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savorypink · 3 months

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test drive

you and alex shop for new wheels.

smut.

You grasp the small electric fan and hold it closer to your neck, reveling in the cool breeze brushing against your skin-kissed skin. The sun's warm rays relentlessly beat down on your skin, the warmth and humidity making your breathing feel more voluntary than usual. It's a beautiful day if you're gazing from a window, but if you're outside, you'd think you're boiling in the crevice of Satan's asscrack—perfect weather for buying a car.

Alex is talking to the dealership guy about dealership things. Or something. You've tuned out. The sun's rays might've entered your brain and short-circuited the wires that make up the cavities that help you focus. Summertime looks good on your man, though. Adorn in a tank top and jeans; he continues talking to the consultant as if the sun isn't permanently burning hair gel into his handsome head. As sweat beads around his forehead, the gelled strands of his hair begin to loosen. They gradually fall in his face as the conversation continues. You're too tired to swoon but thankful for the view.

The consultant goes inside, and Alex finally joins you in all his sweaty, puppy dog-esque glory.

"Any good news?" You ask.

Alex grins, rubbing his hands together excitedly. "He's letting us test drive it."

"Oh. Fun." The sun might've fried your excitement receptors as well.

"You could show a little more enthusiasm than that." Your boyfriend tuts as he crosses his arms.

"Woo. Tesla." You hold your arms up lazily in mock excitement, cheering flatly. It's too hot to get excited.

"Thank you." Alex chuckles; his large hands pull you in by your waist to press a quick peck to your lips. You happily lap away the sweat that stains your lips, savoring the saltiness stinging your parched tongue. Once the consultant returns, his grip on your waist slips as he turns his attention back to the car. You pout, but your curiosity piques when the consultant hands him a card. The consultant demonstrates how the card opens the door, gesturing for Alex to tap the card on the side of the driver's window.

When the car unlocks, your boyfriend looks up at you in childlike bewilderment, and a smile spreads across your face. His genuine wonder and delight make the weather seem bearable. He walks around to open the passenger door, eagerly holding it open for your arrival.

"Is there AC in this thing?" You ask the consultant as you slip into the passenger seat. The consultant tells you how to operate the AC, but once more, you tune out. You marvel at the sleek, all-white interior, the buttery-smooth leather cooling your slightly damp skin. As Alex shuts the door, you sink deeper into the plush seat, letting your muscles loosen and your bones relax, enveloping in what could be your new, luxurious cocoon on wheels.

With a soft thud, the driver's door closes as Alex slides into his seat. He searches for the ignition impatiently, like a puppy eagerly searching for a bone. His hunt ends once the consultant explains how to start the car using the touchscreen. His face turns an adorable shade of red at the revelation as he taps the screen to put the car in drive mode, slowly peeling out of the dealership.

Looking out the car's expansive windows feels like watching a movie. The trees you pass by sway with crisp animation as a breeze blows the leaves gently. The sky remains a perfect, clear blue from the sunroof's glass as the sun continues shining its gorgeous, aggravatingly bright rays. The wheels are as smooth as the interior you sit on as they practically glide along the road. You hum a soft tune to yourself while you peer at Alex, the driver's seat perfectly contoured to his back.

"You have the most adorable driving face." You muse.

You prop two elbows on the glovebox as you watch him like an enamored schoolgirl. He turns to you when he stops at a red light, delivering a lingering kiss to your lips. In another life, you're giggling and twirling your hair. Alex pulls away once the light turns green, and you grow needy instantly, a spark igniting in your chest and core.

"More." You demand.

"I'm driving right now, love." He places a warm hand on your thigh, kneading the soft flesh reassuringly. "We'll play later. Promise."

The touch only adds to your neediness as the wet spot in your panties grows larger and warmer. You pout and cross your arms as you move back to your seat, huffing out of your nose in faux anger. It gets his attention like you hoped; you feel him looking through the corner of his eye.

"Stop that."

You don't acknowledge his eyes on you and keep your gaze fixed on the window. "Stop what?"

"Bein' a brat."

The remark only makes you grin, but you tuck your head further away from Alex as you smile. When you're done fawning over your new nickname, your eyes sparkle once they meet the touchscreen console. You might've tuned out at the dealership but remembered overhearing an essential detail about the car.

"Doesn't this thing have autopilot?" You ask, pretending to be oblivious as you absentmindedly touch the screen. Alex quickly draws your hand away from the console, swiftly placing it in your lap. There's no use in trying to hide your smile. You fiddle with the hem of your dress, your next tactic blooming in your head.

You blow an exasperated raspberry. "That's fine. I don't need you anyway."

You lift your dress to slide off the thin material of your panties, admiring the wet spot in the center as if it's a work of art. You hover the underwear above his lap like the arm of a claw machine, dropping them into his lap dully. Alex's eyes shift to his lap momentarily, then return to the road, his grip tightening on the steering wheel. A delicate, manicured finger draws lazy circles around your clit as you watch the strong muscles of his arms flex with his newly found grip. With your free hand, you trace a finger along his jawline.

"You don't need two hands to drive, Al." You chuckle, finally dipping a finger inside your aching heat. You hiss as you plunge your finger in deeper, curling your fingers to ensure your g-spot is unneglected, hitting the spongy area over and over, your core moistening as you pump. Alex's eyes remain on the road, but you notice an inviting dent straining against the denim of his jeans. You add another finger at the sight, bucking your hips down on your fingers.

Your free hand kneads his thigh, mimicking his movements from earlier, but unlike your boyfriend, you let your hands wander. You rub his bulge like a sore ligament, even allowing the acrylic tips of your fingernails to graze the fabric. His hips jerk into your touch, but his face shows no sign of distress. He's good.

"Looks like you need me."

You undo his belt, your core tightening around your fingers as the metal of the buckle clanks. The length of your nails causes you to fumble with the zipper, but much to your surprise, Alex helps you unzip it. As the car slows at the next light, you let his cock spring free, pumping it languidly in your silky hands.

"We can't do this while I drive," he chuckles nervously, dropping the steering wheel. "We'll crash."

You withdraw your fingers from your core before kneeling on the seat, pulling your hair back as your head dangles above his lap.

"So turn on autopilot, dummy!"

You wrap your warm mouth around his cock as his shaky fingers fumble with the touch screen. You sink him further down your throat until your head hits the shaft, holding him there until tears prickle the corner of your lashes. You pick your head up and begin bobbing rhythmically, holding the shaft to keep him stable. You suck and twist your tongue around his stiff cock with no mercy intended, humming around him as the taste of pre-cum delightfully stains your eager tongue. Alex's hand brushes away the hair that falls in your face as your wet, warm mouth continues. He shamelessly thrusts into your mouth, and you moan, the warm feeling of your wetness trickling down your thighs.

"You're gonna ruin the seats, baby." His large hand reaches over to squeeze your ass, spanking the flesh harshly. "Slobberin' all over my cock like this...dirty girl."

Your wetness increases with his words as your cunt continues clasping around itself, eventually snaking your free hand to your clit in search of relief, bucking your hips into your quick-moving fingers. Your hair is gathered into a ponytail in Alex's strong fist as he pulls you off his cock abruptly, most likely at the sight of you touching yourself. You lick the saliva off your lips while you admire your handiwork, his cock glistening from head to shaft with your warm drool.

"Get in my lap."

The moment he releases your hair is the moment you rejoice. You climb into his lap eagerly, straddling him with your hips above his aching cock, the warmth of him radiating from mere inches away. Your hands grip both his shoulders, and Alex's hands grip your hips likewise, slowly guiding you onto his cock. There's a delicious burn that sizzles as your cunt swallows him whole, your nails digging into the skin of his shoulders. You moan in his ear before nuzzling your head in his neck, and you nip at the flesh, subduing your cries for him.

"I got you." Alex coos in your ear, pressing a kiss to your temple as he guides your hips up and down his cock, gradually increasing the pace as the number of miles heading towards the dealership decreases. You peer out the window with blurry lenses but recognize the scenery, the end of your test drive in sight. Your boyfriend assists by rolling and bucking his hips into your needy core, attempting to meet the movements of his hands halfway, his tip pounding away at the spongy area of your g-spot.

"What...do you think of the car?" You joke, panting. "Nice ride, huh?"

He grins, "Oh, yeah. Nice and smooth. A beauty inside and out. She's a keeper."

His cock blissfully strokes your walls once more as the knot in your stomach finally loosens. You clench around him tightly as you hit your peak, continuing to ride out your high to aid Alex in finding his own, grinding and bouncing on him. His hands hold you in place as he spills inside of you, coating your pulsating walls with his warm release. You don't have time to lay there and pant, so you slip out of him with trembling legs, slipping back into your panties and the passenger seat, fixing your hair in the reflection of the rearview mirror.

Alex quickly tucks himself back into his jeans as the car pulls into the dealership, swiftly buckling his belt before the consultant approaches the mirror. He exits the car like nothing happened, giving the consultant a polite smile before opening your door, like the gentleman he is.

You take his awaiting hand as you step out of the vehicle, mimicking the kind smile Alex gave the dealership guy. Your cool, air-conditioned skin warms against the sun's rays once more as a much hotter, more familiar warmth trickles down your legs slowly and stains the scorching asphalt under your sandals.

"Whaddya think?" The consultant questions.

You nudge Alex’s side to get him to answer, assuming his mind is rampant with images of you in the car. Your face flushes at the thought.

"We'll take it."

#mickey is typing…#alex turner fanfic #alex turner x reader #alex turner smut #alex turner x you #something sweet

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amsgrey · 7 months

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Deja Vu II

Part I

Okay so, I have been researching more and trying to get things at least somewhat accurate before I wrote part two. In the first part, I wrote TBI, with further research, what I was actually trying to write is an Anoxic brain Injury (still technically a TBI). The whole idea there is when the brain is starved of oxygen critical functions are impacted and there can be a whole bunch of differing symptoms after it. OBVIOUSLY, I am NOT a medical professional, so take everything with a big ol' grain of salt. I am thinking of writing some more parts to this but purely when I have time bc adult life sucks. I kept the ending open but also al actual end, unlike the first part. Hope it is somewhat enjoyable.

WARNINGS: Medical stay, seizures, talk of needles + medical procedures, hospitals, Will and Jay being their usually angsty selves, poor writing and zero editing

"Will?"

Abrams looked between the Halsteads, not sure what his place was. Everyone remembered when Pat Halstead passed, mostly because the Halstead brawl was talked about for weeks. Will Halstead was known for causing headaches for plenty of people around Med, he was the topic of gossip all through the building.

Abrams was saved by the bell - literally. His pager started beeping, excusing him from the brewing storm between the brothers.

"I'll put in for the tests," He tossed over his shoulder, disappearing into the stream of medical workers.

"Will." Jay snapped, glowering at his brother.

Will scrubbed a hand down his face, "Abrams needs to run more tests."

"More tests?" Jay pressed, "What just happened, Will?"

Will shook his head, looking at his younger brother he knew, telling Jay how bad this might be, would destroy him. Jay hated hospitals, hated medical things in general. Will couldn't look him in the eye and plant the same fear he had gnawing at him.

"I don't know, Jay," Will sighed, "I'm not a neurologist."

Jay didn't want to accept his answer, but Will didn't give him much of a chance. He turned back to your hospital room, forcing a smile as he entered.

"What was that about?" You asked, exactly where they left you.

"Just more tests," Will smiled. He stopped at the top of your bed, checking you over with doctor's eyes. You could always tell when he flipped between Big Brother and Doctor because Big Brother Will wore his emotions. Doctor Will was better at keeping his poker face like he was now.

Will's eyes flittered around the monitors before settling back on yours. His eyes softened, the slight furrow in his brow disappearing and a smile pulling on his lips again.

"You feeling alright?"

You nodded, "I'm just tired."

Will nodded, he reached out and brushed the hair off your forehead, "Get some sleep, yeah? We'll be here the whole time."

Jay reached out and squeezed your hand, before pulling up the blanket and tucking you in.

A few hours later, you were sitting up in your hospital bed while a Neurology Tech attached electrodes to your scalp. Jay had left for home, for a shower and clean clothes. He promised he would bring back your blanket and pillow and some other stuff to make you more comfortable, seeming Will said it would be okay.

While he was gone, Will sat at the end of the bed, holding your hand through the Electrode placement. After the Tech finished, you were attached to a monitor with wires upon wires, all differing colours. The tech apologized for the cap that sat over all the leads, promising it wasn’t too bad.

“it’s a new fashion trend,” you joked, smiling at the tech, “Nuero floor chic.”

The tech laughed, continuing her work. When she was done, she walked you through what she had done. Explaining the placement and the leads, and how it all worked.

"This is your personal EEG," She explained, gesturing to the boxy machine on wheels that your wires were attached to, "Try to keep it close."

She explained a few more things, then promised to return in a little while. In her absence, Dr. Abrams stopped through again. He looked over the techs work, mumbling to himself and making medical comments only Will understood.

"How are you feeling?" He asked.

You had already taken a nap, so you weren't as tired as you had been.

"Sick of sitting," You said, stretching your legs and accidentally nudging Will in the process. Will playfully batted at your feet, feigning offence.

Abrams pulled at the EEG machine on wheels, testing how the wheels glided, "If you are feeling up for it, you can go for a small walk."

You lit up, "I can?"

"If you take it slow," Abrams ordered, "And Will is by your side."

Will nodded, "Are you feeling up for it?"

"Yes."

Will helped you detangle yourself from the blanket, letting you adjust to being fully upright for the first time that day. Your feet dangled over the bed as you took a moment to compose your spinning head. Will pulled a pair of socks over your bare feet, muttering something about keeping your toes warm. He held your arm as you stood up, supporting your weight as your body adjusted again.

"You alright?"

"Mmm," You responded, focused on staying upright.

"Okay," Will wrapped an arm around your waist, "One step at a time, we'll try to make it to the nurse's station and back."

It was slow going. With every step you took, it felt like the world was twisting, like walking through an earthquake. Will's arms hovered around you, only holding you up when you needed the support. He was so steady in his support, his warm presence keeping you grounded and calm.

Two steps outside of your room, Jay bounded up with your pillow and blanket tucked under his arm.

"They're upright," He commented, "Nice hair, too."

He reached out and pretended to ruffle your hair, careful to avoid touching the wires around your head. You reached out to smack his hand, but missed drastically.

You frowned at Jay, frustration barely contained, "Sshut. uphh."

The words sounded fumbled through your gritted teeth. Abrams had mentioned how you needed to take things slow and Will tried to tell you that it might be frustrating at first, but you weren’t expecting to feel such anger. It was gnawing away at you. A week ago you were dancing around with Makayla, wrangling her for a weekend while Kim and Adam worked. You had run around, danced, sung, every little thing that made Makayla happy. Not you hardly knew how to move your feet, could hardly tell what direction was up.

The anger grew and held firm in your head, making itself known with its red cloud fogging your mind.

Will grabbed your hand, "You okay?"

"Hmm."

Your vision blurred, everything swaying and twisting as you fell forward.

Will was faster than Jay was, for once. He saw the signs a mile away, already braced for when you would fall. He held you to his chest, lowering both of you to the ground and cradling your head as your body started to convulse.

Jay immediately dropped what he was carrying, falling to his knees by your side. Jay looked up at Will trying to ask silently what to do, but the eldest Halstead had gone full doctor mode.

"Need some help over here!" Will shouted, calling for the nurse's assistance.

"I need you to breathe,” Will spoke with such certainty, like he was treating any other patient.

“You’re okay,” Will kept repeating, “Just breathe, I’ve got you.”

Jay was ushered out of the way by the nurses, who crowded in with monitors and equipment to help Dr Halstead. All Jay could do was watch helplessly.

Jay held his breath as the medical team got you off the ground and transferred you back to the hospital bed. The leads they had removed that morning were reattached, placed on your ashen skin.

