he were alone, he’d break out in a sprint. but Tess is here, he’s not alone, and home will simply have to wait on the passing of time to drag him back to it.

Till then, he needs to find a dress.

#joel miller smut #joel miller x reader #joel miller oneshot #joel miller fic #pedro pascal smut

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creepzkilla · 2 years ago

Note

No because those EJ headcannons 😳 are so good aldhworjeoejekr you wrote him so perfectly 😫

If it's ok, can I request some NSFW Creepypasta Toby headcannons? You can make them as dark as you like, but DAMN I have to admit the way you write characters is so gooooodddd 💖💖💖

↳˳⸙;; ❝ TICCI TOBY KINK HC'S! + BONUS ᵕ̈ ೫˚∗

[A/N]--tyty i always enjoy slasher creepypasta-- the more realistic version of the fandom. its always been more entertaining for me... the mansion kinda HC never really stuck with me unless portrayed really good? its so hard to find fics that are like that... but anyways wtf my first ask this deserves a bonus smut at the end?!?!?! sry for the delay too i’ve had writers block wtf… the second half is shit ngl

NSFW. warning— NOT PROOF READ fem! anatomy, dub-con, somnophilia, toby being a perv, sadist, bondage,breeding, exhibition

TOBY IS A CLOSET PERVERT--

he remembers when he first started stalking you. when he first snuck into your house while you were fast asleep as he kept a watchful eye over your sleeping form. you were ethereal, he couldn't help himself following you home- or going through your panty drawer. you couldn't blame him, really, you couldn't. you look so cute in your satin pink thongs that he just had to steal one. or three.

sadist-- toby just adores watching you contort underneath his touch as you squirm away from him. he won't hesitate to leave harsh slaps across the meat of your ass or dark bruises made from his belt into makeshift handcuffs

bondage-- he loves tying you up in all sorts of different lewd positions. toby takes pride watching you whimper under his calloused hands begging for your hands and/or legs. he knows that those whimpers are only for him.

breeding-- toby has family issues... at first, he wouldn't want kids. he would dismiss the thought of ever having any kids in the first place... not wanting to turn into his dad. he was terrified. that was until he came in your pussy the first time. it was fucking life-changing. he loves the feeling of spilling his seed into your pretty pussy... he just can't go back after that. why buy condoms when he could watch his cum seep out of your pussy? he wouldn't mind having a kid or two.

mutual masturbation-- he goes wild watching your hands disappear into your heat as your mouth lets out a barrage of whimpers and moans. toby can't help but join in. whether you know if he's watching or not.

exhibitism-- this man just dont give af. if he wants you, he wants you. anytime, anyplace.

oral(fem receiving)-- this could be considered a kink because toby could probably cum buy just eating your pussy. he just cant get enough of it. he gets so painfully hard when he goes down on you. so you cant blame him when he paints his pants white.

corruption— this is a big one..you were a virgin, with little to no experience before you bet toby. something about that innocence he just had to protect… something he just had to corrupt. toby remembers when he first taught you how to give a blowjob. he could just cum by the perverted memory.

TOBY DEFINITELY JERKS OFF WITH YOUR PANTIES—

there’s no way he doesn’t. he fucking obsessed with the taste and smell of your pussy. the nights where he can’t come and visit you bet you can find a pair of your satin panties wrapped around his cock. toby just can’t help himself. he loves feeling the feeling of your juices rubbing up against his cock as he imagines runtting against you. it’s his dirty little secret… well it’s not much of a secret when your prairies start showing up stained with a white excrete.

HES SURPRISINGLY KINDA BIG—

now don’t get me wrong… toby isn’t a petite guy, he’s rather tall standing at 5’11 or 6’0. he’s a pretty built guy—he kinda has to be. so when i say surprisingly i mean you wouldn’t really except him to be a whopping 6’0 inches. his girth is on the skinny size but he makes up for it when hes hitting places you never knew existed. his tip is a dark pink, and the prettiest dick you’ve ever seen. you never thought that you’d be saying that about a dick or specifically a serial killers dick; but here you are… your not exactly complaining.

—-ˋˏ [‘Ill give you everything’] ˎˊ

—(Toby couldn’t help himself. He really couldnt. You just looked so gorgeous in your pink satin panties— which are your favorite pair— he couldn’t help but rub against the cotton material. It’s not like you’d mind anyways…you’ve always asked him to fuck you awake before, why not take you up on that offer?

He carefully moves the comforter from your shoulders, peeling it back allowing him to slip into your bed behind you . Toby sinks into the bed, spooning your relaxed body as the curve of your ass pressed into him.Almost instinctively your body pressed into the slasher completely, being enraptured by his warmth. You were oblivious to what you were doing to him.

His aching boner stretched against his pants, and fuck it was painful (from aching not actual pain) as he rubs up against your panties. It was almost like you wanted him to do this. Sleeping in only your underwear? It was like you’re asking him to move your panties to the side and fuck you.

His cold finger tips brush against your damp panties, hooking his finger on the seam of fabric, slowly and carefully pulling them down. toby was careful not to wake you—-not yet. He wants to savor this.

It was so unbelievably hot in your bedroom, almost like a sauna. If anything he was helping you cool down. You should appreciate his kind and just actions by taking of your clothes before you got too hot. He chuckled at that thought, ghosting his finger tips over your exposed shoulder, leaving goosebumps in his wake.

His lips hovered above your exposed neck, sending chills down your spine. Dark bruises soon began to litter your neck, ruining its once pristine image as Toby sunk his lips deeper in your skin, all while his other hand disappeared into your cunt.

You were so incredibly wet, so incredibly tight. His calloused hands slid in and out with ease, your walls sucking him in ever time. Toby was enraptured with your beauty, your flushed cheeks, your rosy lips, the soft whimpers that left your mouth; utterly gorgeous.

“Toby?” You awoke to nothing but darkness with an uncomfortable feeling in your stomach, an all too familiar one. A warmth spread throughout your body like wildfire as the prevalent feelings grew. The sensation— that you couldn’t put a finger on—- just felt so good, you couldn’t help but melt into it.

Toby hummed in response, too busy on concentrating on the task at hand; fingering your tight cunt. The lewd sounds that gushed around his hands was deafening; almost forgetting that you were awake.

“Are you e-enjoying yours-self?” He laughed, curling his fingers inside of you, rubbing up against a patch of sensitive nerves.

You yelped, now being fully awake, clearly aware of the sensation— that is being full. You could only moan in response as his fingers continuously plunged in and out of sopping cunt as your core tightened.

Toby’s lips attached to the crook of your neck once again, tracing over the dark bruises that began to form— biting ever so slightly on your sweet spot (that only he knows of). His unoccupied hand, cupped the meat of your thigh, lifting it up to gain better access for his other hand that was moving at an insatiable speed.

“P…Please, I need you…I want all of you.” A barrage of moans left your lips, as your hand curled behind you to grip the man’s hair that assaulted your skin. Your sharp nails dug into his scalp, tugging on tuffs of his unkept brown hair—signaling your desperation.

Suddenly, he was on top of you. Straddling your exposed bottom half with his thighs, a lustful glint ever so present in his eyes. His lips were a cherry red, presumably from his attack on your neck as well as his hands that were slick with your cunt. You take immediate notice of the large tent swelling in his blue jeans, you could only guess at how painful it was.

“A-are you sure?” Toby hummed, his scarred hands tracing over your waist, “I’m not g-gonna go easy on you.” His voice came out as a whisper, as if it was some horrible secret—a taboo. To which it was, not like you knew or anything— but toby has a secret, commmited horrible sins that can never be reversed— you shouldn’t be doing this with him… He feels guilty almost— yet it’s so enticing… His hands devouring your body as if his hands weren’t covered in blood merely hours before.

But you’ll never know, right?

“I want all of you, Toby.” He looks down at your delicate form, such innocence. Your skin was practically glowing in the moonlight that shone threw the raked blinds, making you look almost angelic. He was scared to touch you, like you would crumble under his touch. Like you would see him for the monster— the pyschopath he truly is, a devil.

Yet, that’s what makes it so exciting, so enticing to see your angelic body beneath him. The danger, the corruption. It only added fuel to the fire, and soon it would become a wild fire.

Your body; merely heaven and earth wrapped into one.

He; the virus, a plague that never stops— pollution your body and everything in between.

Is it really worth it? If he really loved you— he would let you go— right?

“I’ll give you ev-verything. Anything you w-want.” Toby whispers, his hands on your waist crawling towards your chest—drawing secret messages that only you would know. His usual ice cold hands, were anything but cold. They were warm. His hands roamed your body, and spread throughout your body like a flame— he devoured everything in his path.

Your body reacted to him like a magnetic. His name fell off of your lips along with whispered promises and wonton moans. You were meant for him— maybe poisoning you isn’t so bad. Maybe—just maybe, it was meant to happen.

#creepypasta #creepypasta fanart #creepypasta art #creepypasta x female reader #ticci toby x reader #creepypasta toby #toby rodgers x reader #toby rogers #ticci toby #toby rogers x reader #creepypasta smut #creepypasta hcs #creepypasts x reader #creepypasta x reader #creepy

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sukun4scumdump · 5 months ago

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18+, mdni, suggestive themes, not proofread.

Boss!Kento who knows how much of a perv hes being everytime he sneaks into your laundry and steals your dirty lace panties, while hes using the restroom in your apartment after you invited him over for dinner for work. How much he loves to nuzzle his nose into them and sniff, moaning as he palms himself at the smell of your sweet cunt. Once hes satisfied, he wraps the panties around his cock, rubbing them all over it as he leaks precum onto them. A groan breaks free from his throat, as he fucks his cock into the panties, thinking about the way your blouse is a little too tight, barely able to hold in your tits as the buttons struggle to hold it together. The way your legs look in the stockings you wear under that slutty pencil skirt. The way your hips sway when you walk and before he knows, hes nutting into your panties, rutting into them as he stains them with his seed. He shows up to office next day as if nothing happened, visiting you and while you're too engrossed into your work, he puts your panties back into your bag. He hadn't washed them, they were stained with his cum. When you reach home and find your dirty panties in your bag while you were cleaning it up, your eyebrow raises, not remembering putting them in your bag. The panties are still somewhat damp. That damned bastard used your panties in the morning as well, before showing up to work.

#jujutsu kaisen #jjk #jjk x reader #smut #x reader #mdni #nanami kento #kento nanami x reader #nanami kento x reader #nanami x reader #kento x reader #jjk smut

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kierewrites · 10 months ago

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What Would Karma Do... when you get kidnapped on your school trip? / pt. 2

navi - masterlist

Karma Akabane x Reader

Mood Song: house of balloons / glass table girls

Summary: Remember the beloved Assassination Classroom anime? This is pretty much that, except you enter the picture of Karma's chaotic school year. Let's see just how compatible the two of you are.

Warnings: kidnapping, depictions of violence, cursing, kidnappers are pervs, this is my attempt at getting out of my writers block rut :')

"Nagisa! Sugino! Karma!"

The cries seemed to echo through the boy's minds as reality slowly seeped its way back to them. None of them seemed to remember what happened until they felt the sharp pain overcome their bodies from the attack.

All Karma could hear was the sound of your voice. Crying, whimpering, screaming his name in a desperate plea for him to help you, and yet he let you slip from his grasp.

Just like that.

Now all that was left for him to think about was what those thugs were doing to you, or where the hell they could have even taken you? For all he knew, the three of you could be dead by now and they couldn’t do a damn thing about it.

It seemed surreal that just earlier in the day you were cuddled up next to him on the train, your small hand enlaced with his own. Now who knew what those filthy pigs were doing with you.

As the other boys slowly rose from their weakened positions, they seemed to notice Karma's… sour mood, to say the least. The redhead’s breathing was ragged, his fists clenched in a furious tremble. Nagisa glanced over to Sugino who shared a concerned look, the two debating on how they should confront the ticking time bomb.

"Karma it's okay, we'll get them-"

Before Nagisa could finish his words of encouragement, a raged scream poured from Karma's lips before his fist collided with the wall beside him, the crack of bone against the brick structure echoing throughout the alleyway.

"DAMN IT!"

Both boys remained still after this, their hearts sinking at the sight of their normally confident friend being torn apart from the inside. Nagisa had never seen Karma so furious, usually he kept up his assured facade even in challenging situations.

"Are you doing okay Sugino?" Nagisa questioned, checking in on the less aggressive target first. After receiving a thumbs up, Nagisa sat up a bit more before shifting his gaze over to his troubled friend.

"Karma?"

Once his name was spoken, the redhead turned his head to the side, the sight sending chills through Nagisa's body. He was smiling.

