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freshxsturniolo · 2 months ago

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but, why? PART TWO. chris sturniolo x femreader!

disclaimer : i hate the fact i had to use some random male name for this story to work lmao but i didn't want this to be about another influencer / youtuber. enjoy!!!!!

they had been waiting for you, like a damn interrogation, when you arrived at their house. you had your own key, of course, and you announced your arrival as you slipped off your shoes at the bottom of the stairs. no sound rang out but you didn't think anything of it, the noise of the tv above you loud enough for you to know they were probably scattered around the middle floor of their house. you turned to walk up the stairs, and an eye roll came so easy as you saw the three of them. sat together on the couch, arms crossed together, looking at you intensely.

"you're all so fucking annoying." you muttered under your breath, but with every intention for them to hear.

nick broke character first, laughing as he lunged off the couch and walked over to you, taking the slurpee tray from your hand and placing it on the coffee table before turning and giving you a hug. his familiar smell, always smelling like he had just got out the shower, comforting you immediately. you couldn't help but let out a smile as you squeezed your best friend.

when you finally removed yourself from the embrace, matt was standing closely behind, waiting to give you a hug too.

"you didn't text me back" he mumbled into your hair, and you laughed as you patted his back lightly.

"sorry, bernard. im here now" you said into his chest. he chuckled as he let go of you.

"i need to use the bathroom, don't start the story telling without me" he said with a cheeky grin. you rolled your eyes once again, going to jokingly slap his arm, but he had got away too quickly.

nick had made his way into the kitchen, the slurpee you had bought him already in his hand as he walked across to cupboard, pulling out some chips. but you eyes quickly diverted to chris, his ass firmly still on the couch, arms still folded. you stared at him for a short second before walking over to him, standing directly in front of him. his position didn't move but his eyes did, as they looked you up and down. you dipped your knees, so they hit his, before you stood back up again. one quick motion. he still didn't move. you stared at him intensely, nick now signing the words to a billie eilish song behind you both, before you shrugged and turned around. you knew not playing into chris' games was the way to get him to stop. his hands where on your waist in seconds, and you pulled down onto the space beside him where matt had just been in one swift swoop.

"CHRIS" you shouted, as he removed his hands from your waist, wrapping his arm around your shoulder and pulling you into his chest.

"what?" he said, like nothing had happened, and you couldn't help but laugh as you swung your arm around his waist. you stayed like that for a moment before matt reappeared.

"oh gods" he began, picking up his slurpee now along with yours and made his way over to you both. "you two are unbelievable"

you laughed, but you won't deny you noticed the way chris gave his brother a stern eye as you took the slurpee from him. you watched them both, having removed yourself from chris' chest, but before you could question it, nick finally appeared.

"okay" he said, grabbing chris' slurpee and walking over to you to you, slamming himself down on the couch next to chris, matt sitting closely behind. "tell us everything"

you groaned, automatically pushing yourself into chris' side, who's arm had not left you shoulder yet, and took a sip of your drink. when your eyes diverted back up to the three boys, they were all staring at you. matt and nick with a smirk, chris with what you could only describe as ... intrigue.

you sigh. "okay, so you know i've been going on dates with him, right?"

"no" chris answers immediately, and your eyes divert to him with a wince. of course he didn't know, neither did matt. you had only briefly confided in nick and clearly, true to his word, he hadn't uttered even an whisper to his two brothers. your eyes quickly glance in his direction, and he confirms with a shake of his head he'd kept quiet. you look away before either of his brothers notice.

"well" you say, looking at chris now. "i have. and hes super nice, okay? we've been for dinner and drinks a few times and i just have a good sense about him. this feels really different."

you could feel chris' breathing becoming harsher, but you ignore it as you look over to nick and matt, both with smiles on their faces. you can't stop the small laugh that escapes your mouth, like a little school girl.

"so, hes really not your boyfriend yet?" nick asks with a widened eye. but you smile.

"i mean, he hasn't asked me yet, but..." and you go quiet, butterflies in your stomach as you think back to just a few hours earlier. the kisses, the hand touching, the things he was saying. "he called me his girl earlier. and he's invited me out with his friends later this week." you look to matt now, almost wanting confirmation from a straight man who would actually tell you the truth. "that means something, right?"

matt smiled as his lips drew away from his slurpee straw. "i mean, none of my friends have ever met a girl i didn't seriously like."

your hear soared. but it didn't last long.

"whats this boys name?" chris said, his arm finally removing from your shoulder. your entire body feeling cold suddenly from the lack of touch. you pulled back slightly too, removing yourself from his side.

"his name is jason" you reply. you're met with an immediate scoff before chris turns away, finally taking a sip from his slurpee.

"what?!" you say firmly, and you notice the look that nick and matt give each other from the corner of your eye. you glance at them just slightly, before turning back to chris. "what?!" you say again, more firmly.

chris shrugs. he shrugs like he didn't care when you knew full well he did, and you dont know why you got your back up about it but you did.

"you know," you said, standing up from the couch and putting your slurpee down. your words were directed at chris but you could see nick and matts eyes widen. "this is exactly why i don't tell you about this type of stuff. every man i have ever spoken to you're down my neck about it. if you won't tell me what the fucking issue is, chris, don't speak to me at all."

you turned on your heel, fishing for your car keys out of your pocket within seconds, reaching the top of the stairs and practically throwing yourself down them. you could hear hushed voices from the three of them muttering to each other, but you didn't care. you wanted, for once, your best friend to be happy for you in a situation like this.

you made it to the bottom of the stairs, you'd managed to open the front door and step outside, before you heard your name being called. you stopped for just a brief second before you let out a sigh, shutting the door behind you anyway. you made your way down the drive and to your car parked out front before you heard the name again, and just a short second afterwards, just as you were about to open your car door, you felt hands on your wrist and you where being pulled into someones chest.

"im sorry" chris said, his familiar smell on his hoodie had clearly just thrown on quickly before coming outside into the evening chill. you stayed rigid, still angry, but if there was anyone you couldn't stay mad at for long it was chris. you sighed, before you wrapped your arms around his waist, pulling him in even closer as he rested his chin on your head. "im sorry" he said again, and you gave his back a stroke of your thumb before pulling away.

"you're really insufferable sometimes, chris" you said as you looked up at him.

"i know, im sorry." he said again.

"but why?"

he sighed, his eyes looking all over your face like he was questioning himself before speaking. you didn't let your eyes leave his once.

"just-" and he stopped. "i dont know. if you're happy im happy."

there was something inside of you that didn't believe him. part of him that wanted to ask him again, and tell him to be serious. but part of you was scared for the answer. so you didn't. you simply grabbed his hand, spun him around, and started walking back into the direction of his house, throwing yourself into a completely different topic. chris laughed immediately, but you noticed, just briefly, the was his thumbs rubbed against your hand. the way he pulled you in, just a tiny bit closer.

#sturniolo triplets #chris sturniolo x reader #matt sturniolo #nick sturniolo #chris sturniolo #chris sturniolo fluff #chris sturniolo smut #chris sturniolo fanfic

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 9 months ago

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The Farmer's Daughter 7

Warnings: non/dubcon, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Characters: Walter Marshall

Summary: You notice a peculiar change in a family friend. (short!reader, sorry size kink is out)

Part of the Backwoods AU

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging.

"It was so nice of Walter to help you with the shopping," your mother sings as she puts away a stack of cans in the pantry.

"Yeah," you agree, "it was. Especially 'cause he can carry more bags than me."

She chuckles, "he is rather strong. And big..." she's quiet as she takes out a few more things from a paper bag, "handsome."

"Ma," you gasp and look at the doorway, your father in the next room, still in the recliner.

"I don't mean... not for me," she cackles again.

"Mmm," you put the sugar in the cabinet and turn back as she stares at you, "wait... you mean for me?"

"Well..." her smile falls, "he is so helpful. And nice. And..." she shrugs and shakes her head, "I shouldn't say. Maybe I'm just being ridiculous."

"You are," you insist, "he's... a lot older. Besides, he wouldn't be interested."

"Hon," she chides, "he looks at you." She tilts her head coyly, "he watches you, you don't notice?"

"Ma," you snort again, "stop. You're going to make it awkward."

"I'm just saying. It wouldn't be entirely crazy, would it?"

"Wouldn't it?" You ask.

She's quiet again. She goes into the pantry again as you try to focus on unpacking. She's just trying to distract herself, you're sure. How can you blame her with all that's going on?

Walter is too old and he's standoffish. He's just doing your dad a favour, nothing more than that. You wouldn't blame him for wiping his hands of it all at Timothy's next catastrophe.

A sudden clatter makes you jump and has your mother scrambling out of the pantry. She grasps her chest as you hear Heather's shrill cry, "Patrick!" You rush out ahead of your mom and watch Heather hold him under his arms, placing him back in his chair.

"What's happened?" Your mom shoulders past you.

"He's alright, we were just working on our exercises," the nurse assures as she pulls back, "isn't that right, Patrick?"

Your father gurgles but doesn't speak clearly. Your mother scrunches up her fingers anxiously and hovers behind the recliner, "did he fall?"

"No, no, it was just the table," Heather points to the TV tray overturned on the other side of the chair. "He's doing very good."

"Oh, oh," your mother touches her forehead and heaves, "I was just... scared."

"Ma, why don't you lay down?" You suggest.

"I can't, I got the groceries--"

"I can get the rest," you promise, "please, I know you're not sleeping."

"Hon," she sighs.

"Ma, please, we don't need you getting sick too," you plead.

"Alright, but you come get me in an hour," she demands.

"I will."

Reluctantly she backs away, finally turning at the door. You listen to her creaky ascension and leave Heather with your father. You tremble as you set away the last of the groceries and fold up the paper bags. You tuck them beneath the sink and try to shake off your nerves.

You need a breath of fresh air. Your heady is fuzzy and your eyes glossy. You go out the back door and sit on the back steps. You shudder out a breath and hold your head. The tears trickle out before you can stop them.

The last week you've outpaced the emotions. Keeping busy with your chores, watching after your mom as she does the same for your father. It's like a snake with its own tail. You can't run anymore. Your shoulders rack as you let yourself cry, heaving into your hand as you hiccup loudly.

You just want your dad back. You want the man who used to tell you cheesy jokes about his tractor and pretend to get his finger caught in the machinery. You want everything to be like it used to be. You want to wake up from this nightmare.

You still as you run out of tears. You stay as you are, hunched over and quivering. The buzzing of insects and gentle sway of the grass hums in the air.

A sudden pounding in the grass brings your head up. Walter jogs towards you, wiping away sweat from his brow as he slows. He wears only a ribbed white take, dampened around his chest and sides. Concern ripples in his forehead as he approaches.

"Everything alright?" He puffs as he kneels before you.

"I... yeah, I'm sorry," you mop your face with your knuckles, "I was just... it's nothing."

You try to smile and your cheeks pinch and your mouth downturns. The strain in your lips tugs at your heart again and you sniff back another wave of tears, another droplet slipping free.

"Sweetheart," he rasps and surprises you as he moves to sit beside you on the step, crowding you against the short railing.

He drapes his arm around you and pulls you to him, pushing your head on his shoulder. He rocks you and hushes you. Even trapped in grief, you can't help but be stunned by his gentleness.

"I'm okay," you insist and try to draw back.

"You shouldn't hold it in," he says as he brings his hand up to pet your head, "your father's a good man--"

Before he can finish, you sob again. You shake your head and bury your face against him. You can't stop. You throw your arm around his neck and pull yourself close. He welcomes you in as his arm snakes snugger around you.

"I'm sorry," you babble, "I'm sorry, I'm sorry..." you chant the apology over and over as he hushes you. You can't stop. It's all spilling out and there's no way to stem the deluge.

#series #au #drabble #the farmer's daughter #night hunter #walter marshall #dark walter marshall #dark!walter marshall #walter marshall x reader #backwoods au

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appleblueberry-pie · 8 months ago

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Thank you for answering my sick reader request. Can I please ask for a part 2 wherein Yandere Nanami nurses his sick darling back to health and by the end of their sickness they at least trust them enough to sleep and cuddle beside them

I don't really like doing part 2s because I love seeing ppl suffer from cliffhangers, but I'll do it this one time.

And Let Yourself Heal

You don't find anything to say as Kento continues to be patient with you. This morning, he was up before you to cook you a warm breakfast. When you opened your already exhausted eyes, he was standing at your bedside with a wide tray of warm breakfast. He gently fed you every single mouthful, making sure you slowly chewed each bite, and even let you have a glass of strawberry lemonade since you insisted on one.

He tucked you under the sheets once more when you felt the urge to go back to sleep. And he was there when you woke up again midday to help bring you to the bathroom to clean yourself up. For once, he was actually respectful of your space and let you do what you needed without him hovering over you this time. He said he didn't want you stressed over nothing and how it's bad for a healing body to be pushed to its limits.

When you finished with your bathroom routine and got into freshly washed clothes, he had your favorite tv show on and had you sit on the couch with a cup of unsweetened tea to help your hunger before he finished with lunch. All of this for you. It almost seemed like he was overdoing it for you, but when you looked into his eyes, you could tell he meant every gesture from the heart. His sleeves have been rolled up since the morning and he doesn't plan to relax until the sun goes down and it's time for you to go to bed once more.

Your mind was clouded with judgement with how Kento was treating you, and couldn't focus on the show. Instead, you watched him chop the fruits and vegetables on the cutting board. He seemed to try and perfect every cut he made for the fruit so you can enjoy it to the fullest without any problems when eating it. And the vegetables were minced nicely before they went into the heated skillet. The aroma floating through the kitchen into the living room settled your heart in ways you didn't feel was possible.

Kento turned his head to check on you before double taking when he sees you already staring at him. A nervous smile spreads on his face as he brings you the chopped fruit. "You pestered me about getting these the last time I went grocery shopping, so I decided to get them for you this time. Take your time with these, please." He gently informs you, placing the bowl of fruit on the table in front of you before leaving back into the kitchen.

You felt conflicted by the time dinner started. You were sure Kento hasn't eaten all day and has been putting all of his time and energy into taking care of you. You really shouldn't feel like this, but you were worried. Worried he was taking it too far for you and for himself. You watch him carefully organize a bite on the plate onto the eating utensil with a small smile on his face before showing it to you for you to eat. You hesitate at first, but still take the bite, slowly chewing. "Are you alright? Is it not to your liking? More salt?" You shake your head and let him wipe the corner of your mouth with a napkin.

"Then what is it?" He mutters and gives you your cup of water. You hesitate to tell him, but then settle for telling him the half truth. "Maybe a little more garlic next time." He nods in appreciation and gathers another bite for you. When you blink, it's bedtime. For some reason, he always seemed to know when you naturally get drowsy at night, and makes that your scheduled bedtime. He's currently folding the covers underneath your chin for you to be the most comfortable when you sleep. His steady hands carefully take in every detail of the sheets to make sure you're alright.

