#i can NOT miss school or i will be severely behind
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tired-momfriend · 1 year ago
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I have covid... First fucking week of nursing school and I caught covid
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queers-gambit · 1 year ago
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What Goes Around, Comes Around
prompt: ( requested ) Billy's known for his temper and being obsessed with his pretty little girlfriend - which gets her severely injured by his past transgressions.
pairing: Billy Hargrove x female!cheerleader!reader -> reader and Billy are both 18+, seniors in high school
word count: 6.7k+
fandom masterlist: Stranger Things
note: you're a liar if you didn't immediately start singing Justin Timberlake's "What Goes Around... Comes Around".
warnings: remember there are different responses to trauma! some people shut down, stop talking; others jabber and chatter nervously. reader is the latter. we got angst, we got literal hurt and comfort, established relationship. term "going postal" is used, cursing, technically underage drinking, not edited, author mildly gave up at the end. triggering content: depictions of physical violence, depictions of injury and blood, depiction of abuse, violent plots, Billy's girl gets physically assaulted (but it's minimally detailed).
DO NOT read if this content can potentially trigger you. you are NOT missing anything, you will miss NOTHING by skipping this, but i do try to keep the details as neutral as possible. again, prioritize yourself, mental health, and emotional state - this ain't worth the read if it's gonna upset you, i promise. author loves you all
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"That's fucking her, I swear to God."
"You sure?"
"100%. That's Billy's little bitch he's obsessed with."
The three guys smirked at one another, eyeing you across the living room as you giggled and drank with a few friends in adorable, fashion forward outfits. Someone started a game of beer pong, you on the sidelines to cheer, giving them a full-show of your form.
"She's hot," Jake mused. "I can see why he keeps her so close."
"Nah, not tonight," Lawrence frowned, "heard they got in some huge fight at school. Like, she walked home and he sped off in his car."
"Hm, heard he's ridiculously protective of her... She must've really pissed him off," the third boy, Steven, nodded. "So, he's not here tonight?"
"Doubt it," Jake nodded.
"Go find out," Steven advised. "There, the basketball bros - one of them would know. Or a cheerleader," he eyed the crowd. "Chrissy's over there, Brittany's beside her - they'd be the best bet in my mind."
"We seriously considering this?" Lawrence asked with a small, nervous chuckle. "I mean, it's kinda crazy, isn't it? We're gonna send Billy Hargrove a message by roughing up his girl? There's not some better way?"
"I'd love to hear it," Steven scoffed. "Billy's too comfortable at the top of the school, broke my fucking nose and deviated Jake's septum. Didn't he fuck your sister the first week he was here, Lawrence?"
"I mean - "
"Broke her fucking heart, didn't he?" Jake tacked on.
"Well, yeah," Lawrence sighed, shrugging.
"You tell me, dude, was that shit fair?"
"No," Lawrence looked down.
"So, yeah, I know, it's bad to hit a lady - but what about my boot? Huh?" Steven smirked, nodding. "Go find out what you can. Last thing we need is Billy walkin' in the party, right?"
Jake nodded with enthusiasm, leaving Lawrence behind. He hesistated but then did as Steven asked; asking the present basketball team members if Billy gave indication he was coming. The cheerleaders assured he wouldn't dare show up when you were there after a very public fight, and if he did, it would be to cause another scene.
So, after reporting back to Steven, a plan was formed. Lawrence didn't seem fully on board, but in an effort to save his own skin, he went along with what Jake and Steven were plotting - even if that meant roughing up a woman. Something his mama and grandmama vehemently taught him not to do...
Something churned in his stomach when he heard how the two lads were nearly foaming at the mouth to get their revenge. So, he casually went to grab another drink - pausing where a few of your friends were. "Oi," he whispered, earning their attention.
"Hey, Law," Chrissy smiled.
"Hey, Chris," he sniffled, glancing around. "Listen, uh, you seen Billy 'round?"
"No? Why?"
"Hmm, just, uh... Heard his girl was all upset, thought maybe her drinking all that much was a bad idea without him around."
"Oh," Chrissy blinked, looking up at her boyfriend, Jason, as he approached the group with two drinks in hand. "I didn't think about it like that, Law."
"What's wrong?" Jason asked.
"No, nothing, Lawrence just pointed out how shitty it is to drink without someone watching your back," she pouted.
He nodded, "You lose your friends, man?"
"No, just tryna look out," Lawrence shrugged. "Few girls here drinking a lot, not a lot of defenses 'round them."
Jason frowned, "That's kinda their man's job, isn't it?"
"What if their man isn't here?"
"I'm gonna be right back," Chrissy smiled, parting ways with her girlfriend in tow - and when Law looked, they were using the kitchen telephone. He prayed they were phoning the Hargrove residence.
Lawrence sighed in slight relief and nodded to Jason; the white boy just nodding back silently and letting the other athlete pass him by to head back for Jake and Steven. He grabbed an unopened beer on his way to maintain appearances.
"Hey, we got it," Jake smirked at the third boy, "she just went outside, we should move now."
"Huh?" Law mumbled.
"C'mon," Steven growled, pushing off the mantle and stalking for the backdoors to follow your retreating form.
"Wait, what're we doing?" Law asked, trying to keep up with the drunken, elongated strides of the two dickheads he called 'friends'. "Hey! Guys, c'mon - what's going on?"
"Just - shut up, pussy boy, let's go, fuckin' keep up," Steven sneered, shoving the glass door out of his way and nearly cracking it.
Outside, the in-ground pool was alight with multicolored lights. There were teenagers littered all around the pool deck; some lounging and some standing, all drinking. There was a kegstand in play, ping pong table hosting another game of Beer Pong, and the thick stench of cigarette smoke in the air.
"She's over there," Jake pointed, their sights turning to see you leaning over to huff on your cigarette while Tammy May Flipsen lit the end of it. Your smile was genuine as you thanked her, just stepping two feet away to gaze up at the stars - a perfect time to strike.
The alcohol in everyone's system made them slow, vulnerable, and downright stupid; leaving Steven and Jake the opportunity to seize either of your arms and literally rush you around the corner of the house without anyone intervening.
Once in the remote side yard, the sickening plan commenced.
Lawrence could barely approach, managing to watch with tears in his eyes as the noises of the party masked the noises of pain you emitted; two nearly full-grown men took out their anger towards your boyfriend on you. You cried, begged for reprieve, sounded so confused and broken that it shattered Lawrence's heart - briefly thinking what if someone did this to his sister...
That made him spring into action. "Hey! No! No, this ain't right! Get off her!" Lawrence barked, shoving the two away from your body on the ground. "That's enough - back off - fuck is wrong with you!?"
"What the fuck do you think you're doing!?" Steven demanded.
"Bitch has it coming!"
"What? You fuckin' her, too? Got you pussy whipped like Billy Boy?"
"Just fuck off, beating on a girl!" Lawrence snapped, but it was a huge mistake. Jake and Steven shared a single look before launching at the third boy, beating him as they had you - but much harder. He swore he earned a concussion, their heels stomping his neck, collarbones, wrists, ribs, ankles; exactly the same as they did to you.
