Tumgik
#but just in case I figure it’d be useful
stellamancer · 1 day
Text
heel (gojo x reader???)
notes: um. idk what i should say. though i am not hating on feet people!! i am feet people!! if you want a non foot version of this feel free to read my other fic empty threat: also post spar with gojo shenanigans (even reused a line to connect the two lmao). part of the infinite loop! fic verse.
ageless blogs and minors do not interact
contains: gn!reader (no gendered language is used) gojo, feet (or what i like to call the steppy)??, dubcon?? (just in case), sexual implications, the use of the words dick and cock, no this isn't smut
wc: 812
Tumblr media
You wish you knew how you ended up in this situation.
It all started with you agreeing to spar with Gojo and thinking back now, that was your first mistake. Training with him has been odd lately, though you can’t quite put your finger on why, but one minute the two of you were engaged in hand to hand combat and now he’s laying on the floor with your foot pressed firmly against his crotch.
You don't even know how it got there in the first place.
“Well?” he drawls, that stupid amused tone of his grating on your nerves as he waits for your next move.
Idly, you think it’d be nice if you could end his family line here and now by stomping down hard enough but you know that that’s just wishful thinking on your part.
Should you just back off then? Fight’s over; you’ve won, but only because Gojo let you. Honestly speaking, that fact burns you, keeps your foot in place despite your attempts to rationalize it with the notion that a win’s a win. If he were a curse, you wouldn’t care about it being an easy win.
But he’s not; he’s Satoru Gojo and there’s something off about all this.
“Enjoying the view?” Gojo asks, yanking you from your thoughts. You stare down at him, scowling, but he remains unfazed as usual. “Not that I can blame you since—”
Your body reacts instantly in annoyance, your foot jerking down, digging into his dick and, for a split second, you think that it’s the surprise of it that causes him to cut off mid-sentence.
Except for the fact that he moans.
He fucking moans.
You’ve always thought, always known that Satoru Gojo is an absolute freak but you’d never really given much thought to it.
If you could, you’d keep it that way— the last thing you want is to be giving him more mental real estate than he deserves.
This is way too much for you right now.
“Ah, so you’re into that, are you?” Gojo’s voice sounds way too entertained, way too pleased for someone who just had someone grind their heel into his crotch. “Somehow, I’m not surprised.”
Instinct bids you to crush his cock beneath your foot because normally guys find that to be pretty painful, but you have to remind yourself that Gojo is far from normal. He might actually be into it. So instead, you try to pull your foot away, to get away from him as fast as possible, but try as you might, your foot doesn’t move, as if it’s being held in place by some invisible force.
You’re mildly horrified when you realize that it is and this, you think, has the be the most disturbing use of the Limitless technique in all of history. The realization causes your self-control to slip and your foot presses even harder against him.
Gojo moans again, louder this time and you can’t ignore the slight pressure of what you fear to be a growing boner pushing against the sole of your shoe.
Nor can you ignore the electric prickle running up and down the length of your spine. What the heck? When it starts to settle in the pit of your stomach you realize what it is.
You need to get away from Gojo.
Now.
You yank your foot away from him and luckily, luckily, he releases his technique and you’re free of him. Like a frightened creature, you back away and refuse to look Gojo in the eye.
“...get up,” you say after a second of absolute silence. You hear the ruffle of clothes as he rises to his feet and slowly, carefully, you peer at him from the corner of your eye. “Don’t do that again.”
Gojo’s expression is unreadable. Figures. But who knows, maybe, for once in his life, he’ll actually listen.
Unfortunately, your hopes are dashed the moment he opens his mouth. “Why? You looked like you were enjoying yourself.”
You are horrified. What kind of face were you making? There’s no way. He has to be lying, saying what he wants for the sake of his own entertainment. You couldn't have been into it! You were mortified, horrified by all of it, but yet you still managed get tu—
Before that last thought can fully form itself in your mind you shake your head violently as if that will rid you of it.
Gojo laughs lighthearted and amused as always, “Okay, okay, if you say so.”
He doesn’t believe you, but he’s always been delusional. You glare at Gojo but he ignores it, and stretches.
“Let me know if you change your mind though,” he says casually. “I think it could be fun.”
“Yeah right,” you huff, ignoring how he laughs, ignoring how the tiniest voice in the back of your mind thinks that maybe, just maybe he’s got a point.
Satoru Gojo’s definitely a freak, but maybe you are too.
Tumblr media
is gojo actually into getting his dick stepped on or was he just fucking around and you were just finding out? you decide.
45 notes · View notes
lesbianyosano · 1 year
Text
my bad trait is that i want fukuzawa to die
16 notes · View notes
the-cabin-complex · 2 years
Text
We just finished watching Moon Knight (Esrah’s family wanted to watch, and we decided to watch with to try to clear up any questions), and you know, I just could not help but be a bit jealous of their control of switching at the end
—Tony
6 notes · View notes
ellemj · 3 months
Text
Making Sure: 12 Days of Smut #3 - Sex Pollen
Bucky Barnes x Reader One-Shot
Summary: Bucky is exposed to a sex pollen while the two of you are snowed in, stuck in a cabin in the Swiss Alps after finishing up a mission. Oh, and of course, you happen to be his ex-girlfriend.
Warnings: profanity, dubcon (sex pollen), possessive!Bucky, breeding kink, unprotected sex, mutual pining of sorts, some use of y/n, MINORS DNI, 18+!!!
Feel free to comment and let me know if this requires any other warnings.
Word Count: 4k
A/N: My laptop decided it didn't want to turn on today, and then when it finally turned on it didn't want to run any apps so 12 Days of Smut almost became 11 Days of Smut. But anyway, let me know if you guys like this one! For once, it doesn't involve anyone hating anyone or an obscene amount of unbearable tension (which I severely miss).
Tumblr media
            It’s not all that hard to work with your ex, not when you ended on decent terms. Well, as decent as they could have been. When Bucky broke up with you three months ago, it wasn’t completely out of the blue. You hadn’t been having any problems, you never had any fights, but you knew he was never as into the relationship as you were. He had said from the very beginning that he didn’t think he ever wanted a lifelong commitment. The majority of his life had been spent without having true freedom to make his own decisions. It’s safe to say the man only had about six years of making decisions for himself, between turning eighteen and joining the army. Then the army had a say in everything he did until he was taken by HYDRA. HYDRA controlled him for so long, and honestly, they still have some form of control over him if you consider his nightmares and insomnia issues. So, when things started to feel a little too serious between you two, when Bucky started to realize that he actually loved you, that’s when he called it off.
            You’d both agreed to keep the relationship between yourselves, remaining professional at work and around the others. Even Sam had never figured it out. Bucky was so good at keeping it hidden, staying completely stoic unless he was positive you were both alone. When things ended between you two, he became stoic all the time. There have been a few times where you’ve felt a bit angry with how easily he can just shut himself off and pretend like you never had anything between you. You think you might’ve been in love with him. How can you be stoic around him when you loved him? You can’t be. So, instead of being stoic, you’re just a little more quiet than usual. You get your job done, you speak to him as professionally as you can, and then you get away from him.
            Unfortunately though, there’s no getting away from him tonight. Technically, your mission is already over. You broke into HYDRA’s only remaining functional lab, you stole at least one sample of each of the various compounds that they were working on, and then you got the hell out of there. You made it all the way back to the safehouse, a small rustic cabin a little ways up in the Swiss Alps. It had been snowing for the last twenty-four hours that you’d been here, but the winter weather came to a head to today on your drive back from the break-in. By the time you got all of the samples safely inside the cabin, there was no way either of you could make the drive back down the mountain to reach the quinjet. You’re stuck here for the night.
            “I want them kept at a pretty low temperature overnight, well below thirty degrees.” Bruce has been watching you over a video call as you’ve been cataloging the samples and packing them safely into a padded case. “It’d probably be best to leave them all in the trunk of the car, since it’s so cold out there.” Bucky’s sitting in the living area while you’re working at the kitchen table, but he’s still listening in. He’s listened for the last half hour as you labeled the samples and hummed a little Christmas tune to yourself. Truthfully, he almost forgot that Christmas is in a few days until he heard you humming that song that you love so much. What was it? He can never remember the name, but he recognizes it from last Christmas. You sang it often and he was lucky enough to still be yours then, to still get the privilege of listening to you flit around the tower so festively, infecting everyone around with your cheerful spirit.
            “They all fit in the case except for one, but it should be fine. I’ll just stick it in the trunk next to the case and slip it into my bag tomorrow before we drive out.” You say, holding up the thin glass flask containing a very watery, clear liquid. It looks the least terrifying, out of all of the chemicals you retrieved from the lab today.
            “Good work today, we’ll see you guys back here tomorrow, if the weather permits.” Bruce gives a little wave before ending the video call. Just as you’re closing the heavy black case of samples, Bucky rises from his seat on the couch and joins you in the kitchen.
            “I’ll take them out.” He offers, staying a few feet away from you but at least making eye contact with you. He doesn’t seem to look at you very often since you broke up, but you can’t complain about it. It makes it a little easier to get over him when you’re not drowning in his blue eyes. You give him a curt nod before sliding the case across the table and then setting the sealed flask of clear liquid on top of it.
            “Try not to jostle them around too much, carry it with two hands.”
            “Got it, two hands.” Bucky repeats. You watch as he lifts the case, leaving the glass flask resting on the lid. You think about carrying the lone chemical out there in your own hands, worrying that Bucky might tip the case a little too far and let the flask fall to the ground outside, but you brush off the worry. He’s never been clumsy, and he sure as hell hasn’t ever been careless. It’ll be fine. It’s just a short walk from the front door to the back of the car.
            In retrospect, you should’ve listened to your instincts.
            When Bucky rushes in the front door only a minute after he’s stepped outside with the chemicals, a sickening feeling settles deep in your stomach. You quickly turn to the source of commotion as he slams the door shut behind him and starts nearly jogging across the cabin, heading straight for the bathroom at the end of the hall.
            “Bucky? What happened?” You call out, your feet carrying you down the hall after him. Bucky strips off his coat, dropping it on the floor in the hall before throwing the bathroom door open and ripping off his shirt. He doesn’t even close the bathroom door. You step over his coat and come to a stop in the doorway as he leans down and turns on the shower.
            “Stay back.” He warns, giving you a sideways glance that makes your stomach flip. “I slipped on a patch of ice and the little glass thing on top of the case fell and shattered. Whatever was in it evaporated quick, but I inhaled a lot of it. I don’t know if I got any on me.”
            Shit. This is not good. Bucky starts unbuckling his belt, but stops himself after he gets it undone, finally turning and looking you straight in the eye. Right. You’re not together anymore.
            “Only rinse, don’t use soap. We don’t know what the chemical was or what might interact with it.” You say, forcing your voice to sound calmer than you feel. Bucky nods, and then shuts the door between the two of you. Shit. You knew you should’ve carried that damn flask yourself.
---
            Half an hour later, after Bucky’s finished showering and is resting on the couch per yours and Bruce’s orders, he begins to feel something. He wanted to go to bed, just sleep it off and see how he felt in the morning, but you and Bruce insisted that he stay in the living room and awake so you could monitor him for any weird signs or symptoms. You miss the first few symptoms that Bucky begins to feel. First, his heart rate began picking up. It was so miniscule at first that even he didn’t notice it, but it increased more and more until he could hear his heartbeat pounding in his ears. Then, even in the chilly little cabin with a near-blizzard raging outside, Bucky began to feel hot. Hot to the point of wanting to take off everything he was wearing and go lay in the snow. Now he sits on the couch, breathing a little quicker than he was earlier, with beads of sweat forming on the back of his neck. It’s his increased respiratory rate that you notice first. Then, as you begin looking him over from your far away seat at the kitchen table, you see the way his cheeks are flushed and the way his dark gray t-shirt is beginning to stick to the sweat coming off of his back. Shit. Whatever it was that he was exposed to, it sure as hell wasn’t nothing.
            You’re just about to ask Bucky what he’s feeling when he abruptly stands from the couch and looks right at you, his gaze wild and pupils blown.
            “Bucky—” You start, but he cuts you off in an instant.
            “I don’t know what was in that flask, but I’ll be fine. I’m not going to sit out here all night.” Bucky’s trying to play it off. He has no fucking idea if he’ll actually be fine, but the newest physiological response his body is having to the chemical isn’t one he wants you to become aware of. He’s aroused. His cock is harder than it’s ever been, and he’d rather sleep outside on the icy road and get run over by Santa’s fucking sleigh then stay this close to you. He worries he won’t be able to control himself if he has to look at you one more time tonight, if he even hears another breath leave your lips, he’ll be done for.  
            “Bucky, tell me what you’re feeling.” You say softly, pushing your chair away from the table and standing, but not daring to move any closer to where he stands in the living room. He scrunches his eyes closed and presses his vibranium hand to the back of his neck in an attempt to cool the skin there.
            “Y/n, I’m going to bed.” He sounds so frustrated. It’s a tone of voice you actually recognize. This is how he used to sound when you’d tease him at the worst times, when you were somewhere that restricted him from being able to touch you, to fuck you.
            “Is it what I think it is?” You ask, your voice impossibly quieter than before. Bucky’s eyes snap open now and he studies you. Looking at you makes his dick throb and his balls feel so fucking full and heavy. He closes his eyes again as quickly as he opened them and then, you’re sure. It was a fucking sex pollen.
            You don’t dare make a move to stop Bucky when he hurries down the hall and locks himself in his bedroom. You stand frozen in the kitchen for the next two minutes, trying to figure out what the hell you should be doing in a situation like this. You end up doing what you do best: researching. You sit yourself right back down at the table and open your laptop, quickly accessing the online archive of SHIELD research files. You type in every word you can possibly think of to find what you need. Luckily, the first article that pops up is exactly what you needed.
            You skim through it at lightning speed, your eyes picking up on the important details. Heightened senses, increases sexual drive ten-fold, may result in permanent disability or death if state of intense arousal is not rectified. Shit, this is bad. You’re wondering how the hell one is supposed to rectify the intense arousal when your eyes land on the most key piece of information in the entire article. Human trials have revealed that allowed the specimen to engage in sexual intercourse is the only successful way to return to a normotensive physiological state.
            You have to fuck. You have to convince him to have sex with you. You have to convince the man who broke up with you three months ago to have sex with you. You’ve suddenly decided that you fucking hate your job.
            However, you’re not going to sit around while Bucky becomes permanently disabled or lets himself die of exposure to a damn HYDRA sex pollen. So, you slam your laptop shut and march right down the hall. You tap your knuckles against his bedroom door three times, until you hear the bed creak slightly, so you at least know he’s alive. He doesn’t make a single move to answer the door. He’s sitting on the side of the bed, his hands gripping the edge of the mattress so hard that it’ll probably never spring back into shape. His sense of hearing is heightened so much that he can hear every breath you take. He thinks he can even hear the sound of your eyelashes fluttering as you blink.
            “Bucky, I did some research.” God, just the sound of your voice might be enough to make him cum in his sweats. Bucky bites his bottom lip and looks down at where his erection is fighting to escape the confines of his sweats. “If this is a sex pollen, which I think we both know it is, it can kill you. The only way to fix this is to…” Your voice trails off, but you don’t have to finish your sentence for Bucky to know what the solution is here. But he won’t ask that of you. He refuses to ask you to sleep with him. He knows he broke your heart three months ago, and he’d be the world’s biggest asshole if he used you for relief now. So, he stays silent. “We could…”
            You can’t seem to finish any of your sentences. Why is it so hard for you to say we could fuck. Oh, right. Because you’ve missed the way he fucks for months. Because you know that if he wasn’t under the influence of this chemical right now, he sure as hell wouldn’t be turned on around you. You’d happily have sex with him right now, but he’d only be doing it because he has to do it to survive.
            “I know I’m probably the last person that you’d want to be offering this, but I’m offering. I don’t want you to sit in there and die.” You say softly, your voice cracking a little bit on the final word. The last person he’d want to be offering this? Fuck, you have no idea how he really feels, do you? Bucky screws his eyes shut and fights back the urge to throw the door open and tell you how much he fucking loves you, how much he’s missed you. It’s why he broke up with you in the first place. What if something happened one day that turned him right back into the Winter Soldier? What if he ended up on ice again and by the time he came out of cryo, you were dead and gone? He had to break up with you, because he felt like his future was always too unclear to promise it to someone.
            “I’m here, Bucky, if you need me.” You whisper, with your forehead pressed against the cool wood of the door. He can tell that you’re hurting for him. It’s why, against his rational mind, he finds himself crossing the room and tugging the door open. When he sees you standing there in the light of the hallway, he can hear that little Christmas tune that you love so much playing in his head. Fuck it.
            You’ve barely had a second to realize that Bucky’s just opened the door for you before you feel his hand fist in your hair and he yanks you forward against his chest. His mouth captures yours in a heated kiss. Bucky sucks your bottom lip between his and wastes no time in using his hold on your hair to tilt your head to the side and slide his tongue into your mouth. You act on muscle memory, kissing him the same way you used to every single day. You let his tongue dance around your mouth, but when he begins to pull back you suck on it lightly, earning a groan from him. He tastes just like you remember, and suddenly you want him so badly that for all you know you could have some sex pollen coursing through your veins.
            “The last person I’d want to be offering this?” Bucky rasps against your lips, briefly looking into your eyes as he repeats your words in question. “You’re the only person I’d want to be offering this.” He pulls on your hair again, tilting your head further to the side and sucking on the skin right below your ear. Your eyes close as you try to calm your racing heart, reminding yourself that as perfect as this might feel right now, it won’t last.
            It takes mere seconds for Bucky to pull you into his room and practically throw you onto his bed. When he crawls over you a second later, it’s like he’s suddenly realized you both still have your clothes on. He stands back up beside the bed and strips quickly, exposing every bit of his fucking heavenly body to you. You don’t even try to choke back the whimper that leaves your lips. Bucky freezes when he hears it. He’s heard it before. He’s heard it in his dreams, ever since you broke up. It’s sort of funny. He never had dreams before, only nightmares. Until he broke up with you, and then he started having dreams about you every night. They’ve replaced nearly every nightmare. Instead of HYDRA being the reason he’s up at night, it’s all you.