You turn your back to him, closing your eyes to finally rest. When he finishes, he sits back up and rests is hands on his lap with a content sigh. You were way more compliant than any other time he's tried to take care of you. Maybe you were finally turning over a new stone, allowing him to show you the love you deserve and need. He stares at you from a distance, the distance he's always wanted to close. And without thinking, his hand raises back up on its own and gently rubs at your back. But you don't do anything. You didn't seem to tense up at all when he did this and Kento felt his heart leap with excitement.

Without trying to bother you, he decides to try and push it further. He waits a few moments and stops touching you before scooting closer to you. Nothing. With gentle movements, he lays down on the same side you're laying on and stares at your backside. And if he stares long enough, he'll realize that this is exactly how it looks in his dreams to lay in bed with you. This is genuinely all he's ever wanted. He refuses to ruin this moment by touching your waist or arms. He'll wait until you allow him to move closer to you. Allow him to touch your face, your sides when you're awake. And maybe then, he will have your consent to make the relationship bloom into something even more.

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toxicanonymity · 1 year ago

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midnight blow

3.3k / slasher!Joel x f!reader | slasher masterlist

beautiful slasher!Joel art by @bonezone44 💙

joel master / SLASHER JOEL MASTER

Can read alone w/ recap below.

RECAP (midnight tow): You were DTF with your tow truck driver Joel, then you offended him and he almost killed you just because. You fucked for your life and promised him a bj. Now instead of strangling you and shredding your car, Joel is taking you home--just for the night, he claims.

SUMMARY: Joel takes you back to his camper and you suck him off, then go to bed with him where you find a way to take control of the whole situation and make your getaway.

WARNINGS: I8 plus, spanking, hair pulling, oral m receiving, ball sucking, face fcking, degradation, somnophilia, dubcon unsafe P in V, creampie, riding, jacking off, implicit threat of violence, the tables turn, joel is a serial killer. NO Y/N.

dividers by @gasolinerainbowpuddles

Joel drives the tow truck deep into his sprawling, dilapidated property. You’re straddling him the whole time, with his cum trickling out of you and onto his coveralls. He opens the window and you enjoy the breeze. Your dress is pressed up against his dirty white tshirt. Your head is over his shoulder facing the back of the truck. You said you wanted to suck his cock, and you guess that’s what you’re going to do. Yeah, you’re letting him take you to a second location, but it feels like an improvement after having a ligature around your neck thirty minutes ago. You’re going to have to suck it so good he falls into a coma so you can make your escape.

By the time the tow truck rolls to a stop, Joel is getting hard again beneath you, and his hips are moving, grinding into you. He cuts off the engine and puts his hands on your thighs. You pull your head back to look at him. A toothpick rests between his teeth. He grabs it out of his mouth with his thumb and forefinger and says, “you’re a damn good time, sugar. Lucky for you,” before throwing it out the window and returning both hands to your thighs.

His hands slide to your ass, his hips lift into you again, and he says “Mmm.” He tilts his head back against the headrest, falls into a trance and brings his fingers to your cheek. He thumbs your bottom lip and you let your jaw fall open. He wets his lips and murmurs, “you look thirsty, sweetheart. C’mon.”

Joel pulls the handle of the truck door and pushes it open for you. You’ve learned your lesson, and when you climb down, you stand there obediently. It’s still dark out, and you’re parked right at the treeline in front of a small camper. There are party lights strung outside the camper and a blue volvo parked next to it. It’s impossible to tell how dense the woods are or how far the trees go back.

Joel hops down from the tow truck and mumbles, “good girl. smart, too. nowhere to run.” He gestures toward the camper and you obediently walk in front of him. As soon as you’re in front of him, he slaps your ass and says “Ouch!” for you.

When you get to the door, he reaches around you to open it. It isn’t locked. You go inside and to the right where there’s a kitchen area. You stand awkwardly with your arms crossed and look toward him. There’s a sad old sofa with a folding tray in front of it and the cardboard from a Hunger Man meal. The windows are tilted open, and the camper smells faintly of sweat and cigarettes.

As soon as he gets inside, he reaches over his shoulders to pull his dirty t-shirt off over his back and discards it. Then he looks down at the crotch of his jumpsuit and slowly rubs the sticky dark blotch that rests over his hardening cock. “Now look at this mess you made. Must’a stretched you out good.” He looks at you and his face hardens as he tells you, “Sit down,” and points at the sofa. You sit on the old sofa, grateful to be alive, and he disappears into the restroom. There’s a tv across from the sofa.

The water turns on and off a few times, and when he comes back, he’s in dark blue joggers with no shirt. His torso is solid, tan, with only a little chest hair and a happy trail. He’s built, with a little bit of a belly. His arms are hulking. He goes to the refrigerator, pulls out a five pack of beer, and un-rings two of them. He hands one to you as he sits down. He wants to hang out.

He asks you what kind of tv you like. You say reality tv, the first thing that comes to mind.

“No shit,” he nods with a contemplative frown. You sit there and drink your beer, pretending to watch a kitchenware infomercial he seems genuinely fixated on. When your beer’s empty, you put it on the tv dinner stand next to his can and look at him. You’ll never have more liquid courage, so you might as well make a move.

You scoot toward him and put your hand on his closest knee then drag your fingers up his thigh.

He tears his eyes away from the tv and whispers darkly. “There’s my sex kitten."

You massage his inner thigh, getting closer and closer to his cock, watching the bulge in his joggers grow. Then you run your hand over it.

You press your palm into his hard manhood, sliding over the fabric, only moving an inch in either direction as you apply pressure. Then you cradle it with your fingers.

His breath deepens. “Oh you’re purrin’ for it, aren’t ya, kitty.”

You nod.

He drags the TV dinner table out of the way without standing up. “On your knees.”

You get on the floor between his legs and he watches with a scowl as you continue massaging him. The flickering blue light of the tv illuminates him. Your knuckles dig into his lower belly as you hook the fingers of each hand into his waistband.

You pull his cock out, then he holds it by the base.

With his other hand, he reaches between the couch cushion and armrest and fondles a black plastic object. When he sees you eyeing it, he pulls it up out of the couch and a blade emerges. A large knife. He takes his hand away from his shaft and presses the point of the knife into one of his fingertips, admiring the blade as your hands wrap around his cock.

You get up on your knees and lower your head into his lap. When you inhale, his musk sends a pang between your legs. You quickly suck his tip into your mouth. He continues to admire the blade, now just inches from your head. You suck him thirstily, making good on your claim that you really wanted his cock in your mouth. He sighs as you take as much of him into your mouth as you can. He sits back and holds the knife on the armrest. You take his length down your throat. His girth is challenging. Your jaw quickly begins to get sore. You bob your head, slurping and sucking hard with your lips curled over your teeth.

He puts one hand on your head and with the other he fidgets with the knife on the arm of the chair. He moans and you glance up to see his head resting back against the cushion with his eyes closed.

You take the opportunity to glance around to see what you could use for your escape or self-defense. You rotate your knees and change angles so you can better survey the RV for a flashlight or weapon.

He grabs you by the hair and makes you look up at him. “What the hell are you doin’?” He pulls your head off his cock.

You shake your head, “nothing, just curious.”

“Well, get curious about my balls.” He pulls the waistband under his balls and glares at you.

“oh my god,” you whisper with your eyes wide, admiring his cock and balls together.

He nods slowly. You cradle his balls in one hand and take his cock all the way into your mouth with the other, getting it wet for your hand. Then you slowly stroke his shaft while turning your mouth’s attention to his balls. You lick up the seam of his scrotum and he shudders. “Fuck, woman.”

You swirl your tongue around one ball before taking it into your mouth. It really is a mouthful. You suck his ball and stroke his cock and glance up to see his stomach rising and falling, nudging your pinky. He groans as you suck. You give the other one some attention. He shifts under you and you glance at his cock to see precum leaking from his tip.

You try taking both into your mouth at the same time, but it’s too much. He laughs at you. Then you start sucking again and his face darkens. You trail your tongue down and tease his taint. His balls tighten. You lick where they meet his cock, then drag your tongue all the way up to the head and take him into your mouth again. He pulls your head down on his cock again and again. “Fuck, yeah, fuck, oh god” then he twitches between your lips. He slams your head down with his tip at the back of your throat and breathes, “Oh fuck you, kitten,” before exploding into your throat with a groan.

You choke on his cum, but he doesn't let you take your head off his cock yet. Your eyes water and he shakes his head at you, then closes his eyes, emptying the last of his load.

Finally, he releases your head and you let him out of your mouth.

You cough and cough, then you thank him. He stares at you. “For letting me suck your cock,” you clarify. One side of his mouth curls upward and he looks at you darkly.

He tucks himself back into his pants, then holds the knife in his hand and touches the point to a finger, admiring it again. You’re still collecting yourself when he furrows his brow and says, “I dunno if I’m gonna need this. What do you think?”

You shake your head no.

He looks at you skeptically. “long as you're here, you gimme what I want, when I want it.”

“Yeah,” you nod. “But-” He wraps his fingers around the handle.

You continue, “but what about when I want it?”

His face softens in amusement. “Oh-ho-ho, you really are a slut, aren’t ya?”

---

Joel puts the knife down, stands up, and stretches his arms behind his back. His bulge presses out against his joggers as his broad chest juts into the air. His triceps flex behind him. Then he stretches an arm over his head and you get a whiff of his sweat.

“Clothes off," he commands.

You remove your dress and he motions for you to go in front of him. "Shower."

It's a tiny bathroom. He makes you sit on the shower floor while he cleans himself. You hug your knees and watch the gray water go down the drain as he washes away the day. You look up at his hulking quads as he lathers his pubic hair with a bar of soap. He grumbles, "whole bar just to get the whore off me." He puts the soap in the hanging shower caddy.

After showering, Joel dries off then makes you use the same towel. You’re about to put your dress back on when he says, “you’re in luck. just did laundry.” He hands you a light blue laundry bag half-full of clean but wrinkled clothes. You rifle through it and your stomach turns. There are women’s clothes mixed in with his. Different sizes, some of them ripped and stained. You freeze and stare at a crop top with a short cut on the breast and a brown stain around it.

Joel loses patience and asks, “God damn, is it that hard?” He snatches the bag from you. He takes out a heather gray t-shirt and shoves it up against your chest. It has a zombie in sneakers and says The Running Dead 5k. “Heh,” Joel laughs when you hold it out to look at it. There's an open gash down one side of the chest and a brown stain around the collar. When you put it on, your nipple peeks through the gash.

"Shorts?" You ask.

He shakes his head no, then begins to walk back across the camper and picks up his knife from the sofa. "Bed," he says and nods toward it. His bed is notched into the wall at the end of the camper. He follows you to it then grips the back of your neck, still holding the knife with the same hand so the plastic digs into your neck.

He lifts the mattress and pulls out a pair of handcuffs. "I'm not gonna have to use these, am I?" He chains one of the cuffs to a metal lamp that’s screwed to the wall right above the headboard. He leaves the other cuff dangling open. He lets go of your neck to swat the dangling cuff with the point of the knife, then wedges the knife between the mattress and the headboard and abruptly grabs you by the neck again.

He bends you over the bed, pulls his hand back, and slaps your bare ass so hard it’s sure to leave a handprint. "Asked you a question.”

“No, I’m gonna stay right here. You don’t need those.”

“Don't try anything," he warns. Then he pulls his hand back again and slaps you harder on the same cheek. Your ass tingles then it fades to numb. He lowers his voice. "Or you're not gettin’ home tomorrow."

"Okay," you whimper.

"Good girl." He lets you go with a shove and you land face-down on his blue flannel sheets.

“Shit, I’m bein’ selfish, right? Not returnin' the favor?”

He makes you get in bed first so he's blocking you in.

“Maybe I’ll give it to ya in your sleep,” he says. “Bet ya’d like that."

You nod.

"Yeah, there’s my sex kitten. Bet ya can’t get enough'a this.” He lewdly grabs the bulge in his joggers before getting into bed behind you.

While you’re sleeping, Joel slips his hand between your legs. He feels how wet you are and whispers to himself, “oh get the fuck over here” as he gently rolls you onto your back.

He spreads your thighs and gets between them, He feels your cunt again and breathes, “fuck me, sweetheart.” The next thing you feel is his stomach against yours, then his tip at your entrance. You’re disoriented, still not really awake as he shoves himself into you. You sigh but your eyes stay closed. He pulls back then slams into you and bottoms out. It feels like a vivid dream. He grunts and pants as he pounds you. He must have been at it for a while already because his sweat is dripping onto you. Your mouth falls open with a moan and a salty drop lands right on your tongue. You open your eyes with a sigh.

“Fuck yeah, harder," you pant.

He tries his best but he’s already fucking you as hard as he can, and he’s nearly spent.

“Let me ride you,” you beg. “Wanna ride this big cock again. Swallow it whole with my cunt”

He slows his hips. “God damn you got a mouth on you.”

“Please.”

“Whatever,” he sighs as he pulls out of you and lays down on his back. He holds his cock at the base as you straddle him and align yourself over it. His eyes fixate on your nipple poking out of the shirt.

You take his tip slowly, then abruptly sink down onto him. “Ohhh, Joel,” you sigh.

“Yeah, you’re welcome,” he mutters, still catching his breath.

You ride him vocally, and put your hands above his shoulders. His hands are planted on your hips. When you come, you fold your body forward, discreetly grabbing the knife as you groan in pleasure.

“Come inside me,” you breathe, and begin rolling your hips again. “Fill me up.”

“Oh, fuck,” he pants and pinches his eyes shut. Then he pulses inside you and groans as he comes. You bring the knife to your thigh, then get off his cock.

“No,” he sighs. Then you take his cock in your hand and press the flat of the blade against his pubic hair. “What the fuck!” he gasps. “Hold on, hold on,” he begs.You press the edge of the knife against the base of his shaft. “Look, I’m sorry about the wire and all that.”

“Prove it,” you say. “How do I know you’re not gonna kill me?”

“Cause you’re a damn good fuck.”

“Cuff yourself.” You nod toward the handcuffs dangling from the lamp. He hesitates and you tighten your grip on the knife. “Don’t think I won’t. Why wouldn’t I?”

“Okay, okay.” To your astonishment, he actually cuffs himself to the lamp.

Mercifully, you take the knife away from his cock. “Where are your keys? The keys to the volvo.”

“On the hook in the kitchen.”

You grab the keys and come back. “Ya know, you’re not a bad fuck yourself. Maybe I should stick around.”

Instead of leaving, you go to the sofa and turn the tv back on. Something possesses you to clean his camper for him. You can’t stand to be around the mess, and enjoy exerting control over the environment. Like you’re wrecking his vibe and leaving your lasting touch. You spend an hour cleaning, then come back to the bed where he’s dozing off. You wake him up with a palm on his cock.

You pull his joggers all the way off. “C’mon now, kitten” he whines. Then you straddle him with your naked heat against his semi-hard manhood. He sighs and starts getting harder right away.