"I think it's safe to assume those guys were pretty hardcore," Karma stated simply, his hand rubbing at the back of his neck slowly, "We could go to the cops, except those guys are the type who know their way around the system... which is fine."

Sugino and Nagisa both felt uneasy about Karma's sudden change in mood, his last words sounding awfully menacing, even for Karma. Before they could question it, the redhead finally looked up from behind his arm with the most ominous expression Nagisa had seen in awhile.

"Cause I'm the type who likes to handle these things personally, if you know what I mean."

Sure enough, both boys knew exactly what he meant. Karma wasn't the type who got beaten easily, so to be on the losing side of an attack like this most definitely put a damper on his ego. But then to go and take his friends and girlfriend? Nagisa could only imagine the unparalleled rage Karma was feeling.

"Okay dude..." Sugino muttered while holding his arm against his aching stomach, "How do we even find them?"

Karma remained silent at this, Nagisa glancing over to Sugino while deep in thought until it came to him. Those dictionary-like guides Korosensei gave to everyone… Shuffling to his feet, Nagisa darted to his bag and lugged the giant book to the other three boys.

"Korosensei said this thing is filled with any scenario possible, there's gotta be something in here to help us!"

Karma glanced over in interest, Sugino's face lighting up as he crawled next to Nagisa while flipping through pages.

"Let's see... cheering yourself up your lonely self after seeing a lovey dovey couple... where to find cheap Kyoto soup and cheap local boutiques... this thing literally has every scenario!"

Nagisa chuckled slightly at a few of them, Korosensei really knew how to lift the mood in every situation. It honestly felt like the teacher was right there reading it with them.

"There it is! What to do when a group member has been abducted!" Nagisa shouted, both boys looming over to read the pages of information on this given scenario, "Holy crap so much detail... this has everything we need!"

Sugino nodded, a smile finally spreading across his lips along with Karma. Though unlike Sugino, Karma's smile had a more ominous glint to it as he cracked his knuckles.

"Let's go kick some old man ass."

The moment you woke up, every single memory flooded into your head.

Not even bothering to take in your surroundings, you just whispered Karma's name, tears brimming at the tips of your lashes as images from the traumatic experience swarmed your mind. How could these thugs be so cruel?

The sound of your two friends stirring beside you seemed to snap you out of your horrifying trance. It was then you soaked in the building you were in. Almost with movie-like accuracy, it seemed you had been brought to some dirty abandoned warehouse. The room was large, filled with metal scraps and old wooden boxes, with the odd exception of a few pieces of dingy furniture laying around.

Glancing down, your nose scrunched upon realizing you were placed on one of the few decrepit couches displaced around the room, the creases of the old fabric filled with a dark moldy substance.

It was then that you realized you were much better kempt yourself. Your school attire had far lost uniform as the attire laid untucked and discolored with a mix of likely sweat and dirt. There wasn’t a single thing making you feel any less sick to your stomach.

The most you were able to communicate with Kayano and Kanzaki was ensuring they were both alright, which luckily all of you appeared to be uninjured with the exception of your arms being tied behind your backs.

Before you could say much else, a few men entered the dark room. You recognized most of them from the initial kidnapping, the group apparently not being very large. The men mostly just belittled all of you, telling the three of you that you were going to have a fun little “photoshoot”, and threatening that nobody would hear your screams, as a reminder to not even bother.

They always say when you experience your first traumatic experience, your brain almost becomes delirious because it’s not sure how to respond. Not sure if it’s really happening. Apparently those facts are true, your mind scrambling on how to feel or react.

Before you could think much of it, one of the men called out Kanzaki, showing the three of you a picture of her at an arcade, clearly from years ago. Your occasional glances at the raven haired girl confirmed she wasn’t proud of the memory forcibly being shown, her solemn face grimacing at the images.

After they discussed their eerily evasive knowledge of Kanzaki’s past, the men left to go talk amongst themselves while waiting for this “photographer” to show up.

"Not gonna lie, it's kind of comforting to know even you went through a faze," Kayano admitted with a soft smile, "Never would've imagined..."

Nodding in agreement you turned your head to Kanzaki, "Yeah, it’s nothing to be ashamed of. If anything, you pulled the look off well!"

Kanzaki lowered her head and sighed as you both tried to cheer her up, mumbling a thanks before looking at the two of you.

"Yeah.. My dad was crazy strict, always on me about doing well in school and building up my resume..." Kanzaki explained, both you and Kayano frowning at her words, "It was so.. suffocating, you know?"

Kayano nodded, a pitiful chuckle escaping your own lips.

"I totally understand, my parents may not be as strict, but it’s only because I’ve never let my grades slip. The pressure of it all is so overwhelming at times." You admitted.

Kanzaki nodded quickly at you with sparkling eyes, as if you had just read her mind.

"Exactly! I just couldn't deal!" Kanzaki exclaimed before frowning once more, "So.. I ditched the uniform, glammed myself out and.. hanged where nobody knew who I was. It felt like therapy.. It was so stupid. Where did I expect to end up, right? It's E Class for me... but now I don't even know where I belong anymore..."

Kanzaki’s confession left you and Kayano to stare at the floor in deep thought. Being the school’s idol, you assumed Kanzaki would’ve never had such experiences growing up.

Just as you were going to attempt to cheer the poor girl up, the sound of footsteps snapped you all from your conversation, a new wave of dread filling your cores.

"Sounds to me like you would be right at home with us! Grades and all that pointless bullshit don't mean jack here." The man hissed with narrowed eyes, "We eat those rich kid scums for breakfast, nothing's sweeter than knocking those stuffed shirts down a peg or two."

Narrowing your eyes at the man's words, you glanced over at another thug who followed after.

"The only thing that matters is having a little fun right?"

Their words had your brows knit together in annoyance. Could one genuinely think so highly of themselves as to make a living off of harassing others that are trying to do good for themselves?

Before you could respond, Kayano seemed to mirror your thoughts, her face darkening as she muttered three words that she would probably regret.

"You're a jerk."

Suddenly the disgusting grin the man once wore faded, your body going numb in fear of what he would do next. Sure enough he lifted Kayano from the couch by the collar of her uniform with an angry growl, "I see how it is! Little miss perfect thinks she's better than me!"

The sight of Kayano sobbing and trying to jerk herself out of the man’s grasp had your blood boiling in anger. What gave these men the right to treat you like this?

After everything you've been through, there was no reason why you should be sitting around and letting all of this happen. For so long you've been living in fear, but enough is enough. You had already lost Karma... you would be damned if you lost anyone else too.

"Let her go!" You shouted, wobbling yourself up so you were sitting on your knees.

All eyes fell on you now, the man holding Kayano freezing before narrowing his eyes down to you.

"Oh but of course, how could I forget about you?"

Suddenly your breath hitched as the man dropped Kayano haphazardly onto the grungy couch. The surge of confidence you had now vanished as the man began to close in on you like a predator does their prey.

"I knew right from the start when I saw you on the train, I just had to have you..." The man sneered, bending down before you as his hands began to play with your hair, "Foreign school girls are highly expensive you know, tell me where you're from, yeah?"

Furrowing your brows you clenched your teeth as you felt him grope at your sides, your feeble attempt to shake him off only ended in him gripping your chin harshly causing you to wince in pain.

"I asked you a question sweetheart."

"(Country)." You muttered through grit teeth, keeping your glare locked on him as he laughed boisterously as if this was the best thing he heard all day.

"You hear that boys? We got a (Country) girl here! We're about to be rich!" The man boomed, the sick men behind him sneering at you as you shriveled yourself up against the back of the couch.

“Oh don't cower away now, doll.” The man cooed, grabbing your shirt and pulling you back to the edge of the couch, "Don’t look so scared, we’ll treat ya real well… hell I may even keep you with how much you’re worth.”

Those were the words that truly shook you, the confidence you once had fully vanished as you felt your mouth go dry. The thought of never seeing your friends again... your family… Karma? Tears began to glisten in your eyes again, threatening to spill.

The man only grinned at your response, his thumb brushing across your cheek as he grabbed your chin once more, “Don’t cry on me sweetheart, that’s only going to entice-”

In a fit of desperate anger, you decided to shut the man up the only way you could. Moving your head back out of his grasp, you quickly latched your teeth around his finger and clenched them as hard as you could.

In seconds he jumped back from you, a loud howl escaping his lips as he rubbed his now bleeding finger before looking at you with widened eyes.

"D..Did you just bite me you crazy bitch?!"

Furrowing your brows you screamed as loud as you could, begging anyone for help. Begging and praying that someone was nearby to hear you. Kayano and Kanzaki caught on with your idea, screaming alongside you in hopes of someone hearing the shrill screams.

Whether someone heard you or not, the stunt you pulled seemed to prove useless as the seething man before you looked at you with crazed eyes. Midscream, you felt your body being lifted into the air, the harsh grasp around your neck silencing any noise you attempted to make.

The sound of your friends crying your name made your body shiver, the sight surely not a pretty one to see as all you could do was shake and tremble in his hold.

"How do you like that, huh bitch? If you're going to bite and scream like a dog, then I'll fucking treat you like one!"

His words would’ve stung more had you not been fighting for consciousness, the tears once brimming at your lashes were now rushing down your cheeks as you gasped for air. Any attempt at getting the ropes untied from your wrists proved useless.

It wasn’t until your complexion neared a pale purplish hue that the man finally released you, throwing your limp body onto the couch with a thud. You felt yourself fall into the laps of Kayano and Kanzaki, their desperate whispers of reassurement falling on deaf ears as you gasped for air in between coughs.

"When we're done here you go back to whatever fancy hotel you're in and tell whoever asks that you were just out singing karaoke and lost track of time," The man instructed with narrowed eyes before glaring at you, "Except for you, little brat. I was considering letting your little friends buy your freedom, but after all the trouble you've put me through, you'll never see the light of day again."

The purely sick laughter of the man echoed around the room, the sound sending fear through all of you as one of the metal doors clicked open.

"Speak of the devil.." The man said, noticing the door open as well, "My photographer buddies are here!"

Though your vision was still fairly blurred, you were able to glance up at the door to notice a tuft of orange hair. The only issue was that the bright locks were nearly dragging against the ground. As the figure made its way from the shadows, it was revealed that he wasn’t awake at all, rather beaten to a pulp based on the purple bruises that littered his face.

"Huh, what the hell?"

"School trip guidebook page one thousand and forty three..." You heard a familiar voice speak, all of your heads raising in recognition, "What to do when a group member has been abducted. If there are no leads on the perpetrators, think back to said accents or quirks that might indicate whether said perpetrators are local. If not, if the perpetrators were wearing school uniforms refer to page one thousand three hundred and thirty four..."

As Nagisa read the all too familiar words from a certain handbook you remember receiving, a small smile curled at the corner of your lips.

"You found us!" Kayano squealed, but was quickly overshadowed by the man before you shouting.

"What the hell?! How'd you even know where to look?"

Nagisa simply continued to read from Korosensei's guidebook, explaining each detail as to how they located us. It almost sounded too good to be true, and based off of the faces of the men they thought the same thing as well.

"Alright, so what's it gonna be gentleman?" Karma spoke, the sound of his voice making your eyes water as your smile grew, realizing the redhead was still alive, "Fight or flight? We'll go easy if you back down now but after all you've put us through, you're not getting out of this unscathed,"

Even with your vision obscured, the sight of his ominous golden eyes peering through his dark red locks was evident, enough to even make you shiver.

"That's a promise."

The feeling of hope hadn’t lasted long as the large thug before you chuckled at Karma’s words, seeming to be the only one not phased by their entrance.

"Acting all badass... You high school kids crack me up." The man hissed with a smirk, "Why do you even bother, you saw how far it got miss (Country) girl over here."

For a quick second your eyes locked with Karma's, golden hues drinking in your broken figure until he scowled and looked away, the sight making you want to shrink up into a ball and hide away. He was pissed.

"How about you say hello to some friends of mine.. see how far that attitude gets you with them."

The new voice was followed with an eerie chuckle, four new lifeless figures being presented at the doorway with a pair of glowing red eyes peering from the darkness.

"Say hello to them if you'd like.. but be advised though, they probably won't hear you."

All of your friends were finally able to smile with relief, your eyes lightening up at the sight of your teacher.

"Korosensei!"

Suddenly your teacher revealed himself from the shadows, holding up the four men as if it were nothing at all to him.

"Sorry I'm a little late to the festivities, I figured it would be best to let you handle this on your own while I searched elsewhere, just to cover all the bases." Korosensei explained, "Now why don't we split up and teach these filthy thugs a good ole Class E lesson?"

The three boys beside him seemed to light up at those words, each of them grinning maliciously as they followed after their teacher in attacking the group of thugs.