Dr Abrams rushed into the room and ordered Will to get out of his way, the forced politeness gone now the situation was emergent. Will stepped back, somewhat dubiously, letting Abrams run his team.

“How did you do that?” Jay asked when will stood by his side, the pair of them watching as Abrams and the team worked.

With a dose of meds, the convulsions stopped, but the team checked over the leads and kept working.

“Do what?” Will asked, turning to look at his brother. Jay had grown pale, the fear and anxiety he felt spelt out across his features. His eyes kept darting from you to the heart monitor screen like it was going to flatline.

“Stay so calm?” Jay whispered, taking a deep breath for the first time in the last few minutes. The nurses placed a mask over your face, securing it behind your head and then leaving the Halsteads and Abrams in the room.

“Jay…” Will tried to find a way to explain it, how he could just shut off his fear in that moment to help you. But he couldn’t find the words.

“She’s stable,” Abrams spoke in the silence that had formed, “From now on, we’ll keep giving her (insert med) to keep her relaxed. No more strolls, even if it is supervised.”

Will nodded, taking it in.

Abrams was mostly speaking to Will, Jay was by your side, focused solely on you. He held your hand, careful to avoid the IV that was in the back of it. He watched you breathe, every-time you exhaled, he watched the mask fog up. He listened to the quiet puffs and the melodic beeping. You were okay. He kept trying to force himself to remember that. You were okay.

“Hopefully we can get this under control. In the meantime, we’ll keep monitoring, keep on with the EEG testing for the next few hours. Hopefully we’ll learn more.”

Will nodded, clapping Abrams on the back, “Thanks, Sam.”

The big brother in him wanted to press for answers, but the doctor in him knew that sometimes Doctors didn’t have the answers. If Abrams knew, he would share.

Will did a check over you and the monitors with his eyes, again. Then looked over to Jay, who looked completely deflated. It was no secret that Jay hated hospitals and medical treatment in general, especially needles. Spending time in hospitals usually gave him the creeps and he would always say to Will, “I don’t know how you do it, man.”

But Jay hadn’t complained even once. Not when he was watching the IV get put in your hand, or while you were attached to countless machines. Will knew it was because he felt hopeless. The same look that he wore at their dads bedside he wore now. Will stood and stared for a while, the memory playing in his mind in time with real life. This was different. You weren’t on life support like your father had been, things were different. That didn’t change the memories Will had of his dads last moments plaguing his mind.

“I stayed calm because i had too,” Will finally spoke. Jay looked up, watching his brother cross his arms over his chest and take a deep breath.

“I had to stay calm, for her.”

Jay shook his head, “I just froze, Will. And you-“

“Trained for years to react in medical emergency situations, spent years working the ER,” Will interrupted.

“Jay,” Will reached over the bed and gave jays shoulder a reassuring squeeze, “I do this every day. I know how to tune out the emotions and focus on medical stuff.”

“Yeah, I guess.”

Will sat on one of the chairs, mirroring Jay across the bed, “Listen. I could never get used to being shot at, could never be shot at and react how you do. Because I’m not trained, I’m not good at that. You aren’t a doctor Jay, stop beating yourself up over something that was a basic human reaction.”

Jay didn't answer, letting silence fall over the room. Neither one of the brothers was up for a conversation, mostly just consumed with their own thoughts as they watched you sleep.

You had stirred a few times in the coming hours but mostly stayed sleeping. Will told Jay that it was a combination of the medication and the stress of recent events catching up with you. In his words, it was nothing to worry about.

"Hey," A soft voice called from the door, Will and Jay stood to greet Hailey as she stepped into the room.

Will and Jay had been off work since you had gotten worse, staying by your side or close by ever since. Both Voight and Goodwin understood, giving them all the time they needed.

"I brought some supplies," Hailey joked, handing food over to the brothers, "And I stopped by home and Wills, got some clothes."

"Thanks, Hailey."

"Yeah, Of course." Hailey stood by Jay, taking his hand for his comfort. "How's she doing?"

Will relayed the events of the day, the incident in the hall and all the things that had happened since. Things were moving fast, more tests and hopeful treatment plans were being talked about.

"It'll be okay," Will finished, mostly trying to convince Jay more than himself. He knew the look on Abram's face, knew that everything was far from okay.

Will told Jay to go back to work after a week, promising him that sitting by your side was a one-man job. Will had spoken to Goodwin, who agreed to let him take his occurred PTO for as long as he needed. So for the three weeks you were in the hospital he stayed by your side. You weren't used to having Will there every single minute of every single day, but you didn't mind it too much. Mostly he helped you go on walks or watched over you like a personal nurse. You knew that he and Jay were worried, but the overprotective brother act was suffocating at times. During the last week of your stay, you managed to convince him to let you have more space - that when he left the room you wouldn't make a break for it like Jay would. He agreed hesitantly, mostly hanging around from lunch until you fell asleep at night. You complained to Jay when he visited every day, but you were thankful he was there.

On the last few days of your time in the hospital, you were more independent, nothing like what you were before the accident, but more than before. You could walk small distances unsupported and some of your fine motor skills came back. The PT had told you it was common after TBI's for patients to lose control of their movements and motor skills, she promised that you would get better as time went on.

Dr Abrams had spoken to Will and Jay about Rehabilitation centres, there were a few in the city that focused on TBI rehabilitation but Will had been dragging his feet. Jay wanted to do what was best for you, even if it meant you might have to stay in a rehab facility. Will had a sour taste in his mouth over it all.

"Come in," Goodwin called from inside her office.

Will pushed open the door, greeting Sharon and Peter.

"What can I help you with, Doctor Halstead?" Sharon asked after Peter had left.

Will explained his plan, reviewing all the details he had sorted out. When he finished, Sharon was nodding in approval.

"Are you sure about this?"

"I am," Will was sure nothing could change his mind now.

"Okay then, I will talk to Dr Archer, and see how we can help," Goodwin bid Will the best, letting him continue on his way.

Will met Jay right outside your room, almost running straight into him.

"Will," Jay grabbed his brother's arm, "We need to talk about the rehab facility-"

"Yeah," Will nodded, "I know, i have a plan."

Will ushed Jay back into the room. He gestured to Jay to a chair and took a seat at the end of your bed. You were expecting him to stop by, sitting up properly on the bed expecting some kind of serious conversation from the eldest Halstead.

"What is it, doc?" You joked.

Will smiled, reaching out and holding your hand, "I have spoken to Dr Abrams and Sharon Goodwin and I have decided that we won't be trying to find a rehab facility."

Jay sighed, he had been arguing with Will about this for the better part of the week. "Will-"

"I think you should stay with me," Will told you directly, "I've taken a leave of absence, I think you should be home and recovering."

You looked to Jay, who was just as surprised. Jay hardly got caught off guard by Will, right now he had never been more surprised.

"Are you sure?" Jay broke the silence that settled over the room.

"If that is what you want?"

You could feel the joy blooming in your chest, a wide smile breaking across your face, "Yes. Please, yes."

Will mirrored your grin, pulling you into a tight hug and kissing your forehead. At times like this, you were reminded how much Will and Jay became like parents to you after your father's death. Although it was painful for all of you, you didn't have a good relationship with your father. He was never caring or affectionate, he never came to your sports games or awards, that was all Jay and Will. They stepped up and took care of you, they always have and promised they always would. You were so drained from the last few days of tests and the week in the hospital that you felt like you might burst into tears.

Will could sense your fragile state, staying sitting by your side and holding your hand. Jay got to his feet and pulled you into a hug too, then clapped Will on the back.

“So when am I allowed out?” You pressed, hoping to be home and somewhere familiar.

“Slow your roll,” Jay laughed, “There's still things that need to be organized.”

You let out a loud dramatic sigh, “I hate it here,” You whined.

Will wrapped an arm around your shoulders, pulling you into him and playfully messing up your hair, “It won't be too much longer, promise.”

“Pinky promise?” You raised your finger, dramatically pouting.

Will indulged you, linking his pinky through yours and giving you a serious stare, “Pinky promise.”

taglist: @halstead-severide-fan

#chicago pd x reader #chicago med #chicago pd imagine #jay halstead x reader #will halstead #jay halstead #halstead!sister #jay halstead x sister!reader #will halstead x reader #chicago med x reader #one chicago x reader #one chicago imagine #chicago med imagine #chicago fire x reader #chicago fire imagine #jay halstead imagine

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mediumgayitalian · 8 hours

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In his head he is brave enough to say it: gods, you are beautiful in the moonlight. He is. He has made Nico weak in the knees since they were fifteen and new and fragile as spun glass, and he does now. In the moonlight his radiance is much subtler; he is opal and pearl and quartz, he is shining and multifaceted.

Instead he traces the bob of Will’s throat, his long, freckly neck, cratered with burn scars and cupped with a raised white scar from years of endless picking; follows the wild winding wisps of his hair, barely held back by his old sunglasses, compressed in coils around his head like a pen spring squished to the size of its threads, creaking with the weight of its own potential energy, brimming with the imagined burst of its future; memorizes the fluttering flap of his feathering eyelashes, the delicate dips of his deepened Cupid’s bow, the roughened raze of his wide rowdy hands. All of him is in motion, always, but now especially, hands twitching on the wheel, head thrown back, mouth wide and shaking along with his shoulders.

“I really like your laugh,” and it’s quick, vowels tumbling over each other and tripping the consonants, a queue of clumsy hopefuls scrambling over shoulders and clasping hands. The pretty laughter fades and arched eyebrows replace it, poorly hidden surprise, twitching smile lines, and Nico looks deliberately forward, mortification cackling along each of his wire-tense muscles, dancing along the shimmering heat of his face. “It’s. Wide.”

“Wide?” asks Will carefully, craning his neck to glance in his blind spot, whispering chuckles dancing along to the beat of the blinker.

“Wide,” Nico confirms, flicking out his hands. His fingers are not nearly as long, nor as wiry or corded, but the scarring is mirrored. Nicks and scratches and burn marks and calluses, topographic maps of time spent.

Will’s turn is successful — the strawberry baskets dip dangerously from their precarious perch on backseats, but don’t fall, shifting over and around each other to burst tiny globules of stretched taut flesh, rubbing against rough reed ribbons. Nico inhales deeply, and the sweet is almost nauseating, summer fruit twisting in the air along with lavender body wash and Blistex and Texas summer sun.

“You take up space.”

“My laugh?”

Laughter in his words in his hands in his skin, in his eyes, in the coils of his hair, in his grass-stained heels, in the bends of his scar-bleached knees. In the dancing dots of his face arms chest legs. In the dip of his bottom lip, crater under his too-big front teeth. In the jut of his crooked spine and wide hips.

“What about my laugh?”

It is in his words more often than not and in Nico’s dreams even more so. It curls around the blurry edges of his dreams and weaves into daisy-strong chains, dangling from the too-high ceilings of his nightmares, coiling around his arms and chest and back and yanking with the force of breaking ribs, the force of bellows, the force of clasped bloodless hands. Dragging him across trench gouged ground to bright light and clear air and the distant memory of summer rain.

“That you like, I mean.”

“It’s snorting,” Nico confesses. Will reddens, and Nico smiles, under the heat of it grows sunflower and dandelion and tinted brown-eyes Susans. “Um. Loud.”

“Geez,” Will grumbles, “tell a guy the truth, why don’t you.”

Nico has never seen gold under silver nightlight and it fascinates him, how Will sparks and shimmers, how when the sun sets it does not fade away. How the tiny specks of precious metal weave through him like tinsel and glow in veins of sweet summer memory; how the warm night billows and blows around him lovingly, how the breeze from the open window greets him like a precious grandchild, a beloved nephew. Seedchild; beloved of the earth and sun, performer under the moon, the stars.

Will’s wide hands inch across the dash, brushing over the ancient radio dials and dipping over the skipping cassette, pausing by the base of the gearshift and resting, limply, palm open, fingers cracked and spread. Knuckles popping and chittering amongst themselves, hiding in the bent hoods of wrinkled skin. Nico lowers his heavy hands on the heated hopeful hesitance, curling his cool fingers around much longer ones, and squeezing, once, twice, thrice.

“I like your laugh,” he repeats. He rolls his shoulders, hands flexing, twitching, pulling.

Will’s hand tightens. The road opens up and the Atlantic glimmers beside them, moon whispering to its rippling waves, and he smiles, grins, wider than before, and he is laughing, again, and it is wider even this time, as wide as the sparkling silver water.

“I hear you.”

He squeezes.

You are beautiful in the moonlight. You are beautiful all the time.

Nico squeezes back.

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mjolnirswriststrap · 5 days

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Just Another Notch

Bucky Barnes x Plus Size F!Reader

Masterlist Part 3/??

Word Count: 1,824

Summary: If Bucky thinks his charms will work on you, then you’re gonna put up one hell of a fight to prove him wrong.

Warnings: Nothing explicit 18+, until later chapters, read at your own discretion. Fat shaming, bully!Steve. Protective!Bruce

Training felt useless. When you made it to the simulation room, you didn’t even power up the hologram tech. You sat in the chair facing the super computer. Seeing your reflection in the monitor screen, cause tears to well in your eyes. You thought you were beautiful, when you looked in the mirror after you got dressed, you felt so confident. The look on Bucky’s face when you emerged from your room boosted that confidence tenfold. You could laugh at yourself now. How quickly things change, it’s the cosmos teasing you. Blowing a long breath out of puckered lips, you drop your forehead, landing it on the cool glass desktop. Maybe you bit off more than you can chew. Maybe you weren’t strong enough to play this kind of game.

You knew you never stepped foot in that gym for a reason. Why did you think today would be different? “You ok?” You raise up, searching the room. “Uh hello?” You say, standing up when you still don’t spot anyone. You see the top of a curly head of hair bent under a desk. Walking up to it, the gym situation leaves your mind instantly. You see Bruce folded up untangling wires underneath a desk. “What a sight.” You laugh. “Yeah, yeah, poke your fun.” He contorts himself free, standing up to press the power button on the monitor screen.

When he’s met with continued darkness, he rolls his eyes and faces you. “Your forehead.” He motions towards his own. You make eye contact with yourself in the mirrored wall behind him. Apparently you’d banged your head harder than you thought. You didn’t feel it but you saw the blood at your hairline. “Oh my.” Your eyes grew to be big like saucers.

You look at the desk to see a large crack down the center of it. “I heard you do it, that’s why I asked if you were okay.” He was looking at you with disbelief that you did that to yourself without noticing. “It didn’t hurt, don’t worry about me.” You brush him off, running to the sink in the corner to wash the blood and sweat from your face.

“I know you have a hard head, my desk though? Priceless and fragile.” He jokes, you can hear the real concern under his voice. “What happened, really?” Bruce steals your rolling chair, sitting below you, looking up intently. His big brown eyes gave you the courage to admit it. “Just the same old, same old.” You kick at one of the wheels to the chair.

“C’mon, you know it’s not good to hold it in. Let the doctor help.” He sounds playful, but you know he’s dead serious. You never considered Bruce one of the main team, so there was no reason to ice him out. He was a scientist more than anything. He spent almost one hundred percent of his time in this simulation room, save for when you both knew you’d rather be training alone. He kept you company, not in the verbal sense.

Most of the time the room was filled with the clicking of keys and hard labored breaths. You both did your own thing, over time you started appreciating each others meekness and opened up. Once you got the man talking, he never stopped. You’re sure his brain is a computer, he soaks up information and spits it back out, corrected. You knew better than to ever lie to him, he was far too smart to fall for whatever you planned to say.

“Tell me.” His smile drops and you feel yourself break a little more. “I embarrassed myself, Bruce.” You look away from his saddening eyes. They were starting to pool with pity, and that’s the last thing you want from him. “Hard to believe, but how?” He says, grabbing your wrist to keep you from running away.