“Fuck, you’re wet,” he sighs as you grind against him. “You’re nasty, aren’t ya.”

You nod. He uses his free hand to guide your hips. You make room for your hand and cup his balls. “Tank empty or got a little more?”

“Oh, fuck,” he sighs then looks you up and down. “Reckon I’ve always got more.”

You hover right over his cock and he starts trying to thrust up high enough to fuck you. You let his tip graze you a few times, then decisively sink onto him with a moan and he shudders. You move yourself up and down his cock, lean forward and grind against his pubic bone. “I didn’t think you’d really cuff yourself,” you say. “What are you gonna do if I let you go?”

“Give you a ride home,” he pants under you.

“Hah!” you keep riding him.

“Really.” He begins to grunts as you fuck him.

“Why don’t I believe you?” You slow your hips. You lift yourself up and start to let his cock out of you.

“No,” he groans. “Kitten, wait.”

You sink back down and take his free hand in yours, putting it between your legs. “Make me come.” You sit mostly still on his cock as he works his thumb on your clit until you see stars, strangling him with your walls.

When you’re finished coming, you push yourself off him and he groans at the loss. He begins to jack himself off desperately as he watches you get a pair of shorts out of the laundry bag and put them on.

"Oh bad girl," he shakes his head slowly as he keeps fisting himself. "baaaaad girl."

You leave him naked from the waist down, chained to the lamp with his cock in his hand.

“Told ya it was dangerous out here, sweetheart,” he shouts as the door slams behind you. Then you hear him finish loudly as you unlock the Volvo and get in.

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There will be another part but not right away. Follow for lore and more meanwhile.

Thank you so much for reading and an additional thank you to those who engage out here!! 🖤🖤 It really helps and makes me feel good. It's especially helpful bc i get labeled.

I will go back through my requests including slasher when I can.

There are more dark joels on my joel master list. you can follow @toxicfics and turn on notifications for fic alerts.

to @jazziepascal, diehard slasher!joel fan, don't worry he's not done

All Joel:@ethanhoewke @silkiers @eiviea @evyiione @xdaddysprincessxx @queerly-anxious @chernayawidow @ambassadortotrilliusprime @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog @jasminespringtime @romanarose @fandomsfallnomore @djarinxore @blackvelveteen1339 @manazo @wolvesandvampires @taeslarityy @str84pedro @lokanda @kyloispunk @filthfairy @fieryglutenfreechickennoodles @harriedandharassed @moonlightdivine @worhols @fan-fiction-floozy @cutesyscreenname @weddingfairy @pedropascal-whore @spideysimpossiblegirl @feministfanboi @gracieispunk @prettypartyfavor @am-3-thyst @babeincolor @milla-frenchy @switchbladedreamz @within-the-depths @am-3-thyst @may-machin @pedromania91 @sloanexx @paleidiot

@bunnyskisses

#joel miller x reader #dark!joel miller #joel miller fic #serial killer!joel miller #slasher!joel miller #sleazy!joel miller #tw dubcon #tw somnophilia #joel miller smut #content label #slasher!joel #slasher!joel ☠️#toxicanonymity ☠️

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pedropascalito · 4 months ago

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The Last of Us Joel Miller Character Study S1E1: Living Room

Joel's sofa is so classic and cozy; cognac overstuffed leather is a solid choice, and combined with the transparent glass coffee table, very shabby chic meets West Elm. Not bad for a contractor.

I love that pillow is smashed flat. This is a family home, well lived in.

I deeply love Sarah is reading a magazine instead of playing on her phone/tablet. Very accurate fo that time. Magazines were my jam in 2003 as well. There are stacks of them around the room, and I really wish we could see some titles! I'm guessing: a teen fashion/culture mag for Sarah, a sports magazine for Joel, maybe some free contractor industry publications. Definitely Texas Monthly. Is Joel a Playboy man? Hmmm...

Dinner plate: she is used to preparing her own food and eating on her own, it seems.

More bay windows. What a cute home.

Either this scene was filmed in both daytime and nighttime, or that is one bright-ass porch light.

Joel has gone to the Javier Peña school of lamps and afghans because there are a lot of lamps in this room! And most of them are ugly.

Knock-off Eames chair? Or the real thing? (I'm guessing knock-off.) @veryprairieberry identified it as an IKEA Poang with matching ottoman. Knock-off indeed.

I wish this photo were more clear; I'm guessing it's Sarah, and I even thought it was Nico Parker on the lake in the raft, but the photo doesn't have the life jacket. EDIT: It’s Tommy, thank you @bluestar22x

More magazines

A TV tray for eating in this room; I wonder if Sarah or Joel uses that more?

I love a good sofa console table, and I also put them against the wall. My 2003 apartment would feel very at home in Joel's space.

The Lone Star key holder on the wall; so Texas, so accurate.

Laundry basket of clothes waiting to be folded, and we know that never happened. :(

I love this shot because it shows a few awesome things:

Guitar!

That sweet ass speaker and sound system set up. I want.

Having a flat screen tv in 2003 was still a status symbol. Joel invested in this.

Another soccer ball, so homey to have sports equipment scattered around.

It looks like that's a Longhorns logo blanket, but the color is wrong, so I don't know what it is for sure.

More plants Sarah is single-handedly keeping alive.

The block color rug is aggressively 00's Target. I love it.

I can't tell what that pronged object is on the stereo; anyone know? Edit: an antennae, thank you @veryprairieberry

That painting on the wall is rather dull compared to the artwork in Joel’s bedroom. I wonder if they know the artist personally?

How sweet is Joel coming home after a long day? We want this view.

Joel and Sarah are so sweet together and I am devastated all over again with this episode and Sarah's death. Just tragic.

Also: I'm sorry y'all, I have to point out the anal beads lamp. Not even Javier Peña would have this. Joel has definitely stepped it up.

#pedro pascal #joel miller #tlou #joel miller's home #the last of us

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alternative-ffa · 1 year ago

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Your breath labored. Your stomach so bloated and full, you can almost feel the food in your throat. Trapped in the industrial recliner in your living room, you can feel the fat of your sides spilling over the armrests. You fit in it perfectly a few months ago... what happened?

Your gluttony took over. Consumed with boredom, you ate. You didn't care what your neighbors thought when every single meal you consumed was delivered. With the amount of food you've been getting, your house was becoming a hub of food drop-offs.

Reaching your hands down around your belly, you knew you had to massage yourself to help you digest. So you firmly rub the bloated pile of fat that is your stomach - then a loud belch erupts. You moan with relief that you have more room now.

But then you're tempted... there is still more food to eat. Another burp comes up; almost instructing you to pick up the fork again.

The excess fat enveloping your body jiggles and settles as you reach towards the folding tray with the rest of your afternoon snack.

You glance over - the TV is off, and it might as well be a mirror. You look at yourself. A belly that spills down over your knees, the new rolls of fat that make up your body, the angry red stretch marks that spread across your fat like many rivers. You're transfixed by the reflection. Your face is so fat, you don't recognize yourself. But instead of disgust, you feel pride. Existing as a pile of lard suits you.

In the reflection, you can see that you're already covered in crumbs and sauce, so you dive into one of the plates with reckless abandon. No fork needed. You almost wanted your hands messy - grabbing frosted pastries and shoveling them as fast as you could into your mouth. No wonder you were outgrowing your chair. This binging was now a multiple-times-a-day occurrence.

You're licking the plate, desperate for every calorie. Your eyes look towards the TV again - you want to watch yourself eat. You see the gluttonous freak you've become. A blur of cream colored flesh; rolls of fat spilling over the armrests. Gigantic breasts melded into side rolls that pushed your obese arms away from your torso. Groaning in pleasure, you wish you could reach your dick. It was throbbing beneath the fat of your groin and belly. You try to jiggle the bottom of your belly. It usually helps to stimulate you - but you're so stuffed that even a jiggle makes you feel slightly nauseous.

A noise of annoyance escapes from your sauce covered lips. Now you have to choose: stop eating so you can jiggle your fat to stimulate yourself to climax? Or continue to throb with desire as you force the food down your gullet, knowing with every bite, you're getting fatter?

#ssbhm belly #ffa #ffa bhm #ssbhm #bhm #supersize #fat belly #ffassbhm #fat #fat fantasy #ssbhmstory #gluttony #weight gain #weightgain #fat story

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harlotofupdog · 2 months ago

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This was meant to be a groveling apology post but it turned into a rage meta post.

I have so many fics that I want to read or finish reading from writers whose work I truly adore, and so much art that I want to stare at and squeal about, and I just haven't got to it. There are fics that I am so in love with and I just… I can't open AO3 until I can just sit, y'know?

I know that literally no-one is counting on me for this stuff because I am a tiny wonker, but I feel perpetually awful about it nonetheless. I also have a bunch of fic stuff (writing and beta) that I never get to, and I'm now at the point where I'm so overwhelmed by all the things I need to do that I'm paralysed by procrastination. There's probably a few topsy-turvy chonkadonks of recent news that haven't helped, but the main thing is…

FUCKING HOTEL ROOMS.

I spend so much time in hotel rooms. I used to love hotel rooms. It felt like a little treat every time I stayed in a nice one. Bright white sheets, little sachets of tea and shitty instant coffee, minibars, dressing gowns, inconvenient power outlets, unflattering mirrors - I loved it all. But now I fucking dread them. They are my ultimate (bad) liminal spaces - just fancy transit points between the airport or the train station or the closest fucking McDonald's where I can eat a zillion nuggets until I feel better.

I've tried to be productive in hotel rooms, I really have. I bring my laptop, I bring my sketchpad. Sometimes I have a couple of free hours in the evening, and god, why don't I use them? Instead, I sit and think and scroll while I drink all the shitty tea and shitty coffee and sometimes an entire bottle of red or whatever tiny booze they have in the minibar.

It occurs to me, after 6000 years of fucking hotel rooms, that they are… Heaven. They are, right? Crisp, light, bright, stifling. There's the concierge in their nice suit, the fancy faux marble foyer, elevators that sneak up from behind and then DING as if you're the arsehole for facing the other way, mirrors fucking EVERYWHERE jump-scaring you with your own face, the end of the toilet paper folded into a little triangle... (whose bum needs that? A tiny triangle before the rest of the paper? No-one's bum needs that!)

And Heaven is always watching, isn't it?

The binful of teabags, the crumpled up packets of crisps-for-dinner, the empty bottle of wine - they will all be SEEN, along with the sanitary bag and the snotty tissues and the laddered stockings that I've wrenched off in a rage because now I have to go buy more. (WHY DID HOTELS GET RID OF BIN BAGS?)

We haven't even made it to the mortifying ordeal of ordering room service as a solo business traveler. I order the club sandwich, because that is the first thing you should order in a hotel, always - this is a rule. I eat it, it's fine. Club sandwiches have probably hauled me back from the edge of madness/chicken nuggets at least four times now. The next night, though, I don't want a club sandwich. I want something else.

A pizza.

There is no option to order a half pizza, and if I order a whole pizza, I will eat the whole pizza. So I order a whole pizza, obviously. I eat the pizza, because of course I do - it's not great, but it's kinda okay and it's something to do because I can't do any of the other things like live or breathe or exist in regular human form.

But when the pizza is gone, I look at the empty tray sitting on the slimy glass-topped desk and the realisation hits: they will know I know they know that I sat on my pristine bed, shoving melted cheese and prosciutto into my mouth, probably in full view of some late night meeting in the next building over, while staring at a wall and fervently wishing I were elsewhere.

There is probably sauce on the sheets and a bit of rocket on the floor that I can't find, and the TV remote is greasy af. It's basically a murder scene and I will feel guilty for the next millennia and a bit.

In conclusion...

Heaven is a panopticon and so is the Hilton. But Azi showed up for it, and so will I. Hopefully we can all make it back to the comfy, dusty book-filled spaces for good one day.

#aziraphale gets it #good omens meta #sort of #mostly just me moaning #good omens #writers block #readers block #just general blockage

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the-cauldron-witch · 8 days ago

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Protecting his Peace part 2

Part 1

As requested by the dear @redsrooftopprincess, here is part 2!! I hope you enjoy my dear!

A special thanks to @thelaundrybitch @sophiacloud28 @iridescentflamingo @milykins for giving me a hand when I got stuck!

For the better part of two hours, after you had promptly slammed Raphael’s door shut and locked it with the keypad hidden behind the movie poster, the two of you sat tangled together in his massive bed holding one another. Large arms cradling you in his lap and beak nuzzled into the nape of your neck, breathing in the scent of your hair for comfort. Hands reached up and around his neck, rubbing the back it gently and humming a low soothing tune as you held him to the best of your ability given the size difference. Having let out his tears of frustration and allowed you to dry them, Raph simply needed the physical comfort now.

The gentle knock at the door would have gone unheard had the TV been on or music from his radio been playing. He gave you a loving firm squeeze before letting you slip from his muscular arms, feeling the cool air against his skin in the space you left behind. Striding across the room in only a few steps, you took a deep breath and paused just a second long enough to still your nerves.

Lifting the corner of the movie poster again and letting your fingers dance across the keypad, you unlocked the door. Opening the door with slight force, expecting one of his towering brothers, you had to shift your gaze downward to meet Master Splinters. One of his hands holding a pizza box and the other wrapped around his trusted staff.

“I ordered dinner for you two,” He spoke gently, offering the pizza boxes for you to take and just conveniently putting them in the way of the door. “Unless…my son might be ready to speak with me a moment?”

The fact Master Splinter seemed to genuinely ask permission made something in your chest tighten a little. Turning your head to look over your shoulder at the son in question your eyes locked with Raph’s, asking for his input without verbally asking. Taking a deep breath Raph thought for a moment before nodding, motioning for you to allow Master Splinter to enter. Taking the pizza boxes from the elderly rat you stepped out of the way, allowing him to enter.

Shoving a pile of dirty laundry off the nearby rolling chair, Raph cleared a spot for his father to sit while he made his way through the scattered remnants of furniture and other belongings across the floor. Master Splinter took mental notes to perhaps see if Donatello’s welding skills were good enough to make furniture. While the elderly rat made his way to the chair, you grabbed a folded TV table from the corner of the room and made your way to the bedside. Standing the tray table on its legs you remained standing for a moment longer, simply observing. The three of you remained silent for a moment while Splinter got comfortable.

“I spoke with your brothers about the events over the past few days,” Master Splinter shifted his grip on the knob of his staff as he spoke gently, “Before coming to speak with you, I wanted to give you more time to calm yourself and spoke with your brothers first. While speaking with Donatello, he had the idea to ‘hack’ as he says, into the warehouse surveillance system and watch the footage of that night. It showed exactly as you had described that night; the vent giving out from under you and falling”

The elderly rat now holds both you and Raphael’s attention fully. Sitting up straighter now Raph studied his father for a long moment, not bothering to speak or do anything that might prompt this to turn this into a trap to lecture him. A small creak from the bed interrupted the quiet pause as you sat next to Raph, placing a reassuring hand on top of his thigh and giving it a firm squeeze to pull him from his thoughts. The small action didn’t go unnoticed by Master Splinter, tugging a small smile at the ends of his lips. Taking a deep breath, Master Splinter continued speaking while Raph defensively crossed his arms over his chest.