            You start shimmying out of your pants right there on the bed as you look at Bucky, too impatient to stand up and take everything off like he did. He strokes his cock slowly in one hand, but every time his palm glides over the tip he makes a face like he’s in pain. You know from your brief research that touching himself won’t give him an ounce of relief, it’ll only make things worse. So, once you have your pants off, you reach up and grab his wrist, stopping his stroking, and pulling him closer to the bed. He gets the hint and positions himself on top of you again, spreading your legs apart with his knee before settling between them.
            “I’ve missed you.” Bucky coos against the side of your neck, right as you feel the head of his cock brushing against your clit through your already soaked panties. He didn’t mean to say it. He doesn’t want to make the break up any harder for you, but fuck. He’s missed having you under him like this, though in the past you never kept your panties and shirt on when you were under him.
            “I’ve been right here.” You respond quietly, letting your hands coast down his sides until you feel the way his back muscles are rigid underneath your palms. He’s restraining himself. “Bucky, you don’t have to hold back.” He sighs deeply and grinds his cock against you, hard. It draws a moan from your lips that’s so needy, Bucky can’t wait any longer. He knows he’s only waited a minute at this point, but he just can’t anymore. He reaches down between the two of you and snags a finger in your panties, deftly pulling them to the side and guiding his cock straight into you without warning. The cry that escapes you isn’t one of pain or surprise, it’s one of pure lust. It might’ve been three months since the last time you had sex, but your body accepts his cock like it never left. There’s no pain, there’s only pleasure as he starts fucking into you slowly. He builds the pace up in mere seconds, speeding up more and more until he’s fucking you so hard and fast that the headboard is snapping against the wall and scratching the paint.
            “God, you’re still so fucking tight for me.” He groans, burying himself balls deep inside you. He stays still for a moment, letting your pussy grip his cock like a vice.
            “It’s still yours.” You whisper the words against his jawline. When his eyes snap open and stare straight into yours, you know you probably shouldn’t have said it. His pupils are already overly dilated, but they expand a little more as possessiveness flares in his chest. He always loved when you let him know who your pussy belonged to. He fucking loved it.
            Wait. The realization hits you both at the same time. He isn’t wearing a condom. As he looks into your eyes, his face falls and your eyes widen. He never once fucked you without a condom on. It was part of his whole no-long-term-commitment thing. He didn’t want to risk an unintentional pregnancy, so he never let himself fuck you raw. When he starts to pull out, you’re quick to wrap your legs around him and lock him in place.
            “Don’t.” You plead. You want this. You’ve always wanted this. Bucky bites his bottom lip and closes his eyes, trying to find a single rational thought in his mind. He knows he shouldn’t do this, he knows he should pull out and find a fucking condom. But will he?
             The answer is no. He uses what little space you give him between your legs to start thrusting into you again, slower this time, but still every bit as deep as before.
            “If you don’t let me pull out…” He starts, but you pull his face down to yours and silence him with a kiss. After a few seconds, he picks up his pace and begins fucking you relentlessly once again, further ruining the paintjob on the bedroom wall behind the headboard.
            “I always wanted you to fuck me like this.” You sigh against his lips. You feel Bucky’s entire body tense up as he nears his release, your words egging him on.
            “Oh, baby, I always wanted to fuck you like this.” He admits, snapping his hips into yours and getting you that much closer to the edge. As your orgasm threatens to tear through you, something weighs heavy on Bucky’s mind. He wants to cum inside you. He loves you but he’s always told himself he can’t have you, because his future is so unclear, he can’t make promises to you and possibly break them. But…he’s a good guy. If he were to knock you up, he’d do the right thing. The traditional thing. He’d marry you and take such good care of you, of the little family you’d have together. Maybe that’s what he should do. He thinks that maybe if he gets you pregnant right now, it would force him to give you his future, no matter how much it scares him. He’d be so much more concerned with doing the right thing in the present, rather than worrying about what might happen in the future. “Let me cum inside you.”
            “You can, Bucky. You can cum inside me.” You moan out, locking your ankles together behind him and pulling him harder against you. He groans and presses another kiss to your lips, but a gentler one this time.
            “You’ll have a baby for me.” He doesn’t even phrase it as a question, no, he’s telling you what you’ll do. “You’ll let me get you pregnant, and then you’ll be mine.”
            “Fuck…” The curse falls from your lips as bliss surges through you. You can’t even find the words to say what you want to say, which is fuck yes. So, you lay there submissively, with your legs wrapped around him as he fucks every drop of cum that he has into you. Then, you catch your breath while he pulls his cock out of you and slides your panties back over your sore cunt. You even let him pile the pillows beneath your hips and legs, elevating your pelvis to make sure his cum won’t drip back out of you.
            Fuck. He really wants to make sure you’re pregnant after this.
TAG LIST (if your user has a line through it, Tumblr wouldn't let me tag you):
@gyokujyn @mrsjoequinn @thealloveru2 @nixxaswrld @ordelixx @sweettae02 @frombkjar @hellfirebabe @edelweissbarnes @sunnyhummingbee @jenniferpendragon @siciliano13 @crist1216  @twlkdead
3K notes · View notes
tojilvrs · 1 month
Text
⋆ ˚。⋆୨୧˚ FUCK MY EX! (AND HIS BOSS) ceo!toji fushiguro x fem reader (2.7k)
Tumblr media
repost from my old blog!!!
⁂ warnings: MINORS AND AGELESS BLOGS DNI! toji’s not a bum, reader gets cheated on (not by toji), m receiving oral, pet names, degradation, rough sex, reader’s ex sees them at the end, unprotected sex, creampie, sex as a revenge ploy, some praise, foot on head during doggy (does this have a technical name lol?), also tagging foot fetish JUST IN CASE the last thing counts lol, toji coerces reader, use of the name ‘daddy’ ONCE, spanking, some aftercare, toji steals your panties (and your heart), reader has hair long enough to be pulled
⁂ a/n: this fic literally came out of nowhere i had no plans of writing until i saw twitter porn and a little lightbulb formed above my head. anywho this is not great i wrote and proofread it while i was sleepy so if there’s mistakes don’t tell me i will get embarrassed!!!! THE PACING MIGHT ALSO BE HORRID i was just trying to get my claws on some fictional wiener. k luv u alllll <3
Tumblr media
You never thought you could get this low.
You also never thought you’d come home to find your now ex-boyfriend balls deep in his coworker he told you not to worry about.
Way past the stages of hurt and with no more tears left to spill, you found yourself angry. You were pissed at your ex for being unfaithful. Pissed at the woman for fucking around with a man she knew was not available. And pissed at yourself for not figuring it out sooner. Once you got over your sorrows and finally felt able to pull yourself together, you just wanted to rid your apartment of anything that reminded you of him.
That's how you found yourself across the table from that rat bastard's boss. A box full of his old shit perched in your lap and your nails tapping the side of the cardboard. Scanning the room of Mr. Fushiguro's luxurious office and finding yourself filling with rage all over again knowing that the last time you were here, you were helping him get promoted.
"Pleasure seeing you again," you watched as Mr. Fushiguro took a seat in his plush office chair, "though it appears you're here to play the part of 'scorned girlfriend' instead of ‘concerned girlfriend, hm?’ Word travels fast ‘round here.”
"Ex-girlfriend."
"Right," he clasped his hands together over his chest and kicked his feet up onto his desk, knocking over his name plate, “so what're you here for, scorned ex-girlfriend?"
"Just want to give his shit back. Passing it on to you so I won't have to see him and blondie going at it in your breakroom." You watched the man crack a smile before speaking again.
"S'all you’re gonna do?" He knew your answer by the way you tore your eyes off of him and focused them on the box in your lap instead. Slightly slumping down in your chair as if you were a child in trouble trying to evade the scrutinizing gaze of a parent “Oh, don’t tell me you’re just gonna let bygones be bygones and let him get away with it scott free.”
His tone made you feel like your entire situation was almost comical. You looked back up and narrowed your eyes at the man. Scanning his face and watching the scar on his lip twitch when the corner turned up in a smirk.
“Mr. Fushiguro-“
“Don’t have to be all formal now, call me Toji.”
“Okay, what exactly are you implying, Toji?” he sighed before standing up from his desk and fixing his name plate, smirk never falling from his lips and eyes never leaving yours.
“I know he is my employee, but i’m not really… fond of him either. And you’re too pretty of a girl to just let him get away with cheating. It’d make you feel better to hurt ‘em a little bit. Get a little revenge.”
You broke away eye contact from him again to look around his office. Taking note of how sparsely decorated the area was as you pondered and tried to avoid his eyes. It wasn’t the most mature or logical decision, but he was right. It would make you feel better to make him hurt just a little bit. “And how exactly might I go about that?”
Toji laughed a little as he walked around the desk, taking the box out of your lap and placing it on the floor before settling himself behind you. The sweet tobacco scent of his cologne invaded your nostrils as he got closer to you, making his presence feel almost suffocating.
“Y’know what would really get him?” His voice sounded as if it were laced with a honeyed sweetness. The sound surrounding you and ringing around in your ears. He shifted his feet, but you still felt the heat radiating off of him and onto your back.
“What?”You felt him grow closer. Leaning down behind you. So close that you could feel his breath fan against your skin.
“Fuckin’ his boss.”
The lewd suggestion tickled the shell of your ear. Your eyes widening and mouth going dry once you realized exactly what he was proposing to you. You opened your mouth to protest. To tell him how absolutely ridiculous that was, but your words fell short. Closing your mouth again to look down and stare at the indentions the corners of the cardboard box had left in your skin.
You couldn’t say that you hadn’t let your eyes linger a little too long at Toji Fushiguro. Always noticing how easy he was on the eyes when your ex would make you tag along to work events. How his suits would perfectly contour to his body. Showing off his bulging muscles through the fabric. How he seemed to tower over you and everyone else with his height and domineering presence. How your gazes would linger a little too long on each other and how his fingertips would “accidentally” graze your hips when passing you.
You were taken away from your thoughts by the feeling of his fingers slowly caressing up and down your jaw. His touch soft, contrasting the rough calluses that lined his fingers. You also realized he had now moved directly in front of you and you were eye-level with his crotch.
“What’ll it be, sweetness?” The tip of his thumb travelled up to your bottom lip, smearing some of your lipgloss. “Y’gonna let me help you get back at him?”
You slowly looked up at him and nodded your head, still not trusting any words to come out of your mouth. He smiled down at you, removing the hand on your chin to pet your head and using his other to unbutton his slacks.
“Gonna make you feel so good, you’ll forget allllll about your little ex-boyfriend.”
You were still looking up at him dumbly as he freed heavy cock from the confines of his pants, subconsciously parting your lips and slightly sticking out your tongue at the sight of him. Relishing in the way he looked at you and the noises he made once his cock makes contact with your awaiting tongue.
“Already so good and fuckin’ obedient. Did he teach you that?” You shake your head and he cackles. Easing his way into your throat. “So you’re just naturally a whore, huh?” He lightly slaps your cheek, not even hard enough to sting, and moves from petting your head to gripping your hair once you take him all the way into your mouth. Testing your limits and pushing his way past the tight ring of muscle in the back of your throat, loving the way you choke and sputter around him. “Takin’ me so good. Bet that motherfucker couldn’t properly stuff your throat.”
Toji’s right- he couldn’t. He also isn’t quite as big as Toji is either, in both length and girth. It also seems that the man in front of you didn’t learn to fuck from porn like your ex did. Only pushing your limits a little bit at a time and not throatfucking you from the get-go. Also making sure you’re not suffocating on him for too long.
You began to move your tongue over the vein that ran on the underside of his cock, watching in satisfaction as he throws his head back and groans. Doing it again and again and watching his face contort in pleasure.
“Shit, baby, got the sweetest fuckin’ mouth.” His voice is huskier now, almost breathy. You watch as sweat begins to lightly bead across his forehead and his hands come off of you to loosen his tie around his collar. The air becoming too thick and hot for him. You suck him off with much more passion as you get used to his size. Bobbing your head up and down his length and occasionally pulling yourself off to lick on the sensitive skin around his balls. Not paying much mind to the spit that has run from your mouth and covered the bottom half of your face.
“That’s it- hah- fuck yeah… that’s it. Gonna cum down that pretty fuckin’ throat” You kept up your ministrations, using your hand to lightly squeeze his balls as you took his full length down your throat once more. Listening as Toji’s pants became progressively more and more uneven. Only taking a few more short moments before his abs tighten and he takes in a deep inhale as he shoots his load down your throat. His leg twitching as the coil in his belly snaps. Pulling off of him to stick out your tongue and show him that you swallowed it all.
“Such a good fuckin’ girl, aren’t you?” He gripped your chin tightly and you nodded your head dumbly, fiddling with the hem of your skirt. He smiled and gestured for you to walk over to the plush, black couch he kept in his office. A guiding hand resting on your lower back as he layed you down on your stomach. He took his time running his hands from your calves all the way up to your ass, like he was trying to memorize every dip in your skin. Once he reached the hem of your skirt, he flipped it up. Gently running the palms of his hands over the smooth skin and giving the right cheek a harsh slap and soothing the sting with the very same hand that inflicted it.
“Suckin’ dick make you this wet?” Your slick had soiled your panties, smearing onto your thighs. His fingers lightly ran across the soaked fabric. You felt the couch dip under his weight as he settled behind you, feeling the fabric of his haphazardly pulled down pants and the heat of whatever skin that was exposed press into you.
“Sucking yours does.” you gasp as he pushes your panties to the side to make contact with your swollen clit. The cool air of his office hitting your soaked center makes you shiver. “You’re gentler than I thought you’d be.”
“Oh baby,” He pauses, taking his hands off of you to maneuver himself around, “you haven’t had the worst yet.”
You’re comfused until you feel the tip of his cock prodding your entrance and begin to push in. Your walls greedily sucking him in even though it felt as if he was splitting you in two.
“Tight as a fuckin’ virgin, y’gotta open up for me, girl.” His fingers rub tight circles on your clit. Using that to his advantage to thrust his cock deeper and deeper into you until he’s bottomed out. Your hips arching into him as any remnants of pain begin to wash away and are overtaken with white-hot pleasure. His hands find purchase on your hips as his thrusts begin to speed up. Going harder into you and somehow hitting you deeper each time, causing tears to spring in corners of your eyes.
“Already cryin’ on my cock and we’ve barely even started? Slut can’t handle it?” He slaps your ass again, not caring if it stings. You furiously shake your head as moans and whimpers spill from your lips. Trying your hardest to match his brutal pace with your own hips. “Oh, you think you can take control now, huh? I’d watch it, little girl.”
At first you think he pushes your face into the couch with his hand. That’s until you realize that both his hands are still on your hips and it’s actually his foot that’s found its place on the back of your head as he continues to fuck the memory of your ex out of you. Your pussy clenching down on him at the mere thought of the position.
“Like being treated like a whore don’t you? Shitty man couldn’t do it like I can.” You couldn’t respond back even if you tried. Too caught up in the feeling of being stuffed full by the most skilled man you’ve ever fucked and biggest cock you’ve ever taken. Writhing under him as the pleasure of his tip repeatedly hitting your spot over and over again was becoming almost too much.
Toji must’ve felt the way your pussy began to tighten around him or how your moans were so loud the couch wasn’t muffling them well anymore. His hand snaked around your hip and back down to your clit to rub shapes on it, bringing your closer to your peak.
“That’s right, cum on this cock baby. Hah- cum all over my fuckin’ cock.” He spoke to you through gritted teeth and the sound went straight to your core. It wasn’t long after that your back slipped into a deeper arch and your cunt clenched down on him even harder. A white ring of cream forming around the base of his dick as he worked you through your orgasm and worked himself closer to his.
“Such a good girl. You’re gonna take my cum, yeah? Gonna let me fill you up?” You nodded a quick yes, pussy still quaking from your orgasm. the only thing keeping your hips from collapsing into the couch being the vice grip of his strong hands.
The foot pressed into your head was removed and replaced by his right hand gripping your hair and pulling you up to meet his face. Looking him in the eyes for the first time since he started fucking you and seeing the beast of a man he’s become. Pupils blown, hair messy, and face sweaty as his grunts get louder, more aggressive.
“So pretty baby. You’re my good, pretty girl, right? C’mon, daddy a kiss when he cums. You’ve been so. fucking. good.” The last of his words were punctuated by rough thrusts into your heat. His heavy balls slapping against your clit so hard it was making you jump. You craned your head back even more for your lips to meet his in a sloppy, lust-filled kiss as he lets out a final rough grunt into your mouth. The familiar warmth flooding your pussy as his thrusts begin to let up.
He’s gentle with you for the first time in a while, gently resting your head back down to the couch before slowly pulling his softening dick out, tucking it back into his underwear, and smoothing your skirt back down. Rubbing a hand over the arch of your back and letting you rest on his couch as he pulls off your soiled panties and pockets them for himself. Also noticing a patch of your slick that has soiled the front of his pants and smiling as a mix of both of your releases begin to trickle out of your spent hole. Using two of his fingers to push it back in. The room is quiet for the first time in a long while. Only sound being the oscillating box fan in the corner of the room. It says quiet for a while, until you break the silence.
“Don’t even think I can remember the fucker’s name anymore.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.” You turn over onto your back to face him, watching closely as he fixes his suit to the best of his ability. “Wouldn’t mind seeing you again, if you’d like.”
He turns to face you, smirking again, “Can’t say I’d hate that.”
It’s your turn to smirk at him before letting your head roll over and rest again. Consumed with the thoughts of how that was definitely the best revenge plan you ever participated in.
You’re almost drifting off until that same thought wakes you up again. Sitting up to look at Toji.
“Wait, how was any of that a revenge ploy if he didn’t even see it?” Toji smirks, fixing his tie. Not even a second later you hear a knock on his door before Toji gives the visitor permission to enter.
“You wanted to see m-“ Your ex stops mid-sentence once he sees you lounging on his employer’s couch with his cum leaking out of you. “Wait, what is she doing here?”