Korosensei was doing most of the work, making sure to lecture each one of the disgusting thugs about how your class wasn't snobby like most other private schools, and how you all worked hard while not tearing others down around you.

It was a heartwarming sentiment to say the least, it was just strange to see Korosensei have time to lecture these guys while they charged at him with knives and other weapons. There was no doubt that Korosensei was on another level.

Kanzaki and Kayano giggled in excitement, their heads glancing down to your limp form as Kayano reassured you that everything would be okay. And for a second, it felt like everything would be.

But you should've known by now not to assume anything.

A pair of strong arms wrapped around your torso and lifted you from off the couch, before you could register your friend’s screams or even what was happening, you were thrown over a large shoulder.

"Get that one away for now until we can regroup!"

Your eyes widened, this couldn't be happening. No.. no.. no. You were too damn close to be taken away like this. Gritting your teeth you began to slam your head against the back of the man’s legs while kicking at his gut in an attempt to make him drop you.

"Q..Quit that you little brat!" The man growled, his arms squeezing tightly around your torso causing you to yelp in pain. Why did he have to be so damn strong?

The sound of your name being screamed by Kanzaki and Kayano alerted your other classmates that were in the midst of giving a good beating, the three of them noticing the thug carrying your squirming body away.

"These fuckers just won't take a hint, will they?" Karma growled, releasing the head he had in his hand and shoving the limp thug away before running towards the man holding you.

"L..Let me... go! You p..pig!" You cried, your kicks turning into pathetic squirms as you felt like the life was being squeezed out of you. For the third time that day you saw those dark spots that plagued your vision, it was humiliating.

Just when you felt your lashes begin to flutter shut, you felt the man beneath you freeze. Since your senses were nearly fried from being on the verge of passing out, you didn’t hear the harsh scream of the thug until you collided with the floor.

Though you still were slowly gaining consciousness, you could at least feel two hands grip your face, your eyes registering those bright red strands of hair.

Karma held your weak body up as he quickly pulled out his pocket knife and sliced the ropes that held your wrists together. Rubbing at your arms a bit aggressively, the redhead grabbed your lolling head once more and called your name.

“Y/n, you there? Ya hearing me angel?”

Blinking a bit, your eyes focused enough to see the concern in his eyes, his lips moving in what you assumed was your name. Glancing behind him, you saw the man that was once carrying you now on the ground, gripping at his knees.

“Y/n! Are you alright?” Karma now cried, his voice finally ringing in your ears as you looked to him, now feeling the tears running down your face as you nodded vigorously.

“Y..Yes yes… M’alright Karma! I’m… okay.” You whispered, forcing a smile on your lips as you tried to sit up before the two of you heard the metal door click beside you.

The thug was struggling to open the door as he tried to crawl away from the two of you, the sight making the redhead growl before he glanced back at your heaving body.

“You just stay here and breathe for me, alright angel?” Karma said softly, running his non-bloodied hand across your cheek before standing up and walking towards the pathetic man.

"You told me not to play hero huh?" Karma hissed with a psychotic grin, grabbing the man by his ankles and tugging him back away from the door, "Fine! I'll be the bad guy!"

Without a second thought, Karma’s fists connected with the man’s jaw with a frightening crack. Punch after punch, Karma relentlessly beat the thug, his sinister laugh filling the air as the hits began to grow harder and harder.

Though it twisted your insides, the thought of that man getting what was coming felt good. But with that said, there were only so many more hits he would be able to take before it would be too late for him.

Once you eventually were able to breathe normally, you stood up shakily and started walking towards the two in order to stop Karma, but your movement was stopped when a yellow tentacle wrapped around your wrist. Whipping your head around you noticed your teacher with a rather solemn face.

"Let him finish, the boy has so much pent up rage right now, it'll be best for him to take it out now rather than on you or one of his classmates," Korosensei explained, your heart dropping at the sound of that. You could only imagine how stressed out and angry the Karma was.

Even with that in mind though, you feared that Karma would take this too far. The crazed look in his eye only getting worse with each resounding punch.

"But if we don't stop him now Korosensei, he may end up-"

"I won't let him get that far I promise you that,” Your teacher spoke, placing a tentacle on your shoulder before bending down to you, “Now head back out to safety with your other classmates and get that neck of yours checked out, no severe injuries correct?"

Swallowing thickly, you rubbed at the back of your neck before letting out a shaky sigh.

"I don't believe so, just some minor stuff.” You mumbled, offering a forced smile before you shuffled towards the front door, one of your classmates running to you and helping you out.

Your teacher only nodded at you, his body facing back to the relentless redhead who continued his vicious attacks on the now regretful thug.

Karma couldn't lie to himself. If his teacher hadn't stepped in to stop his actions, the unconscious thug beneath him would've been a dead corpse in his hands.

How could he help it? They beat him up, kidnapped his friends, then he comes to find the girl he loves barely conscious on a filthy couch. He swore to protect you and he failed, and for that he was going to show these bastards a lesson.

The redhead even sensed when the thug was reaching fatal levels, but he didn't care. He ignored the man's pleas to stop. Why should he listen? He didn't listen to your desperate cries when he tried to take you away!

Karma's fists ached but he barely felt it, instead he bared his teeth in fury as he cracked each of his fist's against the thug’s face. He didn't feel the blood running down his fists or the bruises forming on his knuckles, only the satisfaction of sweet revenge.

As his hits began to slow down his eyes glimmered in joy, knowing this final blow would be it for the sorry excuse of a man. Raising his fist with a crazed grin he was ready to smash it down into the man's skull until a yellow tentacle wrapped around his wrist. Karma whipped his head around with a growl, trying to free his wrist from his teacher's grasp.

"Stay out of this you damn octopus!"

Korosensei's hold only grew stronger as the creature's voice grew rather serious, "Karma you're going to kill that man, you must stop."

Karma laughed at the irony of his teacher's words. Korosensei was going to lecture him right now? Seriously?

"Why do you care? We're in an assassination classroom right! Killing is what we do!" Karma shouted with clenched fists, "This filthy pig tried to hurt your classmates!"

Karma's breathing became heavy as he felt his fists shake in fury, his eyes feeling hot as he looked down at the disgusting man.

"He tried to take her."

The feeling of Korosensei's tentacle suddenly disappeared, Karma's hand falling down to his knees as he kept his golden eyes trained on the ground.

"I understand how you're feeling, young man. Angry, scared, vengeful. You have every right to feel this way, but think about it like this," Korosensei explained, "These men around you tried to take your friends away and maybe even harm them for personal gain, why would you want to lower yourself down to their level for revenge?"

Karma remained silent, his fists loosening up as he looked at his teacher through his red tufts of hair.

"Y/n is okay, your friends are okay, that's all that matters at the moment. There's no doubt that you're training to become an assassin, but you must understand that assassins take pride in their work and don't just kill anyone for fun. Don't ruin your future for revenge, young man."

Surprisingly Karma felt… better. He hated to admit it, but the damn creature always knew the right things to say. Honestly Karma knew he lost himself in the moment, he could only thank his teacher for not letting him go too far.

"Now I suggest you go out there and check on Y/n, the poor girl has only been here for a few weeks and she's already experienced such a traumatic event. She's going to need you by her side."

For once during the whole talk Karma smiled at his teacher, taking his tentacle to stand up before they both walked outside to meet with their classmates.

When you made it outside you were surprised to see the sunset lowering just above the horizon. Time was lost while you were locked inside that decrepit building

Your classmates were quick to be at your side. After enough eyes examined you, it was determined you didn’t have any serious injuries, just some bruised spots and sore muscles. Luckily Nagisa offered to get you some water from a nearby convenience store, the cool liquid soothing your throat at least.

Once the chaos had settled down, your classmates decided to sit on the curb across the street from the building, talking amongst themselves. You decided to refrain from talking, your throat injury providing a helpful excuse to do so. But in reality, it’s more because you felt sick to your stomach.

Surprisingly you weren't completely traumatized by the events that had just occurred, for some reason that's not what bothered you the most out of everything that happened today. It was just the way you were so pathetic, so helpless. You should've been able to do something.

Instead you were forced to watch your boyfriend get attacked, watch your friends get harassed, and make everyone worry because you were so weak... so pathetic.

In your deep thought, you hadn’t even heard the grunt beside you as a tall redhead took a seat beside you on the sidewalk. The sound of his cough snapped you from your thoughts as you glanced up at him, seeing his golden eyes already looking down at you, though they were quick to drop to your neck, his eyes quickly narrowing.

"Damn it, I can't believe how bad it looks." Karma muttered, his fingers grazing against the damaged skin resulting in you sucking air through your teeth from the mild pain of the touch, to which he quickly jerked his hand away.

Quickly looking back to the road, you chuckled weakly with a frown, “Gee thanks.”

Karma clicked his tongue and bumped your side slightly, "You know what I meant angel, don't be like that."

You forced out a laugh, your eyes remaining glued to the ground as your fingers nervously fidgeted against your knee caps. Your actions didn't go unnoticed by the redhead, his hand gently grabbing your fidgeting fingers to force them to a still.

"Are you okay Y/n?"

Oh how you wished he hadn't uttered those four words. You were dreading those words falling from anyone's lips, knowing they would crumble the walls you tried so hard to keep up.

Sure enough the warm teardrops that had been threatening to spill from your lashes began to trickle out one by one, your sudden release of emotions causing you to sniffle.

Karma was quick to grab at your cheek and move your head to face his own, his face immediately softening as you burst into tears before him. Without second thought he shoved you into his chest and wrapped his arms around you tightly, gripping at the locks of your hair and inhaling your scent as he kissed at the top of your head.

"Shit Y/n... I'm so sorry, that must've been so scary for you. I should've been there and I wasn't-"

"Shut up!"

Out of everything Karma expected you to say, it wasn’t that. His hold on you softened as you shoved yourself away from his chest, your sobs growing louder as you rubbed aggressively at your face. You almost looked... angry? The sight scared Karma to death, thinking you could only be mad at him.

"Shut up, shut up, just shut up!" You cried as you looked down to your shaking hands, "You shouldn't have been there, I should've been there!"

Karma's eyes widened at this, confusion running through his mind as you continued.

"You put yourself before me to save me and as soon as you got attacked all I did was watch like an idiot! A..And when they took me away and I had to watch you get kicked to what I thought was death! All I could do was cry and watch you get attacked, I felt so.. so weak!"

Now the puzzle pieces were clicked together in Karma's head. You weren't mad at him... you were mad at yourself.

And somehow, that felt worse for him.

"And when we got kidnapped and they just kept harassing us, all I could do was shout at them and hope they would stop! I..I.. I should've been able to do something! But instead all I could do was watch, all I ever do is watch. I put everyone else around me in danger or make everyone else worry because... because..."

Your face grew red, every emotion you felt bottled up inside as you squeezed your eyes shut.

"Because I’m weak!"

This caused everyone to silence, the only sound being heard was the cool evening wind blowing against the metal signs and fall leaves that littered the ground.

"I..I'm weak... and I'm pathetic... and-"

The next string of words were cut off when a pair of lips smashed against yours. They weren't angry, they weren't guilty, they were simple and welcoming. The feeling of his warm lips pressing against your own caused more tears to stream from your face as you gripped down on his hands tightly until the redhead moved away from you.

"You are not fucking weak, you hear me? You're not weak for being scared, or pathetic for not being able to do anything. That's the dumbest shit I've ever heard!" Karma shouted with a frown as he looked at you with an intense gaze, "I got beaten because I was reckless and moved on instinct rather than thinking things through."

Inhaling sharply, you swallowed what saliva you forgot you had in your mouth and as your teeth clamped down on the inside of your lip to prevent more tears from spilling as your nails dug into Karma's hands.

"You were strong enough to fight back against those pigs and hold your ground even in a scary situation, so don't you dare say you're weak, do you understand me?" Karma questioned as he cupped your cheek and looked into your eyes, "I was never angry at you, I was angry at myself for letting you slip away. And now I'm going to promise you that I'm going to act more with a level head, so long as you promise to always tell me how you're feeling and to stop bottling up these feelings inside."

You couldn't help the feeling of your lips twitching, your eyes blinking to hold back any tears from escaping your exhausted eyes as you looked up to him. His eyes were stern yet soft, his thumb rubbing against the smooth skin of your palm as he gave your hands a light squeeze.

"Promise me Y/n?"

Smiling softly you let out a slight laugh, your head nodding quickly as more tears streamed down your face.

"I promise Karma."

Karma smiled at this, his palm brushing away some residing tears from your soft cheeks while pushing some of your unkempt hair behind your ear. Somehow even in your disheveled state, you looked so damn beautiful to him.