“I’d like to first apologize, my son,” Lifting his head to look Raphael in his emerald eye, Master Splinter apologized sincerely, “I should not have simply went along with those accusations, you didn’t deserve that from your brother’s and especially not from myself. I did not take your emotions into account and turned a blind eye to the disregard towards your possessions. I’m deeply sorry and hope that you can forgive me”

Any sort of anger or frustration that simmered within Raphael’s chest slowly evaporated, sighing the remaining imaginary steam audibly. A lump formed in his throat while remaining quiet, mulling over his word choice before speaking. This wasn’t what he was expecting, he half expected to be scolded for lashing out and busting up his room. Yet his father was openly apologizing and asking for his forgiveness. Clearing his throat of the lump that climbed up his throat, Raph shifted awkwardly on his bed as he unfolded his arms.

“I forgive ya, dad…Not really mad at you in tha’ first place, really. It’s just…” Raph grumbled, his thumb swiping over your knuckles in a soothing motion as he mentally pieced the words to his feelings. Glancing down to the floor as though the words were written there Raph went silent again, a nervous habit his father knew well and patiently waited for his second eldest to speak.

“I made a mistake and owned up to it- if ya could even call it a mistake. Not like I chose that way knowin’ my big ass was going to fall through tha damned ceiling! But it’s like…it was just easier for them ta jus’ say it’s my fault than believe me, Leo didn’t even try to listen ta me. Just told me I was being reckless and defiant again…” The way Raphael’s shoulders slouched as he spoke tugged at your heart. To have someone push aside Raphael’s emotions, his own family especially, so carelessly lit a fire within your chest that smoldered with frustration.

Reaching a bony hand outward Master Splinter placed it gently on Raphael’s shoulder, giving a gentle nudge to coax him to look up. You watched as Raph lifted his saddened, dulled emerald eyes to look his father in the face. Blinking sadly back, Master Splinter rubbed his thumb over the smooth scales of his shoulder.

“And I am very, very sorry that you were made to feel that way. I truly am,” He gave his sons shoulder a gentle but firm squeeze before continuing to speak reassuringly, “Leonardo and Donatello are currently both serving their respective punishments in the ha-shi while Michelangelo is cleaning up your work-out room. I have given him very strict instructions; he is not to leave that weight room or have dinner until he has finished”

It was as strange feeling; open recognition and acknowledgment that Raph had been telling the truth the entire time and beingapologized directly to. Smiling warmly as your boyfriend leaned down, wrapping his arms around his smaller rat father carefully, you felt a warmth in your chest after helping your boyfriend find some resolution. To the best of his ability, Master Splinter reached up and patted his son’s shell in a tight embrace.

“Thanks dad…I really appreciate it,” Raph spoke with a genuine smile of gratitude once separated. A sense of relief washed over you, noticing the way Raph’s features softened from their rigid defensiveness for the first time today.

“And I would like to personally thank you,” Turning his attention to you, Master Splinter slid out of the computer chair his feet silently touching the floor, “Your fierce protectiveness for my son’s peace opened my eyes, showing me how wrong I and my sons were towards Raphael. I very much appreciate your actions, thank you,”

“Any time, somebody has to be in this big guy’s corner,” Patting Raph’s thick thigh gently you couldn’t help but look up at him with a playful wink. He turned that same grateful and sincere smile onto you, leaning down briefly to peck your forehead and send a small rush of heat to your face. That was probably the first time Raph had ever been so openly affectionate towards you in front of his father, at least on purpose. With a small, amused chuckle Master Splinter strolled away with the help of his staff. As he began to shuffle past, he paused for a second long enough to reach out and affectionately patted the top of your hand still resting on Raphael’s thigh before continuing to the door.

“You two take your time and eat dinner, please. When you’re finished, come see me in the ha-shi so we may put this whole mess to rest, Raphael” With that said, Master Splinter quietly opened the door once again and slipped out silently with a small click. The silence that hung in the air felt lighter than it had been before, the electrical charge fading entirely.

“Well, I don’t know about you, but I’m starved” Was all Raph said before grabbing the top pizza box and opening it, grinning with delight that his father had gotten him his favorite, deep dish meat lovers with onions. Opening the second box it was your turn to be pleasantly surprised at your own favorite pizza inside. Whatever guilt you felt for landing your boyfriend’s brothers in hot water was set aside for now.

“Mike’s gonna be pissed,” Raph snickered, “He loves meat lovers too but absolutely hates onions, I get them whenever I don’t want him to steal my leftovers…now I gotta worry about Donnie, though” He continued to lament with a devious snicker, knowing that his father had purposefully added onions for just that reason. Taking a mental note of this tidbit of information for yourself, just in case you want to keep Mikey away from your food later down the road, you pulled out a slice of your own pizza with a pleased grin as strings of cheese stretched from the inside of the crust. Master Splinter had even gotten stuffed crust for you, how sweet.

You two ate in comfortable silence, Raph finishing his entire pizza with ease while you still had more than half leftover by the time you were full. Snagging a sharpie from his side table, Raph scrawled your name on top of the box so that- hopefully- no one would steal it from the fridge. Exiting Raph’s room and heading for the kitchen, the first thing that was noticeable was the stench of paint remover hanging heavily in the air. Nose wrinkling as the smell grew stronger, you made your way to the kitchen to put away your pizza while Raph turned to find the source of the smell.

“Oof” Raph huffed as he followed the scent and entered the weight room, nearly choking on the heavy stink of paint thinner. A large canister sat open in the middle of the room next to a growing pile of dirty cleaning rags. Sitting in front of the massive mirror attached to the far wall was Mikey with a rag in hand, wiping the paint off the bottom half of the mirror.

Eyes glazed over and swaying in his seat, Mikey’s blinked rapidly to focus his blurry vision so that he could continue working. A sudden movement out of the corner of his eye, that wasn’t his own motion trails, caught Mikey’s attention and he turned himself to look over his shoulder. The small motion nearly knocked him on his shell, had Raph not been behind him to steady him with his foot.

“Hey, whassup Raphie?” Mikey slurred as he turned around unsteadily, having to plant both palms onto the ground to keep upright. Had Raph not known any better, he would have assumed Mikey was drunker than a sailor on shore.

“Easy, Mike. The hell are ya doin’?” Raph questioned; nose wrinkled as he tried to breathe past the heavy unseen fog that burned his eyes and sinuses. Finally steadying himself in a comfortable sitting position he blinked slowly, mind slowly piecing words together as a dull ache began to settle within his sinuses

“Dad said…I gotta clean this up ‘fore I can get dinner,” Tripping over a few words Mikey explained slowly, reaching up with his free hand to massage between his eyes, “And I’m…sorry about earlier, real uncool of me-”

“Don’t worry ‘bout that right now,” Raph chided gently as he knelt to the youngest brothers’ side, taking the damp rag from his other hand and tossing it into the pile.

Entering the weight room with your chin ducked into your chest and shirt pulled up over your nose in a desperate attempt to block out the heavy smell of paint thinner, you quietly walked up from behind Raph while he was bent over and helping Mikey from the floor. The orange banded turtle stumbled on his feet even with his elder brothers’ help, nearly sending both to the ground had you not rushed over to steady Mikey’s other half.

“The exhaust from the paint thinner must have gotten to him,” you told Raph with concern, steadily walking in sync with the two massive turtles as you and Raph led the youngest out of the gym and into the living room.

“M’head hurts,” Mikey grumbled while you and Raph steered to the couch, guiding him to sit gently as his knees buckles against the frame of the couch. Had you and Raph not helped, Mikey would have simply ended up tumbling onto the couch like a ragdoll. Watching his younger brother rub his forehead trying to soothe the pounding behind it, Raph sighed and shook his head. “For real though…M’sorry about earlier, I feel bad, honestly dude,”

“Ah…I forgive ya, dumbass” Raph sighed, slightly dispirited and shaking his head. Getting an apology and the paint removed from his weight room was what Raph wanted, but not at the expense of Mikey killing what braincells he had. The paint was cleaned from his equipment and weights, the mirror wasn’t a high priority on the list. The mirror was mostly clean anyhow…along with the ceiling.

“I’m goin’ to go and talk to dad really fast. Just sit here for a minute with [Y/N] and get your head straight,” Raph told him, patting his shoulder reassuringly before heading for the ha-shi. Making sure Mikey wasn’t going to fall ass over tea kettle, you slipped into the kitchen and snagged an empty glass from the counter and headed for the bathroom. Opening the medicine cabinet behind the bathroom mirror and grabbing four tablets of some strong ibuprofen you turned on the faucet to fill the glass. You came back to the living room a minute later where Mikey still silently sat holding his head.

“Here, take these, hon” Gently nudging his shoulder for Mikey to pull his head from his hands, you offered the medicine and glass of water to him. Blinking away the foggy confusion he slowly reached out a tentative hand and took the glass while the other accepted the tablets in his upturned palm.

“Thanks, Angelcakes... You’re a sweetheart, even though I was a such a jerk earlier,” Tossing his head back as he threw the tablets to the back of his throat he chased them down with a few gulps of water. A smile broke across your face at Mikey’s self-reflection, at least your outburst from earlier had some silver lining.

“Raph already said he forgave you and so do I. Thank you for cleaning up as much as you did,” You chuckled, unable to help yourself and wrap your arms around his shoulders for a quick hug. He returned the gesture for only a second before excusing himself to lay on the couch for a moment. A wave of nausea twisted and rolled Mikey’s stomach as he shut his eyes. The fumes from the paint thinner were starting to wear off, leaving a sickly feeling behind as the headache settled particularly harsh behind his still blackened eye.

---

“Shit, shit, shit-” Donnie muttered as his arm snapped outward to catch the errant ping-pong ball with the paddle, popping it up into the air so that he could catch it with the other one. Thankfully Master Splinter, who watched from the other side of the room like a hawk, stopped caring long ago about swearing openly and simply continued to observe. Sweeping his sharp gaze from Donatello to Leonardo, who was rigid as stone while balancing the eggs as instructed.

Raph stood in the entrance in silence, observing his brothers struggling to keep up their performances under their father’s ever watchful glare. Although he had noticed his second eldest son after he walked through the threshold, Master Splinter didn’t acknowledge him right away and allowed Raphael to watch for himself.

“Hey, dad,” Raph announced, voice cutting through the air like a knife, “you wanted me ta come see ya?”

“Yes, Raphael,” Master Splinter pinned Leonardo and Donatello each with a harsh glare that silently ordered them to continue their exercises, then slowly made his way over to Raphael. “I know I already spoke to you earlier, but I’d like to apologize again for these past events. My judgement was unfair and unjust towards you, as were your brothers.”

Turning his head to look at his struggling sons, it was a silent prompt from their father for them to speak. They both briefly glanced at one another, neither sure who should speak first, before Donnie decided to just go first.

“I-I’m sorry I didn’t believe your side of the story about the vent collapsing and then shot my grappling hook through your punching bag! F-fuck!” Donnie struggled for a split second as the ping-pong ball decided to arch in a direction that it was not supposed to go, “I thought you had another punching bag honestly- saying that out loud I realize that was an asshole assumption- but either way I have already replaced it myself!”

“You did?” Raph questioned, not remembering seeing a punching bag in the space it usually hung. Thinking back on it briefly, he remembered seeing something black attached to the wall but didn’t stop to get a good look at it.

“I did! It was- shit- supposed to be a Christmas gift, but it seemed appropriate for now” Donnie caught the ping-pong ball before it bounced out of range, “It kind of works like a dance control pad but for boxing! I’ll show you how it works later, I have it programmed with games and-”

“Okay, Donatello, thank you for apologizing,” Master Splinter interrupted politely in order to give Leo his time to speak “Leonardo.”

Clearing his throat of the awkward lump that had formed in his throat during every ha-shi, Leo managed to force himself to look up at Raph. The fact that he was not only wrong but proven so after Donnie pulled up the security video, now he had to openly apologize for it. Thankfully, Raph didn’t look smug or like he was going to tease, just simply crossed his arms and kept a neutral expression.

“I’m…sorry, I’m sorry I didn’t believe you when you said it was an accident. I should have given you the benefit of the doubt and been a better leader in the situation by being more considerate and reasonable,” Leo grunted, straining to keep the eggs balanced in their place as they wobbled at the ends of the chopstick. Taking a deep breath to steady his balance, Leo opened his mouth to continue only for the tap of his father’s staff to interrupt him.

“The inconsideration of not only Raphael’s explanation and situation, but his own emotional wellbeing and personal belongings is rather disappointing to me. I raised the four of you as not only an equal team, but equal in family.” Watching as Leo turned his gaze to the floor again as the guilt weighed heavily on his shell, Master Splinter turned his gaze to Raph, “While your brother is physically the strong among you, that does not make him immovable or without limits and I fear you may have forgotten this fact. With that being said, this punishment may come from me, but the resolution lies with your brother. Raphael, when you feel you are ready to forgive them, I will release them from the ha-shi”

Staring down at his father and absorbing his words, Raph exhaled through his nose with a slow steady sigh while he thought. On one hand, Raph was slightly getting a kick out of the fact that he was very much getting retribution for these past few awful days, but on the other hand…the ha-shi sucked, he knew that, and this didn’t feel as satisfying as Raph would have thought. Neither of his brothers said anything, both equally sharing expressions of guilt and regret as they looked to him.

“Let ‘em go, dad,” Raph sighed, waving his hand dismissively in the air, “I already turned Mikey loose a few minutes ago anyhow…But, I have two conditions”

Having snatched the ping-pong ball between his finger and thumb, Donnie continued to balance with wide eyes while Leo stayed perfect perfectly still, both staring at Raph with mix of emotions. Confused by the fact Raph was letting them go after only a few hours of the hashi, while also concerned and worried by what the conditions could possibly be.

“First condition; I get to do something I have always wanted to do,” Cracking a toothy, devilish grin at his brothers- particularly at Leo, Raph spoke with a slight air of smugness.

“Very well?” Master Splinter gestured vaguely with an open palm, just as confused as his two sons. With permission granted by his father Raph crouched low to the ground, extending his right foot and with one quick motion swept the stacked milk crates from beneath Leo’s feet. A loud thud echoed off the walls as Leo was unceremoniously dropped onto his shell, knocking the wind clean out of his lungs with a burning wheeze.

Crack! Crack! The two eggs flew up into the air and gracefully landed on Leo’s plastrons, yolk and egg white sliding down his sides.