“Baby brought your shit by.” Toji kicks the box towards him as he pulls your panties out of his back pocket and swinging them around his index finger. “Anything else you need? Or do you just wanna watch me fuck your ex-girl again?”
2K notes · View notes
joeloverture · 2 months
Text
morning cardio | dbf!j.m. x f!reader
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
masterlist | updates blog pairing: dbf!neighbor!joel miller x f!reader summary: [no outbreak] your neighbor and dad's longtime buddy catches you sneaking back home after an underwhelming hook-up. you want more — he provides. warnings: (18+ mdni) dbf!neighbor!joel, age gap (23/50), reader has a bad relationship with her father, reader's father is overly strict, reader hooks up with an oc, dirty talk, soft!dom joel, degradation, praise, thigh riding, 1 spank, titty slapping, daddy kink, exhibitionism but nobody sees, almost caught, heavy petting, misogyny for sexiness that joel doesn't actually believe in since he's a sweetheart [no use of y/n] word count: 3.7k a/n: watch me almost exclusively post dbf joel. watch me. also, mind the tags, they've changed slightly since i posted the teaser. this was supposed to be a series. this is no longer the case bc i'm indecisive. sorry.
Tumblr media
Mistake number one: your eyes are crusted shut with the mascara you’d forgotten to wipe off.
Mistake number two: the bed you wake up in is not your own.
Mistake number three: sleeping with your neighbor.
Rubbing your mascara-sealed eyes, you blink yourself into consciousness and instantly regret it. There’s a moment of stillness, time stretching as you take in the room underneath the swelling orange sunlight. The window is cracked just enough to give you a glimpse at the world outside — birds chirping, sprinklers spritzing, cars crunching gravel as they pull out of the driveway. Surrounding the narrow, rumpled bed is a graveyard of orphaned socks. A box fan whirrs in the corner. The room had felt much cleaner past midnight when it was only the yellowed street lamp outside shining through the window. Then you spot the digital clock on the cluttered bedside table reads 6:10, ten minutes later than you’d wanted to be awake for, and time returns to its regular pace.
Your heart kicks awake in your chest, veins going cold. You kick the sheets off of your sweaty body, roll out of bed, and stumble two steps before planting your feet on the carpet below. Even that isn’t enough to stir your hookup. Dylan Andrews.
It’d seemed like a good enough idea at the time. Both of you were home for spring break. Both of you had flirted at the block party with each other. He was only decent-looking and mediocre with his hands, but you needed a break from spending another night in your childhood bedroom. What better way to do it than with a dick appointment?
Again. It’d seemed like a good enough idea at the time. Sneaking out underneath the nose of your strict, tough-as-nails dad was the easy part. Sneaking back in? Less easy. And to make matters worse, you were already ten minutes behind.
Shit.
You tiptoe across the room, naked as the day you were born, and stuff your underappreciated lingerie into your backpack. Without even putting your panties or bra on, you hop into your shorts and wrestle with your hoodie. By the time you’re out of Dylan’s room, it’s 6:12.
The difference between your dad and Dylan’s mom? She doesn’t give a shit what side of town Dylan wakes up on or how much alcohol is sloshing around in his system as long as he’s safe. You’re not the first girl to do the walk of shame out of Ms. Andrews' generic McMansion house, and you’re far from the last.
She’s downstairs in front of the coffee maker, still wearing her pajamas and doing a Dollar General crossword when you slip past her kitchen unnoticed. The door clangs shut behind you, and you figure she must see you walking down the cul-de-sac.
Your dad always leaves for work at 6:45 after a freezing cold shower and a steaming cup of black coffee for balance. You can only hope his shower ran a little late and that he isn’t at the dining room table already. Cramming two steps into one, you continue with your beeline down the awakening street.
You’re followed home by the mailboxes and flower beds, the pebbles you kick with every step. You’re almost to the property line, prepared to make a mad dash to your front door when you hear the faint call of your name. You skid to a stop, and turn to face the source: the craftsman-style house next door.
And there he is – Joel Miller, sitting on one of the cushioned chairs of his front porch in nothing but his sleep shorts and a t-shirt, legs spread as wide as the chair can accommodate. There’s a smug, knowing look on his face, one that says I’ve caught you. See how you can get out of this.
It’s been a long time since you’ve been face to face with Joel — Mr. Miller. You’d think you’d see him more often, with him being your dad’s buddy and your neighbor, but it’s been since summer. You’re sure he must be having the time of his life by joining your just got laid parade.
“You’re up awful early,” he calls, beckoning you up the driveway with a come-hither movement of his fingers. Leaving your dignity at the curb, you pad up the yard to his porch, climbing one of the stairs to lean against the gutter that feeds into his shrubbery. Pollen and moss is scattered across the wooden deck, surrounding a package that he hasn’t bothered to pick up yet. His guitar is off to the side, propped up against the doorway of the house. You wonder if he’d been playing when he’d seen you walking by.
Joel’s covered for you before, briefly and sparingly. Taken the fall for the half-empty bottle of fireball in your dresser even though he’d never go within ten feet of that shit, blamed it on himself for accidentally leaving it behind after fixing a wheel that had jumped off track for you. Even though your dad had chewed him out for drinking on the job, he’d still managed to sneak it back to you with the wise words of hiding it in a sock next time. You’d been two months past your twenty-first when that had happened, and maybe Joel had pitied you after realizing how authoritarian his friend was.
You aren’t as sure if he’ll pity you now.
“Needed some fresh air,” you defend lamely, hands hanging limp by your sides.
“Needed some cock?” he corrects, and his bluntness makes you choke. He seems relaxed for the words that just came out of his mouth, fingers drumming on his impossibly large thighs, a playful smirk resting on his lips.
You sputter, “No! Jesus, what the hell–”
“I got eyes, hun. Saw you leave that Andrews kid’s place. Clearly he didn’t stick it to ya that good if you’re still walkin’ steady,” he comments. His head tilts.
“Joel,” you hiss, eyes flitting to your dad’s house next door. He seems to read your mind, his smirk widening.
“Wonder what your pops would think. Bet I have a pretty good idea. His little angel, sneakin’ around and whorin’ herself out.” He clicks his tongue at you. “A damn shame.”
Heat spools low in your stomach and down to your unsatisfied center. You wish you’d worn darker colored shorts instead of the flimsy gray things you have on. There’s no barrier of your panties to stop yourself from leaking all over them, and with the way Joel’s looking at you, eyes dark and sly, you’re wishing there was.
“Can’t even imagine what you’re gettin’ up to at that college ‘a yours. Bet you had five guys inside of ya all at once, and I sure ain’t talkin’ about burgers, hun.” He lounges back in his chair, watching you.
You feel yourself gush. Heat burns in your thighs, and they rub together on instinct, seeking to extinguish that brimming ache between your legs. You bunch your hands in the fabric of your sweatshirt and can’t stop yourself from squirming underneath his gaze. It’s not like you’ve never thought about this, this with him of all people when you’re underneath your covers and your hand finds the warm junction between your thighs. Always unattainable. Always just out of reach.
You whisper again, “Joel,” but this time, it comes out as more of a moan. Humiliation warms your cheeks and chest, forming a different kind of pit in your stomach.
“Hmmmm?” Joel hums at you with a raised brow. He’s casual, indifferent, almost. But then his eyes flicker up and down, stopping at the wet patch smeared across the front of your shorts, the way your thighs press tight, tensing before letting go. “Ah. A little slut shamin’ gets you all riled up, hun?” That tears a whimper from you. He does that stupid come hither motion again, and like a lost dog, you listen. Standing in front of him, you feel completely, utterly exposed.
He adjusts himself in his chair, and you swallow the building lump in your throat when you see his bulge hardening. It sends another zap of heat to your core, and then another, more surprised one when his hand goes up to grab at your tit. Your breath catches as he thumbs one of your hardened nipples. A triumphant noise echoes out of him. “Braless, too?” His other hand goes down to your shorts, playing with the waistband. “Prancin’ around in these short, skimpy things, too. Practically giving the whole neighborhood a free peep show.”
His hand slides lower. Lower. Pans over to the crease of your thigh and then his thumb is planting over your clit, rubbing only once before he pulls away. “Messy pussy. Bet you stained the guys sheets.”
You’re quiet, staring at him, his wicked fucking expression, those hands that look like sin itself. You bite the inside of your cheek.
“Ah. Poor baby. All this effort and you didn’t even get to come.” He just looks at you. Unmoving. Not doing a single damn thing to get you there.
“Please, Joel,” you whisper, embarrassed by the gritty need already embedded into your voice when he’s hardly even touched you.
And he’s still wearing that wolfish look, that tainted-with-intention gleam in his eyes that tells you he knows exactly what you do want when he asks, “What? What do you want?” He licks his lips, a fleeting moment.
You look over your shoulder, at the rising street. Anyone could have their windows cracked. Anyone could hear you confess on this porch. Still, you murmur, “I… I want you to make me come, Joel.” Your voice shivers a little bit along with the stroke of wind that wisps against the backs of your thighs.
His brows raise together, now. His head tips forward. “What was that? A little louder. You know, my ears really ain’t the sharpest these days…”
Fucking bastard.
“I want,” you say again, fighting to stop your voice from wavering, to keep it not too loud but not too quiet. “you to make me come.”
Joel sucks on his teeth for a second. “Ohhh. Now I don’t think that’s really fair, hun.�� He gives you a mockingly sad look.
“Why?” you ask, and you know you sound as whiny as a petulant child. But he’d been correct earlier. You put in all of this effort, sneaking out for a thrilling night that had turned into something more like two sweaty bodies moving together and only one of them feeling good from it. You want to feel good. You’re tired of looking at the right and the wrong. Joel’s sitting in front of you, his thumb still smelling like your arousal; that’s what’s right.
“You’re out here breakin’ all the rules. Shouldn’t be rewarding you for that, sweetheart. Besides, it’s a little fucked up, dontcha think? Makin’ you come all over me while your pops, my buddy, is none the wiser gettin’ ready for work next door?” His vulgarity only weakens you even more, pussy clenching and begging to be filled. You’re about to protest again when he cuts in, “But that doesn’t mean I can’t help ya out.”
Your heart pedals in your chest, eager and wanting. But Joel, instead of getting up and elbowing you inside like you expect, stays right where he is. He pats one of his splayed thighs, the grin on his face only widening. Your face contorts. Joel hears your question before you ask.
“What? Never humped someone’s leg before? With how much of a bitch in heat you’re actin’ right now, I’m surprised.” You can feel the shock on your face plain as day. Joel jerks his head down to his thigh, egging you on. “Better hurry up if you want my help, sweetheart. Pretty sure your dad’s about to get goin’, and I sure don’t have all day, either.”
The rapidly shrinking part of yourself that isn’t consumed with desire tells you to take a step back. That anyone, God forbid, even the Adlers across the street could witness this. Talk about a free peep show.
You think of the alternative: sneaking back into your house with a hope and a prayer that your dad won’t find you, backpack over your shoulder and shoes on, as you climb the stairs back to your bedroom. Open up your Joel-advised dresser drawer of things your dad says you shouldn’t have and pull out your vibrator. Do the same old hassle of a routine, desperately trying to make yourself come. Reach an unfulfilling peak.
Or… take what Joel’s offering you. Risks and all.
You take a tentative step forward, glaring at Joel when he chuckles because of your hesitance, and plop yourself down on his thigh. The pressure against your clit immediately pulls a whimper from you. His big hands fix themselves on your hips, holding tight, but not too tight as to hold you captive against him. There’s still the faint existence of the Joel you’ve always known, considerate and sweet and all southern gentleman, that exists behind the guise of his dominance. 
You nestle your head into the crook of his neck, breathing heavy against him as you get a slow start to grinding your hips on his thigh. Although your movements are tentative, uncertain in nature, your head is already going fuzzy.
“Bet you’re only this wet cause that boy already put a new load in your dishwasher.” You scoff at him in disbelief — both at how much more wet it gets you, and how foul his words are. He chooses then to jerk you forward by the hips. You cry out as your pussy drags along the thick expanse of his thigh, clit catching on the bunched up fabric of your rumpled shorts.
“Zip it, you fuckin’ hussy. Ain’t a damn soul in this neighborhood that wants to wake up to you sobbin’ while gettin’ off on this thigh.” One of his hands drifts back to squeeze at the flesh of your ass. You hear the spank before you feel it, a sting that echoes and sticks right between your legs. He’s effortlessly strung a barbed wire of humiliation around your body. The lack of power makes your thighs clamp down around his, and you can’t tell if you crave more of it or despise it.
Unable to decide which, you loudly, exaggeratedly moan into his ear, still rocking down on his lap. It resounds through the neighborhood, the springboard roofs ricocheting you coquettish noises down the street and through the flowerbeds. A spooked crow lifts off of the power lines behind you, and you hear it squawk as its wings beat and carry it away.
Joel cocks his head at you, brow raised. “So it’s not just your legs that have a problem stayin’ shut. It’s your nasty mouth, too.” His hands migrate up your sides to your tits, which jostle with every flighty movement across his thigh. Before you know what he’s doing, he tweezes at your nipples in a way that makes you melt into him, forehead falling flat against his neck. And then he lands a hard smack across your chest, pleasure with a bite. Your hips jolt. “Behave for daddy before I make you walk next door draggin’ a snail trail behind ya.”
You know he doesn’t mean your real dad. A new rush of heat settles in your stomach, tightening your cunt from an ache to an insatiable thrumming that only Joel can solve. “Fuck,” you almost shout, but end up muffling into his skin with an open-mouthed kiss. He sighs, adjusting under you. The change in angle on your clit makes you whimper, especially when you feel his hardened length smushed against the outside of your thigh.
Your hand goes down to grip it, to participate in the push and pull, the cat and mouse, but he shakes his head, pulling it out of the way. He holds you by the small of your back, urging you to keep rubbing on him. “You’re lucky I’m even givin’ you my thigh,” he spits. “Ain’t gonna let you play chutes and ladders tryna make me come when I know damn well where that hand was last night.”
“Daddy,” you pout at him, lower lip jutting out.
He only shakes his head. “Don’t start.”
Whining in agitation, you manage to school yourself into behaving like he’d told you to. Every grind of your hips welcomes pleasure, beckons it, activates the porch light inside of you that invites it inside. You go limp against Joel as he guides you back and forth, and even limper when he tightens the muscle underneath your soaking core. Your hands anchor themselves on his broad shoulders, nails carving into his skin through the flimsy material of his shirt. He hisses underneath you, a break in his seemingly titanium resolve. You feel yourself getting closer, heat wreathing around your stomach, cunt clenching.
In your house, the foyer light flickers on.
Your hips stall over Joel’s as you see your dad’s backlit silhouette moving around in the foyer. Likely sliding on his shoes, patting his pockets for his wallet and his work phone…. You have two minutes at best.
Joel’s eyes follow your distracted line of vision. His amused chuckle warms the back of your neck. “Oughta hurry up if you don’t wanna get caught. Your old man would be in for a rude awakening, headin’ to work and finding his precious little girl fuckin’ my leg like a whore,” he murmurs.
He bounces his leg underneath you, and you bite back the needy cry that threatens to slip out. It feels so good, too good for you to think about anything other than the haze of arousal and pleasure that hovers over your head like a perpetual fog. You return to grinding down on him, hips pumping with a greater, renewed speed. “Attagirl,” Joel croons at you, and the hand at the small of your back presses harder, pushing you up and down his thigh.
Short, strained breaths of yours meet the morning air, eyes pinned on the rectangular window. It’s a golden-washed reminder of how wrong this is. Your dad would blow a gasket, see red, breathe fire at you if he knew exactly what was happening just a few feet away from his front yard.
But you forget all about that when Joel’s calloused fingers cup your chin, nudging you to look at him. His eyes are all pupil, darkened with something like starvation, something like want. “Don’t look at him. Look at me,” he coaxes, and he bounces his thigh again.
You’re close, you can feel it. He can feel it, too, in the way that your thighs fasten around his, your cunt rocking on him as your fervor makes the whole front porch shake and shudder. Tossing your hips back and forth, you wanted it, but now? Now you need it. Your stomach tightens, your legs shivering below you as your cunt gushes all over both of your shorts. “That’s it, baby, come on me like you were beggin’ to. ‘S alright, nice and easy for daddy, mhm?” He tenses his thigh one final time, and you lurch over that edge. “Gooood girl,” he hums as your cunt flutters against his leg. “You’re a daredevil, aren’t you?” he asks, jerking his head toward your house.
You figure you must be, after what you just did.
You’d planned on staying there, riding it out and trembling against his warm chest. But the garage cranks open. You jolt off of Joel’s lap, damn near teleporting across the porch with how fast you move. Joel smirks at you, crossing his unfucked leg over his freshly fucked one, where you’d rubbed your cum all over his skin until it’d glistened. The sight warms your stomach all over again, but it doesn’t last – nerves spasm in your ribcage as your dad ducks out into the driveway.
You fumble with your shorts, pulling them down and crossing your hands in front of the obvious stain on the gray fabric. Your dad squints across the yard, cupping a hand over his eyes. “Miller?” He calls your name shortly after, and you straighten. “You’re up early, kiddo.”
You open your mouth, on the precipice of a lie that you know won’t be good. It’ll come out unsteady, dishonest, and uneven. 
Joel points at the package at the foot of his doorstep. “My toolbox got sent to yours,” he explains. “Damn postal. ‘Bout as good as the Boston Post Road these days. But your kid’s got me covered. Raised her right.”
For the second time, Joel Miller covers for you. You have no idea where this leaves you, standing under your dad’s scrutinizing gaze. With your cum cooling and sticking to your folds the same way it’s cooling and sticking to his leg, Joel knows your secret. And he’s keeping it.
Your dad only gives a shallow nod, looking between the two of you. “Well,” he hooks a hand back at his truck. “I gotta head off to work.” He shifts on his feet, this time pointing to you. “And you head back inside, kiddo. Too early for you to be up and movin’.” Of course it is.
You stare at the ground, the pollen and stray leaves below your feet. Finally, you settle on a nod. Shallow and halfhearted, much like his. Your dad, satisfied, retreats back into the garage. You hear the truck engine come to life.