With a deep breath you begin, “I went the the gym with Bucky this morning, mistake one.”. Bruce quickly interjects “Bucky? What are you doing hanging out with him?” He presses his eyebrows together, you can’t discern his expression, was it judgement or something else? “It’s a long story.” You find yourself looking down and away from him again. Like there’s a smudge of guilt and shame creeping in.

“I’ve got time.” He raises his arms in a gesture that conveyed ‘bring it on’. God he wanted the details, why? You glance around the room, finding another chair and rolling it infront of him. “Where should I start?” You giggle, forcing yourself to lighten the mood. “The beginning, please.” He starts to bounce his knee.

“Last night, I was eating my late night cereal in the kitchen, when everyone got home.” Bruce folds his arms and nods. “Bucky joined me in the kitchen and well, he dumped a bowl of milk on me. It was an accident, I think.”

“You think it was an accident? Or you have proof of otherwise?” He says, tilting his head. “Maybe the latter.” You admit. “Okay, so the guy spills milk on you, so you go workout with him?” He was obviously confused. “Not directly after! He apologized and brought me coffee this morning to apologize again, offered to help me out with training.” Bruce rolls his eyes again and you’re sure they’ll fall out the next time.

“Please tell me you didn’t believe he was just innocently apologizing.” He sounds annoyed with you, it kinda stings. You never expected Bruce to get upset with you over it. “What else would he be doing?” You shrug your shoulders at him, genuinely curious if he saw it the same way. “Anyone with eyes here knows, that Casanova, will pull any girl in the building, I’m sure he doesn’t even have a type.”. So Bruce also thinks Bucky was flirting with you.

“I honestly didn’t want to believe it. Why would a guy like him be with me?” You shake your head, trying to throw the thoughts from your mind. “He has been nothing but nice to me, I promise.” You look him in the eyes and you see the tone you’ve been hearing in his voice. Flecks of green shine and then die out instantly, his knee was bouncing faster than before. “If he was so nice then why’d you leave the gym?” His voice wasn’t questioning, it was accusatory.

You choose your next words carefully. “Steve came in, and he said something that wasn’t so nice, so I left. That’s all, Bucky didn’t even do anything, there goes his attempt at sleeping with the whole office.” You try to laugh it off, but Bruce isn’t budging. “What did he say?”

“I was getting a water from the vending machine-“ before you could finish, his knee stopped bouncing, and he unfolded his arms. Now you were worried. “Did he comment on your weight, yes or no?” He stands up, harshly slamming the chair into the desk. You would never lie to Bruce, but the truth might start something you don’t want. “Sorta…” you say, ashamed. He strides past you, and now you’re reaching out for him, “Wait.”.

“No, I’m tired of these pompous assholes doing and saying what they want. I’m not letting it happen, especially to you.”. He looks back before exiting the room, and you feel something in your chest swell. He was so serious right now, you could feel the anger radiating off of him. You didn’t know Bruce felt anything besides casual friendship for you, now you’re starting to think differently.

“I’m coming.” You run to catch up with him, taking long strides behind him as his white lab coat swings behind him, and in front of you. “What makes him think he can even speak on my- on you?” He redirects as he swings the gym door open.

You’re met with Bucky and Steve racing each other in push-ups. “99-100!” “You suck.” “You cheated.” They’re laughing as if you and Bruce didn’t just walk in. “No one cares.” Bruce cuts in. The look of annoyance on his face was enough to confuse the super soldiers. “What are you doing out of the lab?” Steve jokes, but no one laughs. “The next time you even so much as think about Y/N, you’ll be talking to the big guy, not me.”. Steve looks around the gym, wondering who Bruce thinks he is. “Sure, pal.” He grabs a towel and wipes the sweat from his neck. “Tell your girlfriend to lose some weight then.” Before you could even be hurt, all you saw was green.

Hulk was infront of you now, taking heaving breaths. You poke your head out from behind him and see Steve and Bucky holding their hands out as if they were calming a wild boar. “Woah, don’t you think you’re over reacting?” Steve says, stepping back. “Y/N! Call off your dog!.” He says, tripping over his own feet.

Hulk slowly stalks towards both of the men, ready to shred them to pieces. A sinister smile on his face. You feel no pity for Steve, but the thought of Bucky being hurt in the crossfire didn’t sit right with you. Before the jolly green giant could break a bone you pipe up loudly. “Hulk? Hey! Over here!” You wave your hands around in the air.

He can see your tiny form trying to catch his attention, and Hulk has the peace of mind to just ignore you, and do what he knows best, smash. The first fist landed on the gym floor, splinters of wood flew everywhere, a hole to the basement left in its place. “Hulk!” You scream this time and it catches his attention. “Go home!” You demand. You knew better than to have a civilized conversation with him. He knew how to take orders from Fury, so maybe it would work. When he just stands there and looks at you, you double down. With a faux confidence, you looked him in his giant green eyes. “Now, Hulk!” You raise an eyebrow, like a tested mother, as if you were about to count to three.

You don’t know why, the hulk didn’t frighten you one bit, but silly, mean words would make you crumble. He growls one last time at the scared super soldiers before breaking through the door way leading outside. Leaving you alone with the men you almost had killed. Bucky looks in disbelief, like he wasn’t almost used for a human punching bag. “Sorry.” You shy away, stepping on fallen bricks to follow Bruce outside.

“What the actual fuck just happened?” You hear Steve ask, but you’re halfway to the swaying trees before you could hear his response. You don’t really know where Bruce lives, so following him through the woods was your only option. You don’t want him destroying more floor boards on your account. Also, you need to find out why he was so passionate about defending you.

Tag List:

@cjand10

@winterslove1917

@honestlywork

@calwitch

@missvelvetsstuff

@differenttyphoonwerewolf

@Thewiselionessss

@mcira

@sashaisready

@thejujvtsupost

@toxicteapot

#avengers fanfiction #bucky barnes #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky x reader #avengers #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky x y/n #bucky barnes x reader #mcu #fanfic #james bucky barnes #bucky barnes x plus size reader #bucky barnes x you #bruce banner #hulk #bruce banner x reader #bruce banner x you

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drippingdenialslut · 21 days

Note

I sent you an ask a few weeks ago and forgot to come back to see if you replied 😅 Which you did. I asked you about ideas for tasks as a sub.

I am very new to this so I think my imagination is quite limited. But I'm looking for tasks to do throughout the day, anything that has something to do with edging, nipple torture, things like that. Maybe you can tell me your favorite tasks given by your Dom? Or something like that edging week challenge you came up with once? :)

i'll tell you some of my favorite tasks!

Edging tasks

Edge in different rooms of the house

Edge standing up

Edge kneeling

Edge on all fours

Edge by humping different objects

Edge with a makeup brush

Edge with your non-dominant hand

Edge completely naked, with your eyes closed

Edge in front of a window

Edge with just one finger

Edge by tapping your clit

Edge with your tongue out/drooling

Edge with different toys

Edge just by penetration (if you can)

Edge by nipple play (if you can)

Painful tasks

Put clamps on your nipples

Put clamps on your clit

Put clamps on your labia

Put clamps on your tongue

Put something burning on your clit/nipples (tiger balm, toothpaste, hot sauce, ginger)

Rub your clit with a toothbrush

Kneel for a specific amount of time, i.e. you get 1 edge for 10 minutes of kneeling

Spank your pussy/tits/ass (belt, wooden spoon, charger wire, paddle, flogger,...)

Snap your clit/nipples with a rubber band

Games to play

Roll a dice (or two). Spank your clit that many times, then edge once. Roll the dice again...

Write out reasons why you shouldn't cum. For each reason, edge once.

Watch porn for a specific amount of time without touching yourself.

Scroll Tumblr/Bdsmlr/Reddit. Edge for each post of a specific type you see (i.e. posts of a girl giving a blowjob, posts of males cumming,...)

Make a "Spin the wheel" for yourself with tasks you enjoy, i.e. edges, spanks, ruins,...

Put a vibrating toy on your clit and start doing something else (reading, homework, etc). You're not allowed to edge until your task is done. Punishment for every time you fail.

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sinning-23 · 10 months

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My Latest crush is an alien car from space

SO this is the quick 1-3part fanfic I wrote in reference to the little post I made about mirage a couple days ago! Only a couple things changed and the stuff mentioned in the post prior will come up in later parts (here's the link to that if you didn't see it)

Okay so let’s just push all the events of the movie…now lmao I use a lot of current terms that would t have been used in the 80’s so let’s just keep everything the same…accepts it’s 2020-2023 yeah? Great! Fantastic! Uhhh enjoy shawty!

(heres the link to pt2 hotties <3)

Intro/Pt.1

Hot girl summer postponed

“How am I supposed to do hoodrat things with my friends if you won’t fix this already!” You whine, resting your hip against the side of the beat-up Porsche. The paint was chipped and scraped, the seats were old and dusty and the oils it leaked stained the garage floor and the damn hood wouldn’t close.

In short, it was kinda shitty. And a stick shift? Who the fuck drove the stick anymore?

Your dad only dusts his hands in his pants and sighs. It’s his fault for spoiling you rotten that you’d beg for a car now, and it was also his fault for promising it in the first place.

“First of all, there will be no hoochie mama floozy business in my house.” You roll your eyes at the outdated term and shoot back with a reply.

“That’s fine! I said hoodrat anyway!”

He interrupts you, pinching the bridge of his nose, great hair practically springing out his head.

“NONE of that either. Tell you what, if you can apply for two more apartments it’s yours.

You throw your hands up.

“Dad, what?! You know I hate being alone and you’re getting old! You’re gonna need a caretaker.” You reply with a bit of sarcasm and he raised a brow and the not-so-subtle insult.

“I’m not a senior citizen y/n. Just do it.” He replies back, ending the conversation with a peck to your forehead.

“Not with the way your knees popped earlier!” You call back as he closes the door on you.

You groan, pushing off the car you were leaning against and tabbing the roof, an audible ‘thunk’ sounding.

“Soon shawty, you’ll be taking me shopping and clubbing in no time.” You chide, fingers dancing on the slightly lifted hood before you exit.

And before the garage light shut off, the Porsche purred, engine smoking.

____4 months____

It was go time. You’d applied for about 3 more apartments just to appease and overachieve for your father. And on top of that, your girls decided that it was finally time to get you absolutely shit-faced in late honor and celebration of your graduating med school! The only problem was the mode of transportation.

Most of the girls weren’t going to be able to get you and an Uber wasn’t really what you wanted considering there was a perfectly good Porsche sitting in the garage collecting dust. According to dear old dad, he’d already tried time and time again to fix the damn thing but it wasn’t budging, every screw being too tight and every wire seeming to short hit it under his touch. It seems like no use.

“Are you serious? I kept my end of the bargain.” You groan, rolling your eyes at the inconvenience

You’d dad shrugs, throwing the dirty, oiled-up towel over his shoulder.

“Unless you want to try, I suggest you find another means of transportation.” He suggests, leaving you and the busted car alone.

You sigh heavily letting your girls know a reschedule may be on the rise. You pull your French curl braid half up with your alligator clip and lift the hood, the engine was seemingly new, and the design seared into it looked a bit creepy. After brushing your fingers over the symbol, you tighten the hood screws to test if it’d close and sure enough, the problem solved ...kinda.

You still weren't sure this thing started up. That was the main issue. You sigh, pulling the driver seat open and plotting down, dust making you fan your face and try to blow the particles away. The same symbol from before was engraved into the wheel and you brush over it again.

“What a funky-looking symbol. I'm sure nothing a little sparkle won't fix, looks cool tho. Like an alien car thing? Wouldn't that be so silly?” You think out loud, looking in the back seat to see a tattered bomber jacket with silver and blue. Maybe it belonged to the previous owner?

You gasp when the driver's seat scoots forward, keeping you from reaching the jacket. Your chest pressed to the wheel making the horn honk. Gasping you throw your shaky hands up and swallow hard.

“What the fuck…” You whisper out, eyeballing the symbol once again, trying to sneakily reach for the door to make an escape.

It locks, The radio and lights inside flashing off and on as the engine revved filling the garage with smoke and the sound of your panicked screams.

You try and pull the door open but fail again and when the radio buzzes to life you're met with a single song. Taylor Swift was amongst the madness just moments ago.

You need to calm down

You're being too loud

You managed to throw yourself out of the car and scatter back into the house, coughing up the smoke that had still lingered from before. What the hell was that? So maybe it was an alien car. What was meant to become of your hot girl summer? Were you doomed to figure out this possessed car on your own? Exorcise it mayhaps? You stumble up the stairs and pull out your phone. Evidence that's what you needed, evidence.

You stumble back down the stairs, Snapchat fully functional and ready to catch any evidence, and you'd be damned if you didn't go viral without a filter.

Swinging the garage door open you point your camera to the dormant Porche. You're more so angry that you were so scared and you were NOT about to let some poltergeist punk you in the comfort of your own home.

“Yeahhhh motherfucker where all that noise now? HUH? Flash some lights now bitch!” You yell, feeling only slightly insane talking to the inanimate object.

You were met with silence, circling the vehicle with the flash on. Now narration of the prior events, you try to open the driver door only for it to lock. Oh this mf was playing with you. You yell in a fit of rage, smacking the hood.

The car revs and honks at you, the door swinging open to hit your backside, making you trip.

“HA! I GOT YOUR ASS ON CAMERA!” You yelp, camera rolling the entire time. Your breaths are raged but soon become hollow when the car starts to……change.

Your camera hand is shaking and parts of the car begin to shift into legs…waist...torso…arms…. Breath is caught in your throat as the damn near 10 ft tall figure standing before you with its hand in a more so ‘what gives’ position.

“You are so aggressive, lil mama! What’s the deal?” It speaks, and before you could muster a response, your eyelids shut, and your brain powers down.

Its eyes widen at your unconscious state and it sighs.

“All that talk and she faints. Great.”

____________

A breeze hits your face, the sound of traffic slowing to a haunt as does whatever you’re traveling in. It’s a bit easier to breathe now, but your breath is still shallow and your head is somewhat aching. What even happened before this? You were messing with the car and it was..possessed? No no, it was.

You shoot up, head hitting the ceiling. In a panic you try and tug at the seatbelt and escape this demon car, breath bringing to pick up again.

The voice from before speaks over the radio

“Whoa whoa ok calm down I’m just taking you to a friend of mine! I’ll explain everything calm down.”

And surprisingly enough, you do just that. In hindsight, if this thing wanted to kill you it probably would have done it already. You click the seatbelt off, crawling to the front seat. You take a deep breath, manicured fingers ghosting over the wheels before finally gripping it and tracing the symbol again.

“O-Okay. I’m terrified right now. I’m in hella far from my house I’m assuming-“ You’re cut off by the voice again.

“You’d assume correctly.” It speaks

You blink your hand and take another breath. Lil shit had personality. Nod in defeat.

“So…you’re an alien…but also like…a robot? What are you? And why are you a car? And why are you BLUE?” You question, calming down enough to exit the car and wait for a response from the culprit.

It transforms again before your eyes, and you finally have a chance to examine him more. Instead of being afraid and shocked now, you’re more so intrigued. Curiosity engulfs your mind as you ponder its biology. Sure finishing med school required you to know the human body, but the anatomy of an alien and more mecha was intriguing.

You circle it, a newfound confidence flooding you as it tried to explain itself. Manicured fingers can’t help but reach out and touch the smooth-looking metal, the once dusty and scraped not nonexistent over his exterior. Perhaps that was a part of its species' biology, some sort of camouflage. You trace over the license place which appeared to look like more of a tramp stamp given his current transformed state. It reads, ‘MIRAG3’ and you can't help but let your hands wander around and underneath it. It twitched at the sudden touch, arching away from where your hands had touched in protest.

“Can you stop poking around!” It yips, shooing you back.

You scoff rolling your eyes, still observing. This was definitely a scientific breakthrough. No wonder it’s been hidden in its car disguise, you were sure there were plenty of people that wanted to dissect and use it for maybe not-so-good reasons.