“Punk ass bitch” Leo grunted, blinking up as he coughed and sputtered for air as Raph laughed above him. Slapping a hand over his mouth Donnie tried to stifle the snort that threatened to crack from his throat while hopping off his balancing post. The defiant comment from the downed leader made Raph laugh harder, briefly holding his sides as a stitch formed in his ribs. Reaching out a hand to help Leo up, Raph continued to chuckle at his brother’s misfortune. Taking his hand, Leo was hoisted to his feet and roughly tugged under one of Raph’s biceps for a firm embrace.

“My second condition, since you failed to be a leader to me, I was thinkin’ I lead you for once” Raphael smirked down at Leo, green eyes shining with mischief.

“You want to lead the rest of the mission?” Leo assumed, raising an eyebrow with uncertainty.

“Nah, that would jeopardize the mission, I ain’t that stupid. I’m gonna be leadin’ you in my regular work out regime for the next few weeks,”

Silently blinking at his brother, waiting for a punchline or follow up joke, Leo’s bright blue eyes scanned Raph’s emerald-green ones to see if he was serious. He was. Closing his eyes and inhaling deeply, Leo let his shoulders sag in defeat.

“I feel that is a fitting punishment for the crime. Did Michelangelo clean up to my specifications?” Master Splinter questioned.

“Well, he didn’t exactly finish,” Raph rubbed the back of his head, having forgotten that small fact for a moment. “The fumes kind of got to him and made him a little loopy, he was slurring and acting kind of drunk when me and [Y/N] got to him. He’s sitting in the living room with them right now,”

“What!?” Donnie barked, dropping the ping-pong paddles and ball to the ground and rushed out of the ha-shi. “I told him to turn on the vent fans and wear a damn N-95!” He could be heard grumbling rather loudly, marching his way back to his lab to retrieve a gas mask with a determination to finish the job himself. Grabbing some rubber gloves so that the smell wouldn’t permeate his skin Donnie marched his way to the gym.

-----

While waiting for Raph to talk with his father and brothers in the ha-shi, you sat on the edge while Mikey rested on the rest of the couch, laying on his side and draping his arm over his eyes to keep the light out. Worried about Mikey’s health after inhaling the paint thinner fumes for a good few minutes, you stayed by his side, a hand gently reached out and rubbing the side of his shell in a soothing gesture. You wondered for a minute if Mikey had dozed off as he lay there silently.

“How is he feeling?” Master Splinter questioned as he silently wandered into the living room, startling you and making you slightly jump.

“I’m alright, dad” Mikey grumbled, removing his arm that was draped over his eyes and taking a deep breath. You stood so that Mikey could get up himself, peeling himself off the couch and swinging his legs over the side so he could stand. “I’ll go finish cleaning-”

“Donatello is taking care of the rest, do not worry. Thank you for doing as much as you did, but next time your brother instructs you to use proper equipment, please take the advice” Master Splinter requested with a tired smile.

“I’ve used paint thinner without a mask before! I didn’t realize it was that strong,” Mikey defended himself, rubbing the bleariness out of his eyes as he slowly reanimated himself. Walking out of the living room to allow Master Splinter and Mikey to speak, you heard from around the corner Leo’s low voice talking to Raph, vaguely making out what they were talking hushed tones.

“Seriously though, I am sorry about everything. I promise it won’t happen again,” Leo genuinely apologized, wanting to show his sincerity to Raph outside of the ha-shi. Admittedly, Leo still felt like a bit of a dick.

“Thanks, I forgive ya bro. You ain’t gettin’ out of the workout, though” Raph told him back, a smug but still genuine smile still on his face.

“I know, I know. I’m not trying to get out of it... Did you see the boxing thing Donnie set up for you?” Leo changed the subject, knowing well there wasn’t any way around the future work out sessions. He was going to be incredibly sore the next few nights, the ache already setting into his entire muscular system.

“Nah, I didn’t, what is it? He said it was supposed to be a Christmas present or something”

“It’s like a wall mounted Simon Says but for boxing, I guess you could say? Donnie said he found it after a gym went out of business and left it out for trash pick-up. Come check it out with me,” Leo gave Raph’s shoulder a coaxing pat and walked in the direction where his punching bag normally hung.

A warm smile tugged your lips as you watched the two walk towards where the punching bag normally hung, feeling a small sense of pride that your stubbornness had achieved some peace for your boyfriend. After a moment you decided to follow them, curious about this gift as well.

Taglist: @silverwatergalaxy @thegirlwiththeninjaturtletattoos @yorshie @truffle-draws-turtles @ninnosaurus @thepinkpanther83 @avery73 @luckycharms1701 @tmnt-tychou @suksiskovaikkakuuseen

#TMNT #Raphael #Raph #Raphael x reader #Raph x reader #TMNT x reader #Bayverse TMNT #Bayverse Raphael #Bayverse Raph #Leonardo #Leo #Donatello #Donnie #Michelangelo #Mikey

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doomhands-jr · 2 months ago

Text

The Devil's Advocate - Chapter 12

Pairing: Delinquent!Noah Sebastian X Pastor's Daughter!Reader

Summary: Noah is a delinquent with a lot of anger at the church. You're a pastor's daughter plagued by moral perfectionism, charged with overseeing the community service he's been sentenced to complete. You've never encountered true temptation before. How will you fare up against Noah, who not only isn't bound by the same rules of purity as you, but actively scoffs at them?

Rating: 18+ Minors DNI

Warnings: Nothing but fluff, baby.

Masterlist

Thanks to @flowerynerds for the banner!

Thanks to @throughwoodsanddirt for the beta!

___________

The New England winters tended to hone its inhabitants like an axe against a grindstone, sloughing off the weaker bits until you were left with only the hardest, sharpest edges of the soul.

The anticipated nor’easter was due to hit sometime in the next few days. Local newscasters said it was likely to be severe. Currently, it was the calm before the storm. The weather was still, like all the substance had been sucked out of the air so the storm could dump it out again once it hit.

On the ground, gray-stained slush clung to sidewalks and frozen lawns, still leftover from last week’s snowfall. The bitter December air stung at your nostrils and turned the tip of your nose red, and Noah Davis’s hot breath drifted out of his open mouth in billowing clouds as he looked down at you from where he stood in his door frame.

It was early morning—three days after you’d spoken with Nick. The western edge of town had all but cleared out, having been comprised mostly of students, who had all gone home for the month-long winter break.

Noah sniffed, blinking down at you and you cleared your throat.

“I, um…I have your stuff.”

You held out the clothes he’d let you borrow, freshly washed and folded, stacked neatly in a pile on top of your mittens.

Noah stepped to the side and gestured for you to enter, which you did, apprehensively. Something about being in his space felt off-limits to you, yet he welcomed you in without hesitation.

Briefly, you surveyed the space before you. A worn sofa and two overstuffed armchairs surrounded a stained coffee table littered with empty beer cans, paper plates, and ashtrays with the spent butts of cigarettes and, you suspected, joints.

The mess was contained to the coffee table, however. The rest of the living room was fairly clean. A large-screen TV sat atop a dark glass stand. An array of gaming consoles and controllers decorated the shelves below it. It was off, and you could see a shadow of your reflection in the black glass of the screen.

Noah cleared his throat and you spun around to look at him. He regarded you with intention, surveying you up and down, but his face didn’t betray whatever information he gathered from the act.

“Do you want something to drink?” he asked.

“I’m good,” you said, and immediately regretted it because it wasn’t until after you spoke that you realized how dry your throat had become. “Water, actually.”

He let out a breath somewhere between a sigh and a chuckle, moving to the open-concept kitchen space to fetch a glass out of the cupboard. “Have a seat,” he called over to you without looking.

You took a seat on the brown tweed couch, shrugging off your coat and removing your mittens, and bundled them into a neat pile on your lap.

The acrid smell of stale cigarettes stung the inside of your nose and you discreetly nudged the ash tray across the coffee table.

Noah appeared at the other side of the table, a glass of water clasped in his outstretched arm and you took it gratefully, working hard not to look at him too much.

Though this wasn’t the first time you’d seen him since your one and only sexual experience, it was still a shock to your system. Noah stood in front of you, looking regrettably Jesus-like with his long hair cascading down his shoulders. His clothes were unassuming—gray hoodie and black jeans, but they fit him effortlessly well.

He took his seat on the armchair to your left, legs about six inches too long to fit comfortably between the chair and the end of the coffee table. He rubbed his shins, friction offering more warmth than the sputtering vents and the furnace that whined in protest. Even your ancient dorm with its concrete brick walls could stay warmer than the drafty rental Noah and the band called home.

You noticed a distinct absence of sound or movement in the house.

“Just you today?” you asked.

“Folio and Ruffilo went home for the holidays,” he said, settling back into his chair and sipping from a mug of black coffee.

You didn’t need to ask why he wasn’t doing the same—with all the baggage he carried from his family, you’d be surprised if they even exchanged Christmas cards.

You bounced your knee, knowing there was a conversation to be had, but not wanting to approach it.

“I’m surprised you’re still in town,” he remarked.

This time you chanced a look at him. The coffee mug obscured part of his face, but his eyes still held the same intensity they always had.

“My parents are on a missions trip in Africa,” you said.

He quirked his head to the side, forehead wrinkling in confusion, and something about the crease between his eyebrows had you looking away again, too overstimulated by your own attraction to him. This was going to be harder than you thought.

“What’s a mission trip?” he asked.

“Missions trip,” you corrected. “It’s where groups of people go and build schools and stuff in small towns that don’t have enough resources.” You said this into your glass of water, thankful for something you could anchor your focus on.

“That’s pretty sick, actually.”

“Yeah,” you said, taking a sip to quell the tightness in your throat. “Yeah, I mean, it’s all sort of religiously-motivated though. The real reason is to spread Christianity.”

You almost felt his face twist with displeasure. Glancing over at him confirmed it. He didn’t say anything though. He didn’t need to. You understood what that look was about and you felt the same.

A few awkward moments passed while you tried to think of anything you could say that wasn’t the one thing you came here to say.

“How were your finals?” Noah asked, coming to your rescue.

“Good,” you answered too quickly in a rush of air. You cleared your throat and forced your next words to come out at a more conversational pace. “They were good. I think I passed all of them.”

If Noah noticed anything off about your energy, he didn’t let on. Instead, he smiled. “I’m not surprised.”

You gave him a questioning look.

“You’re really smart,” he explained, setting his coffee on the table in front of him, sans coaster, “and you seem like the type of person to study hard.” He drummed his fingers on the arm of the chair while he said it, resting his chin on the palm of his other hand.

You smiled back because he’d clocked you. “Does that make me boring?” you asked, finally relaxing into the usual back-and-forth of your conversations with Noah.

His smile grew wider, and you were stuck by just how sharp the corners of his mouth were. “I don’t think it does. I mean, if that was all there was to you, it might, but you have more layers than that.”

“Like an ogre,” you said.

His face fell and he blinked, waiting for you to explain.

“From Shrek.”

“Get out.”

Your composure cracked, and through the fissure erupted a fit of giggles, surface tension finally breaking into something warm and homey. Noah snickered and at last, the shields were down—both of you disarmed and ready for what lay ahead.

It took several moments for the energy in the room to settle where it needed to be. When it finally did, you regarded Noah with your full attention for the first time since arriving.

He looked tired. The light bags that usually hung around just under his eyes had deepened into something sadder. Patchy stubble dotted his chin and upper lip, and his hair looked stringy and unwashed.

“So,” he began, drumming his fingers on the armrest of his chair.

“So,” you parroted.

In the span of a few seconds, the air around you folded in on itself and grew twice as thick—dense with unspoken sentiments and the possibilities for what could come out of this conversation.

He fixed you with a serious look, assessing your demeanor before speaking again. You’d been on the other end of that look before, but every time it happened, it struck you just how large and intimidating Noah’s presence was.

“Should we talk about it?” he asked.

You squeezed your eyes shut, leaning back in your seat. When you opened them again, you were staring at the ceiling. “No….”

You heard Noah huff a laugh through his nostrils. That was good. At least he was amused by your discomfort. Without lowering your head, you shifted your eyes over in his direction. He smiled at you, and it took the edge off.

“I promise I won’t make this any harder than it has to be.” You appreciated the gentle tone he took—a nurse soothing his patient before administering a shot.

You said nothing, but no longer protested. He took it as his cue to go on.

“I’m sorry,” he said.

You exhaled deep. “I know,” you replied, unable to look anywhere but your hands. His apology didn’t make you feel any better about what happened. It was more for him.

“I know you know,” he said. “But I want to explain why.”

It was already too much. You squeezed your eyes shut and blinked them back open. You hated everything about this situation. “Why you ghosted?”

“Why I’m sorry,” he said.

You looked at him with trepidation. He had your attention, but you were still wary and unsure if you wanted to hear what he was about to say. You almost hated yourself for being stupid enough to give him the chance to apologize.

If he got it wrong it would feel like reopening a wound.

He took a deep breath. Somewhere behind his eyes, an unnamed heaviness settled in and you had to look away. The last thing you wanted to do was empathize with the man who hurt you.

“I’m not the best communicator,” he began slowly.

“Ya’ think?” You couldn’t stop the sarcasm from slipping out. His face went from soft and patient to something more frustrated.

“Sorry,” you muttered.

He swallowed, Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat before he resumed. “Things like honesty and vulnerability? They were weaknesses in my book for a long time. I could go into detail about why, but that’s not really important.

“What’s important now is that you know that I’m trying. I understand that I fucked up. I hate that I did it. I wish I wasn’t that person, but it’s a shortcoming that I’m learning to deal with.”

“I also hate that you fucked up,” you said, matter-of-factly. You didn’t say it to hurt him, but it was true, and it was important to you that you no longer filtered your thoughts to protect his feelings.

Noah, being Noah, saw the humor in your statement and huffed. “Your honesty is refreshing. If not a little cold,” he said. A half-smile painted his face and God, if you didn’t want to slap it off him so that you’d no longer have to look at it.

Letting his face fall neutral again, he continued. “You’re not the first important person that I’ve hurt because of this,” he said. “But hurting you did force me to pay attention to how that feels, and I don’t like it. I’m tired of being an asshole, and I think, moving forward, I want to be more honest. Not just with you, but with myself. I think I’ve been fooling myself for a long time about what’s important to me, and I’m starting to realize those things don’t make me happy.”

You resisted the urge to ask him what things he was talking about. You wanted to break out of the habit of giving him more attention than he’d earned. That had always been a problem for you with men, and you suspected it was what got you into this mess in the first place.

You could see on his face that he almost expected you to ask him more, and when you didn’t, he faltered for a moment. “Good,” you said with a nod.

He deflated, but ultimately melted into a smile. “Thanks,” he said. You could tell he meant it, and holy bricks, did that have you softening more for him against your will.

A warmth blossomed between the two of you, slowly at first, but it grew with each passing moment. You could feel it in your bones, and despite your best intentions, you caught yourself smiling.

You didn’t want Noah to have this pull over you. You couldn’t tell if you were relieved that he’d done a good job with his apology, or resentful because it would have been so much easier to write him off had he failed.