The two of you hadn't noticed each other leaning in until the sound of a pen clicking and a familiar voice cooing made you both back away.

“Star Crossed lovers reunited after being forcefully separated, I mean the story is just writing itself!” Korosensei cried, somehow having a box of tissues in one of his many tentacles.

At this you began to giggle along with the rest of your classmates, and though Karma put on an annoyed facade, he couldn’t stop the boyish grin from creeping upon his lips when your angelic smile filled his ears once more.

And just then as he caught a glimpse of your pretty smile laughing with the milky sunset rays beaming across your face, he knew one thing was for sure.

He would never let anything take you away from him, ever again.

next chapter

#karma akabane #karma #akabane #karma akabane x reader #karma akabane x you #karma x you #karma x reader #kunugigaoka #assasination classroom #long fic #angst

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dairy-farmer · 8 months ago

Note

Young Justice Fuck Up AU? Tim is Robin, well into it. Not a rookie by any means.

But! Magic users, man. They stumble upon a mad scientist. Who is CONVINCED he can make sense of Magic. Instead it drove him crazy, as it tends too. The duke it out. Good ol punch fest.

But oh no! Perv man has been eyeing Cassie in a way none of them like, this whole fight. Makes a Comment as he levels a ray gun! "More agreeable"?! Oh HELL no!

Tim is closest. Bart still elbows deep, trying to stop some poor harpy woman from bleeding out in front of her kid. Tim pulls that Classic Hero Move(tm) and dives in front of his friend. Takes the beam.

Hits the ground. Feeling like he's on FIRE.

Terror Furious is a SCARY look on Amazons. Cassie breaks his damn near EVERYTHING before Kon can pull her off. Tim's not moving. Ray guns busted to hell. They take it anyway. Free everyone they can, take the "research" to try and make sense of it, burn that nightmare pit to the GROUND.

Tim wakes up with... weirdly nice hair and skin. Like? His complexion? Usually pale and half dead looking. His hair a birds nest. But he looks? Dewey. Ready for a photo shoot. He's also kinda hungry.

But? Nothing touchs it. Not coffee. Not toast. Not even when he breaks down and eats a "real" breakfast. He just feels kinda bloated.

And he notices.

That press ready complexion and such? Slowly gets duller as he gets hungrier. He's not stupid. Far from it. He's a god damned ROBIN. The ray DID something.

He testes his DNA.

It's no longer a match. Fuck. He tears apart the Creeps "research" looking for blueprints of that gun. It takes hours to find it. The missing Model? A young succubus. It's HER DNA in the gun.

He's literally gonna starve.

Obviously, he tells his team. And Obviously they swear not to let that happen. Everyone splits up. Kon flying him back to Gotham. They stop by his safe house. So he can get supplies. And Kon? Well he spent the flight THINKING. Stacks everything to the side, ready to go, and crowds his bro back up against a wall.

Hugs him real close. Fingertips touched to those bits of skin he can find, cheek pressed against cheek as he sucks in air. As he jacks it. Tim wide eyed and frozen, full body pressed against him, staring unseeing over his shoulder from where Kon tucked him close.

It's crazy. Kon knows he should be doing this. But he let's himself get into it anyway. Feel as much lust as he can. Feel as GOOD as he can. Because Tim needs it.

And Tim tries not to think about how it feels like perfection. When Kon cums on this thigh. How he can feel it even through his armor in a way he shouldn't be ABLE too. How he DOES, actually, feel so much better. Because he's going to "fix this". Turn back.

Except...

Except it doesn't seem to be working. Even with the awesome power of the Batcomputer and the advanced labs he has at his disposal in the cave? Everything pointing to his body not being able to HANDLE two full DNA changes back to back. Maybe in a DECADE... but...

No. He's running out of time!

And he IS. The other Bats have noticed he's not eating. Worse, they're clearing noting his physical decline. Digging for answers.

Finding them.

Dick storms up to him looking like murder Very Much is an option on the table. Doesn't so much slap the printout down as rest it like a death warrant on top of his keyboard. It's a print out of the ray gun. Fuck. He knows.

A second page. Print out of a conversation with with Zatara. How long can Succubus go with out eating? He passed "medically advisable" two days ago.

He refuses to look at Dick. The disappointment and no doubt disgust. That's why he doesn't see the arm coming to sweep him up and out of his seat. Barely has the strength to object and struggle. Dick ignores him. Carries him up stairs.

To his room.

Does he want Tim to rest? Conserve strength? But then why is he taking off his shirt? Tugging off Tim's sweats? The thought is so wild, so unimaginable and out of reach, it doesn't register until Dick has him pushed back and by the legs. Is leaning forward towards the hem of Tim's baggy sweater.

His entire body JOLTS.

He feels like he's been holding his breath too long and suddenly sucked in air. It doesn't JUST feel good, he feels light-headed with how hard it hits him. Dicks hands have slid up. Seized him by the hips so he can't escape. Now he's being devoured.

Dick is mad at him. Has to be. It goes beyond just being careful with a virgin. Wet, teasing, and relentless. It takes forever for there to be fingers. Then they're overwhelming and GOOD but not ENOUGH. It could only be on purpose. It's too deliberate.

Maybe he decides Tim's is gushing wet enough, or maybe it's the whimpering, like Tim's going to cry. But Dick decides to eventually take pity of him. Too shush and sooth. Scoop up and pull close, as he lines up and starts rocking DEEP.

And it's fizzing in Tim's veins. Fuller and fuller, closer and CONNECTED in a way that feels like he can KEEP. And Dick? Feels closer then he has in years. To anyone. He never wants to pull out. Wants to stay like this, rocking lazily in and out, riding the afterglow, FOREVER.

Wants to take him hard and deep, slow and sweet, bent in half and gasping for air. His, his, his~.

But? Guess who forgot to grab those papers? Dick. Guess who is Worried About His Son(tm)? Bruce. He snoops. He finds them. He has his moral panic and brooding session on a gargoyle in the rain. He does the mental gymnastics necessary to live with himself.

He tracks down Tim.

Because really, who else could they TRUST with this? And yes. Bruce has not been... the best mentor. But he has been trying to be better. Will be better! And he is not about to let some Creeps lay their filthy hands on his boy.

So Tim gets to live out his teenage hormone dreams~☆

Pulled into Batmans lap. Kissed as gentle, powerful, and calloused hands slide down his pants. Between his legs. To tease and rub. To slide deeper then in. Filling him, fucking him, stretching him in preparation for something BIGGER. All while his mouth is plundered by that commanding mouth. All while he squirms in his lap, feeling the thickness of what's going to be buried DEEP pressed against him.

Clothes discarded. Being lifted up. And pulled down onto something that feels like it can't possibly fit. Whining and breathing through it. Leaning forward and just breathing in the scent of Bruce's aftershave, concentrating on the beat of his heart. Being pulled all the way down to the root. Listening to him GROAN and rock Tim's body just to FEEL it.

Up and down, up and down. Lifted and dragged, like a sleeve. Held like a TREASURE. Listening to Bruce rumble out praise in a way he NEVER does. It drags against every good spot inside him. How could he not come apart? Over and over until his bones feel like goo and his head full of honey? Drooling and twitching against Bruce's chest.

At least he's not hungry when he wakes up.

The problem? BRUCE left those damn papers in the cave, too. And both Jason AND Damian found them. Independently of each other.

AND no one in this family TALKS to each other. So EVERYONE thinks that Only They(tm) can prevent him from starving to death.

He... he should tell them. Honestly, he's ABOUT too.

But then? The little nightmare is... not NICE, so much as civil to him? Something about a victory being meaningless if Tim starves thanks to his team mates slow reaction time. Tim likes to think NOT punching him for that remark is being rather mature, on his part. Still, it's nice he's largely backed off.

Only THEN? Tim finds out he backed off because he was going on some weird, DEFINITELY Bruce's Son, "journey of soul searching" about whether or not to fuck him to save his life? Did it never occer to EITHER of these two, to FIND him someone trustworthy? No? HAS to be done by their own two hands, huh?

Is control-freak a genetic trait? Asking for a friend. Who is Tim.

The answer was apparently "yes, he will do it", by the way. And was apparently Preparing himself mentally. How does Tim find out? He finds out in the showers, completely naked. Leg bruised to heck and back, trying to balance on wet tiles, when hot hands too small to be Dick or Bruce, steady him.

It's Damian.

Who is flushed and refusing to look at him. Embarrassed scowl all but carved onto his face. Helping wash with the same efficient but careful method he lovingly washs Titus. Crowding close to him. Sliding an arm around his waist to keep Tim upright. A bold but fumbling hand down and down, like he has a right to what he'll find.

Spreading and curling, under the sprays of water, everything slick. Pin pricks of water hitting his skin, as everything starts to feel so SENSITIVE. Damian pressing against his back like he wants to hide how badly he WANTS, even though Tim can FEEL how hard he is against his back. How greedy his hand is, as it explores.

Sliding to their knees, then the floor. Because Damian's legs have gone weak and Tim can't bear to put pressure on one of his. Damian scrambling forward, eyes almost manic, as he finally learns what all the FUSS is about. His Rival so magnificent beneath him.

Hands tracing scars. Rutting, slick and desperate, under the pouring showerheads. Clawing at those strong hips, to finally put theory into practice. Whining like he's WOUNDED against drenched skin. So HOT. So good.

No technique or skill.

Just frantic pounding. Deep. Again and again. Hips trapped in a desperate hold, as Damian throws everything he HAS into fucking the hot body beneath him. Overwhelmed by the need to milk himself DRY into the perfect vice around his young cock.

Tim not only isn't hungry the next few days, the little gremlin? A doting, if stabby, little shadow. Dick is thrilled they've "become friends". Tim wonders if this is what Talia was like with Bruce. Tries to keep track of his DNA.

Goes to Jason, because honestly, he's probably MET some Succubus before. What with his "Scew You, Dad!" World tour. Might know something. Problem is? The SECOND he climbs in the window? Jason just puts down his guns, turns, and pulls him into a kiss that melts his brain.

Tim's not even sure HOW he loses his clothes. Jason doesn't give him time to think. Next thing he knows, he's bent in half, being held still by his hair, as Jason both sucks the air out of his lungs and pounds him through the mattress. Grinding some little vibe he got from SOMEWHERE against his clit, like Tim isn't ALREADY losing his damn mind.

He absolutely loses time, after the second earth shattering orgasm.

All Tim knows is he wakes up with a drool and tear stained face, bones made if jello, and the bruises like he went a round with Bane. He's practically GLOWING with how well fed he is. Is bordering dangerously close to... to PERKY and Cheerful! In the MORNING!

If he could move, he would accuse Jason of some sort of dick based witchcraft.

Instead he's pulled close like some sort of lover and Jason mumbles something about breakfast after he wakes up. It BETTER include coffee. Tim can't move. Well, the healing ability is kicking in. But he gets to complain anyway!

He does not, in fact, remember to tell anyone.

They NEVER fucking communicate because of course they don't.

So each one of them, Secretly of course, keeps Tim's Super Secret Succubus Secret from the other's. And helps him feed. Secretly.

Tim is extremely well fed. And never DOES figure out how to change back... not that he tries too hard.

-🐼🐼🐼

tim being magically turned into a succubus and his family all independently deciding they will take on the oh so hard task of "helping" him and keeping him fed 👀👀! and then tim being in absolutely no rush to change back because he's well fed and taken care of so it's not like he's on a time crunch or anything 👀👀👀

#answered asks #asks #anonymous

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lino-jagiyaa · 2 years ago

Text

desire - kim seungmin | next

genre: suggestive, fwb | pairing: seungmin x female reader | warnings: swearing, perv!seungmin (stealing panties and being a peeping tom, feeling y/n up in a dark classroom), implied thick reader | words: 1,405

☀︎ your deskmate, seungmin couldn’t seem to keep his hands to himself during class.

note: this ended up longer than i thought lol, sorry in advance...

do not repost or translate ©︎lino-jagiyaa - please remember to reblog and leave your feedback if you enjoyed it! do not spam like, you will be blocked.

it was friday afternoon, your last class and your professor was letting the class relax since he gave you all an exam the day before that was really stressing everyone out, including him who had to grade everything today. so instead of starting a new lesson, he decided that he’s put on a movie while he started grading. seungmin had a few classes with you. he always chose to sit next to or near you since you were at least a little bit acquainted and it didn’t seem like he had many friends so you just let him.

he was nice to you. you liked having his company on days when your friends weren’t there. he’d offer to bring you water bottles or snacks when you studied in the library on late nights. he was a really nice guy.

when he walked into class today, you were already sitting at your table. the lights were dimmed low but you could see the friendly smile he gave you. “hey, seung.” you started

“hey. what are we doing today? everyone looks slumped.” he says, putting his bag down on the floor next to his chair as he sits

“oh, we’re just watching a movie since the teacher has stuff to grade.”