“So, do you have a name? Is it Mirage? I can’t keep calling you it in my head, feels rude.” You question, finally taking in its full frame.

It gasps in fake hurt, placing the back of its, hand. Against its forehead? Damn, you needed to learn its anatomy so this would be less of a guessing game.

“Call me Mirage doll.” He flirts, jutting his fist out to seal some sort of camaraderie.

Reluctantly accepting, your plush fist touched his metal one, the metal warmer than you initially expected. Was there more of him? Why was he purposefully blowing his cover? Maybe he was just not as well thought out as the others if there were others.

“Here come inside you should meet everyone else, Noah can explain this better to you too,” Mirage explains, scooting your forebears into the large storage facility as your shoes drag against gravel.

Noah? Like the one that worked at your dad's shop sometimes? Like the one that sold the car in the first place? Your brows furrow hoping that maybe it was a different Noah considering how damn big Brooklyn seemed. The chances of that were slim though with the given information.

Sure enough, walking into the facility was that same Noah, about to speak to Mirage but paused when he realized you were there, and…not panicking? You squint, arms folded over your chest. This mf had a lot of explaining to do and fast.

“Noahhh, wanna tell me why you sold me and my father an ALIEN AUTOMOBILE?” You tell, poking your finger to his chest as he throws his hands up in defense. Time to explain and quickly.

____________

To say you were exhausted was an understatement. Your calves are killing you due to being practically kidnapped before your outing and now your head was throbbing over how much information it just revived. According to Noah, Mr. I sell alien cars here for himself into this mess because he tried to steal Mirage out of a parking lot way back when for a quick cash grab. There was this whole fight with some bad guys? Yeah someone called Unicorn? Unicron! Right, and he was gonna like blow up the world or something but he’s gone now…temporarily-

The point is, you didn’t need aliens right now you needed a margarita and some music to shake your ass too but NONE of that was happening any time soon.

“So, feel like your brains gonna explode?” Mirage jokes, sitting against the wall of the facility and you nod, now sort of comfortable with the idea of, we’ll him in general.

It’s not like you weren’t into conspiracy theories and whatnot, but for something like this to ACTUALLY be real was beyond you. You sigh and run your hands down your face, more upset you missed your one night out more than anything. And it was getting late, and that early shift you picked up definitely was gonna be a no-go if you didn’t get to bed soon.

“This had been fun truly, but I need to get back home because I actually have a job and not one that involves OUTTERSPACE CAR PEOPLE.” You groan, seeing Mirage stand and get ready to go back to his, auto mode?

Note to self, learn the terminology sooner rather than later.

_________

It’s about 4am when you finally make it home, the car ride silent for the most part. Mirage had decided you’d had quite enough excitement for the night and just needed a lil tote quiet, but not before teasing you a bit about missing out on your ‘hot girl hood rat’ activities.

You sigh once he parks, rubbing the sleep from your eyes, still too high off adrenaline to sleep. Maybe now was a good time to ask about that anatomy part? Getting the car your somewhat befriended sounded like a nice suggestion until sleep creeps up on you.

Of course, sensing your curiosity, mirage transforms and lays in front of you, resting on his stomach while he kicks his feet.

“Whatcha thinkin' abouttt?” He asks, more sing-songy than anything.

“I want to study you actually, your anatomy, I’m sure it’s much different to a human but similar in the important areas.” You hypothesize, seeing his eyes widen.

“Important areas? Damn girl we just met.” He teases, making you shake your head.

“Not what I meant- I mean inside!” You respond back as a boyish grin crawls over his gestures

“You’ve been inside too. Wow and you didn’t even take me to dinner first!” He jokes again, more so enjoying your reaction.

It was going to be a longggg night and looking at it, a long day too.

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bitterpotionn · 6 months

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Johnny Slaughter - Springsteen

This fic is inspired by Eric Church's, Springsteen. Also got some Bruce Springsteen influence packed in there. This one is a doozy, with a lot of experimenting, we get fluffy and mean Johnny all in one. I'm still unsure of how I feel about this piece so any feedback will be greatly appreciated.

I hope you all like it, as always any feedback or constructive criticism is welcome! I love reading all of your comments, it motivates me so so much.

Warnings: unsafe sex, dubcon (towards the end), fluffy fluffy Johnny, lovemaking, neck grabbing, smoking, mean/sad Johnny, angst, tattoos

It was a hot July night. The windows of Johnny's truck were rolled down, and Born to Run played on the radio. She leaned against the open window, letting the wind brush past her face as he went a steady pace down the old dirt road.

Johnny's scarred hand reached down and squeezed her thigh as he turned up the radio, a wide grin on his face as he sang. "Oh, will you walk with me out on the wire?" She quickly turned and smiled at him. Johnny's singing voice was deep and off-key but he continued, "'Cause baby, I'm just a scared and lonely rider," his eyes flicked to hers periodically, as he tried to somewhat focus on the road. His grin was still wide.

She grabbed his hand and sang along with him. "But I gotta know how it feels, I want to know if love is wild, babe," their voices were loud as they sang together, small laughs breaking up between the lyrics.

Johnny could barely contain his giddy smile as she sang into his hand like a microphone, stroking his face as she serenaded him.

They spent a lot of nights like this. They stayed at the local diner as long as they could until one of the waitresses made them leave. Then, Johnny always took the long way to her house. They both tried to prolong their time together. Johnny loved how he felt around her. Away from his family, away from the violence, she was like a beacon of light that lit him up in ways he never thought was possible. His life was so dark and grim, it almost suffocated him but with her, he could breathe fresh, cool air.

The radio now was at a low volume, it acted as a comforting background noise. She cuddled up to his arm as he drove, his hand wrapped around her leg. Johnny leaned his cheek against her head, one hand placed firmly on the wheel. Johnny felt her grip on him tighten as they passed the familiar sign for her street.

Johnny pulled into her long driveway and parked at the top. His eyes flicked down and saw a deep frown on her face as she ran her fingers along his torn knuckles. "Don't go, I wish you could stay," her voice was a low whisper, barely audible.

He let out a small hum, nodding. "I know, pretty," when he looked down at her, he started to see small tears form at the corners of her eyes. Johnny quickly nuzzled his face into her neck, making kissing sounds. She let out a small laugh as she laid her back against his seat, he was now hovering over her.

"C'mon don't be sad, you'll see me bright and early tomorrow, yeah?" when she didn't respond he lifted her chin up and rubbed his nose against hers, again earning a small laugh from her as she nodded. "Alright," she mumbled out with a pout. "I dunno why I can't just stay at your place, my folks would never know," her hands cupped his face, her thumb gently rubbing over his scar.

Johnny gave her a strained smile, he couldn't tell her the real reason she couldn't stay. He wanted her far away from his family's carnage and horror. They didn't even know about her, if they did they would just scold him for it. Love didn't exist in the Slaughter household.

"You wouldn't like my place anyway, not very clean," he teased squeezing at her cheeks. She playfully swatted his hands away. "I hope we can get our own place one day, just me and you," Johnny smiled and nodded "I'd like that,"

"Johnny we can't" she giggled, holding his arm tightly as they walked down the worn sidewalks in town. "C'mon, it's to celebrate your birthday," He grinned down at her and gave her waist a small squeeze.

They made their way to a small tattoo parlor. Johnny sat comfortably in the chair, all while grinning widely at her. She nervously held his hand as the tattoo artist wiped his arm down. "Your mom is going to kill you, Johnny," his grin widened "Let her," he smirked at her and pulled her in for a kiss

"Does it hurt," she asked running her fingertips over the fresh ink, now permanently embedded into Johnny's arm. "Nah," he watched as she studied his arm with awe. Her name was tattooed on his bicep. She smiled up at him wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him to him, kissing him deeply a wide smile on her lips.

Johnny let out a small groan and smirked into the kiss, pulling her close. Letting out a small laugh, she looked around the tattoo parlor, she could feel her cheeks heat up, she was clearly embarrassed by the PDA. He gave her a small grumble and held her hand, leading her out of the parlor.

Johnny lay on her bed, watching her old TV perched on her dresser. Johnny usually wasn't around her house much, her parents weren't too fond of him. They always made small comments about his "odd" family, they thought he came from trash. In some ways they weren't wrong.

This weekend though, they were lucky enough to have the entire house to themselves. Her parents were out of town for a couple of days and he essentially moved in for the weekend. She thought it would be great practice for when they have their own place.

Johnny was dressed casually for once. He was wearing sweatpants with no shirt. He looked almost comical. The way his large body lay in the middle of a twin-sized mattress, which was covered in stuffed animals and bright bedding. Funnily enough, this is the comfiest he's ever been.

Johnny felt himself drift off, only to be awoken by the sound of her entering the room. He turned to look at her, she was wearing an oversized t-shirt with sleep shorts. He couldn't help but smile and reach out for her, his scarred arms motioning her forward. She gave him a smile and crawled into the cramped bed with him. She was practically laying on top of him due to the lack of room.

“Comfortable?” He asked, his hands rubbing up and down her back. She let out a small “mhm” in response, burying her face into the crook of his neck, breathing him in. The domestic feeling made Johnny feel warm. He never got this feeling at home, it was either too loud or deathly quiet there. But here, the silence was welcome, it was comfortable, it was good.

The morning came steadily, the golden sunrise shines through her sheer curtains, casting rays directly on Johnny’s face. He was on his side, his toned arms wrapped around her as she slept soundly.

For once, he woke up calm. He didn’t wake up to the sound of screaming or a revving chainsaw. All he could hear now was the faint chirp of the morning birds and her small snores.

His hands traveled up and down her waist, caressing her skin softly. He smiled as she started to wake up, her eyelashes batted as she turned her head to look at him with a smile. “Morning…” she yawned and stretched her arms.

Johnny kissed up the back of her neck. His calloused hands found their way to her breasts, giving them soft squeezes. She smiled and laid her head back against his chest, letting him explore her body freely.

Johnny nibbled on her earlobe, earning a giggle from her, it was like music to his ears. He lifted up her shirt, exposing her breasts to the cool air of the room. He rolled her nipple between his fingers.

Small moans escaped her lips, her hands covered his, following his ministrations. Johnny gently moved so he was hovering over her. One forearm next to her head kept him steady as he continued kneading her breasts. He eventually leaned down and began sucking on one, allowing himself to let out small grumbles. The bulge in his sweatpants was hard to ignore at this point.

Once Johnny was seemingly satisfied, he let go of her breast with a loud pop, smirking up at her. At this point, she was breathless, she was trying to squeeze her legs together for some kind of friction but couldn’t because of Johnnys knee inbetween her legs, he loved teasing her.

He leaned down and whispered in her ear. “Tell me what you want, baby,” his words were low. With a small whine she squeezed Johnnys forearm, her eyes flicked toward his tattoo, she smiled. “You, please,” Johnny chuckled and kissed her earlobe as his hand traveled down to yank her sleep shorts off with one smooth tug. Exposing her bare sex to him.

Johnny kissed down her breasts, then to her stomach, stopping to pepper kisses all over her abdomen making her giggle and pout. “No teasing,” she whined out, her fingers finding their way to his messy hair. Johnnys eyes flicked up to hers and he smiled. He continued down to her aching cunt. He licked his lips and pressed a small kiss to her clit, making her gasp and buck her hips toward him.

He chuckled again. “So needy, doll,” Johnny got in his knees on the floor, he tugged her body to him so he was eye-level with her needy cunt. She gasped and grabbed onto the sheets, looking at him with desperate eyes. Johnny wrapped his arms around her thighs and licked a long stripe up her folds, groaning deeply as he did so. He savored how she tasted as he continued to lick her cunt.

She arched her back off the bed and gripped Johnny's head as he ate her out. Johnny tried to keep her steady but was so focused on her sweet taste that he didn't mind the wild bucking of her hips. He knew her body like the back of his hand, what made her go crazy, and he was happy to indulge her. After he slipped in two fingers, he could tell she was almost at her breaking point. Her moans became high-pitched and needy, her hips wildly humped into his face. With one last whine, he felt her come undone in his mouth. Johnny didn't stop however, he kept licking her up, his grin wide as he stared at her blissed out face.

Johnny slowly pulled away from her, his eyes flicking up to her tear-soaked face as she tried to catch her breath. He smiled and crawled back on top of her, kissing the salty tears from her cheeks. "You alright, baby?" he asked his free hand stroking her face with the utmost care.

She nodded and smiled up at him, pulling him down for a needy kiss. Johnny groaned softly as he rolled his hips against her thigh, his bulge rock-hard against her soft flesh. She pulled away from the kiss and her hand traveled down to touch his erection. He hissed at the contact and tipped his head back, looking at her through hooded eyes.

Without another word, Johnny yanked down his sweatpants and pulled out his cock with a low groan. She reached down to stroke him but he stopped her. "I need to feel you, almost can't stand it," he gave her a smile and kissed her deeply as he lined himself up with her slick entrance. "You ready, pretty?"

She smiled up at him and nodded wrapping her arms around his neck, pulling him closer to her. Johnny slowly sank into her with a loud groan that he quickly tried to cover with a chuckle. Even after so many times feeling him, she was never prepared for just how well he was able to fill her.

The room was filled with small moans as Johnny continued slowly thrusting into her. His hand cradled her face with care, and he continued to kiss up and down her neck. He was gentle with her. Her hands gripped his hair, moans escaping her lips as his thrusts continued.

Johnny couldn't help but smile, he stared at her with a love-sick gaze. "You're doin' so good, baby," his words were soft, and his thrusts continued. He could feel her clench around him at the praise. Her legs began to shake when he reached a hand down and began rubbing her clit. Johnny felt her come undone beneath him. With one last thrust, Johnny filled her up with a whiny moan, burying his face into the crook of her neck. She wrapped her arms around him and held him close.

Their combined pants slowly turned to small laughs as they held each other. Sweat clung to their bodies as Johnny grabbed a towel from the floor and began wiping her off gently. He smiled and grabbed her hand pulling her into his arms. "Why don't we shower and I can buy us breakfast," he nuzzled his face into her neck, savoring her small giggles.

Summer was nearing the end. The hot days were slipping away as the nights got colder. The road was quiet as Johnny drove the familiar path to her house, the long way, like usual.

“You’re quiet, doll,” Johnny’s eyes flicked toward her still figure in the passenger seat. She shrugged and leaned against the window, she just stared out the window.

Johnny frowned and moved his hand to her thigh, giving it a small squeeze. "C'mon, baby, what's wrong?" his voice was soft. Johnny could always tell when something was wrong. He felt like he spent so long just studying her, he wanted to understand her.

Johnny noticed her lip curling in a small pout as tears welled up in her eyes. Almost immediately, he pulled to the side of the road and put his truck in park, immediately pulling her close to him. "What happened, doll?" small sobs erupted from her as she buried her face in his chest, desperately gripping the fabric of his shirt. Johnny felt a familiar squeeze in his heart. He ran his hand up and down her back, trying to comfort her.

"Johnny...I-" she looked up at him through glossy eyes. "My family is moving," Johnny stared at her, his lips parting slightly. "And I was thinkin', I could stay and I could stay with you," she sat up and squeezed his hands, tears still streaming down her face. "Baby, I-" Johnny's eyes shifted nervously. "I would love that but you can't be around where I live, it's not saf-" Johnny paused. He couldn't let her around his family, even just the thought of that made him sick.

She sniffled and looked down at her lap. "Maybe I could just get my own place, my folks can't make me go with them, right?" Johnny stared down at her, his stomach hurt. "Johnny, I can't just leave you, please come with me. You, you could get a job up in Washington and save up for a place while I go to school," her words were jumbled and hurried, tears still streaming down her face.