"Tryna defend her now!?" Jake heaved, giving a swift kick to Lawrence's kidney. "Huh? You're so scared of Billy but you're gonna mess with his girl?" He laughed. "She must have a magic cunt or something!"
"You're so fucking pathetic, you have to beat up a girl!?" Law shot right back, earning a swift kick to the jaw from the lad that used to play soccer (or American fútbol). "Huh? Two on one? Such big men, aren't yah?" He sneered again, spitting blood to the side.
"Leave it," Steven halted Jake when he charged again, "they're both pretty fucked."
"Well, that dumbass should learn a lesson 'bout interfering!"
"Law's learned - he has, bro, and if he wants, he can learn again," Steven spat on Lawrence's form, Jake doing the same to you - both eventually stalking away like bored toddlers walking away from broken toys.
Slowly, Lawrence grunted as he pulled himself up to sit against the side of the house. "Fuck's sake," he whispered, wiping his eyes and wincing when he felt the sore skin - trailing a finger up, wincing again when he discovered split skin above his eyebrow. "Ohhhh, fuuuuck," Law drawled when you slowly peaked up from your fetal position on the ground. "Hey, hey, you all right? Stupid question," he hissed in pain when he moved to try and assist you.
You cried out when his grip laid on you, but powered through to let him help you sit against the house, too. "Holy shit," you whispered, blood dribbling from your mouth; teeth feeling loose, a headache already assaulting you, and cuts stinging in the bitter night.
"I'm so sorry."
"N-No, you - it would've been so much worse if you hadn't..." You trailed off, sniffling, "You didn't have t'jump in, you got hurt 'cause of me."
"You got hurt 'cause of Billy," Lawrence frowned.
"Huh?"
"That's why they're so pissed off," Lawrence explained, spitting more blood to the side; his jeans stained with mud, blood, and grass. "Billy got their asses few weeks ago, they're still pissed... I heard them," he deflected smoothly, "talkin' about teaching Billy a lesson through you. Didn't feel right, but I should've stopped them so much sooner. I-I'm sorry I didn't do more, Y/N."
"You did more than anyone else," you whimpered, drawing your knees into your chest to lock your arms around them. "I don't even know them, they go to our school?"
"We're all in AP History with Snyder."
You paused to nod absently, not even bothering to try and recall any interactions you might've had with Steven and Jake. Instead, you eyed your savior, mumbling, "You're Lawrence, right?"
"Yeah," he breathed.
"Your sister's... Cara? Sarah? No, no," you paused to think, his frown deepening as you seemed so nice and authentic. "Your sister's name is Natalie, right?"
"Yeah," he half-smiled. "You know her?"
"She's a sweetheart, has those cute glasses? Yeah, I like her; she just joined cheer, right?"
"Yeah, that's her."
You eyed him for a moment, ignoring the blood dripping off you both from the beat down; then whispered with a sniffle, "Is that why you helped? 'Cause your sister's on the cheer squad, too?"
"No," he replied instantly, sounding quiet (like you), "I'd like to believe if I saw something I know is wrong... I'd be the type of person to step in, try to stop it."
"You did tonight."
"I should've done more a lot sooner."
"You could've been really hurt, Law."
"Like you?"
"I'm just - look, two guys? Beatin' on me? Yeah," you scoffed, wiping blood from your split lip, "like I ever stood a chance. But you didn't have t'do all that, they wanted Billy, found me instead. You could've walked away, but instead, you jumped in, and you could've been really hurt. That wouldn't help anyone."
"I'm still sorry..."
You sniffled, but before you could respond, you heard footsteps thundering over the lawn; a voice shouting your name in frantic, panicked little outbursts. Looking up, you caught sight of a black leather jacket and unruly blonde curls, frowning deeper. "Oh, fuck," you whispered, withdrawing into yourself, "oh, no, no, not now. Not now, Goddamnit. Think I can make a run for it to the street before he sees me?" You asked Law quietly, nearly hissing your whisper.
"Ain't that Billy?" Law asked, finger pointed.
"He can't see me," you rushed in a panic, eyes wide and tears welling. "Lawrence, he can't!"
"Why?"
"He'll go on a fucking rampage, Lawrence! Ever heard going postal? Yeah, Bee gives that shit new meaning."
"They'd deserve whatever Billy wants t'do," Law frowned, tensing up when Billy had turned, caught sight of you two, and made an angry beeline for you in the grass. "U-Uh, Billy's approaching," he warned you as your boyfriend arrived, trying to pull back to give privacy, but wincing in pain that made him stop.
"The fuck is going - ? Oh, my fuckin' God," Billy trailed off, then whispered when he saw you huddled on the ground; your dress in tatters. Your head was bowed, knees drawn in, refusing to meet his eyes; making your leather-clad boyfriend lower himself to a knee. "Baby? Hey, look at me, sweet girl, lemme see... C'mon, baby, please, look at me."
You only sniffled.
"It was Jake and Steven," Lawrence told Billy, trying to find his feet; falling over and just giving up.
"Hell happened to you, man?"
Lawrence frowned, looking nervous, but your voice answered, "He saved me, Bee. Jumped in, took some of the beating."
Billy looked between you and Lawrence, but focused on you - seeing the injuries to your face and chest in full light. "Oh, my God," he breathed, looking you over in shock. Those pink, pillowy lips you adored licking and sucking on were parted in shock.
You half-smiled, "Think you pissed a few of the wrong guys off."
"Jesus Christ, sweet girl. What happened? Tell me, please, before I start making assumptions," he demanded, reaching for your cheek - making you recoil hard enough that your head banged on the house supporting your exhausted body. "Hey, hey," he whispered, looking physically wounded by your action, "'s just me, baby, it's just me, it's Bee, I'm not gonna hurt you. C'mon, sweetheart, lemme help you."
You sniffled, letting him reach for you again and caress your cheek so he could direct your head left and right; giving him a full view of your injuries that continued to weep. He stiffened as he took note of a new cut or bruise upon every new sweep of his eyes, his anger skyrocketing with every passing moment.
"It hurts," you whimpered. "Apparently, you beat the shit outta those guys weeks ago - guess they were waiting for an opening to strike back."
"You don't deserve this," he growled angrily. "Fuck - look at you! Goddamnit, I'm so sorry, princess, this is my fault. All my fucking fault, shit," he hissed, looking close to tears, "I put you here, I'm so sorry, baby."
"Got Lawrence his ass beat, too," you pouted.
"Sorry about this, man," Billy instantly offered the other boy, who was practically slumped over in the grass. He still managed to give a thumbs up. "But, uh, thank you for stepping in. You know, not a whole lotta people would."
"Nah, it was the right thing to do," Law frowned, waving him off.
"You said Jake and Steven did this?"
"Mhm," Law nodded. "Jake Chastain and Steven Barton."
"Yeah, I know 'em," Billy shook his head, "and I'll fuckin' kill 'em - "
"Can we get cleaned up first? Before we go murdering high school jocks?" You pouted in pain.