“ooh, okay. is it any good?”

“it’s okay i guess, not much has played yet and to be honest i haven’t paid much attention to it.” you chuckled, laying your head on the table facing him

“i see. well, how was your day?” he asked sweetly, laying his head on the table as well

“it’s been pretty good actually. but i didn’t see you barely at all, where’ve you been?”

“i’m glad. and ah, i was busy studying for business math. you know how that goes.” he jokingly rolls his eyes

“mm, yeah it sucks.”

“yup.”

“you wanna know something weird though?” you ask

“sure..?”

“okay so, i went to the gym like i usually do. well duh, you know because you go in the same hour as me- anyways, after my workout i went to shower, and when i got out, i couldn’t find some of my clothes.”

“like... the dirty ones?”

“yes. i was like.. who the fuck?”

“did you leave them on a bench or in your locker?”

“on the bench, but they’ve never been stolen before. so i’m guessing one of those frat boys took it for their rush or something. it’s whatever, i guess.” you shrug

“damn, that’s sick as fuck.” seungmin frowns

but the truth was, he was trying to keep his composure since he was the one who took your sweaty gym clothes. specifically your underwear. he’d never gone as far as stealing before. only sneaking glances at you in the locker room when you changed, or through your bedroom window at night. giving him easy access since you neglected to get a pair of blinds in your dorm. he usually admires you during classes or in between them. how beautiful you looked, he couldn’t keep his eyes off of you.

“yeah, but it’s fine, really. it’s not like i can’t just buy another pair of underwear- shit, sorry. i didn’t even mention that before, i don’t know why i told you that-” you stammered

“y/n, it’s fine. we’re friends, right?”

“yes.” you cleared your throat

“okay then, it’s all good.” he smiled

that damn smile. why is he so handsome?

“you’re good at this.”

“at what?” he questions

“comforting people, me. you’re such a smooth talker, you know.”

“well, i try.” he smirks

fuck. y/n, calm down. he’s just a friend. right?

“you don’t date, do you?” you sit up

“not particularly, no. but if i see a cute girl, i might shoot my shot.”

he nudges you on the shoulder when he speaks. shit. is he flirting now?

“how about you? i haven’t really seen you with anyone, i mean, except hyunjin sometimes...” he says low

is he... jealous? maybe you’re over analyzing things...

“no, you’re right. i’m not seeing anyone right now and i’m not apposed to dating or even hookups but i guess nobody else seemed interested.” you reply

“you sure about that?” he leans closer to you now

“you’re not... interested in me, are you?”

“maybe i am. what would that mean to you?”

you could feel your face heating up, cheeks burning in a deep red. as well as the heat between your legs growing stronger.

fuck. kim seungmin, the man you are...

“...yeah- i mean, you’re a charmer for sure. you’re not joking, though right?”

“now why would i do that? you’re gorgeous, y/n. and anyways, i’ve had a crush on you for a while now. not sure how you haven’t noticed until now.” his eyebrows drew together

“really?” you question

“do i have to show you, y/n?” he leans in closer now, so close that you can feel his breath on your face.

it was making your head spin. the proximity between you two getting smaller and smaller as the conversation goes on.

“i wouldn’t be opposed.” you whisper

“you sure?” he whispers back

“just kiss me already.”

and he does. sure, he looks and acts sweet but right now he’s taking his time with you. kissing you slowly and drawing you in to face him more by your waist.

your panties must be soaked now, and he knows it. knows how much of an effect he has on you already. he should, he’s been observing you for so long so he knows just what to fo to drive you crazy. can’t wait fuck you dumb.

his hands are resting on the small of your back now and you whine into the kiss. it makes him draw back.

“why’d you stop?” you said in a breathy tone

“there’s other people in room. don’t wanna get carried away, do we?” he smirks

“...right” you look away from him, scanning the room

“the class ends soon, so don’t worry. but i’ve got an idea.”

“oh?”

“let me hold onto your thigh till the end of class?”

“seungmin...”

“don’t be shy.” his eyes focused on the short hem of your short skirt that now rides up your thighs. oh so beautifully.

“okay. yes- you can do it.”

“don’t worry, i’ll be gentle.”

he scooted closer to where you were on the bench seating. only about an inch or two worth of space between the two of you. enough room for his hand to reach your thigh.

he played it safe at first, softly placing a hand on your right thigh. just resting it there, scanning your face for discomfort.

“you’re soft...” is all he managed to say before you were parting your thighs for him, ever so slightly. but he got the hint and subtly moved his hand closer to your core.

“fuck. you’re already soaked for me and i haven’t even started yet.”

neither of you were looking at each other, pretending to pay attention to the movie that was still playing. it only seemed to have about ten minutes left anyways so it didn’t seem to matter.

oh, how glad you were to have picked a spot in the very back of the class. but still nervous that someone would catch onto what the two of you were doing back there.

you could feel seungmin lifting up your skirt a little higher, inching his fingers higher and higher up your thigh. so close. so close to where you wanted him to be. he squeezed your thigh, making you impulsively squeeze your thighs together. on his hand... giving him even more access.

it didn’t last for long though. no. he forced your thighs back open, even wider than they were before with the single hand that was resting there before.

“damn, you’re such a tease.” he huffed, “don’t tease... your teasing is torture, baby. just wanna make you feel good.”

luckily for you, the bell rang and your professor told everyone they could leave. seungmin let go of you, getting up and grabbing his bag, waiting for you to do the same. once you did, you could feel your thighs sticking together. there was no way he didn’t notice. his gaze on you was hungry, needy. he wanted you, needed you.

he held out his hand, signaling you to grab it. “wanna get out of here? my apartment is near campus.”

“absolutely.”

he didn’t have to ask you twice. you wanted him too.

taglist: @dadonbabysworld @lynanist @lix-ables @xhazmania @svngcore @seungisms @strayingawayy

#kim Seungmin #suggestive skz #skz scenarios #perv skz #straykids hard thoughts #skz smut #jagiyaa writes ★#stray kids #stray kids imagines #stray kids smut

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daisyvisions · 2 years ago

Note

10 79 99 w juyo

im just doing all the members <3 take ur time

(this was supposed to be out for his bday but life happened 🥴 belated hbd to our juyo still!)

Behave...

Member + Prompts: Lee Juyeon (TBZ) + 10. “Wanna see how you look when you come undone under me.”, 79. “Behave.”, & 99 .“Try not to be so noisy, yeah?”

Warnings: Smut (18+, minors DNI), brat taming, bratty reader x brother’s best friend!au, hard dom, dubcon, fingering, overstimulating, squirting, Juyeon’s a lil perv (if you squint), dacryphilia (ish?)

Extra content warning: ⚠️ this fic contains a cnc kink (aka dubcon) but please know that consent is key ALWAYS. Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise!

‧⋆ ✧˚₊‧⋆. ✧˚₊‧⋆‧‧⋆ ✧˚₊‧⋆. ✧˚₊‧⋆‧‧⋆ ✧˚₊‧⋆.

Juyeon had seen you almost every single day since you were kids. Not only was he your neighbor, but he also happened to be one of your brother’s closest friends.

Growing up, you were seen as the annoying little sister who would always try to play with your brother and his friends. And for some reason, you insisted on staying beside Juyeon every single time. Always trying to link arms with him, show him the things you would create, etc.

To you, no one else mattered in the room except for Juyeon. There was just something about him that always had you sticking to him like a magnet (…or maybe because you had a fat crush on him).

But for Juyeon? It was annoying as hell. The more you kept on clinging onto him, his patience was wearing thin.

That’s how this whole rift between the two of you started when you accidentally overheard Juyeon ranting to Kevin that you were getting on his nerves and that he just wished you could back off. It broke your tiny little heart into pieces.

Since then, you distanced yourself and became more hostile towards him, trying to find ways to push him away so you wouldn’t get hurt again.

Juyeon didn’t pick up this new attitude of yours at first but when you started becoming more snarky and rolling your eyes at him, it pissed him off even more than you being clingy.

And that’s what you did through the years growing up together: nothing but pure pettiness and bickering, more than your actual brother!

However, neither of you expected that some of these fights ended up becoming more flirtatious and suggestive as you both went through your teenage years.

Naturally, it gave you some confused feelings about him (especially when puberty did him so good…) and Juyeon was well aware that some of his words came off too flirty or suggestive (and yes, some were on purpose). How could he resist? Especially when your puberty hit you like a damn freight train.

One day you were this annoying little clingy girl then next thing you know you’re walking around the house wearing those skimpy little shorts that hugged the globes of your ass so perfectly. and what a sight it was indeed (especially when you would bend to pick something up from the floor.)

But what really riled him up the most was when you would act like a brat towards him… oh how he wished to put you in your place someday and teach you a lesson.

— — — — — — —

It was 10:17 PM and you were heading out to meet some friends at this newly open bar to just drink and have fun, making sure to wear the cutest top and matching skirt along with some of your favorite accessories.

As you were walking into the kitchen to grab a drink of water before heading out, your body accidentally collides with another figure. “Really? isn’t that skirt a little too short on you?”

Oh… It's Juyeon…

“What does it matter to you?” you snap back.

“You could at least cover up or something.” he retorted.

“Who are you, my dad? Why don't you just shut up and mind your business you prude.” You look in his eyes before you walk past him, slightly bumping into his shoulder on purpose.

“Fucking brat…” he muttered to himself, trying to ignore the slight twitch in his crotch area because admittedly, the outfit you wore was incredibly hot to say the least.

“Okay! Going! I'll text you, bye!” You shout to your brother in the living room as he and his other friends were playing a video game. “Kay, bye!” He shouts, still looking at the screen.

“Are you just gonna allow her to go out dressing like that?” Juyeon asks your brother, but he shrugs and ignores him, failing to notice the overprotective tone in Juyeon’s voice.

Hours pass and Juyeon does nothing but nervously shake his leg and glance at the clock every five minutes. Why does he feel so anxious and nervous all of a sudden?

It’s not like this is the first time you’ve gone out dressing up like that. And it’s not the first time you’ve been out too late either. So what made tonight different from the rest?

His internal thoughts were cut off when he heard your brother’s phone ring with you asking to be picked up from the bar. But before your brother even gets up from the couch, Juyeon immediately cuts him off.

“I can pick her up if you want. I don't mind.” he eagerly says.

“Oh really you sure? Thanks man! You know where to find the keys.”

Nodding his head, Juyeon pushes himself off the armchair and heads straight to the car to go you.

— — — — — — —

“What the fuck is he doing here?” you mutter to yourself as you see your brother’s car pull up at front of the bar but Juyeon in the driver’s seat instead.

“Get in.” Juyeon utters. You open the the car door and slide into the passenger seat.

“Why are YOU picking me up?” you snarl at him.

“Just doing your brother a favor.”

“What, so you can continue pissing me off? Don’t you have anything better to do than be obsessed with me?”

“You better watch that fucking attitude…” Juyeon’s hand on the wheel tightening the more you keep on fighting back, the whites of knuckles instantly popping out.

“Why don't you make me-” Before you can even finish your sentence, Juyeon’s large strong hand grips your exposed inner thigh.

You gasp at the sudden contact, and when you turn your head towards him he’s already looking straight at you with his piercing eyes and jaw clenched.

“Behave.” he sternly says.

That’s all it took for you to shut up the whole time driving back home. Juyeon’s hand was still grasping your inner thigh very hard during the drive. You’re pretty sure it’s gonna leave some light bruises the next day.

You bit your lower lip so hard trying not to to react with the feeling of Juyeon’s hand dangerously close to your core, your arousal practically blooming through your thin panties.

By the time you get home, you slam the car door and make your way inside. This doesn’t sit well with Juyeon of course so he follows behind you, nagging about how you should fix your attitude.

The sounds of you fighting from the front door of the house travel all the way to the kitchen. Your brother and his other friends treat it like background noise at this point.

“I don't know why you always have to make things so difficult!” Juyeon argued.

“Stop nagging me like you have a say in what I do!” you snap back.

Furious with your attitude, Juyeon grabs both your wrists and pins them on top of the kitchen counter, your back pressed against his chest while his entire body cages you beneath him.

“Such a fucking brat.” He whispers in your ear, the vibrations of his voice making your core slightly throb. You feel his bulge dig in-between your ass and his hot breath fanning the sensitive spot between your neck and ear.

The words are caught up in your throat, struggling to utter even a one-worded response to him. You almost let a loud whimper come out of your mouth instead when you feel Juyeon’s hand snake under your skirt, aggressively pulling your panties to the side and sliding two digits in-between your soaking folds.