“You heard the man,” Joel says. You tighten your fists, moving to step away, but the way Joel’s eyes glimmer has you loitering. He lowers his voice. “See you soon, daredevil.”
That damned nickname. “How do you know I’ll be back?” you retort under your breath.
He shrugs. “I’m sure there’ll be more… ‘packages’.”
You blame the heat in your body on the rising sun, sweat clinging to the back of your neck as you plod off through the front yard. There’s only one thought in your head as your dad pulls out and you close the garage. Mr. Miller can’t happen again.
Mistake number four: thinking you’re telling the truth.
2K notes · View notes
the-witchhunter · 22 days
Text
DP x DC worlds greatest detectives ramble
You ever just get a bit tired of the batfamily being dumb?
Sure I appreciate a good “Danny is weird and the Bats try to figure out his deal and draw wrong conclusions based on incomplete evidence” fic as much as the next guy, and I’m definitely not saying not to write them
But the thing is, they’re all really smart. It’s their whole thing, they’re a family of detectives that dress up in colorful costumes and fight crime, but detectives nonetheless
And I get it’s for humorous effect to have otherwise intelligent people be incredibly dumb about one thing, but it’d just be nice to see them be smart sometimes. Even in a fic where they’re drawing the wrong conclusions, it’d be nice to see them use their detective skills
Like build a case so solid Danny questions whether they’re actually right about him and if he’s just confused
Or just apply it to more conventional situations/crimes
Because frankly it’s funnier if you show they’re smart before having them do something really stupid
If you build them up a bit, then it’s funnier when they fall down.
“Where did he go? It’s like he vanished into thin air!?”
“Don’t be silly, see these scuff marks? Someone recently went down this way. The gravel here has been disturbed indicating this manhole cover has been moved recently. Now if we just prop this up…”
“…huh, is that…?”
“Killer Croc and not the twink we were just tracking?”
“Yeah, that”
“Yeah, that’s killer croc… hi Waylon”
*large scaly hand darts out and drags Bat in question down in the sewers while Danny watches invisibly*
1K notes · View notes
halsteadlover · 3 months
Text
𝐇𝐨𝐰 𝐚𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐚 𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐳𝐯𝐨𝐮𝐬?
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
*Gifs not mine credits to the owner*
• Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x Female!Reader.
• Requested: no.
• Summary: you and Hotch have occasional rendezvous but each time you promise it’ll be the last even if neither of you seems to be able to stop.
• Warnings: smut, unprotected sex (don’t be like them you guys wrap it if you want to use it!!!), cursing, dirty talk, oral sex m. receiving, basically porn with no plot lol
• Word count: 1824.
• A/N: PLEASE READ THIS ONLY IF YOU’RE 18+ MINORS STAY AWAY. I hope you like this, let me know what you think. Comment, reblog and like if you want and as always thank you so much for your support.
Tumblr media
“Oh fuck Hotch you feel so good…-” you moaned loudly as you kept riding him on his chair. Your shaking thighs burned, your aching knees pressing against on his chair as his dick thrusted deeper and deeper inside you.
His hands were gripping your hips as he accompanied your movements, grunting and trying to remain silent while his fingers pressed against your skin so hard they left marks on it.
He let go of your hip and covered your mouth when another groan escaped your lips, making your moans become just muffled sighs. “Shut up, you don't want them to hear us do you?”.
You shook your head, biting into his palm as you placed your hands on the arms of his chair for support while letting yourself get rocked by the immense pleasure he was giving you.
It was a mistake.
You knew it was.
But God what a beautiful mistake.
You couldn't help it.
Since the day you and Hotch ended up in bed one night after a case and a few drinks, you didn’t stop having these rendezvous, neither of you could help it. Every time you promised yourselves it’d be the last, but it was enough to find yourselves close, or your eyes to meet during the discussion of a case, or for some reason his hand to casually caress yours to break this promise.
You were just like a drug for each other. From that first dose you had that night, you could no longer go without that feeling of euphoria and pure ecstasy the sex gave you.
Aaron Hotchner was the most sinful thought that crossed your mind, the forbidden thing you always craved and God did you love it.
Maybe it was the fact you were a BAU agent and he was your boss, maybe it was the thrill of being discovered, maybe it was the taste of the forbidden – hell, what would the FBI have said if they knew the upright boss of the behavioral analysis unit was breaking the rules that he himself continually reiterated to his agents?
This, however, didn't stop either of you, indeed it was as if all this was fuel thrown on the fire, passion and desire you already felt.
At first you both managed to keep that passion at bay, having occasional sex in hotel rooms when you were out of town for a case. But the more time passed, the more difficult it became to suppress everything, to hide that you wanted to rip each other’s clothes off every minute of the day.
And that's why you found yourself in his office that evening, fucking near his desk while there were still some colleagues still in the bullpen.
“God I've been thinking about you and this damn skirt all day… Fuck… You’re irresistible,” he muttered, his eyes scanning your figure sitting on him as his dick fucked your wet pussy.
He was completely mesmerized.
Your skirt was rolled up around your hips, the sheer black stockings you were wearing until recently had been ripped by Hotch in the heat of passion, your panties were thrown to the floor, your shirt unbuttoned and your bra moved as your breasts popped out and bounced to the rhythm of your motion.
You looked like a fucking goddess.
The walls of your pussy started to clench around his dick, making him twitch inside you, your hips stuttering as you felt your orgasm building more and more. It was as if your body was going through convulsions and you couldn't control it, you just wanted and desired that intense pleasure that only Aaron Hotchner was able to give you.
He wrapped his lips around your breast, sucking and licking your nipple as you threaded your hands into his hair and pulled it. You bit your lower lip in an attempt to keep at bay the moans and gasps you was struggling to keep quiet.
“Just like that, oh yeah just like that you feel so good Hotch,” you whispered in a gasp, rolling your eyes and head back. His tongue licked your skin, from your breasts, then moving up your collarbone to your neck, kissing and sucking your skin until he left a mark.
Hotchner wasn't one for hickeys, he wasn't one for office sex in the workplace, he wasn't one for quickies, he wasn't one to break the rules that he himself had set but you managed to break down every single part of his barrier, you managed making him lose control in a way that he loved and hated at the same time, you managed to unleash emotions in him that he had never even felt in his life.
You were hurricane.
You were storm.
You were addiction.
And he couldn't get enough of you, never.
“Shit, fuck,” he cursed, biting and licking the skin of your shoulder as his thumb began drawing imaginary circles on your clit making your muscles tense even more and your movements more erratic. You almost had a heart attack from the intense pleasure that flowed through your veins. “God princess you ruin me.”
A breathtaking orgasm hit over you without any other warning like a raging river, making you dizzy and see stars. Your vision went blurry for a few moments, making you even forget you were in your boss' office and someone could actually hear you.
You tried to catch your breath but at that very moment there was a knock on the door, making both you and Hotch freeze in place, his hard dick still inside you. You exchanged a panicked look.
“Just one second.” Aaron had responded after clearing his throat and then continuing talking to you in a whisper, “Get under the desk.”
You nodded and lifted yourself off his legs, which had turned to jelly as you bent down and picked up your panties. You settled under the desk between his legs while he quickly tried to fix his hair and button up his shirt. He stood up and put on his pants, leaving them loose without bringing them up to his hips.
“Come in.”
Your heart was beating so wildly you could hear the pounding in your ears. You stayed paralyzed under the desk, too afraid to even breathe.
The door opened and you recognized Agent Anderson's voice. “I brought the Porters' case report from five days ago Agent Hotchner.”
He nodded, his expression completely serious and professional as he pretended to fill out a file he didn't even remember at the moment.
“Thank you Agent Anderson, leave it on my desk.”
Despite the fear of being discovered, however, you couldn't contain your excitement and the thought of driving him crazy couldn't leave your mind. You placed a hand on his inner thigh, trailing your fingers along his crotch with sensuality.
Aaron almost had a heart attack when you quietly pulled his underwear off enough for his dick to pop out again, still wet and damp from your fluids and you wrapped your hand around it, starting to jerk him off with slow, controlled pace.
“Agent Hotchner there was a thing about this case I wanted to ask you about…” Agent Anderson had asked.
Are you fucking kidding me right now?
Hotch nodded and pointed to the chair in front of his desk, his lips pressed together because he was afraid if he opened them only moans would come out.
Your hand increased its speed and Hotch let out a deep sigh as he leaned back in his chair, about to have a heart attack right then and now.
He looked at Anderson, he heard him talking but his brain couldn't process a single word he was saying, too focused on trying to keep a serious expression and not let on that there was a woman under his desk who was masturbating him.
But the final blow came when you wrapped your lips around his dick, taking it all in your mouth and tasting yourself on it. He let out a small moan which immediately covered with a cough, thanking god Anderson was too caught up in whatever he was saying to notice.
His hand reached below the desk and into your hair, pulling it harshly and making you almost moan at the sensation. This caused you to pick up your pace and Hotch didn't know whether to hate you or not at that moment.
He wanted you to stop.
But also for you to keep going because that fucking mouth of yours was pure ecstasy.
“Are you okay, agent Hotchner?” Anderson stopped at a certain point, noticing the way Hotchner continued to move in his chair and the blush on his cheeks.
“Y-yes, I apologize...” Hotch breathed out. “Lord,” he almost let out a groan which he tried to mask with another cough. “I’m not feeling very well these days. C-can…” he stopped again, swallowing another moan. “We’ll talk about t-this tomorrow Anderson. Excuse me.”
You couldn’t help but smirk to yourself, feeling victorious for making the always-so-serious SSA Aaron Hotchner a complete mess.
His thighs started to shake, his fingers still pulling your hair as you licked his dick, leaving a long string of saliva on his tip. You wrapped your lips around him again and a hand around the base, jerking him off while simultaneously taking it in your mouth. Your other hand rested on his thigh, pressing your nails on his hot skin.
Your mouth felt like heaven and it didn't take long for the orgasm to start building again after it was interrupted.
“Oh yes of course, I'm sorry. Get well soon then, g-good night agent Hotchner.” Anderson replied and jumped to his feet before mumbling some more nonsense and exiting the office, closing the door behind him.
Hotch let out a particularly deep sigh and rested his head on the edge of his chair as he continued to mercilessly fuck your mouth.
“You fucking little slut, you really can't help yourself huh?” He groaned, looking back at you. His grip around your hair tightened, forcing your head down and making you gag. “My needy little whore, look at you chocking on my dick… Fuck you’re gonna make me come.”
How could he make such derogatory names so damn sexy?
It didn't take long for Hotch to explode into an intense orgasm inside your mouth, not letting your head go until he watched you swallow every single damn drop of his cum.
He exhaustedly leaned back in his chair, his chest rising and falling rapidly as he waited for his breathing to calm down.
He took your hands and helped you out from under the desk, letting you sit on his lap and kissing you until taking your breath.
He gave you a sweet little kiss on your forehead, caressing your cheek with a thumb, tucking a lock of your hair behind your ear. “You'll be the death of me sooner or later, agent Y/Ln.”
Tumblr media
General tag list: @hngbrooks, @alexxavicry, @mrspeacem1nusone, @halstead-severide-fan, @allivzs, @omniaimy, @cursedashes, @kmc1989, @firetruckstuckley, @23victoria
Aaron Hotchner tag list: @mrs-ssa-hotch, @s1lverhand, @novabckly, @thatcrimeshowchick
Tumblr media
Click here to be added to the tag list ❤️
Main Masterlist
Aaron Hotchner Masterlist
Support me on Ko-Fi ☕️
Side blog -> @halsteadloverslibrary
Ask link 💭
1K notes · View notes
clanwarrior-tumbly · 4 months
Note
YOU HAVE NO IDEA HOW GLAD I AM THAT YOUR WRITE FOR SPTO THANK YOUUUU
UGH okay, my craziness aside; could you try “I think I’m in love with you” with Matthew Patel? It doesn’t matter who says it, I jsut think it’d be adorable (I adore that funky theatre punk so so much <3)
Thank you so much and have a wonderful day/night!!
"Do it!"
"Come on, Lord Matthew!"
"We're getting impatient.."
"Maybe we'll go in and tell them ourselves-"
"Ladies, that's enough! I will tell them myself...i-in a minute. First, I need to rehearse what I'm going to say..I can't mess this up."
The demon hipster chicks could only stare at their master with blank expressions, knowing damn well that he was stalling the inevitable:
That being his confession to you.
You two go back as far as middle school, with you being the first friend he ever made who didn't mind his weirdness or mystical powers. Plus, you shared his admiration for the theater and dramatics when he started obsessing over those, becoming his number one supporter.
Until now, Matthew never thought he'd fall for you like he did Ramona. But he feared rejection, ridicule, or worse--the relationship being extremely short-lived and him never getting to experience a "true love's kiss".
Once was painful enough.
He couldn't go through that again.
Of course, his demon hipster chicks knew all about this and the months he's spent pining after you. As much as they didn't like you "stealing" away his attention...they realized you made their master genuinely happy.
And above everything else, they wanted him to be happy.
So they were thrilled when he summoned them, seeing that they were at the doorstep to your apartment and squealing upon noticing the giftbox he had for you.
Finally, he seemed ready to move on from Ramona.
Yet....he had spent ten solid minutes pacing along the floor and trying to hype himself up, his confidence totally shot, before he eventually stopped in front of your door again.
"Okay, I got it! Erm..."Roses are red, violets are--" no, that's stupid. It's too cliche! Everybody uses that!" Shaking his head, he tried to think of something else. ""Hey, would you like to be the Romeo to my Juliet--" ohh, what am I saying?! That's not romantic!! That would mean our relationship could end in tragedy...UGH!!"
"Don't overthink it, my lord." One of the demons whispered to him. "Just tell them how you feel."
"....it can't be that simple, can it?"
"....."
"..alright. I'll take your advice. I'm going for it." With a nervous swallow, he bowed his head and raised a hand to knock at the door-
Only for it to swing open, causing him to freeze in-place and look up to see you on the other side. He quickly hid both hands behind his back, hoping you didn't see the gift. "H-Hi.."
"Oh hey, Matty. Hey, girls." You smiled, looking past him and waving to the demons. But as your gaze shifted back to his, you wondered why he seemed extremely nervous. "Are you feeling okay?"
"..yeah. Just..wanted to see how you were doing." Pink was starting to dust his cheeks. "Did you uh...know I was going to come visit?"
"Um...yeah? You texted me earlier."
"......"
"And I saw you outside my window and figured you forgot the spare key."
"Shit..did I?" Matthew checked his coat pockets, feeling more embarrassed to know he forgot such a simple thing. All because he couldn't stop thinking about you. "I guess I did forget.......how about I go get it?"
You blinked in confusion. "Huh? But you're-"
"I'll be back, I swear-?!!"
The second he tried to run away, two of the demons grabbed a hold of his arms, dragging him into your apartment, while the other two guarded the door it in case he attempted another escape. He yelled in outrage, putting up a bit of struggle before they let go.
At this point, he was seething red, prepared to yell at them for their betrayal and the humiliation it brought upon him...
But they just winked and disappeared, the last one wishing him luck.
Of course.
"I can't believe it! The nerve of those-"
"What was that all about? You're acting kinda..odd, Matthew." Raising an eyebrow, you sat down on your sofa, having no clue why the man in front of you looked so flustered.
"I....have something I need to say." He decided to sit beside you, sighing heavily. "[Y/n], I think....I..I..."
"Yes?"
"...I-I think I'm in love with you!" Finally blurting it out, he closed his eyes and handed you the box, too afraid to see your expression. "I know it's sudden but..you've always been there for me. Ever since I found my passion for theater. Ever since Ramona dumped me...you were by my side. A-And I feel like I took that for granted. I thought I only wanted revenge against those who wronged me....but no. I want something better. I want love...and I want to be yours. So please...let me prove that I can be a good boyfriend and not evil!"
Part of him wanted to curl up and die as he continued babbling on and on about his feelings, thinking about the hundreds of other ways he could have done this.
He could flawlessly play the role of a love interest in a musical or play and move the audience to tears so effortlessly. But off-stage, he felt like a bumbling lovesick idiot who isn't making any sense to his crush..
There's no way you could love him back.
Not after seeing him like this.
Yet after feeling the box being removed from his hands, Matthew bravely opened his eyes, watching as you took out the black and red roses he put inside it. The thorns have been clipped off, allowing you to twirl the stems in your fingers for a moment or two.
Then you looked at him with the brightest of smiles, laughing softly. "Of course you'd give me roses, you dork. That's so....you." You set them aside before moving closer, taking his hands into yours. "I'm trusting you to uphold that promise."
His heart was soaring.
He must definitely be dreaming right now.
"S-So...it's a yes?"
You chuckled, nodding. "Yes. And...I promise to be with you for longer than a week."
That got him choked up. He couldn't say anything else in that moment, as his only response was pulling you into a tight hug and hiding his face in your neck.
Thank god he didn't ruin this.
You just smiled and held him close, relieved that he finally decided to try loving again. When he calmed down enough to look back up into your eyes, that's when you both decided to go for the kiss--just in case he had any more doubts in his mind.
And there were sparks galore.
507 notes · View notes
metalhoops · 1 year
Text
Steve was going to die crouched behind a picnic table in an unfamiliar town. That’s how he saw it, anyway. 
He’d been looking for Robin. That’s where it all went wrong. She hadn’t shown up for work at the video store that Saturday morning. It wasn’t like her. The two had just started at their new job and it was a goddamn Saturday. Steve had been run off his feet all day. 
At the end of his shift, he couldn’t help but look for her. Since the incident with the Russians, both he and Robin had their days where they would disappear, but they’d always let the other know they were safe. 
Steve never used to be a worst-case-scenario kind of guy until everything with The Upside Down. All day he’d felt panic rising in his stomach. What if she’d been taken by demogorgons or kidnapped by secret government operatives?
He drove the BMW past all of Robin’s familiar haunts. She wasn’t at home or at Steve’s place. The school was closed, so she couldn’t be at band and she’d have asked him to drive her to the movies.
That’s when he started to check the places he didn’t want to find her. The Junkyard, Lover’s Lake, and the remains of the Hawkins lab.  She wasn’t there. It was then he recalled a conversation they’d had last Sunday. 