"Hey, man. You got a friend here or something? Someone to help us?" Billy asked Lawrence, still caressing your face with his thumb sweeping the apple of your cheek.
"My sister's 'round, yeah..."
"Want me to grab her?" Billy offered awkwardly.
"I'd actually appreciate it," Law whispered. "Gotta get home, yeah?"
"Yeah, man. Stay here, I'll grab her," Billy agreed. "What's her name?"
"Natalie, she's a cheerleader. Um... Y-You dated her beginning of the year?"
"I remember," he sighed, standing to his feet. He told you earnestly, almost sweetly, "I'll be fast."
But the thing is, you knew Billy all too well by now. "Wait, no," you gasped, trying to stand, "Bee, don't!" It was too late, he was already gone by the time you and Lawrence stumbled out from hiding; just in time to watch Billy point Natalie towards where you and her brother were. Then, he turned and surged up to an unsuspecting Jake and Steven; launching an all-out brawl against the two.
Neither of them stood a chance when Billy was THIS angry. Nobody did. In fact, if Jason, Tommy H., and two other guys hadn't pulled him back, surely, there'd be a lot more than a couple of broken bones. However, when Billy told the other basketball players in a spit-flying rage that these two cowards had attacked his girlfriend (a few turning back to get a look at you), it launched a new, mutual anger. Chrissy and a few other cheerleaders wanted to step in when the "fight" (more like attack) started again, but when they saw you, Lawrence, and Natalie, nobody said a single word. Nobody interfered. Nobody interrupted, and luckily, nobody else joined in...
Before Jake and Steven could lose their lives or sustain serious injury that would result in any arrests, Billy was pulled back by Lawrence - of all people. "Hey, hey," the beaten boy barked, "hey, man, chill - chill! These guys deserve it, yeah, I fucking know, but look, hey!" He grabbed Billy's shoulders to prevent him from turning back for the fray. "Hey! Your girl needs you, man. She needs you more than these bozos. C'mon, you can't go to jail over this shit, right? Right? How mad you gonna be if you get bagged 'cause of these jackasses?"
This seemed to force Billy back to reality and out of his homicidal rage. A few dudes who played football stepped in to hoist the unconscious jocks over their shoulders just to leave them on the curb a couple houses down the street.
Billy raced back to you.
Chrissy and Natalie were helping wipe blood from your skin and hair; clothes damaged, ripped, stained, beyond repair, and another cheerleader was holding a bag of frozen peas to your head as you leaned on her stomach. He slid his jacket from his shoulders, easing you off the girl's belly to leave it around your trembling form and then taking the girl's spot, supporting your body as you were tended to.
Eventually, Chrissy sighed, "I think that's the best we're gonna get you, honey. You want us to come over in the mornings? Help you get dressed and do your make-up?"
"No offense, but I don't think that's necessary... It's not like what happened is a secret," Natalie whispered, looking you over.
"Make-up might irritate the injuries," the other girl offered softly. "But it might cover some of those bruises, I just would avoid the cuts."
"I'm okay, girls, but thank you," you assured softly. "Bee's here t'help."
"Yeah, taking you straight to the hospital," he decided stiffly from behind you.
"What?"
"Think I'm not gonna get you checked out after this? Two men attacked you, I gotta make sure ain't shit's seriously wrong, baby. Don't fight me on this, please."
Billy's mind was warped with memories of sitting in ER's and other clinics with his mother nursing a broken wrist or damaged eye socket. His father's anger had always been a temperamental switch, something Billy felt he always had to outdo. Being in the hospital with you felt too similar, another bolt of rage zinging through his blood; hating the idea that you were the victim, and like his mother, he wasn't able to protect you.
Unlike his mother, this situation was directly his fault. He didn't even remember why he beat the shit outta Steven and Jake all those weeks ago, but whatever the reason, it cost him now. Cost you both.
The party continued inside the house, but Billy walked around the side yard, down to the front, then towards the street full of parked cars with you secure in his arms. After getting you settled safely in the passenger seat of his Camaro, Billy rightened and shut the door; seeing Lawrence and Natalie approaching their own car, the bag of peas now held to his jaw and cheek.
His sister was under his arm, helping him hobble. Billy gulped, realizing Lawrence was beat to hell, too, and if he hadn't jumped in, Lord only knew what state you'd be in now. When the two men caught one another's eye, Billy offered a nod of respect and thanks; the other lad returning it as if to say he was welcome. Billy raced for the driver's door, sliding in, and without turning any music on, drove off towards the hospital.
You were grumpy to be there, but one look at you had the medical staff moving at a quickened pace to help you; offering speedy aid. You were cleaned and cared for; questions regarding the level of assault making you nervous, but you answered honestly that two classmates had jumped you at a party. This meant the police were called; tears in your eyes and down your cheeks when you had to tell Chief Hopper (a close family friend) exactly what happened.
Billy provided their assailant’s full names and promised they wouldn't be in the best shape when (slash if) the two were found.
After hearing your story and writing the names down from Billy, Hopper sighed in empathy, "Kid... Don't admit t'anything."
"I'm not, I'm just making a casual note," Billy countered. "You know, people don't take too kindly to people hittin' a woman. Less so when she's drunk, alone, and they fuckin' stomp on her - "
"All right," Hopper tried to halt his built up anger. "Let's just take a breath here - "
"Uh, Chief?" His deputy interrupted. "Them boys? Uh, a... Jake Chastain and Steven Barton? They were just wheeled in from an ambulance."
"Interesting," Hopper noted, sparing Billy a small look. "From where?"
"A neighbor called them in, said there's a party few houses from her on Hawthorne."
Jim Hopper sighed and turned to you and Billy with his hands on his hips. His face was passively angry. "Sound familiar?" He asked, tongue sweeping over his teeth.
"Yes," you answered for you both, "that's where it happened, Chief."
His eyes softened when he looked back at you. "All right," he nodded, looking to his partner. "Go stand by their room, keep an eye - I'll be there in a second, but the victims made a positive ID. Doc's will treat 'em and we'll book 'em." When left alone, Hopper took a suspicious look around the hospital floor before sliding the curtains shut around your bed; moving to your other side, removing his hat, and kneeling. "Listen, kid," he whispered, taking your hand softly, "I got a daughter at home, too, and if anyone - and I mean, anyone - laid a hand on her the way you were tonight, I'd burn this town to the fucking ground."
Billy snorted in amusement, "Know the feeling."
Hopper nodded, "So believe me when I say, I need to know, off the record, what really happened tonight. Your father will need to know that I am doing everything to help - but I need to know the truth."
"I don't know what to tell you, Hopper," you frowned, matching his quiet tone, "I've told you what I know. I was a few drinks in, stepped outside t'smoke, and that's when they grabbed me, took me t'the side yard, and started wailing on me. I dropped, they kept goin', that's when this other boy stepped in. He got beat up pretty good, too, but he helped get them away. Billy showed up, we came here - "
"I hit them," Billy interrupted, making you squeak lightly. Hopper just laid his other hand over yours so he cocooned it; glancing around the under skirts of the curtains to make sure you remained alone.