“Was there anything else you wanted to talk about?” you asked, ready to be done with the conversation for the time being and beyond grateful it hadn’t stemmed into more intimate territory—you didn’t think you could handle that.

“How are you?” he asked. “I feel like so much has happened since we last talked.”

“Ha!” you said. “You could say that again.”

Noah leaned back in his chair, shifting his weight to make himself more comfortable. “Tell me about it. Do you want to get some food? I’d love to catch up.”

“Maybe another time,” you said, with only the slightest twinge of regret. It was for the best. “I’ve got laundry to do.”

It was a lie. You had nothing to do, but as much as you wanted to spend more time with him, your intuition was telling you to go, and you’d promised yourself you’d start listening more. Something inside of you wasn’t ready to be alone with him for much longer.

“I understand,” he said, voice dipping in enthusiasm, but clearly respectful of your boundaries. “What about tomorrow?”

You didn’t have an excuse ready—the knee-jerk denial didn’t kick in at the idea. Perhaps that was a sign?

“I…I can’t commit for sure, but I’ll think about it.”

He seemed satisfied with your answer, offering a smile that was a little too sincere for you to handle and you had to get out of the room before you lost all sense of self.

“Okay. See you around,” you said quickly, shuffling to grab your backpack and swing it around onto your shoulder while nearly tripping over the coffee table on your way to the door.

Noah didn’t chase you—you knew he was going to give you whatever space you needed in order to be ready for him.

And that might have been what scared you most.

------------

The tip of Noah’s nose almost touched the mirror with how close he was leaning over the bathroom sink. He’d been dealing with a very stubborn ingrown hair in a painful spot right under his nostrils. It was angry and red, but it hadn’t quite come to a head yet.

Perfect. Just what he needed.

He leaned back to get a better macro view of himself. The spot was definitely visible, but he was more than likely fixating on the small flaw. He couldn’t help it though—he was nervous.

Letting his gaze drift over the rest of his face, he noticed he’d missed a spot while shaving. Fetching his razor from the shelf in his bathroom cabinet, he ran it under water and brought it to his face, moving it slowly around his jaw.

Fuck!

He nicked the skin.

At first there was nothing, but then red began to seep out from the tiny cut and Noah had to grab a tissue and dab at the small drop of blood that had gathered around the wound.

Steadying himself with a deep breath, he grasped at the porcelain sink with both hands before facing the mirror once again.

This was stupid. He was stupid. You were just someone he liked. There was no reason for him to be so on edge. This wasn’t even a real date, you were just meeting up for coffee.

Exhaling slowly through his nostrils, he brought the razor to his face once again, this time successfully removing the hair he missed. He finished up with moisturizer, giving one last menacing look at the angry red zit above his upper lip and recognized that it was a lost cause. There was nothing he could do about it now.

He reached for the bottle of spiced oil he usually wore and then thought better of it. This was a special occasion. He had a small sample bottle of designer cologne tucked away in the back of his sock drawer. Normally he wasn’t the type to reach for expensive brand names, but he was nineteen at the time and he liked the way it smelled, so he shoplifted it from an outlet mall that wasn’t smart enough to keep their shit in locked displays.

Noah smiled bitterly at the memory. He’d done a lot of stupid shit in his youth. He supposed he was still in his youth, because hardly four months had passed since his last petty crime—the one that had led him to meet you.

He understood why he did it all. But lately the desire to act out wasn’t there, and he didn’t know why.

Perhaps these days, there was a greater incentive to earn his joy. He no longer needed to steal it.

Dabbing a small amount of the cologne on his pulse points, he stuffed it back in the drawer and shut it away. He could reflect on his shifting morality later. Right now, he needed to figure out what he was going to wear.

________

Noah exhaled into his palms, warm breath serving to heat up the red, frozen extremities. It was a short walk to your dorm, but the air was bitingly cold and the snow was already ankle-deep. The storm was due to hit sometime within the next 24 hours, but he still had some time before the sidewalks grew too treacherous to walk. He wore the nicest outerwear he owned—a black pea coat and pair of black leather boots, but they were no match for the harsh December cold.

He raised his hand and rapped three times on your dorm.

He heard momentary shuffling on the other side before you opened the door in a flurry. The first thing he noticed was the light dusting of pink across your cheeks and the way your chest heaved with labored breathing. Try as he did to keep his eyes focused on your face, he let them drop for only a moment to take in the sight of you in your plain white top and faded denim jeans.

You looked clean, comfortable, and unassuming, and for some unknown reason, it did things to Noah.

“Hi,” you breathed and all at once, the moisture in Noah’s mouth evaporated, leaving a dry, scaly desert in its place. One hundred percent of his brain power was devoted to taking in the sight of you until it was satisfied that it had catalogued every inch of your presence.

“Hi,” he said once his speech returned. His voice came out softer than intended.

“You ready?” you asked, grabbing your coat from the back of the door. He tried to peek inside your dorm room—wanted badly to glean any additional knowledge of who you were when you weren’t with him, but you didn’t afford him the chance, stepping out and shutting the door behind you in one swift motion.

“Yeah,” he replied, and then he didn’t say anything else because he’d apparently never had a single conversation in his life and had no idea how to begin one.

You and Noah walked in silence, boots leaving two pairs of footprints in the snow. You wrapped your arms around you as you walked, and Noah noticed you wore mittens instead of gloves. He liked it. He liked that you wore mittens instead of gloves and it stuck out to him because he couldn’t remember ever liking any article of clothing worn by a woman that wasn’t about what wasn’t covered.

You observed the surroundings while Noah observed you, every once in a while commenting on a specific tree or building you liked, pointing to it with a mittened hand and Noah briefly wondered if there was a limit to how much time he could observe you being yourself before he got bored. He hoped he’d never reach it.

“What’s up with you today?” you asked as the two of you rounded the corner that led to the coffee shop. “You’re quiet.”

“Sorry,” he said casually. “Would you like me to talk more?”

It wasn’t sarcastic, but a genuine question, asked in the way a server would if they found out their customer didn’t enjoy the meal. Did you want him to bring something more appetizing to the table?

“No,” you said, looking down at your boots. “I just…want to know what’s on your mind.”

The only thing on his mind was how physically aware of you he was. To ease the tension that had been pulling on his bones, he took a step closer to you. He wanted so badly to reach out and touch you in some way—grab your hand or throw his arm around you or something—but he refrained. “Nothing,” he said with a shrug. “Just vibing.”

You rolled your eyes, sighing as the two of you reached the entrance to the coffee shop and you pulled on the large brass door handle, gesturing for him to enter first. “Well, I take back what I said earlier then,” you said. “I do want you to talk more. I’m doing all the heavy lifting.”

Noah smiled, tickled by how unapologetically honest you were. He liked this version of you. Not that he didn’t like every version of you he’s had the privilege of knowing, but something was different. You were less eager to please him. Almost like you wielded the sharper parts of your personality as a weapon, testing to see if its sting would scare him away.

It wouldn’t.

“What do you want to do after you graduate?” he asked as the two of you made your way to the counter.

“Just jumping right in, then? No warmup?” you asked. Noah shrugged. “Grande cinnamon vanilla latte, please.” you said to the barista.

“Medium black coffee,” said Noah.

Noah was reminded of the first time the two of you went to this café together. You were wearing the same rubber boots and Noah was doing his best to flirt with you. He smiled to himself and pulled out his card to pay. You let him without protesting. Good. You knew you deserved it.

“I’m not sure anymore, to be honest,” you said as the two of you slid over to the pickup window. “I used to think I would work at the church my dad owned. Be office personnel or something.”

“That doesn’t seem like you,” Noah observed.

You shrugged. “It was the obvious choice at the time. My parents both believe I belong in the ministry in some regard.”

“Would you be a pastor one day?” Noah asked.

You let out a loud, bitter laugh. “I don’t think our church would ever be ready for female leadership. It’s so old-school.”

Noah frowned. He didn’t like hearing that. In his opinion, you’d make a much better pastor than any other religious person he’s met. You actually practiced what you preached.

“So what do you think you’ll do instead?” he asked, trying to shift the subject away from religion. He got the feeling that those wounds were still fresh for you.

You shrugged. “To be honest, I haven’t put much thought into it. I know I should, but so much has changed in the last few weeks—I’m still kind of wrapping my head around it.”

“I get it,” he said, reaching to pick up the drink orders that had arrived. You led the way over to a small two-person table in corner of the otherwise empty café. Noah followed dutifully, trying his best to express with every single movement how completely present he was here with you. He was sure you didn’t notice, but that wasn’t the point. For him, it was about the intention.

“You do?” you asked, sitting down. Noah sat across from you and indulged in a moment of unapologetic eye contact.

“Mhmm,” he nodded. “I mean, not that I’m experiencing it or anything, but I know that when it comes to big decisions like that, I need a clear head. If there’s too much stuff going on in my life at one time, I don’t have the headspace to think about it.”

Some of the tension in your shoulders slackened—not by much, but he was so hyper-aware of you by that point that he couldn’t miss it. He wanted to think it was because of him.

Rather than responding, you sipped at your latte, closing your eyes and savoring it. He took another indulgent moment—this time, to observe how your face responded to the small moment of pleasure. It was almost sexual, he noticed, the way you tucked your lips between your teeth and smiled. He appreciated that this moment was clearly for you, but that you allowed him to witness it.

His mind drifted, picturing himself drawing that same response from you with his touch. A hot coil tugged just behind his navel. Saliva pooled on his tongue and his thumb twitched with the urge to reach out and tug your bottom lip away from where it sat tucked under your teeth—until he caught himself. Lusting after you felt forbidden in a way he hadn’t allowed lust to feel since middle school.

Noah sipped at his coffee, eyes trained on you until you were finished squeezing all the serotonin out of the taste. It was bitter, but in a good way—like he needed a palate cleanser to shock his system after the sickening sweetness of the last few moments.

“What about you?” you asked eventually. “Are you planning to stay at your job?”

“No,” he said. “The job is there to pay the bills while I try to find something else.”

It had become apparent that he’d have to find something else sooner rather than later. As much as the piece work gave him time to think, all of the repetitive motion was taking its toll on his body. He came home at the end of every shift with back pain on his left side and he’d been having to spend more and more time in the gym evening it out.

“What would something else be?” you asked, eyes trained on him and his neck grew warm under the intense observation.

“I want my music to take off, if possible,” he said. “I’ve been working on a lot of new stuff. Actually, I’d love to show you sometime if you want.”

“What kind of stuff?” you asked before taking another slow sip.

“Different from what I usually write. More experimental. I like it, but I haven’t shown the band, so I’m not sure what they’ll think.”

You nodded slowly, mulling something over in your head and Noah waited patiently while you found your words.

“I think…,” you began. “I think I’d be okay with hearing it. If you wanted to share, that is.”

Noah blinked a few times. “I mean, yeah. I’d love to share it with you, but why the hesitation?”

You smiled bashfully, full lips still wrapped around the edge of your cup. “It’s hard to explain. And it sounds mean.”

“Please humor me,” said Noah in earnest. He liked when you were mean. You deserved to be mean. He had a sneaking suspicion that you’d only ever been overly nice in the past and the more you dropped the façade and stopped worrying about being polite, the more he enjoyed your company.

You licked your lips, staring down into your mug and smiled to yourself again. “I’m trying to be careful with how much attention I’m giving to men these days.”

“Oh.” The word escaped in a breath from Noah’s parted lips. His eyebrows lifted up towards his hairline and he had to take a minute to digest this bit of information.

Something that felt a lot like jealousy flared up in his stomach and he had to examine it. He didn’t like it, whatever it was. It felt hot, slimy, and thick, and it sat just below his ribs.

“Other men too?” He couldn’t help but ask for clarification. Perhaps he was showing his cards by bringing it up, but he didn’t care.

The way the corner of your mouth lifted in response to his question let him know that you caught on to the implications of his question. “If there were other men, yes.”

“So there are no other men,” he stated, feeling a flicker of hope rise up in his chest.

“They’ve all gone home for Christmas break.” The teasing smile never left your lips as you said it.

Fine. You could play your cards close to the chest if you wanted. He was fine with that. Whatever.

He liked it though. Underneath the frustration, he liked this version of you: empowered, a little bitchy, tongue like a whip, lashing him in penance for his sins. The sick, masochistic side of him wanted more. Needed more. [4]

He took a deep breath to help him refocus. “So why the newfound caution? Not that I’m against it, it’s probably a good idea. But why?”

You raised an eyebrow, wordlessly asking if he really wanted to get into it, and he did, so he held your gaze until you decided to grace him with the truth.

“I think I’ve given men a lot of unearned attention. It’s come back to bite me many times over. I’m trying to learn my lesson this time.”

Noah nodded. He knew he was one of the reasons. He was prepared to hear that. But then…

“What other times have you done that?”

You tilted your chin down, narrowing your eyes in skepticism. “You mean aside from you?” you asked.

He couldn’t help but smile, appreciating how resistant he was growing to the sting of your candor. You weren’t afraid to let him know just how much he’d messed up.

He nodded.

Your eyes flicked up to the ceiling while you thought. You sucked on your teeth while your gaze drifted across the room, picturing invisible figures from your past and the moments they’ve wronged you.

“My dad, for one.”

He was hoping you’d say that one.

“How?” Noah scooted forward in his chair, elbows resting on the table between the two of you. Part of him was eager to know how his fuckup had fared in comparison to other men in your life.

“Even just listening to him preach every single Sunday. Sometimes the sermons would be worthwhile, but a lot of them were just him spouting his opinions on how people should behave. I don’t like that he has the platform he has. He doesn’t deserve it.”

Your face had morphed into a scowl as you talked. Noah could see the resentment you held for your father and he wished there was something he could do—some word of comfort he could offer, but he knew it wasn’t his place, considering.

“Isaac, too,” you said, and Noah rejoiced internally. He’d been hoping you’d say that even more.

“What did he do?” Noah asked, training his face and voice to appear calm and unbiased.

“Oh my god,” you said, setting your cup down in front of you and clasping your hands together with a newfound focus. “I forgot you don’t even know!”

“Know what?”

“Isaac donated the proceeds of the showcase to a pro-life organization.”

Noah had to force himself to swallow the sip of coffee he’d just taken. “What?!”

You launched into the story, telling him all about how you’d been lured into participating because he’d said he wanted to donate the proceeds to charity, and how he’d been respectful the entire time, despite knowing how you felt about the subject. How he didn’t tell you about it beforehand because he knew you’d protest, so he went and did it behind your back, and how you didn’t find out until right before you were supposed to go on stage and sing.

“Which I rocked, by the way, and you totally should have been there to see it,” you said, crossing your arm and fixing him with a scowl.

“Something came up. I’ll have to make it up to you somehow,” he said. He didn’t have the heart to tell you he’d gone, but was too much of a coward to go inside the sanctuary.