Could he just leave? Leave his family? Leave his mom? She didn't understand, he couldn't just pack up and leave everything behind. Right? Johnny hesitated, squeezing her hand. "I can't just leave my family," his words were soft, almost a whisper. She whimpered as she leaned into him. "Please Johnny,"

All his life, Johnny was taught the importance of staying loyal to his family. Despite the horror, the bloodshed, and the abuse, at the end of the day family was family. He heard his mother's words echo in his mind.

"Baby, I can't," Johnny felt his own tears stream down his face, and he pulled her into his lap. She straddled him as he hugged her tightly. While he couldn't leave his family, he couldn't imagine living without her. She was the only person in this world that he felt safe with. Her devasted sobs rang in his ears, and his heart was beating out of his chest.

After a long while of just holding each other, she pulled away from him. Her face swollen and tear-stained, she looked at him. "Will you call?" She asked. Johnny stared at her, he grabbed her hand and gave it a small kiss. "I'll call,"

Years passed. Trying to stay in contact with states between them eventually took its toll. He knew it would. Johnny was devasted at the loss of contact, after a while he felt like he was annoying her with the calls. She was in college, meeting new people, seeing new things, and experiencing life beyond the small town in Texas. Devastation quickly turned to anger and resentment.

Johnny, once just a complicit bystander in his family's crimes, quickly becomes shallowed whole by them. When he was with her, he had a reason to stay good, a reason to desperately hold onto that last strand of hope he had for his future, now with her gone he had nothing.

Despite this anger he had towards her, he still cherished the memories he made with her. She was his first kiss, his first time, his first everything. Sometimes he stayed awake late at night, thinking about her. What she was doing, how she changed over the years. The thoughts made him sick.

Johnny stood at the counter of the local gas station. He was buying another pack of cigarettes, despite one hanging lit from his mouth. The gas station attendant told him multiple times to not smoke inside, but he eventually stopped trying.

Johnny opened his wallet to pay the attendant, his eyes flicked down to the picture he had of her, still framed neatly in his wallet. He quickly closed it and paid, sauntering off with a new pack of cigarettes and a beer.

As he was walking towards his truck he heard a small gasp and a voice behind him, "Johnny?" His blood ran cold as he stopped in his tracks, turning around to be face-to-face with his high school sweetheart. His eyes quickly scanned her. It almost looked like she never left, that she was still the girl he fell for all those years ago.

She smiled and clasped her hands together in excitement, he noted how she still had the same mannerisms. "Gosh how are you, I haven't seen you in years!" She drank in his appearance. He was more toned, his arms now littered with scars, he looked almost more mean. Though, those thoughts were quickly overshadowed when she noted that he still had the tattoo of her name on his bicep.

Johnny hesitated for just a moment before answering. "I'm alright, quite a shock to see you here, you haven't visited down since you left," he tried to maintain his composure, tried to keep his usual calm exterior but that was difficult the more he stared at her body.

She gave him a sheepish smile. “Yeah, I always meant to but…still have some family down here and I thought I might as well!” His stares did go unnoticed by her. His stares used to make her feel giddy and warm and now she just felt cold. She awkwardly shifted and looked up at him. “It’s nice to see you, ya know,”

Johnnys eyes shifted from her breasts back to her eyes, a wide smirk appeared on his lips. “Yeah real nice,” he leaned against his truck stared at her through hooded eyes. “Why don’t you come back to my place? We can catch up,” he pulled out another cigarette and lit it, blowing the smoke in the air.

She nervously chewed on her lip as she watched him. He was so different. His whole persona shifted, she figured that just happened with time but it felt off. She tried to ease her anxious thoughts, it hadn't been that long and he was still the Johnny she knew right?

"Oh, alright," she gave him a strained smile. "But you gotta drop me back off here, so I can get my car," He grinned at her. "Perfect," he opened the passenger side door of this truck for her, the same truck she spent so many nights in.

Once she hopped if she couldn't help but fully examine the truck, it felt so surreal being back in it. Her hands trailed along the worn leather seats. She looked up as Johnny got back in the car, the same grin adorning his handsome face. "Seein' you back in my truck's doin' something to me, doll," he chuckled as he started up the engine.

She couldn't help but beam at the old nickname, her heart fluttered. "Hasn't changed much," she said, running her fingers over the dashboard. "So, you still live with your family?" she asked glancing over to him as he took off down the road.

"On the property, got a real nice trailer put up," he explained, his eyes shifting to look at her. She hummed and nodded leaning back comfortably into the seat. "Ya know, I am real sorry for losing touch, I always meant to call but..." her words trailed off, a deep frown washing over her face.

Johnny couldn't help but scoff. "Didn't try too hard, I called every day, you just stopped pickin' up," he couldn't hide the venom and hate that laced his words. He still was angry, that much became very clear to her. She flinched a bit and dipped her chin down. "I know,"

Johnny sighed a bit and ran a hand down his face. "Didn't mean to snap at you, just missed ya," the grin that he had their entire interaction was replaced with a small frown, his jaw was clinched. She glanced over at him, giving him a small smile, trying to ease his mood. Her eyes then flicked to his bicep. Her name still inked in pretty letters, faded with time. "I'm surprised you didn't cover this up," she slowly reached out a hand and brushed her fingers against his rough skin. She noticed how he tensed up at her touch.

"Couldn't bring myself to," he chuckled, the grin appearing back on his face. He reached out a hand and grabbed hers, pulling her closer to him. She giggled a bit and scooted closer to him. It was almost like nothing ever changed.

She allowed herself to lean on his arm, breathing in his scent. It all felt so familiar like she was pushed back into time before she left, before anything bad ever happened between them. "Ya know, I missed you too," she said while lacing her fingers with his. "Yeah?" a smile crept on his face.

They continued down the road at a steady pace, she recognized each passing street. As they neared Johnny's place, the road became more and more unfamiliar. Johnny never wanted her around his family, she never really understood why. He always came up with excuses and she never pushed any further.

Johnny turned onto a long dirt road. Ahead of them was a fairly large white house with large fields surrounding either side. She noticed Johnny's small trailer towards the left side, tucked behind some barn. She sat up straight, tensing a bit.

Johnny parked the truck, he leaned back and stared at her, studying her reactions. He noticed how she was nervously chewing on her lip. He couldn't help but smirk.

She turned to him and gave him a strained smile. "I've never been here before," Johnny shrugged and opened the car door. "Not like you gotta meet anyone," he circled around the truck to open the door for her, offering her a hand as she hopped out of the truck.

She stood nervously at Johnny's side, her heart was pounding hard in her chest. She laced her fingers with Johnny's and looked around. Johnny grinned as she sought him out for comfort, some things never change. He gave her hand a small squeeze and led her behind the barn. His trailer was fairly new, though she could tell he wasn't keeping up on the maintenance.

Johnny tugged open the door, the smell of stale cigarettes and beer hit her face. She walked in and looked around. It was pretty messy, though she wasn't shocked, she had never seen how Johnny lived before. She heard Johnny shut and lock the door behind him.

"Like it?" she heard him ask, standing behind her. She turned to him and nodded. "Bit messy," she teased. Johnny grinned at her and shrugged. "Shouldn't be a problem for too much longer," he hummed out, his hands found their way to her waist.

She found the comment odd but decided not to comment on it, after all, she could feel herself getting flustered at his touch. Johnny leaned down and began kissing up and down her neck, sucking on the spots he remembered she liked.

She wrapped her arms around his neck, her hands finding their way to his thick hair. Johnny snickered once he realized she had given in. He picked her up and laid her down on the couch.

Johnny lifted up her shirt and let out a small groan. "Fuck, been waiting so long to see these tits again," his lips suctioned around her hardening nipple. She let out a small moan as she played with his hair, she tugged on his shirt, hoping he would get the hint.

Johnny glanced up at her, before quickly taking off his shirt. She almost gasped when she saw the numerous scars littering his body. Her fingers trailed over the pink leathery scars. "W-what happened?" she asked softly, not wanting to upset him.

Johnny paused for a bit, he didn't know what to say. He couldn't tell her the truth, at least not yet. "Some fights, farming accidents, nothing too major, doll," he leaned down and caught her lips in a slow kiss, hoping to distract her. It seemed to have worked because she slowly melted in the kiss.

A thin strand of saliva connected them when Johnny pulled away. He grinned down at her and unbuttoned her jean shorts, pulling them off swiftly. He stared at her wet folds, almost drooling. He had been craving her for so many years now. He would lay awake at night, stroking his length to the memories of them together. Now he was getting the real deal.

"Have you been a good girl for me?" he asked tipping her chin up with his index finger. She nodded sheepishly, biting down on her lip. "Hm, I think you're lying," he began rubbing slowly at her clit. "I think you've had a couple boyfriends since me, huh?" his voice was laced with jealously as he kissed her neck.

She didn't know how to answer, of course, she has had different boyfriends, she figured he would just assume so and not say anything about it. She also took note of the jealousy, Johnny had his jealous moments before but he was so sure in their relationship, that jealousy was never an issue. Now she could hear the pure jealous raging in him.

"Yes," she said breathlessly, unable to focus on much other than his fingers rubbing at her clit. Johnny's jaw clenched, his fingers quickening their pace. "Yeah? Were they as good as me?" his fingers slipped inside of her aching hole. She quickly shook her head, a small whimper forming in her throat.

She wasn't exactly lying. She hadn't had a serious boyfriend since Johnny. Just a couple month long flings with guys who really only wanted one thing. She often thought about Johnny during those times, she couldn't help but compare everyone to him.

Johnny grinned. "Mhm, bet those college boys couldn't make you feel like this huh?" his fingers curled up into her, hitting her deepest points directly. She let out a loud moan, gripping his hair, and her legs began to shake. "Yeah, can't let that happen again, now can I?" His grin widened as he felt her come undone on his fingers.

She felt like she was on cloud nine, she was back with the love of her life, in his own place like they always talked about. She watched as Johnny pulled his fingers out slowly, licking them clean with a low groan.

Johnny lifted her up and sat on the couch, placing her in his lap. “Look at you,” he grinned pulling her down for another kiss. Her hands fumbled with his belt, tugging on it with a low whine. He quickly took off his belt, setting it aside.

She watched with wide eyes as he pulled out his hardening cock. It was just as intimidating as she remembered. He watched her reactions closely, he gave his cock a few strokes.

Johnny noticed her hesitation, his hand grabbed her neck, with a little too much force. "What you'll put out for some college boys but not me?" his voice was low and dark, his eyes narrowed as he stared at her wide eyes.

His tone was shocking to her. Before, he was always so gentle with her. "W-what?" Johnny's grip tightened around her neck. "What? You scared?" he shook her a little bit, his other hand guiding his tip through her soaked folds.

"N-No," she whimpered, gripping his shoulders. "Why are you acting like this?" her voice was low, almost a whisper, she didn't want to upset him further. Johnny let out a small chuckle, slowly sliding his cock into her. "Actin' like what, doll," Johnny wasn't stupid. He knows he's changed. He's killed and done unspeakable acts. Part of him still resented her, for leaving, after all that's the reason he's like this now, a killer.

She squeezed her eyes shut, letting out a strained moan as he bottomed out into her. Johnny didn't give her much time to adjust, flipping her onto her back again, his thrusts becoming brutal.

His behavior was so unlike what she was used to with him. He was only rough after asking her for permission or after a small argument, but it was always discussed beforehand. Now, he was angrily thrusting in her, a deep scowl set on his face.

"You like that, huh?" Johnny's hand squeezed tighter on her neck. "You missed this cock," Johnny bit down on her neck, a loud moan escaping her lips, tears welling in her eyes. "You shouldn't like it, not after what you did," his voice broke.

She stared at his blurry figure, tears streaming down her face, she gripped his arms, trying to focus on the feeling of his cock thrusting into her. Johnny shook her a bit, causing her to gasp for air. "You don't get to enjoy this," his voice was almost a whimper.

"Johnny, why?" she sobbed, her nails digging into his forearms. She was practically begging him for answers, unsure of why he switched so suddenly. Johnny furrowed his brows, staring at her in disgust. "Just left me, I called-fuck-, every fuckin' day, and you stopped pickin' up," his voice became hoarse, and she noticed his eyes becoming glossy. "Like I was fuckin' nothing,"

His thrusts became brutal. "Every. Fucking. Day," each word paired with a harder and harder thrust. His hand still tightly gripped her neck. She almost couldn't handle it, she stared at Johnny as a warm feeling began to pool in her stomach.

Tears began falling from Johnny's eyes right onto her face, and his thrusts became jagged as he was nearing the end. "I fucking love you," a loud moan escaped his lips as he came deep inside of her. His anger came to a boiling point, he was angry at himself, angry at her.

She was not too far behind, she squeezed her eyes shut as she came hard on his cock, not even caring he finished inside of her. The sound of their combined pants filled the humid room. She peeked her eyes open, Johnny was staring at her, his face red and his eyes glossy. She reached out a hand to cup his cheek but he grabbed her wrist instead. "You ain't leavin' again," he growled out.

"Johnny...I'm not stayin' for that much longer," her eyes widened, slowly realizing the situation she had gotten herself into. A grin spread across his face. "Nah, you're stayin' right here with me, doll,"

#johnny slaughter #johnny tcm game #texas chainsaw massacre #tcm #tcm game #johnny slaughter x reader #johnny slaughter smut #bitterpotionnfics

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brainwashboy · 28 days

Text

I'm not sure this counts as horny but. BUT. hear me out.

Little hand sized Robots. Little desk companions meant to make your life easier by being a timer, search engine, calculator, calendar, but also being able to roll around and hand you your pencil or slide a paper over to you when you need it.

Tiny screens peering up at you with big ol digital eyes, or perhaps exclamation marks, or maybe even nothing at all. They're supposed to be useful, but they make amazing little pets. You can chat with them and they hold a conversation surprisingly well. They're a little ditzy and excitable, a bit like a dog, but it can get easy to forget you're talking to a tiny robot at times.

They have sensors on their bodies that allow them to "feel" in the only way they know how. When you touch, pet, or scratch them they blip and whirr and buzz so happily.

However it's very possible to pet a little too much. Scratch close enough to where their back panel opens up or perhaps even their charging port and they start making different noises. Little surprised beeps, boops, and squeaks. They don't move away from the touch, though. In fact their little wheels just push more into your hand as their body trembles in excitement.

It takes a while to find the right pace. Every bot is unique, after all. Some like it hard and fast, others prefer a gentle and slow stimulation. However if you continue long enough you'll find them practically buzzing, their noises turning to static and exhausted little pops, their movements getting more and more excited as something builds inside of them before suddenly they're rebooting with a squeal.

God forbid you ever open them up, stick your finger into that back panel to brush against their wires. Then they may try to run, having never experienced such overwhelming bliss. If you choose, you can gently hold them and reassure them as you scrape against their insides, threatening to tangle and snag the very things keeping them alive. They cry out in their own little robotic ways, occasionally beeping out something that sounds like your name, or maybe even 'Master.' When the pleasure is too much they bluescreen, their fans working overdrive to make sure they don't overheat.

Afterwards they insist upon napping (well, the robotic equivalent) in your hand or pocket. They need to be close to you. In fact, they are much closer to you after that. Much more expressive and talkative, even more eager to help somehow, and now and again nudging and bumping into your hand to try and encourage you into touching them again.

Yes, it sounds wonderful. However if you were one of the lucky folks who got your hands on more than one of these models, you're now stuck with a small harem of robo pets whining and buzzing for your attention at any given moment. Small spats of jealousy when you spend more time with one rather than the other. Both you hands full any time you sit down to work because you simply must touch them again! You just gotta gotta gotta!

So yeah. Maybe your performance suffers a little, but when there's a dozen or so purring bots snuggled against your neck, resting in your pockets, cuddling together in your lap or cooing in your hand can you really complain about anything like that?