Then he asked, "When?"
"After I made sure Y/N was okay," Billy explained, petting a hand over the back of your head; never looking away from Hopper. "I found her friend's sister, made sure someone knew where they were, and then I hit them... And I didn't stop hitting them."
"Kid - "
"Some teammates pulled me off, don't worry - it could've been so much worse. But when the others found out what they did to my girl?" He hissed quietly, "They took matters into their own hands by themselves, sir. My girl was attacked, I couldn't let that just slide, Chief, I hope you understand."
Hopper sighed, "Well, I can't condone the violence, but since it was a group effort, be a helluva lot more paperwork bringing you in versus those two who started it."
Billy nodded absently, your free hand laying over Hopper's to stack. "Did you call my dad?" You asked nervously.
"Not yet," he frowned. "I gotta check on the suspects, but I can after."
"Could you not? For me, please?" You sniffled. "He'll just worry and would get all pissy 'cause his trip has to be cut - "
"He's not home?" Hopper asked in earnest confusion with knitted brows.
Your head shook, "Chicago for the week."
"He left eight days ago," Billy snipped.
"Bee," you reprimanded sharply.
"Hey," Hopper squeezed your hand, "it's okay, you're over 18, I don't have to call him. But El and I are gonna drop by later with dinners and to check on you, her little friend, too, probably. You know, the, uh... The little red head?"
"Max?" You asked.
"Yeah, her. Nice girl."
"She's Billy's step-sister," you snickered, wincing when your broken ribs protested.
"You should rest," Hopper bid, "and thank you for being honest," he stood to his feet while nodding at Billy. "Tell you what, I won't report you starting the fight - technically... It'll be reported as a randomized group effort after they were caught assaulting Y/N."
Billy nodded, too shocked for words as Hopper patted your hand, placed his hat on, and exited the little curtained room. "Wow," your boyfriend breathed. "Since when are you friends with the Chief of Police?"
"He and my dad go way back," you eased.
"All cops like him?"
"Fuck no, you know that." After a beat, you reached for his hand to lace your fingers with him, "Hey," you bid, "I-I'm really sorry."
"Baby, just - don't even start - "
"No, for earlier, for our fight," you interrupted, "and for feeling petty enough to go to the party alone when I know you don't like that... For drinking, not being more aware like you taught me. I didn't use the buddy-system when I went t'smoke, it was a major fuck-up, I know, but I'm just sorry. I feel like I've disappointed you or something - "
"No, hey, sweet girl," he rushed, sitting on the edge of the gurney to stare at you directly, "don't you ever feel that way - you didn't do nothing wrong. Hear me? You didn't put yourself in this position, you didn't deserve what happened, you didn't - no, just," he sighed deeply, "you didn't do any of this, sweetheart. Okay? If anything... If anything, this is my fucking fault and I'm the one who is so sorry."
Your head shook, but Billy continued,
"They did this to you because of me." Tears filled those sweet baby blues. "Because I don't have a hold of my temper - I fucked them up, so, they fucked you up. This is my fault, I'm so sorry. But look, hey, I'll fix this, okay? I swear to God - I'm gonna fix this."
"The cops got 'em, we don't have t'do anything else," you mumbled. "You don't have to do anything else, Billy."
"Maybe not, but I can't let this go - look at you," a single tear dripped. "Fucking look at you, my sweet girl. In the fucking hospital 'cause of me - I can't - this ain't right. I gotta make it right."
You couldn't answer because a technician was arriving to take you for a CT, MRI, and X-Ray - all of those scans that would tell them what was going on internally. Hopper was seen outside the two boy's rooms - Billy following your bed closely as you where wheeled away. Every scan or test he could remain close for, he was; stepping back when needed, but being sucked right back to your side when able.
By the end of the night, you were released into Billy's care because all patients with head injuries had to have some kind of chaperone, and a few floors up, Steven and Jake were being handcuffed to their hospital beds by Hopper.
"Real lucky I wasn't there when you hit her," Jim Hopper seethed quietly, tightening the cuff on Jake to an uncomfortable grip. "Your parents would need money for your funerals - not bail," he offered one single more glare before leaving the next shift of deputies on duty. He sped all the way home and held Eleven in a suffocating hug.
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Turns out, you sustained decent injuries from that night.
A (cleanly) broken ankle. Six different broken ribs. Split lip that required two stitches. Stitched earlobes from where piercings were ripped out. Severely bruised collarbones, bordering on broken. One blackened eye. Along with other generic bruises and cuts, more seemingly discovered as the days drug by slowly.
Billy was ready to mow down anyone in his way at any point, but his only ability to get through the school day was that he saw you everyday afterward. He dropped whatever sport and / or club that held his interest, collecting coursework you missed, then driving Max and "Jane" Hopper to your place. He would've lashed out if this was any other situation, but because you asked him to behave and bring you the materials you needed, he did. He played nice.
The two assailants, Steven and Jake, had been arrested by Jim Hopper. They apparently had a rough ride to the station, but that wasn't here or there. What they did to you was far worse that nobody batted a single lash when the two were brought in the station for booking, looking freshly beat up and bloodied. A judge also rejected their bail.
Billy brought you whatever work you missed during your recovery at home, most teachers shocked to see him so diligent in showing up and making the collections. He didn't understand whatever the teachers told him about the work, but you did - and it was fascinating to him, watching you work or study. He usually sat by your window to smoke, but on the occasion, you asked for a toke and wouldn't care about where the smoke blew. So, as weeks passed, he stopped specifically going over to your window; just leaving it open for ventilation so he could remain at your side.
Anything you needed, he got. He did. He gave you. Guilt was one helluva motivator and Billy was chalked-full; so, he did the only thing he knew he could, being acts of service.
You were laid up, it made sense. He could bring you into the shower, get naked himself and help you bathe. He could carry you downstairs, cook for you, help out around the house by keeping it clean because he knew it stressed you out. He would collect the mail, water plants, do dishes, just turned into a househusband that made your stomach and cheeks feel all warm and fuzzy. Never did you think Billy had the ability to be domestic, but here he was, in your great-grandmother's kitchen, wearing a stained apron while trying to bake cookies while you worked on a physics project.
"Hey, Bee?"
"What's wrong?" He asked instantly, setting the hot tray to the stove.
"No, hey, calm down," you smiled with a small laugh. "I was just wondering... You know, like... What's gotten into you?"
"Huh?"
"You know what I mean," you huffed, setting your pencil down. "You literally haven't let me out of your sight except when you're at school."
He shrugged, "You need help."
"You don't ask if I do."
"I don't need to ask when I can just see it."
"Billy."
He sighed and begrudgingly scraped cookies off the hot tray to rest on the cooling sheets. "Your dad asked me to stay close," he offered.
"Bullshit."
"No, really," Billy insisted. "He's in and out with work, so, he asked me to stick around, just in case."