“All right, I’ve got some more evidence,” Robin had exclaimed days before, and Steve had known exactly what she was talking about. 
“Well don’t hold out on me, Rob,” Steve pushed, pulling out a notebook he should’ve been using to keep track of people’s late rental returns. 
Instead, it harboured two columns and a series of tallies, an ode to their Scoops Days Steve was secretly proud of thinking up. ‘Vicky likes boobies’, proclaimed one column while the other argued, ‘Vicky doesn’t like boobies’. He’d never said he was mature. Plus Steve got a kick out of watching Robin squirm. They’d been trying to work out if Vicky was a viable crush. Steve thought she was but so far the columns were an even split. 
“Last night I saw her car parked outside the fairgrounds in the next town over. Any other day of the week and I wouldn’t think it was weird, but Saturday night, it’s a spot, you know?” Steve didn’t know. 
“A spot?” He echoed. 
“Yeah, you know? Like how skull rock is ‘a spot’ but it’s only for certain kinds of people.” Steve’s brow pinched together and he nodded. 
He could imagine what Robin was implying. He’d added another tally to his favourite side and thought nothing more of it until he’d run out of places to look for Robin in Hawkins. It was a Saturday night. It was a long shot, but he’d take it.
Steve drove to the next town over and was surprised to see a smattering of cars at the fairground. There were a handful of boys in their twenties sitting on picnic benches around a boombox playing music Steve was vaguely familiar with. Then there were a couple of girls sipping beer and passing the bottle around. 
If you didn’t know, it’d seem like any other half-assed party but if you knew what to look for, you’d know you were in the right place. Steve didn’t know when he’d become the kind of person who knew what to look for. 
One of the guys had his hand tucked into the back pocket of another’s jeans. Then, of course, he saw his fair share of coloured hankies, carabineers and key rings. Sometimes, Steve actually listened when Robin talked to him about that kind of stuff. He figured it must get lonely, not having anyone to talk to about those things. He wanted to be a good friend even if he couldn’t relate to Robin. Steve liked girls. That was the beginning and end of it.  
He studied each of the partygoers' faces and felt his throat begin to constrict. Robin wasn’t there. Where the hell was she? This had been the last stone left unturned. Now what? 
Steve’s heartbeat was a kick drum, threatening to crack his ribs in two as it burst from his chest cavity. His vision began to tunnel and a ringing in his ears swelled to a crescendo as he crouched behind an abandoned picnic table.
What if something happened to her? How the hell was he meant to find her? 
Steve felt a hand on his shoulder. 
He looked up with a start, almost leaping out of his skin when he saw one of the boy’s faces inches from his. The space was dark, illuminated only by the moon and the intermittent flickering of car headlights.
“Hey. You’re okay. Just breathe with me for a second, alright?” The boy instructed.
His voice was vaguely familiar, but Steve couldn’t string together a coherent set of thoughts. His body was focused on not keeling over. He tried to copy the overdramatised rise and fall of the boy’s chest. 
“There you go,” the boy soothed as Steve’s breathing evened out. 
“Guessing, it’s your first time here. Don’t worry too much about it. The first time I went to a gay bar in Indy I had a panic attack in the bathroom.” Munson. The voice belonged to Eddie Munson, Steve’s brain supplied at last. 
They’d gone to high school together. Though Steve wasn’t sure if the guy had graduated. He vaguely recalled Eddie hating all jocks on principal and Steve had tried to give the boy a wide berth because of it. Turned out he was the type to hang out at gay bars. Okay. 
There was no way Eddie recognised Steve. He was being way too nice to him. Maybe Munson was a good guy. Steve hadn’t taken the time to find out back then. Steve hadn’t really been a good person. He was trying hard to be better.
“No one’s tried to push you into anything, right? Because that’s not what this place is about. I might not be able to kick anyone’s ass, but I know a guy who could,” Eddie commented, confirming Steve’s suspicions. He was a good guy. 
“No. I’m good... I’m looking for someone,” Steve breathed, hoping maybe Munson would’ve seen Robin. 
Then again, if Eddie hadn’t seen her, he’d be outing Robin, which Steve knew was a shitty thing to do. Eddie spoke before Steve had the chance to decide what he was going to say.
“You see him around?” Eddie asked, moving to sit beside Steve on the grass, scanning the crowd. 
Oh. Eddie assumed Steve was... That was fair. He was at ‘a spot’. He guessed he could work with that. 
“I think he stood me up,” Steve covered, looking for an excuse to get out of there. 
“His loss,” Eddie mused, placing a hand on Steve’s knee. Oh, no. Flirting. 
“I should get out of here,” Steve stuttered, jerking upwards.
“Right, shit. Sorry. Too strong,” Eddie spoke half to Steve, half to himself as he stood up and dusted grass from his jeans.  
“Don’t let me spook you. Seriously. You look like you need a night out. I can sit all the way over there and we can pretend this never happened,” Eddie proposed. 
Steve was dreading the ride back to Hawkins, knowing if he went home now, he wouldn’t be able to sleep. Steve surprised himself by shaking his head. 
“No, I don’t want you to... just... don’t go. This isn’t something I do. I could use the company.” Steve was surprised at the words as they left his mouth. In what world did Steve Harrington want to hang out with Eddie Munson?
“Alright, no funny business, I promise. I’ve got some beer in a cooler. We could keep things all PG-13,” Eddie proposed, leading Steve to where the aforementioned cooler was stashed on a free picnic bench. 
“I’ve got to drive back home, but I could stay for a bit,” Steve remarked, sitting down beside Eddie’s cooler on the tabletop. 
He tried to focus on the distant music and the sound of passing cars. His thoughts kept returning to Robin. He dug his thumbnail into the table, scratching at the splintering wood as he tried to stop his mind from reeling. 
“Is your place far from here?” Eddie questioned, sitting beside Steve and lounging back on his elbows, glancing up at the night sky. 
“That wasn’t a preposition, by the way,” Eddie clarified quickly. 
“I was just trying to make conversation. Christ, man. I’m shit at this.”
“Shit at what?” Steve questioned absentmindedly, glad to have a distraction. 
Eddie grabbed a strand of hair and coyly hid a smile behind it. 
“You know. Talking to pretty guys.’ 
It wasn’t like no one had called Steve ‘pretty’ before. They had. But they’d always done it as an insult. He’d heard the word, ‘pretty boy’, spat through gritted teeth a handful of times, but no one had ever made it sound like a good thing, like something Steve wanted to be. 
It was strange. Steve hadn’t been lying when he said this wasn’t something he usually did. He wasn’t gay. He didn’t hang out with men in a way that walked the tightrope between platonic and flirtatious, but he’d gone on a lot of dates with girls, some that’d been far worse than the way his night was panning out. Steve was surprised at just how comfortable and familiar the setting felt.  
“I’m from Hawkins,” Steve admitted, feeling Eddie’s keen eyes on his profile. 
“Small world. Me too.” Everyone knew everyone in Hawkin’s. It’d only be a matter of time before Eddie placed him. Then what? He couldn’t imagine Eddie would want to hang out with him for long after that. 
“I came here with a buddy but I’m pretty sure he’s screwed off by now, you mind giving me a lift? Think we could both use the company.” 
Steve was always driving the kids around, that’s what he was good at, and it’d be a distraction. Steve nodded before he could think any better of it. 
“I can do that. You say the word,” Steve muttered and followed Eddie’s eyes to the stars. 
“Soon, give me a few minutes to enjoy the view”. 
That was the one good thing about small towns in the dead of night. The stars could really shine, painting their way across the sky, all milk and moonbeams. For once, Steve wasn’t thinking of the things lurking in the shadows. 
He could hardly make out the features of Eddie’s face, but he couldn’t help but think, if this was like the dates he’d been on with girls, this was the point where he’d kiss them. It’d be romantic. At heart, Steve had always been a romantic.
A car pulled up close to the two boys, bathing them in yellowed light. Eddie’s face turned to look at Steve. His eyes swelled wide with recognition. He’d expected Eddie to be shocked, this was the last place Steve would expect to find himself on an ordinary day. What he didn’t anticipate was Eddie jerking back as though Steve had physically hit him, his body tumbling backwards off the bench and onto the grassy lot. 
“Holy Hell, Harrington,” Eddie choked out, as he tried to pull himself back to his feet, staggering. Right. Steve should’ve known this wasn’t going to end well. He should just leave now. 
“I thought your voice sounded familiar. Christ. Steve ‘the hair’ Harrington. Here? Holy shit.” 
Steve stood, shifting awkwardly from foot to foot, trying to eyeball the best path to the Beamer, suddenly wanting to be anywhere but there. 
“I’m going to go...” Steve began but was cut off by a wild flailing of limbs and Eddie’s hand encircling his wrist. 
“Sorry. Shit. Sorry. Steve, Stevie. Wait. You surprised me.” Eddie placated, his eyes swollen wide as he looked at his fingers around Steve’s limb. It was as though his body had grabbed Steve of its own volition. 
Steve couldn’t help but notice the muffled conversations from the surrounding tables had quietened. 
“I get it if you don’t want to take me home, but I won’t tell anyone... you know. Cross my heart, dude.” 
Steve hadn’t been worried about that until now. His heart rate sped up again. He wasn’t queer but if rumour got around. His dad would kill him. Steve wasn’t sure that the statement was hyperbolic. Eddie must have seen something in Steve’s face, because his grip on his wrist tightened. 
“Promise I won’t. Look, somehow I’ve managed to collect your little flock of ducklings into my D&D club at school. They think you’re a good dude. That’s good enough for me.” 
Steve trusted Eddie. He shouldn’t. He told himself he was dumb for doing so, but his instincts won out. 
“Well, come on then, if you still want a ride,” Steve grumbled, pulling Eddie along with him to the BMW. 
The two talked on the ride back to Hawkins, but all of it was inconsequential. It was just what Steve needed. Eddie rambled about the kids, something he and Steve had in common. It was the only thing Steve knew they had in common besides the fact Eddie thought they were gay, or at least that they both liked men. 
It should’ve been awkward talking to Eddie, knowing the guy would’ve slept with him if given the chance, but surprisingly it wasn’t. Maybe that’s how Robin had felt about him at the beginning of their friendship. No. Don’t think about Robin. She was safe. She had to be. Steve would know if she wasn’t. 
“What happened to you, Steve?” He heard Eddie ask out of the blue and realised his fingers had been gripping the steering wheel so tightly that his knuckles had turned bone white. 
Steve didn’t know how to answer the question in a way that wouldn’t spur on deeper probing, so he said, “Nothing”. The reply seemed to tell Eddie everything he needed to know. 
“I guess I grew up,” Steve supplied lamely.
“I wasn’t talking about how you don’t hang out with the same dicks from school. You stopped doing that before you graduated. Don’t ask me how I know that. Don’t make me say it. You’ve always been pretty, is all I’ll say. This is different. You never used to look so... haunted.” 
What was Steve supposed to say to that? He didn’t say anything, just turned the radio up and wondered how Eddie Munson, of all people, saw right through him. 
When they pulled up out front of the Munson’s trailer, Eddie paused, looking Steve over. 
“Hey, Harrington? You still all on your lonesome in that big old mansion of yours?” Steve rolled his eyes but nodded.
“Well, would you look at that? Me too. I mean, minus the mansion. Want to not be alone, together?” 
“I’ve got work in the morning,” Steve deflected as he found himself switching off the car and following Eddie up to the front door. 
“Won’t bother me. I sleep like the dead.” 
Steve was a horrible sleeper, not that it would matter. He knew he wouldn’t be sleeping that night. Maybe in the morning if he couldn’t find Robin he should call Nancy. She knew everything about missing friends, about knowing something was wrong and yet feeling like you had no one to turn to. He wished he’d been that person for Nancy years before but he hadn’t and there was nothing he could do about that now. 
Steve found himself tucked into the corner of Eddie’s bed. The two boys had stripped off their jeans but kept their shirts on. He kept comparing the night to dates he’d had in the past. He kept thinking how easy it felt to do the same with a man. Steve liked women, he knew that, but he was beginning to entertain the idea he might be able to like men. Couple that crisis with his worries that Robin was somewhere alone and hurting and you had one messy knot of emotions Steve didn’t know how to unpick. 
“Night, Stevie,” Eddie muttered, as his hand made its way to rest on his inner thigh. His breath smelled of alcohol. 
“This okay?” He clarified. Yes, Eddie was a good guy and Steve wished he’d known that sooner. 
“Yeah,” Steve admitted because it was okay, much to his surprise.
When Eddie did eventually fall asleep, he rolled over, keeping one hand on Steve’s thigh and slinging the other over Steve’s chest, somehow ending face down in the crook of Steve’s neck. He smelled of beer and smoke. It was the longest night of Steve’s life. 
True to his word, Eddie remained sound asleep as Steve extracted himself from under him come morning. He paused to jot his number down on a notebook beside Eddie’s bed, surprising himself once again. He hadn’t gotten or wanted a second date with anyone in months. He wasn’t sure this was classified as a first date, but it had him wanting more of whatever it was. 
Steve parked outside Robin’s place, surprised to find her waiting for him in the driveway, unharmed and applying her makeup with the help of a compact mirror as though it were any other day. 
“You look like crap,” Robin noted as she slid into the passenger seat. 
Steve could cry. Steve would’ve cried if it hadn’t been for years worth of emotional repression. 
“You weren’t at work yesterday,” Steve said by way of explanation. 
“Yeah. I went to Indianapolis for my aunt’s birthday. I told you I was going last week.” 
Oh. Steve had forgotten. He nodded, then sniffed pathetically, pretty sure he was about to cry. Robin was fine. She’d never been in danger. She placed her hand over his and gave it a reassuring squeeze. 
“Dingus, were you worried about me?” She teased, trying to lighten the mood. He shook his head, a blatant lie. 
“So worried you didn’t go on one of your crappy Saturday night dates or do you have another story to tell me about how you stuck out with a smoking hot babe... again.” That brought Steve to his second crisis. 
“Kind of.” Robin raised a brow.
“Kind of? Steve Harrington, since when are you coy about the people you date? Dude, when it comes to me you have no boundaries.” She was right. 
“I think I went on a date with a guy,” Steve admitted, not meeting Robin’s eye as she let out an inhuman squeak. 
“I was gone for one goddamn day and that’s the day you decide to date a guy?” She gasped, smacking his arm. 
In retrospect, it was pretty funny. Steve’s urge to cry was suddenly stifled as his body rocked with laughter. 
“I think I owe you one, actually,” Steve admitted, knowing he wasn’t going to hear the end of it. 
Read Part 2 Here
2K notes · View notes
onigiriico · 8 months
Text
Kazui audio drama (t2) - English TL
[ links: Spotify / Youtube ]
I cannot believe my hs philosophy class came in handy as I was translating this. Thanks Milgram your references never fail to astound me
Aaanyways you know how it is,, feel free to send an ask or hit me up on Twitter if you’ve got any questions or other feedback re: this translation etc 💪 (<- sincerely hoping that Twitter DMs still work these days)
⬇️ translation under the cut ⬇️
(door opens)
E: I’ve kept you waiting, Kazui.
K: It’s been a while, Warden-kun.
E: Yeah… It has been.
K: Things have gotten pretty tough inside the prison, but… well, you’ve probably heard all about that from the others already, haven’t you?
E: Yeah… I heard that you protected other prisoners from Kotoko. I owe you my thanks.
K: That much is only natural. However… she really is strong, isn’t she? I mean, I’ve experienced some fights myself, but [going up against] a woman like her was a first.
E: Hm… Is she strong enough that even you can’t stop her from doing harm?
K: Well, in cases like this, it’s generally the heavier person who ends up winning. After all, if she really does have proper killing intent, I can’t afford to let her injure anyone. It’s difficult, isn’t it.
E: Is that so…
K: I was afraid that it’d come to this from the very beginning. There’s a lot of young kids here, too. It’d be hard for anyone to keep a decent mentality in a situation like this.
E: …You’re pretty rational.
K: I wonder. Maybe it’s because I’m used to violence. Even so… I couldn’t make it for Shiina-chan. I feel responsible for [what happened to] her.
E: …
K: Well, rest assured, though. As long as I can move, I’ll be protecting [the others]. After all, it’s pretty much just me who can fight her on equal terms.
E: Mikoto, too.
K: Ah… yeah. Like back when he went out of control, right? I can’t quite read him, though… If both of them were to attack us, it’s possible that we’d suffer a total defeat. 
E: A total defeat…?
K: If that happens, this prison game would probably come to an end as well. All of that depends on your judgment, right, Warden-kun? Who will be forgiven by you and who won’t be…
E: What are you trying to say?
K: If at all possible, I would like you to choose a method that will not get any more people hurt. That’s what I’m saying.
E: So you’re telling me to forgive you?
K: (laughs) Oi, oi…! Don’t look at me like that.
E: I’m the Warden. If I forgive you, I forgive you. If I don’t, I don’t. There’s no other factors to it.
K: (sighs) Wouldn’t it be okay? I mean, this situation with prisoners being hurt wasn’t what you wanted either, was it?
E: …
K: Just pretend that you’re looking at our sins, and make your judgment with the protection of the prisoners in mind. After all, nobody can read your mind – so that much craftiness would be fine, don’t you think?
E: Hmph. That’s a very “you” kind of pretentious solution.
K: It’s the most natural conclusion, isn’t it? Do you think it’s a sin to lie in order to protect people?
E: That would be Kant.
K: Kant?
E: A philosopher who stated that lying is inherently a sin, no matter the circumstances.
K: Huh…
E: Apparently, even if your friend is being chased by a murderer and the murderer asks you about their whereabouts, you shouldn’t lie, according to Kant.
K: That’s ridiculous. If you can save someone by telling a lie, that’s what you should do.
E: However… You killed someone with your lies, didn’t you?
K: … Ah… You forgave me, didn’t you? Aren’t you being especially strict towards me?
E: Am I?
K: Mmh, it’s obvious. You said you would figure out my murder by watching the footage of my mind. Is this the result of that?
E: You were unfaithful, right? That’s stupid.
K: Hmm…
E: The reason I forgave you was because I was lacking details. I still don’t understand your true feelings or how things got to that point, either.