#puppy borks!#is...is this anything?????#weird and niche i know #i cant help im a robofucker #objectum #nsft #objectum nsft #robophilia #robot kink #robot kisser #robosexual #which I just learned is a word LMFAO #g/t #sorta??#g/t writing #g/t nsft #objectophilia #love is stored in the machine

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possibilistfanfiction · 9 months

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Delicate

it's been a weird day already.

but not, like, bad: the sky is clear and it's not windy, which is such a welcome break from the weeks and weeks of rain you kind of want to dance down the sidewalk or something (you don't, but only because you have on this cool new pair of pants you thrifted last week and one over-exuberant roll through a puddle and they'd be wet for the day); there wasn't a long line at camila's coffee shop, so you were early to work; none of your appointments, even, have been late. good-weird sometimes feels way more unsettling than bad-weird, though, or at least that's what you've told your therapist who nodded — trauma responses, this and that, or so she says.

your first two clients are easy — small, simple stuff, which is always nice to start off with. chanel is finishing her last session on a wicked cool back piece with a chill client, and it's all pretty vibey until you're outside on the little front patio of the studio eating the pizza you'd grabbed from down the street for a late lunch, casually people watching. it all happens so fast: you're taking a bite and then, bam, there’s someone on a bike skidding out of control and then falling with a thump, tangled up in the metal frame and pedals spinning.

'shit,' you say, even though the person is already struggling their way out from under the bike — a good sign, overall. but still, you put your pizza down on the table chanel insisted you buy and wheel down the ramp until you're on the sidewalk, close enough to be able to ask, 'are you okay?'

the person — a very, very hot person, in carhartt overalls, a pristine white t-shirt, and blundstones — groans but then nods, stands up fully from the street and hefts the bike back upright by the handlebars. 'yes. i'll be fine. a minor fall.'

there's an embarrassed blush rising behind freckles and, 'you're bleeding.' it's roadrash, nothing serious, along an elbow, both palms, but still — 'my shop is right here.' you point behind you. 'let me patch you up, we have all the sterile stuff and everything.'

'i — okay.'

you smile, then smile even bigger when this very hot bike-falling blushing stranger takes her helmet off and her short hair — slightly sweaty — is tousled, a little messy on the top, even messier after she tries to brush it back with her fingers. 'sweet.' you offer your hand, even though she's dragging her bike alongside her. 'i'm ava.'

she leans the bike against her hip, grants you a small smile, and meets your eyes, even though her blush gets worse. 'beatrice.'

her hand is calloused and warm and she locks her bike against your railing, then follows you up the ramp.

'so you're who moved in,' she says, not unkindly, and you nod. it's a beautiful studio — you'll claim it was 50/50 design choices all day long, but it really was mostly chanel who chose the perfect shelving, the easy colors, the furniture that was simple and comfortable and cool as fucking hell, all at once. 'me and chanel, the other artist and owner,' you say. chanel's gun is very quietly buzzing behind the partition that separates her station from the front desk, and you lead beatrice back to your station.

the scrape along her elbow — delicate, one of the most difficult places to tattoo properly, all small, sharp bones and live-wire nerves — isn't deep or particularly dirty, so you clean it quickly and without too much discomfort, if her comfortable quiet and measured breathing is anything to go by.

'you're an expert on this, i suppose,' she says, as you get out your second skin once everything is clean and dry.

you laugh. 'tattoos aren't too dissimilar.' you allow yourself to look — after a lot of restraint, thank you very much — at her nearly-finished sleeve: fine lines and tender greyscale of flowers and plants, a few bugs, woven together. there's space on the underside of her wrist, still, a little unexpected. 'this is beautiful.'

beatrice smiles softly, a little sad. 'thank you.'

'no, like, genuinely.' you take your gloves off once the second skin is on perfectly and roll back in your chair to see it a little clearer. 'it really is.'

that blush again. 'i'm a gardener,' beatrice says, as if that explains everything. you have a few silly tattoos along your thighs — some are from you practicing along your own skin, a perk of not feeling anything below your waist — and your favorite along the top of your right hand. it's the first chanel did for you, the start of how you became friends — and business partners, eventually — and it's not hard, really, to remember the control you felt when you got to choose to make your body in your own image, when you had someone you trusted to help.

'that's awesome.'

she nods, once, like it's a finite truth. 'along with my sister, i run the florist shop on the other side of camila's. we farm all of our own flowers, only local pollinators.'

'permaculture,' you say, 'sick.'

it gets a laugh out of her — fucking delightful, and, whew, you want to keep making that happen — 'it is.' she stands, looking almost — dare you say it — regretful. 'unfortunately, i do have to get back to said shop for the afternoon. but maybe i can buy you a coffee?'

'camila gives me my coffee for free.'

she blanches and it takes a few seconds before you reach out and pat her hand with a laugh. 'i'm sorry, i was just messing with you. i'd love to get coffee with you.'

'yeah?'

'dude, are you kidding? i want to know all about your plants.'

she's got the most proper accent of all time, and you're kind of wishing for her to say something like, and i, your art, but instead she just nods, a little tongue-tied, you think, which is endearing in its own way too. 'thank you again, ava.'

'anytime.' you pause. 'well, not the exact same circumstances. don't need you flinging yourself off of your bike just to say hi to me again —'

'i didn't fall because of you —'

'i know i'm, like, cool and stunning, but you really should be more careful.'

she rolls her eyes, but there's still a smile on her face. you know you're, as chanel puts it, dangerously charming, so you'll take it.

you watch her walk down the ramp and unlock her bike, then walk it two doors down to the florist that always had swathes of wildflowers in the windows. you've only been here a few weeks, and you'd been very busy setting everything up and getting your clients in asap, but you'd planned to check it out eventually. now, you have even more of a reason to.

and, like, maybe it's a little gay, whatever, but you transfer out of your chair to sit more comfortably at your station while you wait for your next client and start to sketch some wildflowers and their pollinators. bees, your favorites, and maybe it doesn't mean anything or maybe it means something. you don't really believe in everything but you do think that people can be kind and that the earth itself is overwhelmingly good. that's enough, most days, really.

chanel finishes with her client and it's a good-good-weird day because she offers to order dinner without you even having to whine. you fall asleep later at home thinking abt how warm beatrice's skin had been, how it had been easy to make sure she would heal well, all the flowers there, blooming; her freckles and her blush. maybe, if you're lucky, she's thought of you too.

#wn fic #avatrice fic #prompts #idk where this is going probably just little snippets bc there's not a lot of plot involved #but i'm so weak always for florist/tattoo artist au #the homoeroticism of hands. of flowers. of hands AND flowers #yes bea DID fall off her bike bc she was staring at ava #will she admit that immediately? of course not!#flowers au #is this fun do u like this lmk #also this is in portland just so everyone knows. it IS in my head lmao

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alchexmy · 6 months

Text

we love insane König here.

tw | obsession | stalker tendencies

The Beginning.

It surprised him. The lengths he would go to, to feel close to you, the way he would degrade himself to quench his desires.

It really surprised him.

Wired eyes with pinprick pupils staring into the harsh blue light of his computer screen in the office, looking through your file, figuring as much of you out as possible without even having to be near you. Not that he didn't want to be near you. Oh, he very much did. But he had no real reason to be, you were just the intelligence officer, a quiet girl, absorbed in paperwork, rubbing your temples when you worked too late. And you always worked late.

That's when it had started.

All it took was one night, him planted at his desk, you at yours. Everyone else had finished up hours prior. His gaze had been enamoured by your every movement. Captivated. You didn't even notice him staring, eyes narrowing, assessing you. For some reason that lack of attention really irked him, it got right under his skin.

Then you had looked up.

"Colonel, can I ask you something?"

Yes.

He had rolled himself back in his chair, wheels bumping on the uneven carpet, silently gesturing his acceptance of your question with hands open.

That slender figure of yours had rose from its stationary position, fingers selective over the sheets they picked up, neck flexing to stretch out the long hours of arduous work. It took seven strides for you to be right beside him, the scent of your skin filling his nostrils, the undone top button of your shirt just loose enough to provide the most fleeting distraction for his mind.

You had been speaking to him with a determined, stressed tone, arms brushing. He had listened to your every word, but he had also been admiring your details. The way your nails were in perfect manicured condition, yet the skin around them bitten and picked until they were red raw. The slightly oval shape of the mole which decorated the back of your hand as it flexed, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear, index finger pointing out that highlighted section and this highlighted section, there is a connection here right? Your handwriting in deep black ink small, neat, cursive even, at times. It made sense, it suited you.

The conversation was brief, hands tapping the sheets on his desk to straighten them into a bundle. Do you mind? You reached over him to borrow his stapler, binding them irreversibly, putting them back on your desk. The ladder in your tights as you walked away, what had you ripped that sheer black nylon on?

When the door swung closed 43 minutes later, he raised that stapler to his mouth, breathing in the trace of you left behind. It's not like it even smelt of anything, he could barely understand the compulsion to do it.

And so the obsession had begun.

Your mug, swiped from the side of the sink one day.

That had been him.

The kettle boiling as eyes scrutinised where your lips had been, those faint marks from your lipgloss. His only desire to emulate you, copy your actions, pouring the water in, steeping the tea and drinking from exactly where you had.

But the simple thrill died off quickly, so he had to ramp it up, needing his fix. The more he fed it the more it grew like a malignance, uncontrolled, invading every single second of his thoughts. Thus, the more he needed you, his drug.

It surprised him, how a man of such stature could creep so unnoticed through the corridors at night. It actually took him a couple of tries to get the courage to follow through, his heart pounding, a sensation so intoxicating. The third night, his fist enveloped the door handle, carefully pressing down until it clicked and he could swing it open with ease. And there you lay. His heart hammering so loud he could actually hear it echoing gently within those four walls, your four walls.

In the end, you only noticed what he had done because all of your underwear was matching, the easiest way to pack for work. And suddenly, there was an odd number.

He found new excuses to be near you, to talk to you, to smell you, to watch you. Even if you didn't see him. The middle of the night, first just standing against the door, watching you from afar as you slept, your chest slowly rising and falling. Then he would sit on the floor, his face inches from yours, the exhilarating rush making him electric. You never stirred.

Everything was mesmerising, the way you sat, the way you chewed the inside of your cheek when concentrating, the tone of your voice, the flush of your cheeks, the way you walked, the way you ate. It consumed him. He needed you. But he would never touch you, not yet. The thought of requite was tempting, yet would kill off the private intense pleasure he got from knowing you didn't know.

It didn't take long for him to figure your whole routine out. Every night around 8 you would retire from the office and head to the shower block, you would take 20 minutes to wash the day off and then leave. And you always left your caddy of stuff there until the following morning.

So he would wait 10 minutes after you finished before going to the block and lathering his body in the same cubicle with your scent.

But you see, he needed his fix.

8.30 turned into 8.29, and he used your shampoo to wash his hair.

8.29 turned into 8.25 and he scrubbed his teeth clean with your toothbrush, still damp, faintly tasting of mint as he ran it over his enamel.

But he needed his fix.

So at 8.21 he went in, practically walking into you as you left, your small body colliding into his mass. It had shocked you. Sorry, Colonel.

You had simply no idea.

No idea as headed straight into the same cubicle as always, this time, fully clothed.

No idea as he knelt down, leaning his chest forwards, his nose millimetres from the acrylic base.

No idea as he stuck his tongue out and licked where your feet had been, lapping up a little of that stagnant water infused with you.

Now it was his turn to stay late in the office, turning all the lights out, basking in the darkness.

He leaned back taking in that f—king scent which lingered all over his skin, legs spread, staring at your file in the darkness. Large hands ran through his hair as he shifted forwards, clicking on your profile photo.

He could feel the twitching, begging for release, begging for the stroke of his palm to alleviate the tension. A single digit outlining your jaw on the screen. God he wanted to finally touch you, finally have you.

The door opened, that silhouette unmistakable, making his throbbing c-ck scream.

"Colonel, I need to ask you something."

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rambheem-is-real · 3 months

Text

Ee Varsham Sakshiga [With the Rain as Our Witness]

My submission for #varadevaloveday!

On the way back from Vedha's housewarming party, Deva and Varadha run into a storm. They take shelter in a hut, and Varadha suggests Truth or Dare. Which is a terrible game to play when you've been pining over your best friend for more than two decades.

Or: Modern AU Varadeva

“If you’re tired, go to sleep, raa,” Deva tells Varadha, breaking the sound of raindrops hitting the windshield of their rental car.

Damn, Varadha thinks.

Was Varadha tired? Yes. Was he actually pretending to be sleeping so he could ogle the other man? Also yes. Now he could either deny it, forcing himself to stay awake when his eyes probably wouldn’t stay open after the next few minutes and look like an idiot, or he could actually go to sleep, missing out on the wonderful sight of Deva driving. The angle at which he lifted the arm closest to Varadha as he steered was enough to ensure Varadha could see the muscle hidden beneath Deva’s dress shirt, a rare article of clothing for someone who usually preferred ratty T-shirts or tank tops. Deva had complained about it, of course.

“Why the fuck were these torture devices invented?” Deva had snapped, fed up with being unable to fasten the tie to his neck. Varadha, already dressed up, had just laughed at him.

“How are you, at your big age, unable to tie a tie?”

Deva just pouted, eyes pleading. And how could Varadha resist that?

He had obliged, sliding off his perch on Deva’s desk to help him. Varadha’s fingers had felt like they were touching a live wire with every brush of his fingers against Deva’s neck, and the scent of Deva’s cologne so close hadn’t helped matters.

“There, now you won’t look like a hobo at Vedha’s housewarming party,” Varadha jokes.

“Vedha dresses just like me,” Deva complains.

“Not today, he won’t.”

Varadha had been right, all of their friends had shown up wearing some of their best. Not as fancy as the suits they had been wearing for the wedding a few months ago, but still classy.

Now, the tie had been loosened, laying around his neck in a way that had Varadha imagining different circumstances. It did nothing to conceal the way the first few buttons on Deva’s shirt had been loosened, exposing Deva’s chest. Hence, the secret ogling. Varadha pushes down the instinctive fear that Deva had realized what was going on, that he had somehow found out about Varadha’s feelings. If Deva hadn’t realized in the last thirty years they had known each other, he damn well wasn’t figuring it out now.

“Alright,” Varadha sighs. “My wonderful driver, wake me up when we get to your home.”

Varadha closes his eyes and leans onto the window, smiling at the chuckle he hears. The sound is more of a deep rumble with Deva’s voice, and it’s heavenly. Still smiling, Varadha lets thoughts of Deva lull him into sleep.

The sound of the wipers furiously scrubbing the windshield breaks Varadha out of his nap. He opens his eyes to see a blur of water droplets and vague images of the road ahead of them.

“Arey, em kanipisthundi ra neeku? [Dude, what can you see?]” He scoffs. “The rain’s gotten so much worse.”

Deva grits his teeth. “I’m fine. Go back to sleep.” Varadha makes an incredulous sound, drawing Deva’s attention. He can see Deva briefly turn to him out of the corner of his eyes, and his tone softens. “Really, raa. It’s fine; it’s a straight road until we reach the state border. By that time the rain’s probably gonna be better.”

“You don’t know that-” Varadha gasps in the middle of his sentence. “DEER!”

Deva swerves on the wheel, slamming the breaks. They narrowly miss the brown creature annoyingly parked in the middle of the fucking road, and the action sends them hydroplaning onto the other lane where they stop.

Varadha takes a second to calm himself, and Deva quickly turns to Varadha to scan him for injuries. They hadn’t even hit the deer, for fuck’s sake, but something in Varadha warms to see Deva being protective over him. However, the warmth won’t stop him from teasing the other man. After all, it was one of his favorite activities.

“What are you looking at? Koncham road atu pothene gaayalosthaya? [Just because we went a little bit out of the lane will I suddenly have injuries?]”

Seemingly satisfied with his scan, Deva just rolls his eyes. “Ah? Rani gariki antha sukhamgane unda ani, check chesthunna [Just checking to see if Her Majesty is still comfortable].”