"Okay, fine, but it's more than that. Billy, tell me the truth, baby, please. It's not a bad thing, I'm just curious what's really going on."
"I'm just... I'm just nervous, you know?"
Your head cocked, "Why's that?"
"Look what happened to you," he chuckled ruefully. "All fucked up, can't even go t'school until your ribs are healed - all 'cause of me. 'Cause I fucked up and went too far - "
"William," you snapped, making his wide, shocked eyes meet yours. "I'm not gonna listen to this anymore. Okay? I know you're sorry, you tell me everyday, andI know you're feeling guilty, but this isn't your fault, you're not the one who put hands on me - "
You flinched when he lobbed the cookie tray into the sink, causing a ruckus, his voice yelling over the noise, "FOR FUCK'S SAKE!"
"William!"
"I'm trying to protect you!" He yelled, tears swelling when he whipped around to face you. "I-I don't know what else to do! Look, okay, say what you fucking want, but the truth is, those two assholes came at you 'cause of me. Okay? 'Cause I had to be myself and beat the shit outta them 3 months ago, they never forgave - they didn't forget. I put you in this situation, that now? Now, yeah!" He laughed without humor. "Yeah! I'm fucking nervous leaving you alone! Fuck knows what could happen to you, and who's to say there aren't more people out there just waiting for this kinda opportunity! Baby!" He rushed for you at the kitchen table, your mouth sewn shut in shock as he found his knees in front of you and took both your hands in his. "Baby, listen to me. You're the only thing - no, I'm serious!" He insisted when you looked ready to protest this sentiment you've heard before. "You're the only thing I fucking care about, that I want to protect, and they all know it - I don't exactly hide it. I love you so fucking much, they'd do this again - they'd fucking hurt you to get to me and that idea just..." He sighed, looking lost.
You pulled a hand free to instantly caress his cheek, turning his attention upward until his eyes met yours. "Billy," you whispered, "baby, nobody's after us. This was just a freak accident, this was a fluke, okay? You're worried anyone else is gonna come at me, at us, but I know nobody else is that fucking stupid. They wouldn't test you, and Jake and Steven took advantage of an already bad situation. Okay? We had a fight - which was pretty public. So, people knew we were at odds, and when I showed up at that party alone, started drinking, it was their perfect opportunity to strike."
"You can't say that, we don't know if anyone else is gonna test us," he sniffled. "I've made a lot of mistakes... Pissed a lot of people off. One of them might've grown a pair."
"Okay," you relented, "then I guess we're gonna have to stick together, you know... So you can keep me safe, right?"
He chuckled dryly, "I'm trying, princess."
"Well, we can work out a better way - one that doesn't run you into the fucking ground, Billy, Jesus," you searched his face. "Are you sleeping? At all?"
"'Course I am - "
"Don't lie to me."
He sighed, deflating a little, "I sleep... Only when I stay here."
"Billy, you stay only a couple nights a week when Daddy's home."
"I know."
"So, you basically only sleep when Daddy's out of town and you stay here?" You squeaked, watching him nod; pouting and feeling your own guilt brew. "Baby... Look, can we just agree that this isn't either of our faults? Right? Yeah? If I'm not allowed to think this was my fault, you aren't either."
"I was the one they wanted t'hurt," he shook his head. "They did this 'cause of me, sweetheart, how can you be so - so - fuck! So fucking understanding a-and forgiving?"
"Because I love you," you answered like it was common knowledge, even giving a small giggle.
"That doesn't... But that doesn't even - "
"What? Mean anything? Bee, it means everything," you smiled at him. "I love you, so, when you make mistakes, I forgive you - even though there's nothing you've done. I mean," you winced slightly, "sure, maybe we could reduce the kids you bully or beat up, you know, limit the enemies we might make. And this is something that can be redeemed, can't it?"
He stared at you from the floor, slowly deflating, "Can it? I've fucked up so much, doll, I don't think I deserve whatever forgiveness you wanna give me."
"You can't keep beating yourself up," you snipped. "Hey? Hear me? Look, it happened - it fucking sucked, but it happened and it's fucking over. We both need one another to help move on, okay? So, I need you back, Bee, I need my man back because we need to get through this together. You don't get to sulk in your guilt, I don't get to stew in my regret, we need to help each other out of this."
Billy sniffled, "How? How do we move on when you've still got stitches in your lip?"
"They'll dissolve in a few days," you shrugged meekly. "We move on together, okay? Maybe you pick up basketball again, try to distract yourself. Billy, we need some normalcy again, right? You know?"
"Doll, being away from you makes me feel like my lungs are gonna pop," he shook his head. "I'm afraid something might happen if I'm not there, it's fucking scary after finding you in your own blood."
"Then I'll be at every practice," you eased. "You can drive me to and from school, then you know where I am - you'll know I'm safe."
Billy stared at you a moment, fully dropping to the floor as his energy finally drained. He ran a hand through his hair, rustling the curls, admitting in a soft voice, "I don't know how to do this. I don't know how to not feel so guilty, how to move forward."
"There's no playbook," you agreed. "Guess it means we gotta figure it out ourselves, but again, we do it together. C'mere," you sighed, lowering yourself to the floor with your booted ankle held out.
"No, don't - "
"Fuck off, I'm not totally unable to do shit," you grunted, adjusting yourself and reaching for him. "Come here, please, I wanna hold you! Been cuddling me this whole time, lemme be the big spoon, please."
"Just told me to fuck off, sweetheart, kinda sending some mixed signals, aren't'cha?" He chuckled, turning so his back was to your chest; leaning so you supported him in his slump. "I'm so sorry, sweetheart," he muttered, holding the arm around his collarbones. "I really - if I knew this was gonna happen, I'd never of fought them."
"I know, and I forgive you," you whispered in his ear. "But we can't keep doing this back and forth, okay? I forgive you, Billy, no more apologies."
He sighed, "Yeah... All right..."
"Steven and Jake are arrested, we won't have t'see them again. Hopper will make sure of that," you smirked against the shell of his ear. "And the doctors said I should be good to return to school next week, but I'm out of cheer and everything."
He groaned, "Just something else I've fucked up for you."
"Oh, please, I love the time off," you teased. "Gives me all the time I need to watch my man on the court, huh?" He half-chuckled at your words. "You know I'm ahead in all my classes now, too? Teaching myself at home is far superior than the teacher's bitching at us for eight hours."
"You're gonna love college, baby," he chuckled, the two of you lulling into a comfortable silence. You held him tightly, nuzzled into his neck; both sitting in your emotions, trying to navigate a way out.
"We good?" You whispered.
"We're good," Billy agreed, just as soft. "No more apologies... Try to have less guilt. But you're gonna let me stay close, right?"
"I want you clinging to me so hard, I can't fucking breathe," you smirked. "And if Daddy really asked you to stick around, then you're welcome to stay here longer, even if he's here... Where I can have you close to me," you whispered, licking the skin under his ear. He stiffened.
"No - you better not," he squirmed when you licked again, adding a little teeth in a scrape.
"Billy," you pouted. "It's been weeks!"