K: I see.
E: It was extremely hard to understand. Even with all of that poetry, though, your self-absorbed nature was more than obvious.
K: Ohh my… That’s quite the sweeping generalization, even though you forgave me.
E: It’s a personal dislike of mine. People who act based on their sexual urges like that, that is.
K: It’s personal?
E: Yeah. That’s right.
K: That’s strange. I did think that, despite being neutral as a Warden, you had some things you dislike, but…
E: …
K: Isn’t it unusual to openly reveal a personal dislike as a personal dislike?
E: You’re splitting hairs.
K: Seems like you really disliked my crime… I get it! Maybe it was because you’re so young, which is to say… …
E: Hah? Stop staring at me so openly. It’s disgusting.
K: …
E: …! (punches him)
(clattering)
E: (sighs) Now I feel better.
K: — Ow…! What are you doing all of a sudden…?!
E: It was an instinctive reaction. Don’t take it personally.
K: Would you stop just punching me in the face without hesitation? … (sighs) Anyways… that’s how it is, huh? That’s how it is…?
E: Hah?
K: I didn’t even consider this a possibility… Personal impressions sure can be scary.
E: If you say any more things than this that I don’t get, I’m hitting you again.
K: Geez, cut out the hysterics… Hmm, if it’s like this, that explains some things, though. I don’t have kids, but I’ve heard that this is what it’s like.
E: Hey. Stop blabbering on while looking like you know it all. It’s obnoxious.
K: Hahaha! But you know what? You’re wrong.
E: …? What are you talking about?
K: You’re wrong.
E: …
K: You said I was unfaithful – in other words, that I cheated or committed adultery of some kind.
E: Yeah. That’s what I deduced from your footage.
K: It’s not true. It didn’t even turn into infidelity. It didn’t turn into anything like that. For me… In my case, you see.
E: … You’re married… You’re a married man, aren’t you?
K: Hm? Yeah, that’s right. Oh, right, I never told you, did I?
E: You’ve taken off your ring.
K: … Right… I did take it off, huh. Right…
E: Yeah.
K: Mh. … I do carry it with me, though. See? – I was forgiven. My feelings were validated. So… maybe that means that I don’t have to do this anymore? Thanks to that, I was feeling better when the second trial started… I really do feel sorry about that. Towards my wife.
E: If that ring is a symbol of punishment to you… There really is nothing that could possibly be more cruel towards her.
K: Mmh.
E: Marriage is something that both partners want equally, isn’t it? It’s something you can’t do if only one person wants it. Deciding to treat it as a punishment all on your own… You’re making a mockery out of it.
K: I really am. Ah… She must have thought so as well. My wife, that is.
E: I’ve said this before: You’re a liar. Those lies have killed a person.
K: (sighs)
E: I forgave you. While I wasn’t sure yet, I thought that it didn’t seem like you killed her directly, and with all sorts of things taken into consideration, I judged that your murder was not a sin. However. That doesn’t mean that I’m praising your nature as a liar.
K: Yeah. I believe you’re right about that.
E: In short – between love and hate, [I would say] I hate you. Remember that.
K: … I get that.
E: Huh?
K: I despise myself for lying, too. Being a liar, you see – it’s painful.
E: Heh. Then just–
K: So I’ve tried to change! I’ve tried to change. I have tried to stop lying to myself and others!
E: …
K: I’ve confided in others. I’ve tried to be myself! I’ve tried to just be the way I was born!
E: …Hey, Kazui–
K: It’s not my lies that killed her. She’s dead because I stopped lying to her! If I had just kept lying- She wouldn’t have died…!
E: Kazui…
K: I can’t live unless I lie. That’s how I was born… I’m pathetic, aren’t I?
E: (sighs) I really can’t seem to understand you.
K: …
E: Just when I thought you weren’t letting out any of your true feelings and cleverly hiding your actual emotions… Now here you are, drowning in self-loathing like this.
K: (weak laugh) An old man in unstable condition… that’s not something you’d wanna see, is it. Sorry about that.
E: You know, about Kant…
K: Ah, the one who said you shouldn’t lie even if your friend might get killed.
E: From his point of view, if your friend dies because you didn’t lie, there’s no causal connection between the two… or so I’ve heard.
K: I don’t think so, though…
E: Even if you don’t lie, your friend might survive. And if you do lie, your friend might end up dying on a different occasion. That’s the reason why you’re supposed to always tell the truth.
K: …That’s convincing.
E: It’s not really.
K: Yeah, it’s not.
E: It may not be, but… I thought that for someone who has failed in their attempts to be honest, it might be a [saving] grace so they won’t end up doubting honesty in its entirety.
K: …
E: I still don’t know what happened, but… isn’t it okay to be proud that you made an effort to be honest in the first place?
K: … You’re so kind all of a sudden.
E: I just said what I was thinking. And besides – I forgave you. I made it as if your sin wasn’t a sin at all. And yet, you don’t seem the slightest bit relieved.
K: I know right.
E: Everyone else seems more or less liberated by the fact that they were forgiven.
K: That’s right.
E: Just from that… I understand that having your feelings approved of by someone else can have a major impact on the development of one’s personality.
K: …
E: However… You have not forgiven yourself. That’s why you can’t change.
K: …
E: Alternatively, even if your lying self was forgiven… it would still do nothing to help you.
K: …Aah, you really are impressive. You think so much.
E: I am watching over ten troublesome prisoners, after all. Even if I don’t want to, I’m being relied on.
K: I haven’t forgiven myself… even if my lies are forgiven, it won’t resonate [with me]. It might just be both of these. All the lies I’ve told are tying me down. Ever since I was little, I’ve never truly opened myself to anyone. But in the end, people can’t be saved if they don’t [open up]. And by now, it’s gotten to a point where I can’t do it by myself anymore…
(machinery whirrs, bell rings)
K: I did think Milgram would be able to force its way past that, though.
E: Is that an attempt at provocation?
K: You didn’t manage to reach my sin.
E: …
K: Even though I want you to… Milgram isn’t so great after all, is it?
E: …Heh. Don’t push yourself too hard, after all that whining from earlier.
K: Ha. [This is] the wish of a liar who’s reached a dead end – come and figure out my lies, Milgram. And, Es… please, free me from these lies.
E: Yeah. Leave it to me. – Prisoner no.7, Kazui. Sing your sins.
667 notes · View notes
mousy-nona · 25 days
Note
Because I'm a sucker for seeing Vox lose it over RadioApple, and also them dancing, maybe a thing where RadioAaple both a little tipsy, dance in Lucifer's room late at night. Vox sees them on his drone and freaks because 1) Alastor is letting himself be unguarded with a person 2) Alastor is dancing and 3) Alastor has, in fact, made nice with the King like Vox was afraid of. Very nice by the looks of it.
“Do you ever think you may have a problem?”
That was Velvette, who was using her best “let’s not piss off the crazy man” voice. 
“No.”
“Not even a little one?”
“No.”
Valentino and Velvette exchanged telling looks, which Vox promptly ignored. He had more important things to worry about, like keeping this stupid drone in the air. Maneuvering the machine itself was easy, but getting around the electromagnetic force field Alastor had set up around the hotel’s perimeter was a whole lot trickier. Vox had been flying in circles for hours, trying to find a weak spot in Alastor’s defenses. 
(He knew it’d been hours because Velvette had started shooting worried glances at him around hour two, Valentino had showed up around hour five, and they’d started a game of rock-paper-scissors to figure out who was going to do a wellness check on him around hour six.)
“Ah-ha!” Vox screamed, jabbing both fists in the air when the force field flexed and glitched, creating a half second window of opportunity. He urged the drone forward, barely zipping past before the shield re-formed. “Boo-yah! Who’s your daddy?” 
Valentino smirked and took in a long drag of his pipe. “Vox, baby, not outside the bedroom.” 
Vox’s metal heart – the same one he always denied having – started beating faster as the camera zoomed closer and closer to the hotel. He zipped to Alastor’s radio tower first, then his room, frowning slightly when all he found was a half-eaten deer, a cooling cup of coffee, and a discarded coat.
From behind him, Velvette clapped her hands with an annoyed huff of relief. “Oh, well, looks like the asshole is out. Too bad, so sad. Can we please get back to something actually fucking important?” 
But Vox shook his head. “That doesn’t make sense. It’s 11 o’clock. Alastor usually finishes his business before seven so he can have dinner at eight, or else he gets too hungry to do–” He trailed off when he saw the look on both their faces. They were both staring at him as if he was a terminal patient, come down with an incurable case of Alastor-itis. 
He sighed and re-focused on the screen. “It just doesn’t make sense, okay?”
The library. The lobby. The kitchen. Alastor was nowhere to be found.
Then Vox had a horrible thought. He remembered the rumors flying around town, the wild laughs of excitement and the curses emanating from the hotel recently. He remembered Alastor’s most recent broadcast (“Folks, when living with an annoying roommate, always remember to assert your dominance wherever possible”). And most of all, he remembered Alastor’s smug face as he strolled down the street, humming merrily to himself as he twirled an unfamiliar white top hat on his staff. 
He remembered the strange apple that had appeared on the top right of the hotel, just down the hall from Alastor. 
His heart in his throat, he slowly moved the drone higher, then higher still. Don’t be there, don’t be there, don’t be there –
Velvette and Vox went quiet at the scene that appeared on the screen. Alastor was there all right, but he wasn’t alone. As if he’d suddenly downloaded a virus, Vox could only process what he was seeing in chunks.
He saw the record player first, oddly enough. An old-timey song was playing, static crackling and popping as a low sweet croon, somehow both deep and high, filled the room. 25%.
The room was dark, but a few candles and duck-shaped lamps were gleamed with a heavenly light, washing the pair slowly revolving in the center of the room in a seductive golden glow. 50%. 
The king of hell was there. The expression on his face was…tender. His head was tucked into Alastor’s narrow chest, one hand on Alastor’s shoulder and the other clasped in Alastor’s hand. His eyes were sparkling, almost overfilled with a nameless emotion that Vox knew all too well. Alastor’s hand was curled around his waist protectively (possessively). 75%. 
And finally, Vox saw Alastor. Really saw him, as if for the first time, because this wasn’t his Alastor. His Alastor was always one step ahead, always untouchable, cold, cruel, and capable of truly unspeakable acts of violence with an effortless charm that made his blood boil with envy and need at the same time. 
But the Alastor in front of him…his coat was off. For the first time in fifty years, Vox saw Alastor’s bare skin, his shirt rolled up to his elbows as he allowed another living soul to see him undressed. Unguarded. His eyes, always so alert and aware, were closed. 
Worst of all was his smile. It looked soft. Gentle – or whatever passed for gentle with Alastor. As Vox watched, Lucifer’s lips moved. The words were too soft for the drone to pick up, but whatever it was, Alastor laughed. Not in a mocking or teasing way, but an actual, genuine laugh, as if Alastor was a real boy with a real heart.
100%.
Suddenly, Alastor’s eyes flew open, and he stared at Vox through the screen. The wicked smirk that curled his lips was the last thing the drone ever saw as it glitched, red shaking and warping the feed until it went completely dead, and the three of them were left staring at a black screen. 
Silence reigned. Then – “Well, I’ll be. Looks like the deer found himself a doe.”
Velvette shot Valentino a warning look, then took a hesitant step forward. “Vox – “ Velvette started, but Vox started cackling. Wild, out of control, utterly insane laughs ripped from his wires as his monitor-face went haywire. 
“I am going to kill that motherfucker!”
377 notes · View notes
toxicanonymity · 9 months
Text
menace
4k / (your) creep!Joel x f!Reader / night walks AU
Thank you @serenaxpedro for the pic and gif 🖤
Tumblr media
Thank you @missannwinchester for a great smut prompt. 🖤
✨A/N: you can skip to the 🚬🚬🚬 divider to get to Joel faster and skip the plot with her aunt talking about joel.
WARNINGS: creepy!Joel, some angst (read Q&A Qs 1 & 2 if you don't want it), alcohol, public groping, fingering, and humping, references to addiction, Jack getting the jack treatment, somnophilia, grinding and dry humping, thigh fucking, unsafe P in V sex, reader POV for most of it, followed by Joel POV smut.  There's a floor plan at the bottom of the post.
“Following you? This is my spot, pumpkin.” He nods to the women’s room and lowers his voice to add, “C’mon, you know that.”  You voice the question you’ve been asking yourself ever you saw him in that booth.  “Would it bother you if I was out with another guy?” He offers a little smirk and steps closer until you’re almost up against the opposite wall. He lowers his voice more.
“I got nothin’ to worry ‘bout, baby.”  He tilts his head and gazes into your eyes.  “Go ‘head, know ya want it.”  He holds out his hand and you hesitantly give him yours. His thumb draws light circles on your palm. “Can’t stand it, can ya? Bein’ this close, and not close enough.” 
(Night Walks 8)
After seeing a topless picture of yourself in your brand new text conversation, you reply, “omg DELETE.”
Joel replies, “what’s it worth to ya?” 
You don’t answer. 
“Door’s unlocked,” he says. 
You don’t respond. Your aunt has planted a seed of doubt and shame, and the last thing you wanna do is rush back over to his place.  If he showed up at your basement door, it’d be a different story. 
-
You don’t expect to like the guy your uncle introduces you to, but you agree to it in order to get your aunt off your back.  Just in case what your aunt says about Joel is true, you figure it also won’t hurt to get your mind off Joel.  Diversify your investment.  Because after spending all night and all day with him for the first time, you realize you’re more invested than you want to be.  
Your aunt is relieved when you once again agree to be set up on the date.  She’s making dinner and you’re sitting at the kitchen table watching.  “So, that’ll give you someone new to spend time with.  A real looker, too.” She smiles over her shoulder, then stirs the boiling pasta to keep it from sticking.  “I know there aren’t that many people your age in the neighborhood,” she says louder since she’s facing away.  As if that must be why you’d resort to Joel.
“He’s a little older than you, but not more than 10 years. Definitely not as old as. . . “  She puts the utensil down on the spoon rest and her face falls, then she turns around to face you.  She crosses her arms and her brows knit together.  “I’m sorry,”  She opens her mouth to say something, closes it, then changes her mind again.  “What do you and Joel do when you ‘hang out’?” She squints at you and uses air quotes. 
You swallow, then look around.  “Watch tv, listen to music.”  
“That’s all? I wasn’t born yesterday, honey.”  
You shrug.  “I don’t get it.  You heard rumors, so what.  What am I missing?”
“Not just rumors, honey.”  She looks down and away and swallows.  A pit opens in your stomach.  
You’re not sure you want the answer, but you ask, “Did you. . . sleep with him?”
She laughs loudly, then covers her mouth with her eyes wide.  
You study her face in anticipation.  
“No, no.  God, no.”  She laughs more quietly.  “Sleep with him? No, of course not.” 
“What, then? What’s not a rumor” Your heart is racing. 
“It was a long time ago.”  She returns her attention to the pasta. 
“What was??” 
She turns the stove off and turns around, crossing her arms again.  “I mean, years ago.”  She approaches the table and sits down across from you.  “. . . there was a cook-out at his next-door neighbor’s house.  He showed up and he was all by himself.  The other men weren’t including him.  I felt kinda bad and went up and talked to him.  He had a fancy drink. I asked him what it was, and he said he’d make me one really quick if I came to his bar. I had a bad feeling, but I still went to his basement.”  She pauses and looks at you. Your face feels stone cold.  
"What happened?"
“He tried to get me to, um-” 
“To what.” 
She sighs.  “Smoke reefer with him.”  She shakes her head in disbelief. 
You suppress a laugh. "And you said no?"
"Of course I said no! If I was gonna try it, it wouldn't be with him."
"Did he take no for an answer?"
"Oh, yeah.”
“So what, then?”
“I just got this terrible feeling about him.”  She shakes her head.  “So, I left.” 
“That’s all?” 
“And I was so embarrassed to go back to the barbecue smelling like that.” She pinches her eyes shut at the memory, then opens them. “I mean, not like that, I don’t really mind smelling it.  But smelling like him.” She holds her head with her palms on her temples for a moment, then lets them down. “Your uncle wasn't happy either. And I got pulled into the rumor mill, too, until I told people what really happened. You’ve gotta trust your gut, honey.”
Your brain might know better, but you’re pretty sure your guts want that cock all up in them.  "Did he try to touch you or anything?"
"No, nothing like that."
“Did he ever make you the drink?”
“Oh yeah, that was the first thing he did.” 
"Why do you think he invited you?" 
She sighs. "I dunno.  Maybe he was bummed after the guys at the grill wouldn’t really talk to him.  When I went over to say hello, maybe he thought I wanted to hang out."
"Where were you sitting in his basement?" 
"At the bar, watching him make the drink. These are a lot of questions, honey. Are you sure he's just a friend?"
You ignore the question and think for a moment. "I guess I don't get it. You say he has girls coming and going at all hours as if that means he's sleeping with anyone who goes in his basement. But he didn't even make a pass at you?"
She sighs. "Okay, you don’t have to believe that. But he’s still bad news. You know he's an ex con, right?"
Your eyes go wide. You're not put off by it, but it's never come up.  If it’s true, you shouldn't be surprised, given you don't do a lot of talking, much less share your life stories.  So it’s not like he's hiding it. 
🚬🚬🚬🚬🚬🚬🚬🚬🚬🚬🚬🚬🚬
For the next few days, you and Joel don’t text each other, but you think about him every day and wish he would say something.  You think about your aunt’s concerns, too.  You feel a little better when you reflect on how this all started. How fixated Joel has been on you.  How fixated he is? You get nervous that he hasn’t texted.  You look him up. No criminal record in the last 10 years and you'd have to go to the courthouse to go back further.  You wouldn’t put it past the rumor mill to be wrong about this. 
One night, Joel texts “Walk?”  
When you don’t respond, an hour later, he says, “swim?” which makes you smile. 
“Not tonight, I have a headache.” 
He replies, “Feel better 💐🍆.” It makes you laugh but also turns you on.  You wonder why he doesn’t just show up one night.  