“I’m gonna put you in your place, show you what happens if you keep being a brat in front of me” he whispered.

Juyeon instantly forces his two fingers inside your weeping hole, fucking them in and out of you without any warning whatsoever. You mewl at the rough sensation it brings you. “F-ffuck- Juyeon wait-”

But he doesn't listen. Instead, he increases the pace of his fingers to the point you hear the wetness of your own arousal squelching. But when he starts curling his long fingers inside you, hitting that gummy spot you could never reach with your own fingers, you let out a desperate moan.

Juyeon quickly covers your mouth with his other hand, making you remember that your brother and his friends were just in the other room.

“Shhhh. Try not to be so noisy, yeah?” Juyeon smirks. Hearing your muffled moans against his hand made his cock strain in his jeans, digging into your ass even more.

Juyeon continues to curl and pump his fingers into you at an ungodly pace, you mind slowly entering into subspace from how good it actually feels.

You suddenly see a flash of white before your eyes as you cry from the pleasure of your high unexpectedly hitting you harder than it has ever did before.

But Juyeon doesn't stop there. He continues to pump his fingers in and out of you like his life depended on it, his free hand snaking under your skirt to vigorously rub your overly sensitive bud.

“Ju-juyeon s-stoooppp-” You hazily say, now covering your mouth with your own hand.

“Nope, wanna see how you look when you come undone under me.”

Tears start falling down your cheeks as you get overwhelmed with the sensations, the pleasure now turning slightly into pain. You quietly scream into your hand as you feel your abdomen explode, feeling your juices squirting out of you, running down your legs and onto the kitchen floor.

The moment Juyeon saw the mess happening below, he did nothing but smile from ear to ear and let out a satisfied hum. Before he leaves, his hands travel back to your waist and leans in forward to whisper in your ear once again,

“The next time you decide to become a brat, I’m not gonna be nice about it…”

#juyeon smut #lee juyeon #juyeon #tbz smut #the boyz smut #the boyz hard hours #tbz scenarios #the boyz fic #the boyz fanfic #tbz drabbles #the boyz scenarios

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dido-reblogs · 1 year ago

Text

lurve ● hueningkai [repost]

warnings: virgin!kai, virgin!reader, perv!kai, perv!reader, established relationship, no sub/dom dynamic, slight sexting, cunnilingus, reader ruins her own orgasm, handjob, fingering, unprotected sex, pull out method, multiple orgasms, petnames, praise and reassurance, implied aftercare

confessing and telling each other that you both felt same from the moment you two met, that knowing it was love at first sight don't take long for you. but unfortunately for you two, your relationship starts when his schedule is packed. so you make your phone your priority.

my kamal: happy 100th day anniversary, i love you so much. wish we could celebrate it together.

you look at the message your boyfriend send with an expression mixed with sadness and joy. how thoughtful was he yet you had started to imagine that this day would be very special from the minute you started dating with him. maybe even trying things for the first time. but you understand and and you give it time, letting your imagination go wild with how your first intercourse would be like with your boyfriend kai.

before your longing for him starts to torture you, you find delight with where your imagination takes you. often interrupted with messages kai sends, you only feel your body's craving for him grows bigger and bigger.

billions of scenarios you think about kai, all of them different from the other, you only get more excited with each. you know he feels the same even though he doesn't explicitly say it. his messages begging for you, videochats with him having to cut short often which you imagine he feels a urge relieve himself which was confirmed with his message one day.

my kamal: curse you busy schedule, i am really thankful to you for the fact that you don't mind but i do. i do mind. can't stop imagining what i would do to you, baby

with your ego boosted, it becomes more harder to wait. you are happy for him because he gets to live his dreams but every now and then you get jealous of those fans.

but even with all this tension building up, you end up not doing it every single time you two finally get to see each other. too damn shy for god's sake and just not wanting to waste the simple quality time together you both need.

yet this date differs itself from the other ones. kai made sure of it with giving attention to every detail. super romantic and cute. it still manages to feel kai even with the change and effort to make everything perfect. even though you are content with your usual hangouts where you two just eat or watch something and some occasions he invites you to his house to play games. so a nice date in amusement park where he makes up hiding himself with the sweet and thoughtful gifts just feels like kai.

when it's announced that the park is closing, kai invites you to his place. you can't help but start to fancy his touch. holding hands throughout the whole way to his house, never letting it go even for a second, it helps with the long taxi ride to way his house.

with a smile he invites you inside. it is not your first time there but your heart get fluttered with the idea of being in his home in this hour. even when it doesn't happen today, you sure are going to spend the night with him. but your dreams come true when he leads you directly to his bedroom after a quick hand wash.

it doesn't even take kai a second to press his lips against yours. soft kisses turning more passionate and heated, moans getting cut with the force of the kiss, all you can think of is how beautiful kai is.

the make out session contunies as he brings you to his bed. never separating from your lips except for breathing, you start to feel a heatwave hitting your poon. he finally separates to speak. "i want you, i want you so bad. i dreamed of this moment maybe thousands times." your heart almost stops working. the excitement you feel with his words coming out of his mouth.

"me too, wanted this so bad. you have no idea." his lips lift up while he presses them to your lips again. "tell me baby, how was your dreams? i can become that." you feel lost to his eyes so you take time to answer. "i don't want my imagination. i want you. only you." your words sounding like the most beautiful things he has ever heard, you feel him gently placing you to on your back before he positions himself above you.

make out getting messier, clothes begging to be taken off, the hot steam filling the whole room, it is a relief to you both when you both finally get naked. "so pretty. you are pretty."

he speaks with the excitement that comes from his inexperience. giving you a final kiss before spreading your legs to access your sweet cunny. after murmuring about how pretty it looked, he wastes no time to attack your clit.

his movements are rather hars and fast to cover up the fact that he doesn't know what to do and you don't know of your body enough to guide him. yet he likes this and continues to eat you out like a starved man till you feel an unexplained pain. you start to beg for stopping and he immediately follows through.

"i am sorry." he says but you interrupt him by explaining how it was okay but you started to feel overwhelmed and how unfamiliar it all felt. he looks at you confused as you tell him that maybe you were about to come. "how? i thought i did bad." he says before laying right beside you.

you giggled as you try to help him by grabbing his cock. "ahh. it definitely feels different than my own hands." you agree. "it does, right? i never felt that good." smiling at your confession his hands travel to your folds for a search for your entrance. he knows he should prepare you for him. he doesn't want to ruin your first time with pain.

you both turn into a whining mess in no time. when he feels close he moans your name loudly as he cums on your hand and his stomach ruining sheets of his bed. you bring some of his cum to your mouth as you always wondered how it tastes. he giggles when you say "it is not as bas as i thought it would ve it even tastes good."

he climbs on top of you again to study how his fingers doing and how your body reacts. "you look so pretty. wish you had my sight." he says even though his mind kinda couldy with the orgasm he just had.

"kai, i think that's enough, i want you inside." you say after him playing with you a while and you realize that he is hard again. he nods and moves your legs further apart to make a room for himself. one hand right beside your hips, other on his member as he helps himself to thrust into you.

you feel a slight pain due to strech yet your sweet boyfriend understands and waits for you. once you give him the green light he starts to move slowly. "fu- fuck! so thight" he says as he feels your walls sorounding his dick like nothing else.

his thrusts speeding up a little, he gives all the compliments he can think of to you.

"my baby takes me so well. great job my sweet girl." he says them like a matra they are dvine words. his cock making you feel so good even though it is both his and your first time.

"that's it, kai! just like that! oh god please don't stop" you say in a hard to understand tone as your ability to speak left you a while ago.

when he feels he is close again his hand starts to play with your clit once again to help you reach your high with him. as he speeds up even more your moans get louder as if they weren't loud enough. proud of himself for doing this to you in his first time, he pulls out when you came around his cock. giving it some stimulation with his hand he finally cums again. his cum decorating your stomach and tits.

"wow! just wow!" he says as he lays down beside you once again. "it was definitely better than my fantasies." you confess which he also agrees. "let me take care of you and start a bath for us, okay?"

cr: @benkeibear (for the dividers i used)

#txt smut #hueningkai smut #txt hard thoughts #txt hard hours #hueningkai hard thoughts #hueningkai hard hours

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tojiscumdumpster · 11 months ago

Text

CHAPTER TWO - READER

⠀ ⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀ ⠀✧ summary page

Last night felt… good. Well, with the exceptions of that loser creep that keeps bothering me, it was good. Refreshing, to be exact. Thanks to a certain someone, I won’t have to worry about that perv anymore. And now, my mind will be onto other things when I go to the bar.

Toji Fushiguro.

I almost didn’t go out since it was Sunday. Usually, I keep that day reserved to relax and prepare lessons for my students. However, I decided to take a break. I’m thirty years old, and although I love my career, I dedicate a little bit too much time to it. For once, I wanted to live a little.

And I haven’t felt that rush through my veins in a while until those two hours I spent with Toji.

There’s something about his demeanor that immediately made me attracted to him. His presence screams confidence in a humble yet arrogant way. How he talks with charm unintentionally is calming.

I just admire how our conversation flowed well. Never a moment of silence. I listened to him, and he listened to me. The touch of vulnerability he showed me was unexpected, but it showed his comfort.

It didn’t feel like that was our first conversation either. It sounds silly, and I can’t put my finger on it, however, Toji feels… familiar.

The chemistry. The flow of us talking… Why didn’t he feel like a stranger?

And when he kissed me? I never thought I had that much strength.

I wanted Toji to fuck me so badly, and I know he would take care of me good. Those calloused hands that gripped my ass while kissing me, made me wet beyond measure.

Fuck it being a school night, or even if we didn’t leave so late, I would’ve been jumping on his cock last night. Maybe I should’ve allowed him to have his way with me in the bathroom at the bar.

It didn’t take long to realize we were sexually attracted to each other. It’s just the kiss solidified it.

Toji gives me rough yet passionate lover vibes. He would pull me by my coils, fuck me from behind and call me his good girl…

Y/N, why are you so damn responsible?

I honestly don’t know. The unhinged thing to do would be to let Toji come over to have sex. But I’m still trying to open up my shell a bit, especially after my recent engagement.

Well, ex-engagement.

Part of me feeling alive again was to do something that would help get my mind off my ex-fiancé that’s currently in front of me presenting a budget plan to me and the rest of the teachers.

“So, for this academic year, we’re looking to…” I fade out the voice of Nanami Kento.

Actually, Principal Nanami.

My relationship with my ex-fiancé, who’s also my boss, is… complicated, to say the least. We didn’t end on bad terms, but we didn’t end on good terms either.

We were together for five years, engaged for a year until I broke things off four months ago. Our arguing increased, which is normal in a relationship. However, it’s what we were going back and forth about that I was getting tired of.

Nanami (because I refuse to call him something as familiar as Ken) makes me look like an idler compared to his workaholic personality. And it wasn’t always like that.

Our relationship was perfect in the beginning. Fairy tale like. We would go on vacation, dates, road trips, and so much more. But as years passed, I truly believe he got comfortable.

It’s like he was burnt out from all the fun we had, and I blame that because of work.

I’m a teacher. He’s a principal. I have my fair share of demands being a teacher, but I know Nanami being a principal is far worse. Having to look over students, teachers, other staff members, constantly attend conventions on the behalf of the school—it took up a lot of his time.

A lot of his personal time.

It meddled into our relationship. I was tired of doing things alone. Tired of not feeling loved and appreciated. Tired of fucking not getting any sexual pleasure from him.

And don’t get me wrong, sex with Nanami was amazing. It’s just we only had it once every blue moon. There’s certain things a vibrator can’t do that he’s an expert at.

So a few days before our fourth anniversary (I know that’s shitty), I decided to break up with him. Let’s just say Nanami wasn’t having it.

Again, we argued. Some tears were shed, but the night ended with a proposal and a promise to change.

Too bad that promise was made with emptiness. We lasted about two months before he went right back to his workaholic ways. I was over it at that point.

Now here we are, months later where I try to avoid him as much as possible like he’s a plague.

It’s kind of hard to do that when these meetings are held at the beginning and end of every month.

“Any questions before we conclude the meeting?” he asks.

Nanami looks around for a response, eyes stopping at me. He tries to give me a small smile, but I look away.

He continues, “Okay. That’ll be all. Don’t hesitate to follow up with me if you all have any questions, concerns, or suggestions. I’ll be sure to take them down to pass along to the superintendents.”

After Nanami dismisses us, I quickly gather my belongings to head to my classroom, but he stops me the minute I’m at the tip of the door.

“Miss L /N. May I have a few minutes of your time?”

“I have to prepare for homeroom, Principal Nanami. Can this wait until later?” Later, meaning never.