"You're still hurt," he argued, turning on the floor to look at you. "I'm not gonna be responsible for breaking another of your ribs 'cause we were horny."
"I'm doing so much better, though!"
"Tell you what," he smirked. "Next business trip of your dad's, I'll fuck you all weekend - wherever you want, however you want."
"He has one in two weeks."
"Mhm, and you have a check up before he leaves."
You eyed him for a moment, "When did you become responsible?"
"I've always been."
"No, this is new. You're remembering dates and my doctor appointments and my dad's work schedule."
"Maybe I just like taking care of you," he whispered against your lips with a growing smirk. After pecking you lips, he quipped, "So, shut up and let me."
"Yes, sir."
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requesting rules and masterlist
Stranger Things masterlist
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nightingale-prompts · 4 months ago
Text
Sparing Batboy
First | Previous | Next
"You need to sleep." Bruce put his hand on Dick's shoulder.
Dick ran a hand through his disheveled hair. His eyes were dark from lack of rest.
It had been two days. Two days without a sign of Danny. Not even a glimpse on a street camera or his phone or clothes going missing. He's just gone. Evaporating into thin air.
"I need to find him," Dick said resolutely.
Bruce shook his head and opened his mouth to protest.
"Don't say anything," Dick said through clenched teeth. "You don't get to say anything about what I'm doing. You have done the same thing."
"Dick this is not the time to-"
"I said shut up! If you want to be helpful then go back to looking for him. Otherwise, leave." Dick said before jumping to another rooftop.
Dick knew at the end of the day he knew very little about Danny. He never asked because he knew it clearly hurt him to talk about it. All he needed to know was that Danny needed him. From the moment he first saw that watery smile on that kids face on his face when he invited Danny to eat with him.
Bruce definitely knew by this point that Danny and Batboy were the same. Especially when he asked where his grandson was while they searched. He hadn't said anything else about it. Dick didn't care at this point. I wouldn't change anything.
Part of Dick hated it. He has spent so many years comparing himself to Bruce. Trying not to become him yet still stuck in his shadow. To not repeat his mistakes.
Dick had made his fair share of mistakes and had paid for each one. He had lost so many people either from his own actions or not acting at all.
But what can he do now?
He just wanted to find his son.
He just didn't want to hear what came next. Commissioner Gordon called in with a clue…no it was a message.
A pair of wings splayed to mimic the iconic bat signal on a rooftop. The bloodied wings were severed at the base of the bone.
There were very few villains in Gotham that would do something so violent, fewer that would show off their act so brazenly. This kind of of senseless violence just to anger Batman was the mark of none other than Joker.
Joker had gotten his hands on another member of Dick's family. Flashbacks of Jason and Tim filled his mind.
And something just snapped.
In another part of the city, a certain clown glared at the limp body of the teen.
He had hoped the kid would at least wake up after having his wings cut off but despite his body state he slept soundly. He even had goons try to beat the kid awake but while the blood stayed any injuries disappeared instantly. Metas were a pain in the ass.
In the realm of dreams, Danny was comforted in the arms of the Nocturne. He got to visit his sister and friends in their dreams.
Jazz squeezed the life out of him as she asked him every question she could. Danny tried his best to answer each of them.
"Relax Jazz, I'm fine. I just can't come back. You know how it is. A grand destiny and all that." Danny said.
"But you're still just a kid Danny. You have school and-and-" Jazz said frantically trying to find the words.
"And I'm still going. Clockwork and Nocturne are teaching me everything I need to know until I take the throne." Danny wasn't ready to tell her about his new life.
She didn't need to know that he had a new family. Not when she was what he had to leave behind despite how much it kills him. There wasn't a day he didn't miss her or think of her. Nothing could replace her.
Unaware of this Nocturne and Clockwork watched as Danny dreamed within a dream.
"We should just kill the clown," Nocturne said resolutely as he peered into the material realm.
"You swore not to interfere with the mortals anymore," Clockwork warned.
"I'm not like you, Kronos. I can't sit idly by and watch this happen. I actually care." Nocturne said leveling a glare at the time ghost, his eyes blazing.
"So you care for the boy now? I thought you said you couldn't stand children?" Clockwork smirked his eyebrow raised.
Nocturne huffed shifting the blanket he had laid on Danny to cover him properly.
"I am close to mortals. It is what I am. Children tend to have the most innocent dreams. They have nightmares they don't know how to handle. They are fitful sleepers and cry before they wake. They can't parse dreams from reality. So much care goes into forming their dreams but at the same time, I must scare them. To remind them they should be afraid of the dark. I just can't stand to make them cry and lose those sweet little dreams." Nocturne brushed his clawed hand against Clock's cheek. "I don't understand how you do it. You let them hurt. You know what will happen yet you do nothing."
"It is my purpose. I care but all actions have consequences. I can't weigh the lives of a few for all. I asked you to put the boy to sleep to spare him the pain, at least for now. Had I not, I fear his fate would be darker." Clockwork sighed leaning into Nox's hand.
"Then let's kill that man. I know you want to my love." Nocturne's smiled wickedly eager to return to the living world.
"That is not our role. No, there is another who will come soon." Clockwork said pushing his malicious lover away. "Besides if the boy wakes you know he will undoubtedly cause untold damage. You know how much he hates clowns as is. There will be no coming back from that."
"You say that like it's a bad thing. I would be very proud." Nocturne hummed in delight.
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(Am I ever going to run out of bat pics/gifs? Let's hope not.)
(Also gay ghosts dads. You're welcome.)
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jobean12-blog · 7 months ago
Text
The Fine Print
Pairing: Bucky Barnes x female reader (CEO!Bucky AU)
Word Count: 4,126
Summary: You've been working under Bucky for almost a year and he's always been a grumpy ass and even though when the lines get blurred you can't seem to stay away.
Author's Note: These new pics and all the new gym shots and vids and yum! Just being fed so well! I like the idea of a grumpy CEO who just wants you and he's mad about it. No excuse for being a dick but he's not really all bad. And anyway, I'd never tell him no...haha! Thank you all so much for reading! Much love always! ❤️❤️❤️Thank you Daisy for the lovely divider @firefly-graphics😘
Warnings: Grumpy ass Bucky (he's a total ass sometimes but has moments of softness), sassy reader, lots of tension, flirting, curses, fingering, light dirty talk
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“Fuck, fuck, fuck.”
You’re late. Only twenty minutes but it’s long enough that your grumpy ass of a boss will have your head for it.
Grumpy…and an ass but entirely too gorgeous.
You pick up the pace, precariously balancing your files and bags and hoping you don’t faceplant on the newly shined floors.
Getting a flat tire on the highway this morning wasn’t on your long to-do list for today, but it still happened and now you’ll have to deal with a very cranky Mr. Barnes.
You round the corner and enter your office, ready to give your usual sunshine filled greeting.
“Good morning, Mr. Barnes!”
He’s standing at your desk, arms crossed over his broad chest and his eyes hard.
“Is it a good morning?” he asks, not bothering to move out of the way as you try to slip around him. “What time is it?”