-
You go out with Jack and he’s surprisingly hot, nice to talk to, and funny. He's a welder with a nice physique. He obviously works with his hands.  His black hair is just beginning to gray.  On the first date, You tell him what brought you to the suburbs.  The need to save money and get some space from your immediate family. Jack says he wishes he felt like he could get that space.  He shares that his father is a recovering addict, and he checks in on his parents a lot.  He worries that his dad is going to slip.  You have some common interests and you like him enough to want to see him again. The two of you text casually throughout the week. 
For your second date, he picks you up for a drink at your favorite restaurant. It was Jack’s choice, but there aren’t exactly a lot of restaurants close by.  When you walk into the restaurant, your face heats up.  The last time you were there, you ran into Joel and he gave you head in the bathroom.  You’ve known this, but once you’re there, something about physically being in the space again makes you feel exposed, like the staff must somehow know. 
You sit at the bar and have a couple of drinks.  The bar is a big square island in the middle of the restaurant.  The main restaurant space is behind you.  The front door is straight ahead, and the other two walls in the bar area are lined with booths.  You’re in the middle of telling Jack about movies you’d like to see when you lose his attention.  His eyes fixate on a corner booth and his face falls.
You follow his line of sight and your heart skips a beat when you see Joel. He’s facing away from you, but you can see his profile and you’d recognize it anywhere.  You can see his pinstripe PJ pants, too, and a blazer which he's surely wearing over a very low-cut t-shirt. He’s sitting across from another attractive man Joel's age or older.  More gray.
You realize your hand is covering your mouth and your eyes are wide.  
Jack notices too and does a double take, then asks, "You know him??" 
"Uh, no, I don't think so, why? Do you?" 
“That’s my father.” Your heart almost beats out of your chest for a few seconds until you realize he’s obviously talking about the man facing y’all.  “And I’m pretty sure that other guy is a dealer.” 
You nod slowly. “I’m sorry.”
Jack’s eyes are welling up as he tries to call his dad and his dad ignores it. Jack’s dad gets up and slaps hands horizontally with Joel, punctuated by a finger grip, and his dad leaves.  Joel starts to turn around and in the corner of your eye you see him head toward the restrooms. 
“I’m gonna go to the ladies room,” you say and affectionately squeeze his shoulder.  
-
The restrooms are around the corner out of view.  Just before Joel opens the door to the men’s room, you ask, "Are you selling drugs to addicts?" 
He turns around with a confused expression, which turns to bemused when he sees your angry face.  You glance to his exposed chest and the subtle dip between his hard pecs. He looks you up and down and says,  “Lookin’ good tonight, pumpkin.” You try to remember if he’s seen you in a dress or skirt before.  Yeah. . . the gas station, and the last time you were here.  
“Well are you?”
“Not sellin’ to anyone these days.  Just an old friend sayin’ hey.  Who’s he to you?” 
“A friend’s dad.”  You squint and try to read his eyes.  You doubt he’d lie about something like this, only because he doesn’t seem to have any shame.  “Then what are you doing here? Are you following me?”
“Followin' you? This is my spot, pumpkin.” He nods to the women’s room and lowers his voice to add, “C’mon, you know that.” 
You decide to voice the question you’ve been asking yourself in your head ever since the moment you saw him in that booth.  “Would it bother you if I was out with another guy?”
He offers a little smirk and steps toward you. You step back until you’re almost up against the opposite wall of the hall. He lowers his voice more. “I got nothin’ to worry ‘bout, baby.”  He tilts his head and gazes into your eyes.  “Go ‘head, know ya want it.”  He holds out his hand and you hesitantly give him yours. His thumb draws light circles on your palm. “Can’t stand it, can ya? Bein’ this close, and not close enough.” 
He gently, slowly lowers your hand with plenty of time for you to pull it away, but you don’t.  He puts your palm against the front of his soft pants and takes a deep breath as he cups your hand around his cock. He’s barely hard, but still big. He uses your hand to slowly massage himself for a few seconds, breathing heavier as he hardens into your hand and a stab of need shoots through you. 
He takes his hand away and yours lingers on his crotch for a moment, pressing into him one more time before you drop your hand to your side.  He puts his hands on the wall on either side of your shoulders and leans into you, pressing his pelvis up against your body. He gets harder and leans in to nearly whisper in your ear, “feel that? your favorite drug?” 
His lips linger at your ear, his hot breath teasing you until he closes his mouth and really presses himself into you with an, “mmm.” His scruff brushes against your cheek as he pulls back just enough to look you in the eyes, your bodies still in contact, your panties getting wetter and wetter. “It’s all over your face, baby.”
He takes a deep breath, and his warm package further stiffens against you.  “Have your fun,” he murmurs. His face drifts closer to yours again.  He uses two fingers to tilt your chin up and your lips part. “You’ll be back, pumpkin.”  Then he closes his lips around yours and thrusts his tongue into your mouth.  He moans, “Mmm,” as his lips knead yours and he sucks your mouth. His hardness swells against you as you kiss, and your chest fills with butterflies.  
He steps back and adjusts himself with a raise of his eyebrows. “It’ll be here for ya.”  He winks then goes into the men’s room. 
-
You go back to the bar and awkwardly sip your drink as Jack texts his Mom and dad. 
“Are you sure he wasn’t just saying hi?” you ask. 
“I dunno,” Jack says and puts his head in his hands. He looks up again.  “He didn’t look like he’s been using, but it scares me.” 
You’re startled by Joel’s voice on the other side of you ordering a drink at the bar.  
"Don't I know you from somewhere?"
“You know this guy?” Jack asks quietly as if Joel isn’t there. 
"We’re neighbors.” 
“Neighbors, sure,” Joel says with a fakely contemplative frown, then mutters, “pillow neighbors.” You hope it isn’t too obvious when you elbow him. 
Jack must be too distracted to hear the comment. 
“What time is it?” Joel asks, then holds his phone so you can see it and presses a button to turn the screen on.  
The blood drains from your face–Joel’s lock screen is the topless photo of you.  The one you told him to delete.  You shift your body to try to block it. 
Jack’s phone rings and the screen says Mom. “I’m gonna take this,” he says and goes outside. 
-
Joel lingers next to you and sits at the bar after he gets his drink while Jack is still outside.  He swivels his stool to face you and you swivel yours to slightly face him.  
“What’s on the menu tonight?” he asks and lightly lays his hand on your knee. “Hmm?” Your legs part all on their own as he slowly slides his hand up your thigh.  He squeezes your thigh when his middle finger brushes the cotton finish line. ‘Member havin’ somethin’ juicy before.” He slides his ring and middle fingers under your panties. His lips form a small ‘o’ as he exhales upon feeling how wet you are.  Soaked.  “Hell yeah,” he murmurs.
You scoot to the edge of the stool, you can’t help yourself.  You keep glancing up at the door.  He slides his fingers along your cunt and teases your entrance, watching you squirm. He stands up to get closer and insert two fingers. He brings his mouth to your ear and whispers, “filthy, baby. bet ya'd take it right here”  He pulls back to watch your face and murmurs, “right on this stool, wrappin’ your legs around me. bet ya’d like that.” When he can see your breathing and eyelids both getting heavier, he slowly pulls his hand away with a smile and a quiet, self-satisfied laugh. 
He sits back down on his stool and orders four tequila shots.  One is for Jack, and there’s an extra one for you when Jack gets back.  Joel licks your hand and holds his dry hand out palm-up for margarita salt.  The bartender squints at him but obliges.  He sprinkles some of it on your hand and it sticks to his saliva.  Then, he taps his glistening fingers in the salt.  Your eyes go wide at the use of your slick for this purpose.  After taking the shot, he obscenely licks the salt and your juices off his fingers, sucks them clean, and winks at you.  The door opens and Jack comes back in.  
“Night, pumpkin,” Joel says as he gets up to leave. “Have a good time.”  On his way out, he gives Jack a friendly salute. 
Instead of driving, Jack orders an Uber for both of you together.  On the ride to your house, Jack is mostly quiet. His mom doesn’t think his dad is using.  Jack asks you if you do any drugs, and you tell him you smoke.  He doesn’t say anything judgmental but he nods pensively.  You tell him you’ve never bought anything from Joel and just know him from the neighborhood.  You try to comfort him about his dad and reassure him it’s probably nothing, and to trust his gut about how his dad looked.  He kisses you good night as the Uber pulls up to your house. It’s a long kiss, but melancholy on his end. You ask if he wants to come in, but he declines and leaves in the Uber.
The next day, Jack texts you that he doesn’t think he’s ready to be with someone who does any drugs at all, as much as he likes you. He thinks it would be easier to stop seeing each other now before it gets more serious. You’re hurt, but also a little relieved.  You won’t have to feel guilty about what happened with Joel at the restaurant. And at least you gave it a shot.
That evening, you take a walk but don’t run into Joel.  You decide to text him.  After typing and erasing multiple things, several of which invite him over or ask if you can come over, you simply send, “hey”. 
He doesn’t respond. You go to sleep pining for him, very turned on, but too sad and lazy to even bother with a toy. 
-
Joel is napping when you send the text, but he’s not surprised you do.  You can try to stay away all you want, but Joel knows it's always just a matter of time until you need his cock inside you.  That's where he belongs - inside you. 
When Joel wakes up, he showers and moseys over to your backyard instead of responding to your text.  Looks like you've gone to sleep early for once. All the better.  He lets himself into your basement and slinks into your room as easily as he did the first time. You remain fast asleep as he just barely lifts up the blanket and sheets for a moment.  He sees you're naked and his breath hitches. "Yeahhh," he says under his breath, then starts to undress.
He gets fully nude, then slides under the sheets and drapes his arm gently over you. His warm chest presses against your back, and his hardening cock lays against your ass.  You stir and softly moan in your sleep as he presses himself up against you. 
He cups your breast and bends his knees to nestle in behind you, your body entirely cradled by his. He can't help but rock his hips into you. "Mmm," you sigh, still asleep. He slides his hand down your torso and dips his finger between your legs just to check.  You're wet. 
"Fuck yeah," he whispers to himself. 
He holds his hand there for leverage and slowly humps against you.  He grinds against you rock hard and returns to groping your breast. He presses his lips against the nape of your neck.  Then you make the sweetest sound. 
"Joel," you sigh, making his cock swell harder against you.
"Shhhh," he whispers into your neck. "It’s okay, baby." You push your ass back into him. He's so hard, he's leaning precum and the head of his cock slides wetly against your warm skin.   "Shhhh," he repeats. “Go back to sleep.” 
You sigh and settle into his body as he grinds against you nice and slow. “Good girl.  Fuck ya real good in the mornin’." He slowly, carefully wedges his cock between your thighs for warmth and friction, and is met with all your wetness.  He slides his cock along your slippery seam and cups your crotch from the front.  He fucks your thighs until he can't contain himself anymore, and comes into his hand with the softest moan.  He cleans it off with a tissue from your nightstand and uses your hand sanitizer to haphazardly make his hand a little less sticky.
Then he settles in as close as possible again, his eyelids heavy from the orgasm. He cups your breast and falls asleep with his body cradling yours, his warm, softening dick pressed against your back. 
-
In the morning, his cock is rock-hard and nestled between your thighs again. When he wakes up, his hips are already moving, and you're pushing your ass back into him.  You interlace your fingers with his and place his hand on your breast. You moan softly as he wakes up and his movements become more deliberate.
"Fuck, baby," he whispers into the crown of your head. "Want it bad, don't ya?" His hips thrust gracefully and powerfully, sliding his stiff cock along your dripping cunt again.  You lift your top leg enough to wedge your hand between your thighs and your fingers meet the head of his cock. 
"Fuck me," you whisper. 
He continues to thrust into your thighs, grunting silently. 
 "Do it, Joel."  His breath hitches at the sound of his name.  
You tilt your hips just right and your fingertips gently nudge the firm, sensitive cock-head into your entrance. You press your ass back into him and your body practically sucks him in, sealing your tight, wet little hole around his tip.  
He moans, then replies, "yes ma'am." He wraps his arm over you for leverage and shoves his thick cock into you with a soft grunt. He moans as he feels your insides make way. He repeats the motion and you both sigh as he bottoms out. He stays there all the way inside you for a moment. 
"Feel so good, baby," he whispers as he pulls you back on his cock and rocks his hips, nudging a little further into you.  You're so tight around him. Your cunt is so needy for him. He slowly backs out most of the way and pauses.  You whine at the loss and your cunt grabs at him.  Then he rails into you again and you push your ass back to  meet his pelvis. “Ohhh,” he groans.  
"Fuck," you whisper. "Joel," you sigh and his cock twitches inside you at the sound of his name.  You push your ass back harder and he grabs your hip for leverage.
"That’s right, baby," he murmurs hoarsely.  He nibbles at your neck your nipples pucker
The firm tip of his cock nudges your g-spot and you moan, "Mmmmm." Your head tilts back and he lifts his head up from the pillow to kiss the side of your neck as he thrusts into you at a perfect beat and hungrily palms your breast. You fuck like this for a few minutes, and he can sense your climax building.   
"Fuck," you whisper, pushing your ass back harder, fucking yourself on his cock as he pounds you. "Close," you manage to spit out. You harshly swallow and it sounds like you almost choke on your own saliva. "Oh god, Joel," you say in a loud whisper.
He feels you twitching around him and sighs "Ohh, baby." His hips snap into you and his fingertips circle your clit. He buries his length to the hilt each time with a soft grunt. "That's it, baby. come on." 
You whine, "yeah," and he pounds into you."Just like that," you say.   
"All yours, baby," he pants. "Come on it."
You whimper, "fuck," and he pounds you harder. "So good," you whine and arch your back. 
"That's it baby."
You unravel with a moan and begin to clench around him. "Yeah," he breathes as he fucks you through it. "Ohhh, that's it, baby." His sweaty chest glides against your back.  He loves feeling your back against him.
You moan, "J-joel," as your cunt flutters and pulses tightly. 
He buries his mouth in your hair and slows down, then slams into you to the hilt with a grunt.  He knows he's there. He nudges further and groans as he erupts inside you, muffling himself with his mouth against your head as huge pulses fill you up with his warm load. 
He inhales your hair and kisses you on the head as you both recover.
It's still dark out.  Your bodies are sticky with each other's sweat. 
"Mornin', beautiful" he says, voice hoarse and low, cock still inside you.  "Miss it?" He asks with one last subtle thrust that makes you shudder.
"Mmm," you answer faintly and fucked out.   He holds you and you fall back asleep with him inside you.  Its where he belongs.
-
Q&A for this one.
-
Thank you so much for reading and engaging! It really means a lot to me, motivates me, and helps me know what worked. It also helps me recognize you if I see you in the wild. I love y'all, you're the best.
Tumblr media
-
NW: @tehweeana @ele-meno-p @swedishscumfuck
All Joel:@ethanhoewke @silkiers @eiviea @evyiione @xdaddysprincessxx @queerly-anxious @chernayawidow @ambassadortotrilliusprime @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog @jasminespringtime @romanarose  @fandomsfallnomore  @djarinxore @blackvelveteen1339   @manazo @wolvesandvampires  @taeslarityy  @str84pedro @lokanda  @kyloispunk  @filthfairy  @fieryglutenfreechickennoodles  @harriedandharassed  @moonlightdivine @worhols @fan-fiction-floozy  @cutesyscreenname  @weddingfairy  @pedropascal-whore  @spideysimpossiblegirl  @feministfanboi @gracieispunk @prettypartyfavor @am-3-thyst @babeincolor @milla-frenchy @switchbladedreamz @within-the-depths
802 notes · View notes
marvelfanfn2187a113 · 7 months
Text
Reunion
Dean Winchester x little sister!reader, Sam Winchester x little sister!reader
Requested by Anonymous
Synopsis: Dean goes to get Sam at college, but things come to a head when he tried to get you too.
Tumblr media
“So, where is she?”
The first several minutes after leaving Stanford had been spent in silence, and Sam only broke it after realizing what was missing in the Impala.
“We’re getting her now.”
“You didn’t answer my question.”
Dean sighed. “Bobby’s.”
“Bobby’s?”
Dean avoided Sam’s searching gaze.
“Yeah.”
“You gonna tell me why she’s there and not with you?”
It was silent for several long minutes, and Sam was about to demand an explanation when Dean finally spoke.
“After you left, she kept begging to go and see you. She wouldn’t take no for an answer, and dad got pissed. After she…after she tried to sneak out to take a bus to you, dad dumped her at Bobby’s. That was about eight months ago, and dad hasn’t even mentioned her since.”
Sam gaped at his brother.
“You let that happen?”
Dean scoffed, “It’s not like I let dad do anything. Dad does what he does, and there was nothing I could do about it.” Dean continued to avoid Sam’s eyes. “Besides, she was safer with Bobby. She’d been asking questions about hunting that neither of us were willing to answer, and Bobby’s better at lying to her than I am.”
Despite John’s better judgment, he’d allowed Dean to raise you with no knowledge of the hunting world. You knew that Sam and Dean helped a lot of people, and you’d figured out that their job had something to do with crime—you’d realized that when you noticed how many of their cases came from reading the newspaper—but you didn’t know about monsters.
“Ok,” Sam did a horrible job of hiding his seething, but perhaps that was on purpose. “So why are we getting her now?”
Dean shrugged noncommittally.
“Well, you’re back, figured I’d make it a full reunion.”
“Right,” Sam scoffed. “And dad’s not here to stop you.”
Dean bit back a smile.
“Maybe that too.”
“She’s asleep,” Bobby stood with his arms crossed over his chest, blocking the staircase.
“We’re here to get her,” Dean matched his stance and his stubborn expression.
“You shoulda thought of that eight months ago.”
Sam ran a hand across his face, biting back a groan.
“Bobby, please, can we just-“
“Hush, Sam. My beef isn’t with you at the moment.”
“You can’t just keep us from-“
“I can do whatever I dang well please, Dean. She’s been with me for nearly a year, and she just unpacked her bags a few weeks ago. She kept expecting you idjits to come back and get her, but you never did.”
“Dad thought-“
“I don’t give a crap what John thought, you broke her heart. So if you’re gonna take her and raise her proper, then I’ll let you. But if you’re gonna uproot her again, only to drop her back with me the next time she starts asking questions, then it’d be better if she never saw you again.