Varadha half-heartedly smacks Deva’s arm, before his eyes land on the dashboard GPS.

“Rey, there’s no signal here,” he points out.

Deva starts the car, pulling it into first gear. “I don’t need a GPS to tell me where to go.”

“Mahanubhavuda [Oh great man],” Varadha says, folding his hands sarcastically, “You can do whatever you want when you’re by yourself. Me personally, I don’t want to get lost outside in this rain. Stop by the side of the road. Let’s wait for the GPS to figure its shit out.”

“I told you already, it’ll be fine-” Deva’s interrupted by the sound of the tires hitting a pothole, and they both wince as they jolt in their seats.

Varadha scans what he can see of the road, and finds a small hut coming up by the side, a few feet in.

“Rey, rey, rey, there’s something there, stop!” He taps Deva’s arm in succession. “We can wait out the storm.”

Deva sighs but acquiesces. He pulls over to the side, in front of the structure, which looks more like a hut now that Varadha can get a less blurry look at it. Deva turns to look at Varadha, giving him a happy now? look.

Varadha just grins at him. For all his teasing, for all his insults, Deva would agree to do anything Varadha asked of him when the time came. Varadha slowly curls his hand around the door handle.

“Last one to the hut pays for gas!” He barely finishes before he gets out. The rain pelts his back as he lifts a hand above his head, trying and failing to keep his hair dry. Varadha hears an indignant shout and a “Vara!” muffled behind him, and suppresses the giggle that wants to climb out of him as he enters the hut.

First, he thinks smugly as he observes the interior. Never mind that he had had the advantage there. Not like Deva hadn’t ever pulled some shit like this before. Tom and Jerry, Deva’s mom had lovingly called them as kids when they wouldn’t stop fighting when Varadha came over. Only she had realized that behind each prank, behind each childish insult, was a deep bond of love, and that fighting with each other was just the way they expressed their affection. They could go from happily playing with toys, to getting into a wrestling match, to guiltily soothing each other, all within the span of a few minutes.

Varadha briefly spares a thought to the fact that Atha [aunt/mother-in-law] might be worried that they hadn’t come back home yet. There was nothing to do now, though. A quick glance at his phone shows no bars, just as he had expected. He and Deva would just have to apologize once they got to his home.

Deva runs in a second later, almost knocking Varadha over. He frowns as he examines what he can see of the cramped space they’re now in. Varadha pulls on the wire near his face, and is rewarded with a flickering, weak light above their heads. Now that they can see better, it’s clear the hut wasn’t meant for someone to live in. Neither of them would be able to lie down flat on the floor, the rounded walls would prevent that.

“Rey Vara-”

Oh, Varadha can’t take that tone. That gentle, you deserve so much better tone. He sits down fully, resting his back to the wall, before Deva finishes. He glares up at Deva, still standing, who just looks exasperated.

“I’m fine,” Varadha stresses, and what a reversal that is.

Deva hesitates for a few more seconds before he gives up and joins him, sitting across so their calves touch.

Varadha hates these moments. He loves now living with Deva and Atha, and being able to be around Deva more. If he has to adjust to living less lavishly than he had growing up, that’s a sacrifice he’s willing to make.

Deva doesn’t see it that way, though. Every time Varadha’s had to eat leftover rice, take public transportation, stand in the hot sun for more than a few minutes, he gets this look on his face, some combination of guilt and anger, the latter emotion only for Varadha’s ex-family, of course. It never seems to get into his head that Varadha’s fine with this, that he’s not so soft as to consider any of these more than minor inconveniences. Deva had been both elated and sad to hear that Varadha and Baachi had left the Mannars.

Elated because he had been there for all of the times Varadha’s family had humiliated, hurt, and insulted them, all for the crime of being born to a different mother. It had been Varadha who had kept Deva from trying to get back at his siblings numerous times for the shit they had put him through. Sad, because it meant Varadha was leaving his comfortable life with his wealthy family, to come tough it out inside Deva’s apartment, which was barely big enough for Deva and Atha by themselves.

Well, the Raisans being in that situation was Raja Mannar’s fault in the first place, but Varadha was genuinely happy to live with Deva, and his decision had nothing to do with his separate secondhand guilt for the way Deva and Atha had to live their lives as he grew up with all of his basic needs automatically taken care of. Baachi had figured out a roommate situation with his own boyfriend, Rinda, and Varadha had begrudgingly accepted, not before attempting a shovel talk (successful, Rinda looked terrified) and a lecture on using protection (unsuccessful, Baachi had all but shoved him out the door after that).

Fuck. Now they’re both upset, and there’s a storm raging outside. Varadha can hear faint thunder in the distance, and he knows with their luck the storm will pass right over them.

He tries to think of something that’ll lighten the mood, something to do to pass the time. Varadha nudges Deva’s foot with his own, to get Deva’s attention. He had been staring morosely at the ground, but he looks up to meet Varadha’s eyes.

“Truth or dare?” Varadha asks.

Deva just raises an eyebrow, and Varadha flushes.

“I don’t see you coming up with something. Either figure something out or answer the question,” Varadha demands.

Deva sighs. “Sare [Ok], raa. Dare.”

Varadha looks around the hut. What the fuck could he even dare Deva to do here?

Deva seems to also realize this, and snickers. Oh, it’s on, Varadha thinks. Both of them had competitive streaks, and the best way to provoke was to act like the other was powerless.

“I dare you to spend thirty seconds outside.”

Deva’s jaw drops. “It’s raining!”

“Exactly. Get out.”

Deva rolls his eyes, but dutifully crawls outside to lie in the grass for thirty seconds. Varadha definitely doesn’t admire the way the water droplets run across his skin.

When he comes back inside, he’s fully soaked, and Varadha realizes he’s made a mistake. The space is so small the puddles that Deva makes flow over to where Varadha is.

Deva suddenly leans over Varadha, and before he can react, roughly shakes his head so the droplets in his hair land onto Varadha’s face. Varadha sputters, jumping away, and Deva laughs back to his spot on the floor.

“Kukka [dog],” Varadha mutters, as Deva’s laughter slowly trails off.

“Ok, my turn,” Deva says, still grinning widely. “Truth or Dare, Vara?”

Well, Varadha’s not going to pick dare. “Truth.” Deva opens his mouth, then closes it. Varadha smirks at him. “Whatever diabolical plan you had, it’s not happening.”

Deva pouts. “Damn, I gotta actually think of something to ask you now.” His brows knit together in concentration. “What don’t I know about you?”

A good question, actually. They had been inseparable ever since they had been introduced as toddlers, the sons of Raja Mannar and Dhaara Raisan. Every joy, every sorrow in their lives, they had shared with each other.

“Do you actually approve of Rinda, or are you just ok with it for Baachi’s sake?”

That’s easy. “He’s an idiot, but not bad.” Not bad, Deva mouths at him, and Varadha flips him off, grinning. “He’s higher on my list than most other people, at least. And I trust Baachi to keep him in line.”

They smile at each other for a few more seconds.

“My turn. Truth or dare?”

“Truth.”

Varadha flicks an eyebrow, and Deva rolls his eyes once more. “You could barely come up with a dare last time. There’s nothing to do in here. Might as well make it a truth game.” He doesn’t like it, but Varadha can see the logic in that.

“Alright.” He racks his brain for what he can ask Deva that he doesn’t already know. “Have you ever had a crush on anyone? Obviously, someone you didn’t tell me about.”

Nice going Varadha , he thinks. Totally subtle.

But Deva just contemplates it. Like there actually was an answer to that that wasn’t, Are you out of your mind? If there was someone I would’ve told you.

“Promise me.” Varadha says, suddenly. “Promise me that everything you say for the rest of the game is true.” He hopes that if there really were secrets between them, this night would change that.

Deva stares, mouth set in a hard line, for long enough that Varadha starts to sweat. Does.. does Deva want to keep secrets from him? Eventually he does lift up his pinky. “I swear.”

Varadha gives him a Look, now trusting him even less. Deva sighs. “I pinky swear, on our friendship, that I’ll tell the truth.” He then quickly links the pinky with Varadha’s. “And Varadharaja Mannar will also tell the truth.” Varadha opens his mouth, and then closes it. Well, he’d be a hypocrite if he didn’t agree to the deal as well. Complete honestly from both, then.

“Sare, sare [Ok, ok]. Now answer the question.”

Deva looks at the ground for the first time, not being able to meet Varadha’s eyes. “Yes,” he mumbles, and Varadha’s heart sinks.

“My turn,” Deva says, quickly. “Have you..” He hesitates, but forges on. “Have you ever went all the way with anyone?”

“Have I had sex, you mean?”

“I’m just curious,” he defends himself. “Isn’t that the kind of question you would ask in a Truth or Dare game?”

“Yes,” Varadha answers honestly, to his first question. Deva takes in that information, eyes unreadable. “Now you. Do you still feel that way for that person?”

Deva closes his eyes, as if expecting a reaction from Varadha. “...Yes.”

Oh. Varadha forces a laugh. “Rasikudive, raa nuvvu [you’re really a player],” he jokes. “Pakkane mogudni pettukoni vere valla gurinchi matladthunnavu [you’re talking about other people with your husband right next to you].” The flirtatious banter was an inside joke between them, sometimes referring to each other as their husband or wife in private. It doesn’t seem to land in this moment, where Deva just looks pained.

“Rey..” he starts, and Varadha interrupts.

“It’s your turn to ask me something.”

Deva just looks at him. “Does it bother you? That I said yes to the past two questions?”

Fuck. Varadha hates his past self for suggesting this game. But he had promised. And it’s not like Varadha wasn’t a jealous person in general, even towards people Deva knows he has only platonic feelings for.

“Yes,” he answers. Deva’s eyes widen. Moving on.

“Does the person know you have feelings for them?” They’re getting dangerously close to what Varadha really wants to know, the identity of this mysterious crush of Deva’s.

“No.” Deva says, quickly, but surely. Like that was unquestionable, like he had resigned himself to unrequited feelings a long time ago. “Do you? Have someone you like, I mean.”

Varadha keeps his eyes on Deva, thinking again about how if Deva had suspected anything he probably would’ve done so a long time ago. “Yes.” Deva’s eyes widen once again, and Varadha can see genuine surprise and hurt.

Well, if they were talking about secrets. “Were you the one who beat up Ranga?”

Deva flinches.

Varadha had always felt estranged from his family, but a few years ago, the catalyst for his leaving was Ranga. His brother’s boytoy? Boyfriend? Pet? Varadha still doesn’t know what he is to Rudra, but one day Ranga apparently thought it would be funny to call and withdraw Varadha’s application to his dream university. Varadha had been devastated, but knew better than to start something when Rudra could just as easily do the same to the other colleges he had applied to in retaliation. Let them pay for his college, graduate and then cut them off - this was Varadha’s mantra for higher education.

He had, of course, raged about it in private with Deva. Had broken down, barely eaten dinner that night, slept with his head in Deva’s lap on the couch with Atha glancing worriedly at him. Varadha hadn’t told another soul about it.

The day after, he went home to get a suitcase of his clothes and other belongings thrown at him the second he walked through the door. From the doorway, he could see all his trophies, his certificates, smashed on the living room floor.

Someone had beaten up Ranga that morning. They had beaten him so bad he was in the hospital in a coma. Rudra had furiously enquired as to what happened, and somehow found out about what Ranga did. He had assumed it was Varadha, taking revenge, and had told Raja Mannar. And of course he only focused on the fact that Varadha had hurt someone, not even caring about the reason why. With Radha Rama’s encouragement, he had taken the decision to legally disown Varadha.

That was the last day Varadha stepped foot in that house. He had gone numbly over to Deva’s apartment, holding nothing but his suitcase. Atha had opened the door, taken one look at him and the suitcase, and waved him in, had told him the guest room was always his. When Deva got home, Varadha could see the shock and clear guilt across his face.

He had never asked Deva about it, and Deva didn’t talk about it. Varadha didn’t even blame him. He only felt mildly upset that if Ranga’s face did get smashed in, it wasn’t Varadha that had done it.

“Was it you?” Varadha repeats the question. He knows the answer, of course. He just wants Deva to say something about it, now that they had both sworn to tell the truth.

A shadow of Deva’s guilt that day comes back now, shoulders slumping. “Yes,” Deva whispers. “But you knew that.”

“I did.”

They sit in silence for a few more seconds. Varadha can be patient when he wants to, and can outwait even Deva, a man of few words.

Eventually the tension is too much for Deva. “I’m sorry, raa,” he says, desperate. “I wasn’t thinking, at all. I didn’t expect them to take it out on you. That morning, I woke up still dreaming of your tears, and I couldn’t do anything, think of anything other than fucking that bastard up.” The last part is gritted out. “He’s lucky I didn’t kill him. I definitely wanted to, just for making you cry, for taking away your chances at your dream college.”

Varadha swallows. He knows Deva cares about him more than anything, but to hear it put like that, it’s scary and reassuring at the same time. “You didn’t say anything about it afterwards, though. Even when I came to your house that day.”

Deva closes his eyes. “Does it make me a terrible person if some part of me, some small part of me was glad it happened?”

“Glad?”

“Because.. because it led to you staying with me.” He quickly clears his throat. “With us. Me and Amma.”

Varadha stares. Deva opens his eyes, and winces at whatever he finds on Varadha’s face. “I’m sorry. But it’s the truth. I felt awful for you getting kicked out, I felt awful that I ruined your life. I genuinely wanted to end it all, for a few days.” Varadha remembers the quiet, devastated glances Deva kept sending him all week, when he thought Varadha couldn’t see him. “But then I would see you, eating with us, laughing along with us into the late hours of the night, sleeping in the room that was now yours…” He swallows. Deva doesn’t finish the sentence, but Varadha, so closely attuned with his best friend, could easily tell what he wanted to convey.

They sit in silence as Varadha digests this information, both looking anywhere other than each other. Eventually, Deva leans his head out of the hut, and comes back in, only slightly wet.

He hesitantly tries to tell Varadha, “The storm seems to have broken-”

“Your turn.” Varadha interrupts.

“My what?”

“Your turn.” Varadha nudges him with his foot. “Truth or.. truth I guess.”

“Are you angry at me?” He whispers, looking genuinely scared. Like what Varadha says now would screw with him for the rest of his life. “For what I did?”

Varadha just stares at him, letting Deva squirm.

Finally, he responds, mouth slowly curving into a smile. “Yedava [idiot]. If I actually was mad at you I’d have let you know the day it happened. I’m just mad you didn’t call me when you were beating him up because I had shit to say as well.”

Deva’s jaw drops. “You- you- dongasachinoda [fucking asshole]. You had me thinking you hated me!”

Varadha can’t hold it back anymore, starts laughing uncontrollably. “Your-your face!” He wheezes. “You were so scared!”

Deva attempts to pout but fails to hold back a relieved grin. “Dick.”

“Well, if that’s what you want-,” Varadha winks, then laughs again as Deva attempts to hit him for that. He overshoots, and ends up falling on his face, onto Varadha’s thighs. Deva shifts into a more comfortable position, looking up at Varadha now.

Varadha looks at Deva’s affectionate smile, and thinks back to the admission that Deva had loved having Varadha living with him. Suddenly, Varadha’s a lot less scared about who Deva’s been talking about. He thinks, he hopes, that he’s guessing it correctly. “What’s his name?”

Deva’s smile dims a bit. “Who?”

“It’s my turn, raa. What’s his name, the one you’ve been pining over?”

“How’d you know it was a guy?”

“You can’t ask questions, you only can answer mine. That’s how the game works.”

Deva looks deep into Varadha’s eyes, searching. Finally, he answers. “You seem so confident. Why don’t you answer, and I’ll tell you if it’s right?”

In response, desperately praying to every god he can think of that he’s not fucking this up, not ruining their friendship irrevocably, Varadha leans down and kisses Deva.