You stop and meet his glare.
“I had some car trouble this morning. I got a flat on my way in.”
Your voice comes out steady and strong and relief floods through you. This was the first time you were late, and you were not going to be reprimanded.
“Trouble is quite the fitting word for what I’ve been dealing with in your absence.”
You glance up at him and his antagonizing stare, and blink away your surprise at his words.
“I would have thought you would at least ask me if I was ok Mr. Barnes,” you say sweetly and with a smile. “After all, how could I possibly manage to fix a flat tire all on my own.”  
His jaw clenches tightly.
“Obviously you managed,” he counters. “And you look just fine.”
Beautiful blue eyes wander languidly down your body before making their slow perusal back up to study your face.
You try to school your features and when he raises an expectant brow you bite back with, “Thankfully I am fine, and I got help but I’m sorry you’ve had to deal with the burden of picking up a telephone and sending an e-mail all on your own this morning. It won’t happen again.”
He takes a step closer to you and you stop yourself from swaying forward to get a hint of his scent.
Traitorous body. If only the fucker wasn’t so fucking hot.
“You’re right. It won’t,” he replies with a smug smile. “And just so you don’t forget, I’d like to see…”
He spends the next minute rattling off several project pieces he’d like to see completed and on his desk by the end of the day.
“And then you can make up the half an hour you missed by getting together a mock presentation for our meeting tomorrow.”
When your nostrils flare, he smiles triumphantly and dips his head, so his warm breath caresses the shell of your ear.
“I’ll see you in the conference room at six.”
He turns away and slams his office door behind him and you let out an exasperated puff of air.
“It was only twenty minutes asshole.”
You mutter the words under your breath as you plop into your office chair and continue to curse his name in grumbles.
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There’s a light knock on the door before it opens and you know you’re about to hear the voice of your friend and coworker, Jess.
“I know you’re working through lunch,” she says. “So at least let me get you something.”
You don’t look up but smile nonetheless, your fingers flying over the keyboard with ease.
“Honestly, I don’t even think I have time to eat,” you say before hitting the period button hard and meeting her eyes.
Jess gives you a sympathetic look. “I’ll grab you something nutritious.”
She waves before gently shutting the door. You lean over to check your desk drawer for snacks, the mention of lunch reminding you that you are in fact, hungry. At the same time that you see you have nothing to eat you notice a tear in your stockings.
“Son of a bitch,” you grumble. “I just bought these.”
Less than a minute later your door opens again and without looking up from your screen you whine, “do you know what, after the morning I’ve had I think I’ll take something sweet…maybe a cookie. Or twelve. Or chocolate of any kind.”
When you receive no acknowledgement, in return you glance up and see that Jess is not standing at your door.
You quickly tug the hem of your skirt down, noting how Bucky’s eyes track the movement and linger on your legs.
“I’m sorry, Mr. Barnes, I didn’t realize…”
“Since your morning has been so awful,” he starts, his sly smile growing, “why don’t you run down to the café and pick us both up some lunch.”
Your lips purse and once again his eyes seem glued to every action you take.
“Mr. Barnes, Jess has just come in and said she would grab me something to eat so I can continue working through lunch.”
When he doesn’t say anything, you continue.
“I have A LOT to get done.”
“I’m sure you’ll make it work,” he says before rattling off his lunch order.
He turns on his heel and takes two long strides back to his office, pulling the door closed hard behind him.
“What the f…?”
You don’t even finish the sentence when he opens the door again and pokes his head out.
“Make sure you get yourself something to eat. We’re going to be here late.”
The door slams shut again, and you abruptly stand, your rolling chair flying back into the wall as you storm off.
“Why does he care if I eat or not?” you ask yourself as you angrily stuff things into your bag and throw it over your shoulder.
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The rest of the day goes by far too quickly and you find yourself cursing out the copy machine as you wait for the rest of your papers to go through. Checking your phone you see you’re already almost ten minutes late to your afterhours ‘meeting.’
You rush down the dim hall of the now empty building, your presentation materials clutched tightly to your chest and glance again at your phone.
Fifteen minutes. Shit.
As you near the conference room, you try to calm your breathing and slow to a walk. A soft light shines from under the door, and you know he’s in there waiting for you.
Taking a deep breath you knock.
“Come in.”
You walk into the large room, never failing to take in the view of the city that the floor to ceiling windows along one wall highlight.
At the head of the large dark wood conference table, sits Bucky. His suit jacket is hanging haphazardly over the back of his chair, his tie is loose around his neck, and the crisp white sleeves of his button down are rolled up to his elbows.
“I’m sorry, Mr. Barnes. The copy machine…”
Realizing you’ve been apologizing all day, and it has made no difference, you stop yourself and lift your chin, walking over to where he sits and placing down your papers, sorting through them as quickly as possible so you can begin.
“Have you eaten dinner?” he asks.
His question takes you completely by surprise and you meet his piercing blue eyes with a confused expression.
“I uh…I had lunch.”
“That doesn’t answer my question sweetheart.”
At his sugared endearment, your eyes widen, and your breath catches in your throat, but you regain your composure.
“No. I haven’t.”
He just nods and gestures to the papers, clearly waiting for you to get started.
You lean over the table, searching for the paper you need and in your disheveled state don’t realize your entire lower body is practically draped over him.
“I just need to find…”
The words catch in your throat when you feel his fingers softly touch your thigh, slowly inching higher to reveal the tear in your stocking. His fingertips trace the sheared fabric and press against your skin, igniting it with heat.
Every muscle in your body tenses, your heart pounds in your chest and your brain screams at you to push him away but you don’t dare move.
“Look at me,” he demands, pressing his fingertips harder into your skin.
You straighten and turn to face him, his hand sliding up and over the curve of your hip to settle on your waist.
“Mr. Barnes?” you ask, keeping your eyes trained on his.
“James. Call me James.”
The intensity of his stare makes your breath catch and when he doesn’t answer and instead continues letting his hand trace your curves you battle with your emotions.
“The next time you have car trouble,” and his hand slips under your skirt again, “you call me.”
“What? Why would I?”
His fingertips graze the lace top of your stocking before he lifts your skirt higher and drops his eyes between your legs.
“Because I said so,” he murmurs, teasing along your inner thigh.
Your hand falls to the table to steady yourself and you willingly spread your legs open when he gives them a slight push.
“That’s hardly a good reason,” you breathe out.
“Fuck,” he growls, and his eyes fall closed.
You glance down at his lap and see him straining against the expensive fabric of his pants.
He smooths two fingers along the line of your panties, lightly pressing against your swollen and sensitive clit. His eyes open and he looks furious, fisting the thin material in his hand and in one quick movement, tearing it off.
He pulls you down roughly onto his lap, your skirt riding up over your hips to accommodate the wide spread of your legs as you straddle him.
An involuntary moan slips past your parted lips when he grabs your ass and drags you down over his hard cock.
When he opens his mouth to speak you grab his tie between your fingers and use it to pull his mouth to yours. Every sweep of his lips is heaven, and you release his tie to rake your fingers through his hair.