“It won't be long… I promise,” he says, earnestly.

Like I don’t know the result of his promises.

I deeply sigh to myself and return to the meeting room. Nanami passes me to close the door and the smell of his cologne invades my senses.

Clean, minty with a touch of lemon and vanilla.

That’s the cologne you brought him .

Great.

“Everything’s okay, Principal Nanami?”

“Y/N…” Every time he says my name it’s filled with such tenderness. Like that’s the only thing he knows how to say.

“You said you wanted some of my time. Is everything okay, Principal Nanami?” I repeat.

Nanami leans against the desk, hands in his pockets while looking at me. I take notice of the three piece suit he’s wearing and think how handsome he looks. It fills out his body perfectly.

“You haven’t been answering my calls.”

“Because you call me outside of work hours,” I argue.

He hums. “So if I call during work hours, you’d answer?”

“Ken, what do you want?”

“Can I take you out for dinner this weekend?”

I knit my brows. “Why?”

“To talk, Y/N… To see how you’re doing.”

Why are my cheeks suddenly getting warm?

I would be lying if I said I didn’t still have feelings for Nanami. They aren’t as strong as before, but something is still there. At one point in my life, I was madly in love with him. Despite us not working out, I genuinely wish him nothing but the best.

And maybe we can get to being friends again.

I just don’t know if now’s the time.

“I don’t think that would be a good idea.”

“Can you at least think about it?” His voice is still soft. “Please?”

Before I can answer, the late bell rings.

“I have to go.” I’m already halfway through the door.

“Would you let me know?”

I look at him over my shoulder. “I… I’ll let you know.”

Class on Mondays is always the hardest for me. The day feels sluggish, and it moves like a snail. Again, yes, I love teaching, but I seriously cannot hang. Midnight was far too long for me to be out.

Actually, I have no reason to come since I had the company of a handsome fella.

How am I able to teach class while thinking about Toji? I don’t know, but I manage. My mind is split between today's lesson and the distinctive features of him.

Those rich emerald eyes. His dark locks. Pale yet a pretty shade of rose for his lips that’s accompanied by a scar that left me with questions.

Toji wore a baggy black outfit that had me guessing how his physique looked, however, from the looks of his hands and how they felt on my ass—I know it’s probably mouthwatering.

I’m honestly disappointed that I didn’t give him my number. I’m not a hundred percent ready for a new relationship, but also not opposed to one because I was checked out of my last for a while. But I do want to see Toji.

What’s the likelihood of me running into him at the bar again? Slim to none.

I guess we’ll see.

Anyways.

One of my students was reading a page of this week's book, a young adult psychological thriller, when the classroom door opened.

A boy stands there. Spiky hair, about five-foot-nine and green eyes. He looks at me, then around at the classroom before walking toward my desk.

“Hello,” I say with a smile. “Did you need help?”

He nods. “I’m a new student. Sorry for being late.”

“No, it’s okay. I didn’t realize I would be getting a new student today” I told him. “It must’ve slipped my mind.”

He stays silent.

“What’s your name? Do you feel comfortable introducing yourself to the class? You don’t have to if you don’t want to.”

“Megumi.”

No… this could be mere coincidence. I’m sure Megumi is a popular Japanese name.

“Nice to meet you, Megumi. I’m Miss L /N. Glad to have you here.” I’m left with no reaction. No expression. Just a blank face. “So, we’re reading right now. I only had a set amount of books. For now, you can share with one of the students, then I’ll be sure to get you a copy. Sounds good?”

“Okay.”

“Why don’t you go sit next to Yuji? He’s sitting in the back with pink hair and a red hoodie,” I said. “Yuji, raise your hand for me.”

“Megumi, here-” I called him to retrieve his schedule that he left on my desk. But before I give it to him, his full name catches my attention.

Fushiguro, Megumi.

This is no longer a mere coincidence, and now that I’m looking at Megumi, he resembles Toji— a lot. The features are uncanny. I can almost guarantee that’s how Toji looked when he was Megumi’s age.

Who knew the new student in my class would be the son of the man I’ve been thinking all morning?

Will I use this to my advantage? Most definitely.

It’s that time of year for me to schedule parent-teacher conferences, anyways.

“Miss L /N. Did you call me?”

“Ah, yes. Here. You left your schedule.”

Megumi takes the paper from me and returns to the direction where I told him to sit. Yuji tries to whisper, but his whispering is on the verge of an outside voice. I can hear the excitement in his voice when he finally has a student that’s open to sitting next to him.

Yuji is a sweet kid, but I know he had a rough time growing up based on the little information he shared with me. It’s just him and his older brother.

Teenagers are definitely more judgmental than elementary schoolers, so I notice students avoid him as much as possible yet he still gives them the kindest smile. Megumi seems quiet so I think him sitting next to Yuji will help out a bit.

“Yuji, you want to read the next page?”

He stands up eagerly. “Yes, Miss L /N!” Giggles and whispers around the classroom, causing me to shoot a glare.

“Okay, sweetheart. And remember if you come across a word you don’t know, take your time or ask for my help.” He nods and begins reading.

I pay attention for the most part, but I can’t help but think about another chance at seeing Toji Fushiguro.

It thrills me, even.

I hope he feels the same. I would like to think he does.

PREVIOUS CHAPTER | NEXT CHAPTER

#anime x black!reader #anime x reader #toji x reader #toji fushigro x reader #toji x black reader #toji fushiguro x black reader #jjk x reader #jjk x black reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen x black reader #toji angst #jjk angst

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fandomwritingbit · 1 year ago

Text

A Random Act of Kindness.

michael afton x afab reader

A/n: Wanted to do something for Mike because even though Will is my cup of tea, Mike is a hot chocolate that I’m sometimes partial to. Reader is the dominant one in interactions, Mike following her/your lead, enjoy!

No warnings, it’s fluff and bad flirting lmao but if you squint Michael is kinda obsessed

You know, he saw you every damn day.

Driving home from the pizzeria slap-bang in the middle of the rush-hour traffic, Michael would find himself watching you walking home in his rear-view, then in front as he remained stationary for well too bloody long. Sometimes he’d be there for ages queuing up, resisting the urge to be a knob and just pull a U-ie to get the heck out of dodge, like he’d seen a fair few do. But to be honest he liked watching you walk down the road.

It's not just that you’re pretty and he was being a perv, it was just something about how you walked. Like you owned the street or some shit, confident as any teen in full underarmour, a proper billy big bollocks.

He concluded after the first few times that you must work somewhere nearby. Some kind of salesperson, judging by the suit and overconfidence. The smug smile, too. One time he’d seen you cross the road during the stand-still, and some silly cock in front of him honked, it made no sense, you weren’t inconveniencing them in any way, but they slammed it on like you were trying to cross the M25. His own brow fell in confusion as he watched you stop right in front of their car, raising your hands into a shrug. A damn-near contagious smirk of disbelief on your face. You stood in front long enough for it to be awkward before walking off, still smirking away, and he liked you for that, he would never have the confidence to do that kind of thing.

Now was no different. Oh except for the rain, which was mental, pelting hard against his window. He’d just missed it, luckily, so his umbrella sat in the footwell dry as a bone. But longer into his drive, it picked up bad. As such, he didn’t expect to see you walking.

When he saw you, wet-through with your air matted to your skin, your blazer limp with wet, he laughed. God, you poor thing, it looked bloody brutal. Still managing to walk well directly against the pelting rain, he did notice that you were walking with a pressed-lipped smile, clearly amused at your own sorry state. But as he watched you gain on him, he glanced at the umbrella on the floor. He didn’t need it, but then again, neither did you. It was much too late.

Yet as you get closer to his vehicle, the traffic remains completely rooted which causes him to feel an increasing itch to shout you over. When you finally caught his position, the urge was overwhelming. He wanted to help, be your knight in shining armour, and all that... Well, to be honest, he just wanted to talk to you, you're almost a celebrity to him.

You were so distracted trying to keep the rain out of your eyes and your hair from engulfing your face, that the car window in front of you rolling down was nothing. As was the hand jammed out trying to wave at you, completely missed. It was only when the man inside the vehicle called out that you looked to the side, a certain gesture already crossing your mind. For fuck’s sake, it was Baltic out and you're wet through, talking to some ponce wasn't an attractive thought.

But when he calls out again, you hiss a plethora of insults as you walk over to his window, you’d better recognise him or some shit, if you don’t he’ll have hell to pay. Who the fuck would cat call in this type of weather?

You bend at the waist to peer inside the car, brows instantly narrowing when you realise that his guy is a stranger.

He’s about to speak but you get there first, “Do I know you?” Your tone is on the line between rude and enquiring, largely because you’re still being pelted by the rain.

“No. Look sorry, you look tortured. Can I give you my umbrella?” It takes him a bit too long to get the words out, nervous to be actually talking to you. When he finishes the question and gestures to the item on the passenger-side floor, you straight up laugh.

“I think it’s a bit late for that.” you chuckle, lifting your arms to demonstrate how the water ran off you.

Man, he felt like an idiot, he knew you’d say that but couldn’t help but ask, now he looks damned stupid. “Yeah, sorry. I just thought, I’d offer...” he pauses, internally debating whether to say the next bit, deciding to go for it to kill the awkward silence. “I’d happily give you a lift but you’d be pretty stupid to get in my car- not because I’m dangerous or anything! I-”

He stops talking when you continue laughing, more than amused by his rambling, a small respite in this damned weather. Honestly, who was this guy? He’s clearly shy as hell, can’t even meet your eye without blushing.

“I got what you meant and no, I wouldn’t get in a stranger’s car. But... I think it was nice of you to offer. Provided you don’t want to murder me.” He manages a self-deprecating smile, thank God you were being so nice to him. “Still, looking at this traffic, I’ll probably get home before you.”

He sighs, still looking close to devastated. “Sorry to stop you, I didn’t mean to waste your time.”

“Weirdly, I’m okay with it.” You say, grinning with disbelief, you were ready to give him a mouthful a few moments ago, but seeing how embarrassed he looked was kind of cute, it clearly took all his bollocks and then some to shout you over… To be fair this fella was cute in general, with his messy hair and pretty blue eyes. “Well, wouldn’t want to miss your light. See you uh... Mike”

When you said his name butterflies invaded his stomach, and it took him a minute to figure out how you knew it, only revealed by the ducking of your head to read his name tag. “Yeah uh, see you...” he went silent hoping you would fill in the blank and tell him your name, he’d just love to put a name to your celebrity.

Lifting your lapel slightly, you let him read your own name tag and he smiles. A big genuine smile that makes you drop your cock-sure smirk for one of your own. He is bloody cute.

Since your meet-cute, Michael found himself doubly looking for you every evening when he drove home from work, each time practically bouncing in his seat. No longer was it solely him admiring your form and swagger. Now you reciprocated, picking his licence plate out among the stationary vehicles to give him a wave or come over for a, albeit brief, chat.

He couldn’t quite believe it, if he told his friends he would be met with giggling, it was nothing really, just an acquaintanceship with someone, but to him it was something special. And he hoped it was for you as well.

“Hey, y/n!” he called out, a little over a week later, already involuntarily smiling before you came over to his window. He waited till you were properly in ear shot before continuing. “You alright?”

You oblige him absolutely beaming, you bend to look into the car, “I, Mike, am absolutely brilliant. Yourself?”

He chuckles, “Yeah okay, clearly not in as good a mood as you. Something good happened?”

“Just landed a huge account at work.” You jump to tell him, pride very evident, “I can’t wait to go back to my flat and tell the empty rooms all about it.” You giggle.

Grinning, he congratulates you, trying to keep the heat from his cheeks, "Not going out to celebrate?”

“Not unless you’re offering.” You look at him through your eyelashes and he swears that if you keep your gaze like that his heart was going to jump out of his chest. “...Cos I would say yes, you know.”

Sweet lord, he has to work to keep his excitement buried. You had just, very cockily, asked him out. Like out out. To have a drink. With you. He tries not to pounce all over his answer. “Yeah, I mean, yes. I’m free, if you want to go for a drink or something?”

You let yourself smile again as he stammered over his words. “Lovely... So are we going now? Cos you’ll have to unlock your door to let me in.” His eyes go wide a little as he rushes to press the button that would do as you asked, still reeling from excitement as you open his car door.

“...We’ll uh be waiting ages to get out of this street, what with the rush hour.”

“Doesn’t matter, gives us a chance to get to know each other properly.” You speak as you fasten your seatbelt, placing your briefcase in the footwell. Then you turn to your date, “Plus if it wasn’t for the traffic I wouldn’t have met you, can’t complain too much.”