“Yeah, I know. That Something apparently lives in my dorm and had a lot to say.”

Noah’s eyebrows pulled together. “What?”

Apparently he’d struck a nerve. Within the span of a second, you were back to being closed off from him, arms folded across your chest and chin jutting out while you stared out the window. He probably deserved that.

“I forget her name. Madison or whatever,” you said.

Internally, his body hissed at him. He forgot he’d been trying to use Madison as a distraction. He hated that he’d done it, but at the time it felt necessary. He wasn’t sure how he could explain that to you, though.

“So yeah,” you said. “I’m done with men for a while,” you said, still staring out the window and bouncing the leg that was crossed over the other.

“For what it’s worth, I’m really sorry,” he said. “I should have been there. It was…not my best hour.”

He could tell you wanted more of an explanation, but weren’t about to beg for one. He’d tell you what really happened eventually…just not yet.

“What can I do to earn your favor?” he asked.

“Be worth my time.” You said it without missing a beat and Noah had to hold back a snort. He was not expecting such a no-holds-barred answer from you and it hit him like a bucket of…not exactly ice water, but something warmer. Kinder. You were giving him the information he needed, unafraid of whether or not it would hurt his feelings. God, there was something about that he couldn’t get enough of.

“Noted,” he said. “Still, I can’t believe Isaac did that.”

“Yeah, well…,” you trailed off, mouth still pulled down into a frown. A few beats passed where neither of you said anything, and in the silence, Noah realized what he had to do.

He drained the rest of his coffee, then stood up and collected his things.

“I should get you home then,” he said.

Your face morphed into one of surprise. “What?” Noah wished he could take a photo of how you looked right then. Lips parted in bewilderment. Eyebrows pulled together in confusion. It was cute.

“Your time is precious,” he said. “I don’t want to take up more than I’m worth.”

“That’s not…are you serious?” you asked, turning to face him. He was already setting his empty mug in the dirty dish bin at the end of the counter. He turned back to face you and nodded to the door, gesturing for you to follow.

You dumped the remainder of your latte into your mouth and stood, shoving your arms into your coat and hurrying to catch up. “What’s the rush?” you asked.

“Trying to respect your time,” he said, smiling to himself as you struggled to match his pace.

“Noah,” you said firmly, grabbing his arm and turning him around to face you. You didn’t say anything else but studied him with your jaw set firm.

He stared back, face calm, but unyielding. The wind picked up, blowing a few strands of hair across your face. The skin at the back of his neck stood on end in the cold. His nose began to run, and he sniffed it back.

“Why are you doing this?” you asked. In the back of his mind, he registered your hand still wrapped around his arm.

“I just got back into your good graces,” he admitted. “I don’t want to overstay my welcome.” “Overstay? Noah, we’ve only been hanging out for an hour.”

“I know,” he said, resisting the urge to pull you in closer. “It was an hour I wasn’t sure I’d get. I’m grateful for that.”

“Okay,” you said, looking off to the side when the eye contact grew too intense. “So, what’s the problem?”

Noah searched for the right words, trying to describe what until now had only been a vague emotion that hadn’t quite surfaced.

“The problem is that I will always want more than I’ve earned,” he said, softly, like he was only just now admitting this to himself. “An hour is already more than I deserve. Any more, and I’d get spoiled. But I would love the opportunity to earn your company again soon.”

You processed what he said for a few beats and then rolled your eyes, lips stretching into a begrudging smile and if Noah had the ability to freeze time, he’d use it right then and there to study every inch of your face.

“You’re an idiot, you know that?” you said, sighing and hooking your arm through his. You allowed him to walk you back to your dorm.

“Maybe,” he said, enjoying the pressure of your elbow against his. “Hopefully a harmless one.”

“Is this love bombing?” you asked, short legs still struggling to keep up with his long ones. “Are you love bombing me?”

“I hope not,” he said. “That would be really fucked up if that were the case.”

“It would make you a terrible person,” you agreed. “You better not be love bombing me.”

“I’ll watch out for that,” he said, smiling to himself. “What counts as love bombing in your book?”

You grinned, as if this was a special interest of yours and you’d been waiting for someone to ask you that exact question.

“Showering me with compliments, for one,” you began.

“Noted. You look terrible today.”

“Ha!” you said, nearly skipping with energy and warmth bloomed in Noah’s body at the thought he’d made you happy.

“To be honest, I don’t exactly know,” you said. “I think people who love bomb have this skill about them–where they can pay close attention to a person, pick up on what they want or need, and then give it to them. But it doesn’t come from a good place, and they can’t sustain that energy. They do it until they get what they want, and then they leave.”

Noah’s stomach twisted, the warmth that had previously inhabited it sucked away in a vacuum, leaving only tightness.

He’d done that before. Many times. Fuck.

As the two of you walked back to your dorm, Noah’s conscious weighed heavy on him. You continued talking about red flags, but Noah’s ability to actively listen was compromised with the weight of his guilt.

He had a habit of justifying his past actions to himself–if women were naive enough to fall for simple flattery, they deserved it, he told himself.

His stomach rocked again and he felt like he was going to be sick.

He couldn’t change his past. He was well-aware he’d done things he wasn’t proud of, but he could change how he was going to act moving forward.

This time, he was determined to get it right.

“I guess this is where I leave you,” he said, unhooking his arm from yours.

You stared at the door longingly, and Noah hoped that meant that you weren’t ready to leave.

“You want to do this again sometime?” you asked, turning to him.

Noah nodded, swallowing the sinking feeling in his chest for now. He could process everything when he got back to his apartment. “This or whatever else. Whatever works best for you.”

“It can’t all be about me, you know,” you said. Your hand rested on the door knob, keys dangling uselessly from your fingers.

“I know,” he said.

Your face grew serious as you studied Noah, looking like you were still trying to figure out if he was for real.

“Why are you doing all this?” you asked.

Noah didn’t have an answer at the ready for you, so he simply shrugged. “Feel like it.”

You continued to regard him. He couldn’t help when his eyes dropped to your lips—full and flushed with pink from the cold. He had a feeling he was letting his cards show, but he didn’t have much incentive to keep them hidden from you anyway.

He brought his eyes back up to meet yours and caught the second your eyes flicked back up from his own lips. When you realized you were caught, you averted your gaze to your shoes. Noah did the same.

“I, uh. I should get going,” he said, reaching to rub at a spot on the back of his neck.

“Yeah,” you said, side-stepping away to break some of the tension that had been building for the last thirty seconds. You fiddled with your keys, finding the right one and using it to unlock your door, but made no move to enter.

This was the hardest part. He didn’t want to leave. From what he could pick up, you didn’t want him to. But it was important that he did. He knew it. He wasn’t going to fuck this up by being impatient again.

Just when he was about to say his final goodbye, you beat him to it.

“See ya,” you said. And then in one swift motion, you grabbed the lapel of his coat, pulled him down, stood up on your toes and gave him a peck on the cheek.

Before he even registered what had happened, you’d unlocked your door and disappeared behind it.

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#the devil's advocate #noah sebastian x reader #bad omens fanfiction #noah sebastian fic #noah sebastian smut #noah sebastian #bad omens #bad omens fic #fanfiction

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losfacedevil · 5 months ago

Text

Fallin’ All In You / JMK

a/n~ This is one of my most self indulgent Josh & Sunny pieces to date, it’s been rattling around my brain all week! Enjoy ☺️

You knew by the huff of breath that slipped past his nose and the way he kicked his shoes off as he walked through the door that it had been a long day. Peeling your body away from where you had been melting into the couch, you stood and slowly made you way into the kitchen.

Josh stood at the kitchen sink, washing his hands of the days dirt and grime; another successful day helping his mom clean out their family home. You sauntered up behind him and wrapped your arms gently around his waist, burying your face in between his shoulder blades. The unmistakable smell of his deodorant and the mustiness of his parents basement clung to his warm skin.

You couldn’t help but giggle as he lathered up his arms, washing away the dust that clung to him and knew full well he would end up jumping in the shower later. He bummed softly as he washed up and reveled in the feeling of your arms around him.

“How was your day, Sunny?” He spoke softly, as if he didn’t want to disturb the peace the house held. A soft smile caressed your lips and you tilted your head back, resting your chin where your forehead once lay.

“It was okay… quiet. I got a good chunk of reading done but… I missed you.” You cooed, squeezing your arms gently around him. A soft sigh slipped past his lips and his hands found yours, letting his fingers dance gently over the back of your hands in a silent request for you to loosen your grip. Taking half of a step back, you unwound your arms from around his waist and waited as he spun in your grasp.

“Mom asked how you were and why you didn’t tag along. I told her you needed some you time and had no social battery.” Josh chuckled and leaned down to press a soft kiss to your forehead. A soft smile caressed your lips as your gaze found his, eyes so big and a rich deep brown that made if feel like they were swallowing you whole.

“I’ll come visit next time so she won’t miss me so much.” You giggled softly and took in his appearance. His skin was sun kissed, no doubt from sitting out by their pool as he ate whatever Jake had whipped up on the grill for lunch, his dark eyes half hooded as the days exhaustion began to weigh down on him now that he was home, and his taller than life mullet was stamped down just a bit from the dust that had settled between the strands.

“Hey, you have… can I?” You spoke softly and pointed at the pieces of fuzz that had found a home in Josh’s hair. He nodded gently and tipped his head, tickling your nose with the stray strands that stuck up on the top of his head. Blowing a soft, and cool stream of air out through pursed lips, you kept the hairs tickling your face at bay as you picked out the small pieces of fuzz that had gotten trapped in his hair.

“Fuzzies.” You mumbled and let them fall to the ground to be swept up later. Your eyes lit up and a smile spread across your face as you unraveled yourself from Josh.

“Wait! I have an idea! Can you move the microwave to the kitchen table and stay put, please? I’ll be right back!” You spoke quickly as you made your way to the bathroom and began to collect his shampoo and conditioner off of the edge of the tub.

Josh stood in the middle of the kitchen with his arms crossed over his chest and a brow raised as he watched you open the linen closet right outside the break in the kitchen wall and pull out two soft, fluffy towels. His eyes never left you as you made your way back into the kitchen and folded one of the towels, placing it on the edge of the sink.

“What are you doing, Sunny girl?” Josh mumbled as he turned on his heel and he followed you with his gaze, watching as you pulled a TV tray out from its storage spot and opened it, placing it at the end of the kitchen counter. You shot a silly smile in his direction and walked up to him, lifting up onto you toes to press a soft kiss to his lips.

“Too many fuzzies.” You mumbled and reached up to pick another piece of basement fuzz out from between his curls. A soft smile spread across Josh’s face as realization washed over him and he slowly made his way over to the counter, waiting for your next direction.

“Bum, hmm… here, feet here and neck here.” You spoke and pointed out each key point on the counter and TV tray where his feet would find a home for the next forty five minutes. Josh couldn’t help the smile that spread across his face, and the deep sigh that escaped his chest as he did what he was told and hopped up onto the countertop.

“You are aware I’m a bit too big for this, right?” He mumbled and laid back, gently placing his neck against the towel rest you had so lovingly laid out. Reaching up you placed a finger against your lips and shushed him before reaching out and beginning to run your fingers gently though his tangled mess of hair. Josh let his eyes flutter shut and got lost in the feeling of your finger tips against his scalp, knowing full well he couldn’t tell you no.

You leaned down and pressed a soft kiss to the tip of his nose, giggling as he scrunched it up at the sudden sensation of you lips against his skin. Josh reached out and wrapped his hand around yours, squeezing it gently.

“You can’t tell me you’re too big for this, you fit right where you need to now, shhh so I can pamper you!” You giggles and couldn’t help but place your free hand against his cheek. He couldn’t help but roll his eyes as you spoke and let his body relax against the counter top.

You wasted no time in turning on the faucet and regulating the temperature of the water, making sure it wasn’t too hot for his sensitive scalp. A soft groan escaped his lips as the warm water saturated his hair and began to soothe his scalp.

“Did you guys get a lot done today?” You asked softly, reaching over to grab the bottle of shampoo and placed a bit in your palm. Josh shrugged his shoulders and readjusted the way his feet were placed, crossing them at the ankles.

“We found a lot of old report cards and projects we did for school. Mom is a sentimental pack rat after all. Sam threw it all in the dumpster when she wasn’t looking.” A shiver danced down his spine as you began to run your fingers through his damp hair, lathering the shampoo through the strands.

“Oh! And remember that bathing suit we thought you lost somewhere between here and LA? Yeah it was in moms car apparently, it’s been in my childhood bedroom since last summer.” He chuckled softly and let his eyes flutter shut as you began to massage the tips of your fingers against his scalp.

You paid close attention to the back of his head where the hair often became entangled in his chains and pulled, causing a sore spot to form. Lifting his head gently, you snuck your arm underneath his neck to better massage the back of his head.

“She decided I didn’t need that bikini, not that she liked it on me anyway. She hid it on purpose.”

Turning the faucet back on, you rinsed your hands under the warm water before turning on the sprayer function and pulled the handle out of its resting place. A soft smile tugged at the corners of Joshs lips as you held the sprayer just above his hair line and began to rinse all of the shampoo out of his hair.

“Sam asked where you were today, why you didn’t tag along. Sometimes I wonder if he’s more attached to you than I am.” Josh chuckled and reached up, wiping away a stream of water that ran down his forehead.

“He just likes that I’ll get down on the floor and play cars with him.” The metaphor one that slipped past your lips frequently in terms of your relationship with Sam. Josh rolled his eyes as he tilted his head in the direction you silently requested.

It didn’t take long to get all of the shampoo out of his short locks and you made quick work of squeezing out any excess water that was left behind. He quickly shifted the way he was laying, stretching his legs out straight and lifted his back up off of the counter. A deep sigh slipped past his lips and he crossed his at the knee legs, kicking his foot to the rhythm in his head.

“What’d you do that for? Now you’ve gotta suffer without a footrest.” You giggle and reached over for the conditioner, making sure you put enough in your hand for his hair.

“You’re not gonna pick it up for me?” He pushed his bottom lip out in a pout, playing the sadness card to what he thought was his advantage. Another giggle slipped past your lips and you shook your head, holding your conditioner covered hands up so he could see.

“Not with conditioner hands, once I get this in your hair I will, deal?” You cooed, leaning down to press a soft kiss to the dampened skin of his forehead. Josh leaned up and reached around with his free hand, cupping the back of your head and pulled your face down to his. He captured your lips with his in a sweet kiss before letting you go and rested his neck back against the towel.

“Thank you.” He mumbled and let his eyes flutter shut as you began to work the conditioner into his curls. A soft yawn escaped him as you began to massage the sides of his head, the prickling of the hair that’s starting to grow in scratching gently at your finger tips.

“Mom said we can have dinner there next Saturday if you wanted to. Just us, her and pops, they miss you.” Nodding your head you reached up and trickled the water, rinsing the conditioner off of your fingers.