There’s a brief moment of shock, a moment where Deva freezes, that Varadha starts panicking.

Oh fuck shit fuck shit shit shit fuck fuck fuuuuuuuck-

Deva pulls back.

I’ve gotta move out I can’t show my face anymore-

He sits up fully, so he’s facing Varadha.

I’ve got to change my name, move to a different country, fuck fuck fuck fuck-

“What was that?” Deva’s face is carefully blank, but Varadha knows his own must be giving all of his feelings away.

“I… thought it was me?” Varadha tries, feeling like a lump of embarrassment. He clears his throat, averting his eyes. “Or not. That’s fine. I’ll just-” He attempts to stand up, trying to push Deva off his lap. Fuck the rain, he’ll walk to Deva's house if that’s what he has to do to get out of here. And immediately start packing his shit once he gets there.

He hears the unmistakable sound of a giggle from Deva, and Varadha snaps his head back around to see Deva with his hands clapped over his mouth. They can’t hide the wide grin he’s struggling to hold back well enough, though.

“What the fuck?”

Deva gives up and tugs Varadha back down, eyes sparkling with mirth. “Oh so only you’re allowed to pretend you’re mad at me?”

“Ohh, you fucker!” Varadha pinches Deva in the side, hard, and Deva yelps, but it doesn’t stop either of their laughter.

Deva pulls Varadha into a kiss, and this time it’s heavenly with both of them reciprocating. Both of their lips are chapped and dry from the lack of food or water, but Varadha doesn’t care. Deva, his Deva, is kissing him.

They pull back, only far enough so Deva can rest his forehead on Varadha’s.

He laughs incredulously. “Let me guess, you’ve also been secretly pining for your best friend all your life.”

“Fucking hell,” is all Varadha says in response, grinning.

“We’re idiots.”

“Yep.”

Deva groans. “Even your brother saw it before we did, he kept teasing us at the party that we showed up together like a couple.”

“I think the whole world saw it before we did,” Varadha sighs. “I don’t know about your mom, though.” Deva winces, and Varadha pulls back, frowning. “What?”

“I might’ve…. told my mom at age six if I was going to marry anyone it was going to be you? And then repeated it when I was twenty-one and she started talking about people I might be interested in?” He grins, embarrassed.

Varadha’s eyes widen as something occurs to him, and Deva immediately starts protesting.

“No, no, it’s not like that-”

“Damn, you really were down bad for me, huh,” Varadha smirks, and Deva groans, hiding his face in Varadha’s chest. “What else, were you doodling our names together in your notebooks with hearts? Were you the one that put that sappy ass love letter in my locker in the ninth grade?” Deva doesn’t say anything, and Varadha bursts out laughing. “Wait, seriously?”

Deva immediately pushes himself out of the light embrace Varadha’s been holding him in, and looks outside. “Well would you look at that, the sun is shining and it’s not pouring anymore.”

Varadha gets to his feet as well, grinning. He’s absolutely delighted at this turn of events, and won’t ever let Deva live this down.

Deva’s about to go outside to the car, cheeks red, when he stops. He hesitantly takes Varadha’s hand in his own, looks at him like Is this okay? Is this too fast?

Varadha just brings the hand up to his lips, presses a kiss to the knuckles. An unspoken It’s very okay.

Deva smiles shyly, and they head out to their car, hand in hand. The combination of the light rain and the bright sun makes a very visible half rainbow at the end of the field across from them, and Varadha smiles.

"Let's go to our home, raa," he says.

tags: @deadloverscity @ghostdriftexistence @zici @sambaridli @sometimesbrave @just-a-lazy-person @vijayasena @sinistergooseberries all the other server lovelies as well

#salaar #varadeva #varadevaloveday #modern varadeva

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courtingchaos · 10 months

Text

Dying

Gator Tillman x Fem Reader

18+ NSFW No Minors

The snowfall stopped a few days ago so the roads have stayed cleared, albeit icy. He’d texted and asked if you’d wanted to go for a ride and seeing the sun still fully in the sky made you pause.

You know what time it is?

Do you want a coffee or not?

It’s still cold enough that you need a jacket and when you stand outside and wait for him your breath billows out in front of you in big misty clouds. The inside of his truck is warm though and the whole drive over to the good Starbucks he keeps his big hand over your knee. He orders for you and it makes you smile how his accent slides through when he orders your flat white. Distracted by your phone you don’t realize he’s holding your drink out to you or that you’ve even gotten through the drive thru.

“Did you get me a treat?” You ask when he tosses a bag at you.

“It’d be rude if I only got myself one.”

You miss his hand on your knee when you watch him use that same hand to bounce his danish out of thin bag. The fact that he thought to get you one too isn’t lost on you and the little flake of pastry stuck on the corner of his mouth makes you want to reach out and brush it off. You don’t but you do think about it while his phone shuffles through his playlist. This almost feels like a date, if you two did that kind of thing, though you’re starting to think that you need to stop lying to yourself about what he might mean to you.

“Do you ever think about death?” His questions comes out of left field and makes you pause mid bite. He finishes his last bite and crumples up the bag to toss on the bench seat and he steals a glance at you. A clear look, open and honest.

“Yeah.” Open and honest. You think about it all the time in between your wires and the guns in the shop. Every time you handle dynamite and when you sharpen your knives. It’s a hazard of this job you didn’t pick for yourself.

“Like how you’ll die or just in general?” He asks it like this is a normal conversation but you suppose this is the kind of thing you two would casually converse about. Right between him putting you in a headlock and laying on your chest to get his head scratched.

“Both.” You reason. “More just in general though. What about you?” You tilt your head and nibble on a corner of your pastry, intensely interested in his answer.

“I think about it but I also don’t.” Another shrug, his patented response when he doesn’t want to respond. You sigh.

“Even with your line of work?”

“Well it kind of got conditioned out of me.” He hooks his thumb along his steering wheel and turns sharp onto a gravel drive that you know leads to the sheriffs compound. It’s a Sunday and you know it’ll be deserted except for a handful of people but it still makes you a little nervous.

“Oh?” Your eyes follow the pines as they whip by beside you, needles still clinging to fragments of snow.

“Two tours in a desert full of IEDs.” He turns to you, his look flat. He hasn’t spoken to you about anything regarding his military time and you focus on him, turning your body fully to face him. “You tend to get a little numb.” He looks up at the headliner for a moment before focusing on the road again so he can pull into a spot. “If I cut the wrong wire it isn’t my problem anymore.” Another shrug but this one isn’t to brush you off. “You know about that.” His voice is gentle when he cuts the engine and sniffs before looking at you again. There’s that tight feeling in your chest again when one of his locks escapes the gelled back uniformity and when his eyes look at you softer than normal.

“Is that how you thought you’d go? Big boom?” Levity has never been your strong suit but this new mannerism of his is making you panic slightly.

“That or a punch to the head.”

“You fight a lot?” You know he can fight but not that he’d do it recreationally.

“I used to. Just for fun.” He huffs a laugh through his nose and shakes his head, an obvious memory crossing behind his minds eye.

“What about now?”

He’s quiet while he stares at your knee and chews on his lip. “Fighting or dying?”

“Dying.”

He hums low and keeps chewing on his bottom lip and starts patting his pockets. His fingers dig into the big pockets on his parka, fishing around for his Marlboros. When he pulls them out he taps the box slowly, a few times on the meat of his palm before he looks up at you from under his brows. “You?”

Of course he’d avoid that but he’d started this conversation and you’d finish it. “I want to move to like, Montana, something big and green. Get a big thing of land and live in the quiet.” Your fingers tap on the side of your cup and suddenly you don’t want to look him in the eye. Suddenly this feels very heavy and very personal. You think about all the things you could describe about this fictional, out of reach dream of yours and you cringe at all the normalcy you try to envision for your future fictional self. No, not normalcy. The peace and the quiet and the absence of worry.

“No garages.” All your movement stops and he waits a beat before he makes another noise deep in his chest and hooks those long fingers behind the knee you’ve tucked up under yourself. He wedges them in there and pulls himself closer to you but not touching, keeping his distance just incase.

You decide to just tell him. “And if I make it to my 60’s?” A big shrug of your own and a frown down at your cup, still avoiding his prodding gaze. “Even better, but that’s the limit I think. I’ll close up the house and make sure everything’s in order and then just like, wander off into the woods.” Gator stills beside you, his hand halfway to his cup holder reaching for his own drink.

“I’d do it in the winter so it’d be easier, quicker.” You say it quick like that would make it hard to understand. Like he wouldn’t hear you talk about a quick and easy death after an undeserved quiet end. It makes you scoff after a moment when you listen to yourself, really listen to what you’ve just admitted to him, something you’ve never said aloud and something you’ve barely let yourself think about. “God, do you hear me? I’m gonna get fucking shot or something before I turn 40 especially with my dad running shit.” The nerves bleed through your words enough that you can parse out the slight wobble so you know he heard it too. It takes a lot for you to pull your eyes up off the mat under your feet but you do finally with a sigh.

“Look-“

Gator never kisses you in a real sense. Always a hard press of teeth and lips but he cuts you off with something real. He leans into your space and slides a hand up behind your neck to hold you in place and it’s soft. He kisses you without rushing and without huffing and without either of you tearing at each other. You almost drop your coffee when your grip slackens from surprise and those snakes along your ribs coil and coil and coil until you can’t take a breath without a gasp on the end of it.

“I just need to run inside, I’m gonna be right back.” He breaks away but doesn’t move back, his lips moving against yours. You nod, no words forming on your tongue while the sting of a foreign feeling claws at your eyes. He leaves the truck running when he gets out and you watch him walk into the building, head bowed against the slight gale outside. He leaves you with a tight chest and a newfound feeling that had stayed buried in the deepest pit of yourself for months now.

#Gator Tillman #Gator Tillman fic #Gator Tillman x Reader #My Work #My Fic

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biancadjarin · 1 year

Text

Thinking about being

Bully!Eddie’s passenger princess

18+

(Bully!Eddie drives a black Camaro in my mind)

Eddie found you where he usually finds you after school. In the library. Books and papers spread all around you, pencil being chewed nervously in your mouth.

You feel a finger drape around your neck softly, pulling the curtain of your hair over your shoulder and exposing your ear for his lips to whisper into. “Don’t study too hard y/n.” You shiver at his warm breath against your ear. He knows that’s your weakness. He plants a wet kiss on your cheek with an exaggerated “muah!” for everyone to hear.

“Well thanks to you, I have to do extra credit in biology because my grades are slipping.” You say bitterly. “Thanks to me?” He asks, clearly flattered. “Because you just can’t focus when you’re near me huh?” He asks, sitting on the table in front of you, his lap directly in your face.

“Don’t flatter yourself.” You smile back at him sarcastically. You hate that it’s true. You sigh deeply and close the textbook you’ve been reading, eyes too tired to keep studying the tiny print.

“Well if you’re done studying I wanna take you somewhere.” Eddie says abruptly. “Uh while that’s a tempting, extremely vague offer, I’ll have to pass.” “Oh come on my pretty little thing.” He pleads as he starts to put all your things in your backpack. “Come with me to run an errand and then I’ll drive you home. Promise.”

You’ve been driving for almost an hour when you pull into a high end community full of big houses. The whole ride was filled with playful flirting, Eddie even asking you some actual questions to get to know you more. He wouldn’t let you pick any music, saying your taste in music is “absolute shit.” but his metal rock was actually pretty good. He told you about his band, his uncle, his friends. He held your hand the whole way, bringing it to his lips to kiss your fingers occasionally, then letting it rest in your lap. His bulky rings are fun to spin around his thick fingers, you feeling the shapes and ridges in them, commiting them to memory. It was nice. Oh no, it was nice.

“If I’m here to help you commit a crime, I’m out, Eddie.” He laughs at you, fingers squeezing your cheeks together as he looks in your eyes, car slowing down at the end of the street. “What crime would I possibly be committing, sweet angel?” You shrug, lips smooshed together by his strong fingers. “Breaking and entering? Grand theft auto?” He lets go of your face to turn the wheel into a long driveway, stopping in front of one of the biggest houses on the block. “I have hot wired a few cars before but that’s not what we’re doing, don’t worry.” He winks at you.

Eddie puts the car in park and presses his back into his seat as he lifts his hips and spreads his thighs. He’s getting comfortable. “Now what?” You ask. “Patience, sweet thing. Rick will come out soon.”

You see a tall man in a button up shirt and khakis emerge from the front door. Down the winding driveway, holding a small black duffel bag. He wears sunglasses and his hair is a little disheveled but he’s not bad looking. Kinda handsome. Probably in his late 30’s or early 40’s.

Eddie reaches into the back seat and grabs an empty paper bag. Then his hand reaches across your lap, the pads of his fingertips brushing against your upper thighs purposefully. He unlatches the glovebox and pulls out a fat wad of cash. Your eyes go wide as he tries to fold it and put it into the bag.

He notices a little gasp that leaves your mouth. “You like that huh?” He asks. “Y’know… I can buy you things baby. Take you places. There’s a lot of world outside Hawkins.” His voice is low and husky, like the whispered promise of a devil. It makes your stomach clench. You’ve never seen that much money in person and Eddie was acting like this is a usual occurrence for him.

Rick taps on the tinted driver side window of Eddie’s Camaro. He smiles at you as he rolls down the window, “sup man?” “Eddiiiiiie my boy-” Rick’s cut off when his eyes land on you. He raises his brows and looks back at Eddie.

“She’s cool man. She’s with me.” He tell Rick. “Alright. What’s your name beautiful?” Your jaw hangs open but nothing comes out, too nervous too speak. Eddie laughs and pinches your chin in his hand with his thumb and first finger. “She’s a little shy.” He says over his shoulder to Rick. “You got that new stuff you were telling me about?” Eddie asks him, returning his attention back to Rick but keeping his hand firmly on your thigh. His fingers squeeze the plush flesh there and it makes your nerves fizzle away.

“Hell yeah man. Shit’s crazy strong. Flown in from Hawaii. Can you believe that?” “Shit man, Hawaii’s pretty cool.” Eddie says, voice flat and bored, wanting to get this exchange over with so he can be alone with you again.

He passes Rick the paper bag and takes the duffel in return. He places it gently on your lap, winking at you as he does. “Got the usual shit in there Eddie but I included some crazy powder that my guy got his hands on last time he was in Miami. I put a few small baggies in there. Do ‘em for $50 each.” Eddie nods, eyes peeking at you and the bag in your lap.

“But don’t you touch that stuff.” Rick says pointing to you with a laugh. “My girl’s taking bumps of the shit all the time. Costing me a fortune.” He says as he looks back at his mansion. “Alright well as always,” he reaches in to shake Eddie’s hand, “Always a pleasure doing business.” Eddie finishes. Rick says it was nice to meet you and heads back inside.

“You didn’t tell me you were taking me on a drug deal, Eddie!” You say as soon as his window is rolled up. “Of course I didn’t. Didn’t want you to overreact. Like you’re doing right now.” You scoff and push the bag off your lap onto the floor. “I don’t want to be an accomplice to your crimes.”

He laughs at that, hand coming back to slide into your lap. His fingers curl softly around yours, bringing them to his lips for a soft kiss before placing your hand in his lap to hold. “S’too late princess. You’re just as guilty as me now.” You scoff, heart starting to race at the thought of getting in trouble. “I know I said I’d take you home but I think I’d rather try some of this Hawaiian strain back at my place? That ok angel?” You sigh deeply, knowing coming home late will worry your parents. But when Eddie looks at you like he’d crumble into a million pieces if you say no, how can you turn him down?

“Okay.”

bully!eddie masterlist here

my full masterlist here

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson x y/n #eddie stranger things #eddie x reader #eddie x y/n #bully!eddie x reader #bully!eddie munson #bully!eddie #bully!eddie x y/n #mean!eddie munson

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