#fnaf #michael afton x reader #michael afton x you #afab reader #fnaf michael afton

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practicingsmut · 1 year ago

Text

Thinkin' About You

cleric!joshua x rogue!reader, 2.9k words, joshua is a bit of a perv but still polite about it, warning for blood/injuries/tending to wounds but nothing too detailed

You knew that everyone had those days sometimes, the kind where nothing seemed to go right, but damn did it really suck when those days happened to you.

This trip was meant to be a normal, run of the mill dungeon crawl. In fact, you had almost passed on the job because it had seemed like it would be too easy, but your gold was getting low enough that you didn’t have the luxury of passing on easy jobs even if you wanted to challenge yourself. There were four of you that got hired to retrieve the treasure that your employer was certain had been left at the end of the dungeon and each of you were to get one fifth of it upon retrieval, the last fifth going to the employer, of course. It was more than a fair deal.

The bard and the fighter were both locals, friends who picked up odd jobs here and there with a pretty decent success rate that kept their coin purses heavy. The cleric, Joshua, was like you - new in town and needing to build up some savings. They all seemed decent enough, but you weren’t on the job to make friends, you were on it to make money. Three days after you all met for the first time, your employer had finally gathered all the supplies you’d need for the excursion, and so you headed off to the dungeon in question.

It should have been a two day trip. One day to get through the dungeon, then one day back after a nice long rest. Except there were more monsters than anyone had expected and, much to your chagrin, more traps.

Traps were your thing; whether it was detecting them or disarming them, you were a whiz at it. At least you would be on any other day. The day you went into this dungeon, you seemed to be having the most rotten luck. First it was the pressure plate that you thought you had disabled only for it to trigger the second the fighter stepped foot on it. Luckily the bard had a spell that easily extinguished the flames that erupted. Then it was the trip wire that you hadn’t even seen - this sent a boulder rolling after your group that you only avoided because the fighter was able to pull you all onto a safe ledge in time.

At least the mimic hadn’t been your fault. That had been the bard getting too ahead of himself when he saw a treasure chest. If he had been paying more attention he would have seen the teeth on the thing and you wouldn’t have had to get mimic saliva all over yourself as you stabbed your dagger down on the creature’s tongue to pin it in place.

The arrows, on the other hand, were entirely your fault. You noticed the holes in the wall for what they were immediately and quickly got to work searching for the trigger. It turned out to be a glyph on the wall that would activate as soon as anyone got too close. You found this out when you moved in to get a closer look at it despite the warning from the rest of your party.

The three of them had all managed to get out of the way in time, but being so close to the detonator meant you had no chance of moving quick enough. That’s how you ended up with an arrow stuck in the flesh of your upper arm.

Honestly once the arrow had stopped moving it was more annoying than painful. Then Joshua set himself to the task of removing the arrow and it was back to being painful. You didn’t look while he was doing it so you weren’t sure exactly what he did, but after a minute of intense discomfort the arrow was gone and you were left with a throbbing pain as he wrapped a bandage around your arm to cover the wound.

“Don’t you have a spell to fix this?” you asked through gritted teeth.

“I’m completely tapped out,” he admitted. “We ran into a bit more than expected today and I’m magically exhausted. As long as you don’t bleed out in the night I’ll be able to patch you up better in the morning.”

You could have sworn there was a little smirk playing on the corners of his lips as he tied the bandaid off, making you wince as the whole thing tightened for a moment. He was enjoying seeing you like this. It must have felt like retribution for all the shit you put the rest of the party through during the day. Standing up and wiping his hands off on the front of his tunic, Joshua turned to address your other party members.

“I think it’s best if we rest here. It’s getting late, and we can make better progress when we’ve had a full night of sleep.”

The other two grumbled but ultimately accepted the suggestion. You didn’t say anything, knowing that if you hadn’t kept fucking up you’d already be at the treasure by now instead of only part way through the dungeon.

Luckily you were able to find a small cave off the side of the dungeon proper that had no monsters and few creepy crawlies in it, plus it had plenty of space for the four of you to set up your tents and build a fire in the middle. After a quick meal of bread, cheese, and sausages, the four of you went your separate ways to get some rest.

At least you tried to get some rest. Between the pain in your arm, the snoring coming from one of the other tents, and your thoughts stuck on all the mistakes you had made, you were sure you weren’t going to get to sleep anytime soon. After nearly an hour of tossing and turning you figured there was one thing you could try that might help - touching yourself. An orgasm would be able to take your mind off of things as well as tiring you out.

You didn’t even bother to take off your pants, opting to just reach in past your underwear. Circling your finger around your clit seemed to be doing the trick as you threw your head back and kept your bottom lip between your teeth in order to hold back any moans. It was only when you stretched a little further to reach your hole that you realized you had fucked up once again.

You see, the arrow had hit you in your dominant arm - the one you were currently using to pleasure yourself. By stretching it too far you aggravated the wound and you couldn’t help but let out a yelp of pain which took you right out of the mood. Sighing in frustration, you flopped back onto your bedroll and resigned yourself to having a miserable night.

“Hey, are you alright in there?” Joshua’s voice called through the front flap of your tent a moment later. You jumped at the sudden unexpected sound. “You sounded like you were hurt, is it okay if I come in?”

“Um, yeah, sure,” you answered. You thought everyone had fallen asleep, but there was no way you were loud enough to wake anyone up, even when you called out involuntarily.

Joshua was shirtless when he came into the tent and his hair was mussed in a way that showed he had clearly been trying to sleep, even if he hadn’t been successful. He took one look at you and then hurried over to your side.

“Well, that’s not good,” he muttered, grabbing at your wounded arm.

“What’s not good?”

Then you saw all the blood on the bandage. Of course you hadn’t expected the bleeding to stop immediately when you had no magical aid, but surely it shouldn’t have looked that bad. You turned away, unable to keep your stomach from flipping. Joshua excused himself for just a moment, returning with a tin of something and some fresh bandages. You held out your arm to him so that he could get on with taking care of you. The sooner it was handled the better; you were never the best at dealing with blood.

“Looks like you just pulled at the edge of the cut a bit,” he explained as he spread some of the ointment from the tin along your arm. It left a pleasant cooling effect on the inflamed area. “What were you doing that caused this?”

You tried to shrug, the motion only working halfway as you couldn’t move the arm that Joshua had in his hands. “Nothing, really. I just stretched it too far.”

“Well you had to have been doing something. Seriously, were you doing yoga in here or something?” Something about Joshua’s tone got under your skin.

“I was masturbating, alright?” you admitted, turning to face him. “I’ve had a shit day and wanted to get something good out of it, but clearly that didn’t work.”

Joshua didn’t look up at you, but he did pause his ministrations for a moment before resuming wrapping the wound. Once the new bandage was freshly secured he sat back on his heels and let out a sigh. You never could have imagined the words that were going to come out of his mouth next.

“Do you want some help, getting something good out of the day, I mean?”

You stared at him incredulously before you remembered how to speak. “I’m sorry, are you asking what I think you’re asking?”

“I… I wouldn’t want you to hurt yourself again. If getting off would make you feel better, I’d be happy to help. After all, what are clerics for if not to make people feel better?”

With a bit of pink now coating his cheeks, Joshua turned away. While he wasn’t looking you dropped your eyes to check out his shirtless form. You couldn’t help but admit that the sight of him like this had you getting wet again.

“Yeah. Okay,” you answered.

His head shot up, eyebrows raised as he looked at you. “Are you sure?”

“Just get over here before I change my mind and kick you out for being a perv.”

Joshua didn’t need to be told again. You thought he would come in for a kiss and lay you back on the bedroll so he could be on top, but instead he scooted behind you so that your back was flush with his bare chest. Even with your tunic still on, you could feel the warmth radiating from his body.

“Relax and let me know if I do anything you don’t like,” he whispered against your ear, sending shivers down your spine. Gone was the blushing embarrassment of his offer. The man whose legs were on either side of yours and whose hands were currently creeping under your clothes was confident in what he was doing. Trusting that he would make you feel good, you leaned back so that he was supporting your weight and let him know that he could carry on.

One hand crept under your tunic to grasp at your breasts, thumb catching on your nipple just enough to taunt you but not enough to distract you from what his other hand was doing. Keeping your bad arm pinned beneath his so that you couldn’t do any more damage, the hand that wasn’t playing with your nipple slipped into your pants to play with your cunt. His middle finger teased your hole while his thumb pressed into your clit.

“Joshua,” you moaned.

He immediately hushed you. “You have to stay quiet. You don’t want the others to wake up and find you like this, do you?”

“I don’t know, waking you up seemed to work pretty well in my favor,” you retorted, though you lowered your voice to match his volume.

“Oh, I wasn’t asleep.” One finger dipped inside you up to the first knuckle. It was just enough for you to feel it but not enough to really get you going.

“Yeah? What were you doing still up?”

Suddenly Joshua was scooting your hips back and you couldn’t help but gasp at the sudden movement. Joshua’s erection pressed hard against your lower back now that there was as little space between the two of you as possible.

“Much the same as you,” he answered. You could tell from his voice that he was smiling. From this position he was able to properly finger you, reaching his finger all the way in and playing with your g-spot.

“Well, I’m glad I got your attention so that we could work things out together.” You struggled to get the words out through your ragged breathing, but Joshua got the message.

“You have no idea. I was actually thinking of you,” he admitted. “Been thinking about you non stop since we met.”

“Yeah? For four days now you’ve been imagining fucking me? You really are a perv,” you laughed.

“I wasn’t going to do anything about it, not until you indicated that you might be interested in making those thoughts a reality.” A second finger was added inside you and he picked up his speed. The hand that had barely brushed against your nipple now pinched it.

“Ah, Joshua,” you gasped. His hands immediately came to a standstill, leaving you to whine in dissatisfaction.

“What did I say about being quiet?” he asked. “Are you going to be able to be quiet for me?”

“I… probably not,” you admitted. You were very vocal in bed, something that had never been an issue up until this point.

The hand that was under your shirt moved to cover your mouth. It was warm and heavy and pushed your head back so that it was resting on Joshua’s shoulder, baring your throat to him. He placed a kiss on the newly exposed skin before he picked back up with fingering you.

“Come on beautiful, cum for me,” he encouraged.

You squirmed in his grasp as he continued to pleasure you. On top of being vocal, you were very physical when it came to sex. You couldn’t help it; all of your nerves felt like they were on fire as your orgasm creeped closer and closer to completion. You let out a loud whine, grateful that Joshua’s hand blocked most of the noise from getting out. A moment later you hit your peak and let yourself sigh back against Joshua as the high of your orgasm subsided.

“Fuck, I wish I could take you right here and now,” Joshua said as he slid his hands off of you and eased you off of him so he could get up. He stuck the fingers that had been inside you into his mouth, licking them clean of your wetness.

“Yeah? And who says you can’t?” you asked, watching him turn and rummage through your bag for a moment before coming back with some clean undergarments for you. How charming, that he wasn’t about to leave you all sticky.

“The time, for one. We really do need to get some rest for tomorrow. Besides, I’d rather not have to worry about the wound on your arm when I want to focus on fucking you,” he said as he eased your ruined pants and underwear down on your legs. You cringed at the feeling, but relaxed as Joshua wiped you clean with one of the spare clothes he had brought back from his tent. He then pulled the clean clothes onto you.

“So what you’re saying is tomorrow night you’ll come back here and fuck me the way I deserve?” you asked, an eyebrow quirked upwards.

Joshua flashed you a flirty smile. “I’d like nothing more than that.”

You watched as he cleaned the space up a bit more and gathered his things to bring back to his tent. He wished you a good night and moved to leave, but stopped in the doorway and turned back to face you as you called out his name.

“What is it?”

“You haven’t… I mean, you never kissed me,” you said bashfully. Now it was your turn to blush. “It’s just that…”

Joshua was at your side again in two strides, tilting your head up with a hand under your chin. His face was close enough that you could feel his breath tickle your lips.

“You don’t have to explain anything to me,” he insisted. “Just tell me what you’d like me to do and I’ll do it.”

“I’d like for you to kiss me,” you whispered, feeling self-conscious despite the fact that his fingers had just been inside you minutes before.

His lips were just as soft as you had imagined them as they pressed against yours, but all too soon the kiss was broken. The two of you looked at each other for a moment longer before he retreated to the tent’s opening once more.

“Tomorrow night, I’ll kiss you however many times you want, wherever you want,” he promised with a smile.

Even after he was gone and you could faintly hear him moving around in the tent beside yours you sat there thinking about him and the things to come. It was only after he had settled down and the only constant sound was the snoring of one of your other party members that you reclined yourself, content to fall asleep now that the day hadn’t been a complete bust.

#dungeontober #kpop smut #joshua x reader #hong jisoo x reader #seventeen x reader

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