“We’re not gonna ditch her,” Sam insisted.
“Well thanks for the input, but last I checked you were trying to leave this life behind, so your vote doesn’t count.”
“I’m not gonna leave her, Bobby.”
The conviction in Dean’s voice silenced him for a few seconds.
“And when John comes back?”
Dean shook his head, “She stays with me. No matter what he has to say about it.”
Bobby gave Dean a long, searching look. He’d never heard him openly defy John before, never even say a word against him. When the time came, would he really-
“Dean?”
Dean’s head shot up at the sound of your voice.
“Dean!” You bounded down the stairs, and when you reached the third step you leaped off, landing harshly into Dean’s arms. He staggered back a half step before steadying himself, laughing as he spun you around once before standing in place, lifting a hand to the back of your head as he held you in his arms.
Bobby watched the scene soberly for a moment, before a small smile lifted his lips. He’d gotten his answer. No one who saw the two of you right now could doubt the truth; you were Dean’s girl, and he wouldn’t abandon you.
“Hey baby,” Dean breathed.
“Are you staying?” You held your breath.
“Nope, but you’re coming with us,” Dean promised, finally setting you down.
“Really? I-“ You turned your head, spotting Sam for the first time, and you froze. “Sammy?”
He grinned, “Hey, kiddo.”
You ran into his arms.
“What are you doing here? Are you coming too?”
“Um,” Sam winced slightly, “For a little bit, yeah.”
Then you asked the question that the boys had been hoping to avoid for a bit longer.
“Where’s dad?”
“Honey,” Dean pulled you away from Sam and knelt so he could see you at eye level, placing a hand on your arm. “Dad…he hasn’t come home for a couple weeks. That’s why I got Sammy, we have to go look for him.”
You were silent for a moment.
“Is he ok?” You finally asked.
“We don’t know much right now, but we’re gonna find him, ok? I promise.”
You wrapped your arms around his neck.
“Ok.”
He sighed contentedly, and as he stood you wrapped your legs around his waist, too comfortable in his arms to let go yet.
“I missed you,” you whispered as though it was a special secret for only Dean’s ears.
Dean began to carry you up the stairs, brushing past Sam and Bobby.
Once Dean had reached your room at the top of the stairs, he leaned forwards and pressed a kiss to the side of your head.
“I missed you too,” he whispered back, before gently setting you down. “Pack up your stuff.”
Once you’d grabbed your few possessions and packed them in your backpack, you followed Dean down the stairs, stopping to hug Bobby goodbye.
“Take care of yourself, kiddo.”
You smiled, “You too, old man.”
Bobby scoffed, rolling his eyes.
“Go on, get. Ya idjit.”
Sam followed you out the door, but Bobby grabbed Dean’s arm before he could leave.
“You take care of that little girl, Dean. I know you look up to your dad, you should. But don’t you be like him. You be good to her.”
“I will, Bobby,” Dean clapped a hand on Bobby’s shoulder.
“I promise.”
521 notes · View notes
piratefishmama · 8 months
Text
Fake It 'Till You Make It | Part 7
“Are you sure we’re ready for this?” Eddie didn’t feel ready for it. Although they’d definitely spent the better half of the morning and a little of the afternoon getting used to kissing, something Eddie would remember for the rest of his life and maybe thank Dustin for at a later date, and maybe curse him a little for because Steve wouldn’t take it any further than kissing.
Dude had some impressive self-control. No handsy behaviour, no leading, didn’t even follow when Eddie tried subtly nudging it. They had a goal in mind, and he wasn’t getting side tracked for anything.
Eddie might have felt self-conscious about that, had he not kept feeling Steve’s grin against his lips whenever he tried, or those little warning nips which both told him to stay on track and fed the mischievous little gremlin that was his brain. He was growing his confidence!
Steve was helping him be confident!
“We’ve gotta be, sooner we get this over with, the better.” They were sat in his BMW in the Harrington driveway, engine off, psyching themselves up. Steve climbed out of the car,
Eddie following shortly after with a grumbled “Better for who exactly?”
Steve wished he had an answer for that. But the longer he sat with the idea that they had to reveal this ‘relationship’ to his parents, the more daunting it became. It’d be fine. He knew it’d be fine, the worst case scenario was that they wouldn’t like Eddie, okay no worst case scenario was that their behaviours had been performative in an attempt to call his bluff, but that was looking less and less likely.
They could just… not like him. Not think him good enough. Judge his clothes, his hair, his social class, they could be mean, out of touch rich people so easily. But at least if they got this over with quickly, he’d know if it’d work.
“…The plan I guess. If they don’t like you then—”
“Jobs off?” At least Eddie could say he’d gotten to make out with Steve Harrington, to approximately zero people because who could he brag about that with? It was a personal victory for himself.
“Mmhm... that’s ok right?” Slowly they made for the door.
“Sure, no harm no foul, I got to make-out with Steve Harrington and I’d get to go back to bed, I’m calling that a win.” He didn’t care if it went to Steve’s ego, and from the smile lighting up his face it did a little, he got to make out with Steve Harrington. “Let’s get this over with, Stevie.” He could handle a little rich person judgement if they didn’t like him.
His whole shtick was aiming for parents to not like him, he wasn’t made of glass. He could handle it. And as such, he gave Steve’s perfect ass a light smack because honestly when else was he going to get the chance to do that, and went off in front headed for the big, over the top red double door entry.
Steve, only momentarily stunned by the smack, shook himself out of it and jogged to catch up, hissing a harried “wait up, Eddie!” That only served to earn an over the shoulder grin from his ‘boyfriend’ before he was turning and walking backwards, amusement dimpling his cheeks and lighting up his face.
He really was attractive, wasn’t he? Not a thought Steve figured he’d be having at random but... it wasn’t unwelcome. Eddie was... pretty. Pretty and fun.
Maybe the kids were right, maybe Eddie was worth the effort to get to know.
So it wasn’t as much of a surprise as maybe it should have been that... he actually really hoped they would like him.
Wasn’t that an interesting thought?
“Okay just... be—”
“-haaaave? Be pleasant? Beeee polite?” Be anything but himsel—
“Yourself Eddie. Be yourself.” Oh. His surprised must have showed because instead of opening the front door, Steve paused and decided in a moment of sheer ‘fuck it’ cupped Eddie’s cheeks and just held his face. “Be yourself... you’re not unlikeable, you’re charming, and funny, and goofy, and they’re going to like you” God he hoped so. His thumb caressed the soft, warm cushion of Eddie’s cheeks taking in those big brown doe eyes so wide, full of surprise “so just be yourself, alright?”
“... Kiss for good luck?” Maybe it was just a bid to lessen the tension, the feelings bubbling within from being touched so gently, but it worked about as efficiently as a chocolate fireguard, because Steve kissed him.
It was soft, and chaste, quick so the neighbours wouldn’t see, but it chased any nerves Eddie might have had right out the metaphorical window. Didn’t help the feelings from erupting like goddamn Vesuvius but, the nerves vanished.
“It’s gonna be okay” it’d be okay. “Walk behind me alright? I’ll introduce you and we’ll riff from there” they were doing this. He was about to out himself to two complete wild card strangers in shitsville Indiana.
It’d be okay, it’d be okay. It’d be okay.
“Okay... promise me they’re not gonna turn on me, like... they can hate me but...” hurting him was... a real risk.
“Eddie... I’m with you. Okay? They turn on you... I’ve got you. I’ll keep you safe.”
“Even though they’re your parents?”
Steve tucked a stray curl behind Eddie’s ear and offered him a warm, comforting smile “I’ll side with you long before I side with them, I swear. They wanna get to you, they’d have to go through me.” He was both younger and stronger than his parents. They tried anything and he wouldn’t hesitate to get between them. “And trust me, they wouldn’t be able to.”
Steve may not have been known for winning fights but... he was still pretty damn big, could definitely overpower a couple of older rich people. “...Okay.” He’d be safe. Steve would protect him.
He could be brave.
Steve opened the door and stepped inside, Eddie following behind him trying not to think too hard about how the last time he’d been there it’d been at night and it’d been heaving with teenagers being stupid.
There’d been alcohol, he’d been selling drugs, it looked different during the day.
“Steven?! Is that you?!” Came a feminine voice from somewhere within. Steve seemed to know where though, because his hand found Eddie’s, lacing their fingers together to gently tug him in that direction until they reached the dining room door where Steve let him go to make himself known
“Yeah it’s me, is Dad home?” Eddie remained out of sight as instructed, feeling the nerves bubble in his gut again, kind of missed Steve’s hand around his, it felt nice.
“He’s in the living room with me, is something wrong?” She sounded pleasant, inquisitive, Eddie had never met Lynda Harrington, never seen her before in his life, not even photos as the house didn’t seem to have them.
The Harrington’s didn’t like clutter.
They could do this. They had their bare bones story, they were comfortable kissing, and apparently holding hands was easy too, definitely didn’t make his chest do a wibbly little thing. Didn’t make his chest do that at all. Steve had him wait just to the side of the doorway as he entered, definitely the bravest man Eddie had ever met in his entire goddamn life.
Didn’t know a single person capable of a more ballsy move than what Steve Harrington was about to do.
Even if the roles were reversed and he was telling Wayne about Steve it still wouldn’t be as ballsy! Steve was a catch, it’d be like the Jester had bagged the King. The other way round… Steve was clearly way out of his league.
“Nothing wrong, no. I uh… I wanted to talk to you about something.” Eddie leaned back against the wall, let the flat surface of it ground him as he listened. It’d be okay. He’d be okay. “You know how I’ve been… less than… enthused, about all the… ehem, potential people you’ve been trying to introduce me to?”
“How can we forget? Speaking of which, Heather, you know Heather, the Holloway’s daughter?” Eddie stuffed the bend of his thumb into his mouth to stop himself from making a noise, yeah, good luck with Heather, she was busy with Megan.
“Heh, yeah, yeah I know Heather, we got our life guard certification together, but she’s irrelevant, not—not irrelevant I don’t mean it like that” god what were their facial expressions like if Steve was stumbling so much “she’s… not—okay, heh, start over. The reason that I’ve been against all this is… well you know how I said I’m… I’m bisexual?” Eddie assumed at least one of them nodded during the brief pause “w-well, I’m… already seeing someone. And I have been for a few weeks now…”
“What?! Steven! Why didn’t you tell me, heavens now I have to cancel with—”
“With whom, mom?” Maybe Steve’s fears weren’t as unfounded as some might have thought them to be.
“…Nobody. Go on.”
“Well… I didn’t tell you, because… he… was nervous about being known, which y’know, fair, he doesn’t know you, it could be dangerous for him, frankly I didn’t even know you’d be totally okay with it, but—but with the week away coming up I was hoping that maybe… maybe you’d let me bring him with us?” There it was, the in, it was coming, he’d have to be seen soon. Breeeath, it’d be okay. He’d be okay.
“Oh!” Oh? What did oh mean? Was oh bad? Would oh be—
“Could we meet him first?” Masculine, Steve’s father. Holy shit. His dad. His dad. John Harrington. Fuck.
“Yeah! I uhm… he’s here actually. Uh… one second.” Steve dipped back out into the walk through where Eddie looked at him through wide, slightly panicked doe eyes. “Hey… it’s okay…” could have paid him millions, it wouldn’t erase the fright that seemed to settle into his bones when the time to shine arrived. He’d never had stage fright before. Maybe he should have given Greg, the kid playing Hamlet more of a break during that school production of Hamlet he’d flipped out just before. “Eddie… c’mere” he drew Eddie in, coaxed him away from that wall and drew him into his embrace. “It’s okay, I’m right here, it’s safe, nothing and no one is going to hurt you while I’m here, okay?”
“Steven, is he—” Steve turned his head to look back at his father in the doorway, Eddie just about visible in his arms, wide eyed and frankly freaking out just a little “Oh Steven…”
Part 9
623 notes · View notes
frenchkisstheabyss · 7 months
Text
♡ peanut butter & tears ♡
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
♡ Pairing: idol!boyfriend!minho! x fem!reader
♡ Summary: A week after Minho goes public with your relationship, a ghost from your past posts a stream of tweets on social media revealing your darkest secrets to millions and, more importantly, your boyfriend.
♡ Genre: angst/fluff
♡ Word Count: 1.1k-ish
Tumblr media
♡ Warnings: mention of sex, brief discussion of scars/stretchmarks/self harm/people being assholes on the internet (none of it's graphic but still important to warn you of, my loves)
♡ A/N: I love and appreciate @aprilskillstory not only for submitting this but for being super patient while I wrote it and for trusting me to write it at all. I named this after a DPR Ian song btw. If you haven't heard it, it's magical.
Tumblr media
This is a nightmare...
Actually, it’s much worse than that. Nightmares you wake up from. This is real life. No alarm clock will ring to snap you out of it. This is happening. Sinking further down into the lukewarm water of your bubble bath, you look on helplessly as your phone lights up with notifications. Every few seconds the number in the top right corner of a half dozen apps doubles, triples in some cases. 
Minho’s decision to go public with your relationship had initially gone much nicer than you anticipated. A week had passed with minimal backlash and what you did receive had begun to die down before the stream of tweets that have you preferring to prune than to crawl out of this tub and face him.
There's no telling who would have posted them. Tweet after tweet detailing things that you’ve wanted with everything in you to open up to Minho about. You’ve tried a million times and a million times your admissions have gotten caught in your throat, jagged and barbed, refusing to budge.
But someone dragged them out and your soul along with them, putting your secrets on display for a merciless crowd set on tearing you away from their beloved Minho. 
“Trauma like that can’t make her a stable girlfriend.”
“Self harm scars? No wonder she’s always covered up in pics…” 
“Our Lino deserves better.”
“She’s dated girls too? Do you think he knew?”
“If Minho knew he wouldn’t be with her.” 
You scroll through reply after reply until your screen’s too wet for your touch to register. You’re startled by the sound of Minho shouting, his voice muffled through the thick walls of your apartment but his rage is unmistakable. Placing your phone on the chair by the bathtub, you hop out before courage abandons you.
“It’s gonna be okay” you repeat to yourself, wrapping a towel around you to form a lilac safety blanket, “Everything’s gonna be okay. Just breathe.” Footsteps descend down the hall and you breathe in through your nose, out through your mouth. Slow breaths full of intent like the pink haired girl in the yoga pants on Youtube instructed you to do.
“You’re the only big brother I have. Just, please, don’t let them come here” Minho begs, standing in the doorway with his phone to his ear, “I’ll come after. I promise. Thank you.” He hangs up, turning to you, his gaze transforming you into stone like one of the foolish men who dared to lay eyes on Medusa. The rise and fall of your chest ceases almost to the point of lifelessness.
“Minho, I can explain…” He folds an arm across his chest, nervously tapping his phone against his temple, “That you hid things from me?” “I didn’t hide anything. At least, not on purpose. I didn't mean to do it.” “Then what did you mean to do? Hmm? You know what I do for work. What were you thinking?” “Fuck, I don’t know” you weep, sitting on the edge of the tub.
You tilt your head back, hoping to send the tears rolling back to where they came from but it’s no use. They only pool in your eyes, clouding your vision so that the only thing you see as Minho approaches is the distorted silhouette of his figure. “I wanted to tell you, I did, but I was afraid it’d be too much at once. That you’d hate me like other guys in the past have.”
You’re rambling, breathing heavily, blindly reaching for tissues. Minho leans your head forward, resting your left cheek on his stomach while he strokes the other side of your face, soothing your anxiousness.  “Hate you? Hate…you?” he asks, more offended by your statement than you expect, “I need you to look at me.” Sniffling, you turn to look up at him and he’s…smiling?
“I love you. Nothing could ever make me hate you. I just wish you’d come to me so I could've protected you. If I had known…” “Wait, you’re not mad?” “At what?” “That I’ve, you know, dated women before.” Minho shrugs, “Jisung’s basically my last resort if we break up so, uh, no.” “But my scars and my stretch marks…” Kissing you on the forehead, he backs away and begins to take his shirt off.
“When you asked me to have sex with the lights out did I ever argue?” For the first time since you met, it sets in that he had, in fact, never questioned why you never wanted the lights on. Come to think of it, you usually didn’t need to ask for them to be off. They already were. Minho tosses his shirt to the ground, running his fingers along the scar that marks his abdomen, “I was afraid you wouldn’t like mine either.”
“Wouldn’t like it?” you scoff, unable to fathom how you’d ever find him anything short of beautiful, “It’s a part of you. I love anything that’s a part of you.” Minho sits down beside you, delighting in seeing you even partially uncovered for the first time, “The feeling’s mutual.” The sound of a vibrating phone grabs your attention. You glance over at the chair. It’s not yours.
Minho digs his phone out of his pocket, groaning as he scrolls through text messages. “Shit, I have to go do damage control” he huffs, jumping up to toss his shirt back on, “But when I come back we have to talk. I have questions about the scars if you’re comfortable? Just to make sure you’re okay.” “Uh, yeah, sure that’s okay. I’ll make us some food for when you get back and you can ask me whatever.” 
His phone vibrates again, this time it’s a call. “What?” he whines, “I’m on my way. No, I really am. I’m in the car right now. Oh no, you’re breaking up. Oh…” Minho’s phone hits the bath water with a splash, sending bubbles cascading down the walls. “Oops,” he gasps, knowing very well it wasn’t an accident.
Minho gives you a dozen more kisses on your lips, on your forehead, on your cheeks, before he’s dashing around the apartment searching for his keys. “And stay off of social media unless you plan to make a list of everyone who says something bad so I can fight them! Love you!” he shouts on the way out the front door. “Love you too!” you shout back before it closes.
Left alone in the silence of the aftermath, you nibble at your bottom lip, nervous at having finally found someone this accepting but beyond happy that he exists. That he’s yours. A phone vibrates again. Your phone. Picking it up you see that it’s a call from someone you haven’t spoken to in a while. No doubt with questions about what’s been going on. You stare at it for a moment, contemplating answering but then...
“Oops” you gasp, letting your phone slip into a watery grave beside Minho’s, “Tragic.”
Tumblr media
407 notes · View notes