“Just us four huh? I think that sounds like a date. As much as I love your brothers they can get to be a bit much.” You giggled and began to run your fingertips gently over his face, something he fully enjoyed. Running your finger down the curve of his nose you tapped the tip of it gently before letting your hand fall lower and traced his Cupids bow.

“They can’t make it, something about a kayaking trip? I don’t know, mom was a little upset.” You couldn’t help the way you shrugged your shoulders and leaned down to press a soft kiss to his lips.

“We should go kayaking with them one day, that could be fun.” You thought aloud and went through the motions of rinsing the conditioner out of his hair. Josh began to bang his heels against the side of the counter, reminding you that you hadn’t picked up his foot rest.

With one more deep rinse of his locks you turned off the water and gently wrung out his hair. A soft tap to his shoulder was all he needed to lift up just enough for you to pull the towel out from underneath him. A soft sigh escaped him as you gently dried and fluffed his hair and guided him to sit up where he was. Reaching up you began to finger curl the ringlets that fell over his forehead, making sure they were uniform with each other.

“Let’s be crazy and let it dry as is so I don’t have to wash it again before bed.” Josh chuckled as you stopped in your tracks and turned on your heel.

“No product, hmm? Does that mean I get to play with your curls as much as I want?” Josh nodded and reached out, wrapping his arms around your waist and pulled you as close to him as he could. A soft smile spread across your face and you reached up, beginning to play with every strand of hair you could.

“Thank you for this, Sunny girl, it was exactly what I needed.” He cooed and pressed soft kisses to your cheek. You beamed up at him and wrapped your arms tightly around his neck.

“Anytime, lover boy.” You spoke softly and pressed up onto your toes, pressing a soft kiss to his lips.

Taglist: @vanfleeter @joshsindigostreak @wideminded-dreamer @gracev0609 @lipstickitty @runwayblues @stardustvanfleet

#josh kiszka #josh kiszka fic #josh kiszka fluff #josh kiszka fanfiction

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bangchansgirlsblog · 1 year ago

Text

Eating for two🎄

Warnings: NONE. Fluff!

Pairing: Chan x reader

Summary: Christmas evenings

Idk how to write fluffs cause whattt

-🩷

The rain outside was pouring and the snow fell quietly right by its side lying on the ground with a soft touch.

The fire place was on and the smell of cookies was slowly filling all the different rooms of the house.

The soft Christmas music playing in the background as I slowly stir the hot chocolate.

Our white couches were put together to build a “bed” in the living room right I front of the tv where “home alone” played and all the blankets were neatly folded waiting for us to just use them.

“Baby are you almost done?” I ask Chan who was next door in the king hen stacking up out snacks on a tray.

“Yeah just turning off the oven, do you need anything?” His head pops up on the side of the door as he spoke.

“Could you grab me the tab of ice cream in the freezer?” I ask him sheepishly.

“Babe, it’s so cold, you’ll catch a cold,” he replies then disappears back into the kitchen and shortly after he brings out the tray filled with different delicious foods.

I couldn’t help but drool at the sight of it which causes Chan to chuckle.

He was wearing socks that were Christmas themed like mine and they were fluffy making his feet a bit slippery while walking. His face twisting in concentration trying not to drop the tray.

I help him set it down . He straightens his back and puts his hands together while analyzing the table to check if we had everything.

“So…no ice cream?” The question leaves my lips quickly yet softly. Earning another chuckle from Chan. The eagerness was so clear and I wasn’t going to hide it. After all I was eating for two.

“That’s a lot of sugar my love. You’re already eating cookies and drinking hot chocolate with marshmallows,” his eyes connect with mine as he tried to explain why I couldn’t have my chocolate ice cream but I was not allowing it and he knew he was eventually going to give in.

“Boo! the baby’s asking Channie, she’s been kicking and turning, ” I poke out my tongue and frown knowing he would eventually feel guilty and give in.

“Fine but only a bit! And this isn’t fair, you can’t keep using my daughter to get what you want,” he rolls his eyes playfully while heading back into the kitchen where he grabbed the tub of ice cream and a few spoons.

“Are you happy now?” He asks sitting by me and turning off the lights in the living room. The fire place being our source of light now.

“Very very happy,” I giggle and lay on the couch. His body automatically moves to be closer. His body heat warming me up.

He passes the cup and puts it in my hands then proceeds to cover us in the blanket. He was wearing his beanie and fluffy pajamas that I had got him from America when I went to visit.

“You look so cute baby,” I coo and pull out my phone to take a picture of him then captioning it with Christmas trees and lights.

“I love you,” the smile on my lips growing bigger and bigger just like my heart.

“I love you too princess,” his lips connect with my forehead as his hands wrap around my waist and lay on my 6 month belly.

#skz imagines #skz comfort #skz x reader #skz drabbles #skz fluff #skz stay #skz x y/n #skz x you #bangchan #bangchan x reader #bangchan fluff #bang chan x reader

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atalentedwriter · 1 year ago

Text

— snooze and miss the moment

paring: e-42!miles x fem!reader

a/n: i don't speak spanish i'm sorry but i used the most accurate translator i could find. if i made ANY mistakes, feel free to hmu and tell me i will certainly change em. also didn't like forgive me so i deleted it lol sorry forgive me (get it 🤭)

taglist: @looorelaaaiii

sypnosis: in which the reader and miles take a day to unwind from the stress of day to day life and his secret alter ego as the prowler.

wordcount: 2,103 words and 10,898 characters

genre: fluff, teenagers, romance, slightly suggestive but not really, established relationship

translations: "they can't hear you" - "no te oyen" "hey" - "hola" "you shouldn't have" - "no deberías tener" "whatever you say" - "lo que tú digas" "you've got the loveliest voice" - "tienes la voz más hermosa" "my love" - "mi amor" "my life" - "mi vida"

"Don't go in there girl, you know the killer is ALWAYS in the cabin!" You scream at the tv and Miles has to put a hand over your mouth to keep you quiet. You two were watching a horror movie and the characters were pissing you off with their stupid decisions.

"Damn mami chill out, no te oyen." He said with a chuckle and smile before turning back to the tv as you sunk into his arms on the couch.

It was a late night and you two were in your bedroom which had a bed and desk on the right with a tv and couch across from it. It was a stress-relief night- that's what you called it at least. You had these once a month or whenever miles' busy schedule doing God knows what clears up.

Prepping for tonight was the most exciting thing to happen today. You bought new matching pajamas for both of you, hello kitty for him and kuromi for you. You spent HOURS perfecting stitch braids on your braiding doll so you could try it on Miles. You also created a slow playlist for both of you, one of the songs being "Snooze" by SZA. Miles put you on, it was the song he played for you on your first date and it immediately became your song.

You had also bought facemasks and extra nail polish, as well as a bunch of snacks and more.

Miles arrived at your door at 9PM when both of your parents were to be out the house for date night.

"Hola mami." Miles cupped your face to give you a small kiss on your lips, you had to pull apart before he turned it into a makeout session. "What?"

"You'll get your kisses Miles, but for I prepared a lot of stuff to do, come." You urged him into the house and shut the door, locking it as he noticed the matching pajamas on the couch.

"For me? Oh mami no deberías tener." Miles picks up his pants and walks over to you to give you another kiss but you swerve him.

"Bathroom, go change." You say as he rolls his eyes jokingly, walking over to the bathroom to change. You grab your stuff and head to your room, changing into your kuromi pants as well. Once you were done, you heard a knock on your door.

"Come in."

Miles steps in, wearing his hello kitty pants and the same green hoodie from earlier, folded sweatpants in his hands. He puts it on top of your dresser and looks you up and down. A red tube top with your baggy kuromi pajama pants. the waistband hung a bit low showing the top of your nike underwear pants.

He raised an eyebrow, a small smile peeking on his lips before he hid his amusement to look up at you. "And is there any reason you asked me to take my hair out?" He didn't have his usual 2 braids, just his regular 4c hair in a low bun and you brightly smiled.

"Yes , actually, come sit." You walked over to the couch and sat down, a tray with a bunch of hair cair products, a comb and a rattail comb sitting next to you. "I wanna braid your hair."

He shrugged and sat between your legs, reaching his hand up to squeeze your thigh. "You sure mami?"

"Yeah, I spent hours perfecting stitch braids and I..wanted to try on you." You grab your comb as he reached down, pulling the rubber band out of his hair, revealing it to be much fuller and bigger than you thought.

You go silent. What the fuck was Mrs. Morales using and why did he have healthier and better hair than you? You were a bit envious, you were definitely gonna ask for haircare tips after.

"You good up there mami?" He raised his head up to look at you and you reach down to move his head back straight.

"Mhm..I got it, don't worry."

"Lo que tú digas" He says as you start combing through his hair which felt like silk, the comb quickly and easily moved through. Miles hummed as he closed his eyes, resting his head in your thighs.

"You're not tender-headed are you?"

"Nah..go crazy." He reached up to rest his arm on your thigh as you picked up the rattail comb, parting it down the middle and applying gel.

"Snooze" by SZA filled the room as you silently sung along to it. You stopped and moved your head down till you were face to face with Miles. He opened his eyes to look at you in confusion and you smiled, singing along with the lyrics.

"I can't loose, when I'm with you, how can I snooze and miss the moment? You just too important, nobody do body like you do"

Miles laughed at your antics and leaned in to kiss your cheek but you moved back, giggling.

"Uht uht, lemme finish." You sat back straight to continue braiding his hair as he closed his eyes again.

"Tienes la voz más hermosa (name)." Miles said as you smile to yourself.

Minutes later you had finally finished and top it off with some rubberbands at the ends.

"You done?" Miles asked as you nodded. "Lemme see."

You nervously handed your man the mirror as he opened his eyes to look at it. He was silent for a second, moving his head to the side to see it better.

"You like it?" You asked and he raised his head up to look at you with a smile. "Or it's like nah?"

"It's dope, I fuck wit it.." He paused and looked up at your satisfied expression. "Lemme rephrase. I love it mi amor" He said as your smile grew bigger.

"I got something hold on." You move his head back into position placing some cute hello kitty pins on his head, he watched you through the mirror intently as your face focused to find the perfect spots for the clips. "There, is it cute?"

"You got me putting all sorts of shit in my hair...I like it." He turned to face you, raising an eyebrow. "Do i get my kiss now?"

"No." You turn him back around as he playfully pouts before you chuckle. "I'm joking, c'mere." You move his head upwards so he was upside down, at least in your pov, and you kissed his lips slowly, cupping his face.

His hand that was holding the mirror up fell down to the ground as he pushed himself upwards to get the kiss deeper. As you both pulled back he had a goofy grin on his face, one you rarely saw.

It returned back to a smirk just as fast as it appeared, it was gone. He looked back into the mirror and raised an eyebrow, looking up at you. "You tryna be my personal stylist ma?"

You couldn't even clock what he was saying, he looked so good upside down like that. It took you a second before it registered in your head. "Huh...? Oh yeah, if you want."

Next up was face masks. You both were in your bathroom, and Miles watched you, arms crossed as you take out the masks from the paper bags they were in and placed them on the counter in front of your mirror.

"And that does what?" He asked, that was something he never seen before. I mean, he does skincare, his mom made him do it since birth but when it came to facemasks he always preferred a gel his mom always got for him.

"It exfoliates the skin and combats acne. Plus it gives you smooth skin." You say, looking up at him as he raises an eyebrow with a smirk.

"If you wanted smooth skin, we could've just done it another way mami." He wanted to crack up, his jokes get him sometimes.

You stare at him, looking up through the glasses you had on. "Why are you always so nasty?"

"I can't help it mi vida you do something to me." He whined as you stoped the emerging smirk on your face. "I know you wanna laugh."

"Miles." You turned away to hide your smile before looking back at him. "You need to start getting on your knees for Christ."

"Okay, pastor."

That got it. You both erupted into laughter, Miles laughing because you laughed and you just couldn't hold it in anymore.

"Boy- anyway." You collected yourself as you giggled a little bit. "Do you want the hello kitty mask or the kuromi mask"

Miles pointed and looked at you. "Hello kitty please."

You took the mask out of the packaging before instructing him to sit down on the covered toilet seat due to him being taller than you. He obliged and you gently put the mask on him as he closed his eyes. You used your fingertips to smoothen out the mask on its sides.

"Damn, I've been missing out." He says as he stands up and you both walk over to the counter. He puts his hands on his face which was covered by the cute pink mask.

"Soft right?" You gently apply the purple mask on your face and he helps you smoothen out the sides like you did for him. "We look so good, hold on." You brought out your phone to take a mirror pic as Miles walked behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist and resting his head in the crook of your neck as you snapped some pics. One where you both flashed grins at the camera, another where he was kissing your neck and another where he jokingly bent you over the counter, both of you making faces.

As the facemasks worked on your face, you both sat down on your bed, your nail kit open as Miles raised an eyebrow, looking through the colors.

"Matching nails?" He asked as you showed him the hello kitty nails you had gotten for yourself the other day.

"Yeah, I got hello kitty and I figured I could do a little kuromi for you." You smile at Miles who ponders over your words. "Pleaseeee?" You take his hands and pout playfully, blinking as you looked up at him.

He sighed. "Yeah okay whatever ma." He smirked as a huge smile graced your lips and you picked aside some colors.

"I have some kuromi nail thingamabobs so-"

"Thingamabobs? Are you sure you know what you're doing?" Miles asked as you grabbed the base coat bottle.

"Relax, I know you're supposed to put it on the nail, if you want i can just like try to draw the character instead?"

"Don't fuck me up mami."

And there you two were, half an hour or more later, on the couch, cuddled together and wrapped in blankets while eating snacks and watching scary movies.

You had painted Miles' nails black and purple and on the middle fingers for both of his hands was the character, Kuromi. You actually did a pretty good job drawing it but that's because Miles was stressing you to do a good job.

As the movie ended in a gory mess, you turned to look at Miles who was already staring at you. "What? Something on my face?" You asked and he smirked.

"Nah, you're just beautiful." It caught you off guard but he normally did that, he compliments you at random times to see how shocked and cute your flustered face is.

"Pfft- you're corny" You laugh, turning away to hide your face but Miles' noticed the big smile. You turned back to him. "Is there anything else you wanna do loverboy?"

Miles narrowed his eyes at you. "...I've got some ideas."

"Wha- MILES!"

He grabbed you, picking you up bridal style before placing you on the couch. In one swift motion you were under him and he was hovering above you, his legs between your thighs and his arms on both sides of your body, keeping you trapped.

"Tell the truth, I look better under you" He smirked down at you and as if on command, "Snooze" by SZA started playing again and Miles lowered himself and attached his lips onto yours.

Apart from SZA's smooth and slow voice, the only other thing that filled the room was the low volume of the tv which was playing the movie credits and the faint sound of lips smacking and small moans. Miles had moved one hand down to your thigh, putting it on his hip as he rubbed it gently but firmly.

"Damn."

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