He makes a low, angry noise deep in his throat and you trail your lips along his jaw, kissing your way down the strong column of his neck.
His hand slides from your ass and slips between your legs, his fingers brushing through the wetness just before there’s a knock on the door.
You both go completely still and wait. When a second knock sounds, he quietly curses and gently lifts you off his lap.
You quickly pull your skirt down and smooth your hands over your hips. He watches your every move as he runs a hand through his mussed hair and sits up in the chair, hiding his legs and erection under the table.
“What?” he growls, loud enough for whomever is on the other side to hear.
“Mr. Barnes, we’re scheduled to do maintenance in here tonight.”
He curses again and continues to stare at you.
“I’m just finishing a meeting. Give me five minutes.”
“Of course, Mr. Barnes,” the maintenance manager, says, “take your time.”
His chest rises and falls rapidly as he splays his hands out over the tabletop. Hastily he stands and tries to straighten his tie, his eyes landing on your ripped panties that lie on the floor.
He grabs them and rubs the silky fabric between his fingers.
“Make sure you eat something,” he says and then shrugs on his suit jacket, tucking your panties into the breast pocket.
You’re clutching the table and staring as he grabs his briefcase and starts toward the door.
“It’s late. I’m going to have security walk you to your car,” he states, finally meeting your eyes.
His groan is pained as his gaze travels down your body and then he disappears out the door.
You fall back into a chair and try to calm your breathing. You’d have to be out of here in a minute and you didn’t want to look suspicious. Seeing movement outside the door you begin gathering your things and stand on still shaky legs.
With a deep inhale you straighten your shoulders and walk out the door with a serene smile, greeting the head of security and thanking him for escorting you out.
What the fuck just happened?
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The next morning you’re making your way into the office when he walks in. You do nothing more than greet him with a curt nod, giving him a wide berth of space as you make your way to your desk.
You can feel his eyes on you, the lick of heat traveling down your spine. You’re wearing your favorite dress and while it’s appropriate for the workspace it accentuates all the right spots, and you smile to yourself as you bend down to retrieve something from your desk drawer.
Regardless of what transpired last night you are not going to let it affect your work. You felt powerful and confident in this dress and Mr. Barnes can fuck off.
You peek over your shoulder to find him standing halfway in the doorway of his office and staring. You raise your brows and blink.
He clears his throat and mumbles a short “good morning,” then steps into his office and slams the door.
You roll your eyes and promise yourself he’ll be the last thing on your mind as you set out to get as much work done today as possible.
As lunch approaches you grab your bag and reach for your wallet. Your fingers close around a crumpled piece of paper, and you start to smile when you’re reminded of what it is.
You knock on his office door and saunter inside when he says, “come in.” The receipt hits his desk with a smack and without an explanation you turn and walk back out.
You almost make it to the first step in the stairwell when you hear footsteps approach behind you.
“Where the hell do you think you’re running off to?” he calls.
You continue walking and make it down one flight of steps before saying, “to get lunch.”
He meets you on the landing and clutches your elbow, spinning you around and pushing you against the wall.
Your eyes narrow contemptuously.
He whips the receipt out and in front of your face. “Want to explain this sweetheart?”
You let out a wry chuckle. “You know for such a smart guy you really are an ass sometimes. It’s a receipt.”
“I can see that,” he says through clenched teeth. “What I want to know is why you’re making purchases for…lingerie…on my company credit card.”
“Some jerk ripped up my favorite pair of panties last night.”
You shrug your shoulders and try to skirt past him.
His hand meets the wall next to your head, his fingers curling and crumpling the receipt and you can feel how tightly the muscles in his body are flexed when he presses closer.
He looks tormented for the split second before his lips crash down on yours and your treacherous body melts into the kiss.
His cock throbs against your stomach as he tries to hike your dress up over your thighs. Reluctantly he steps back, making enough space so he can slowly slide your dress higher, above your panties and look his fill.
“I like this pair even more than last nights,” he simpers.
His fingers hook into the lace at your hip, and you grab his shirt. “Don’t you dare Barnes.”   
“You can buy as many new pairs as you want.”
He once again easily tears them from your hips.
Your lips part in shock but he swallows your sassy remark with his mouth. The roughness of his kiss is a sharp contrast to the way his fingers softly tease between your legs.
You need more but you’ll be damned if you’re going to beg him for it. As if he can read your inner thoughts, his eyes light up in triumph when he pulls away to meet your gaze.
“As much as I want to hear you beg me for it sweetheart, I already know how badly you want it. You’re soaked for me.”
“You’re such an ass…”
He slides a finger inside you and your combined groans echo in the empty stairwell, the insult dying on your lips.
His stare is intense as he dips his head to your ear, warm lips brushing ever so gently when he whispers, “say please and I’ll give you what you want.”
Instead, you nip at his jaw, stifling the moan of need that threatens to rise in your throat. He continues pumping one finger in and out, sweat beginning to bead on his brow and his teeth gritted.
You hiss out a curse that’s followed by a breathy “please.”
You’re expecting him to be smug but instead he slows his movements and languidly pushes a second finger inside you, clearly relishing the way your eyelids flutter closed and you clench around him.
“That’s it sweetheart. Show me how much you love it when I fuck you with my fingers.”
His words practically send you over the edge but it’s the press of his thumb to your clit that makes your legs start to shake and his name fall from your lips like a prayer.
When his head falls to your neck and he places soft kisses along your skin, traveling up to your ear to whisper, “come for me gorgeous,” you let go and dig your fingernails into his strong shoulders, finishing with a muffled cry.
He draws out your pleasure with the slow push and pull of his fingers before sliding them out and holding them between you, his skin glistening under the harsh fluorescent lights.
His fingers press to his lips, parting them as he licks them clean, clearly savoring every drop of your taste.
“I knew you’d be sweet,” he croons.
“James,” you whimper when your hands fall to his pants.
He grabs your wrist to stop you and pushes your hand away. With soft movements he fixes your dress, smoothing his hands along your curves.
“But…” you start, and he silences you with a kiss.
You’re breathless and your head is fuzzy by the time he pulls away and with a wink he steps back and says, “lunch is over. We have a meeting to attend.”
He turns on his heel and jogs back up the steps with ease. Your narrowed eyes follow him before you let out a frustrated huff and walk on wobbly legs in the same direction.
You had forgotten all about the meeting…the one you were supposed to go over the plans for the night before.
When you walk into the large conference room everyone is already seated and Bucky is of course at the head of the table. His eyes are trained on you as you walk to the front and place your things down near him.
The presentation you’re giving shouldn’t take more than ten minutes, but there’s a lot riding on it and after what just happened, you’re obviously feeling flustered.
You open your document and greet and address the room, doing everything in your power to keep your focus on where it belongs and not on him.
But when you pause your eyes lock with his and your ability to speak is momentarily stolen. His gaze is intense, the heat simmering there almost palpable.
With a clear of your throat you continue, fumbling slightly but thankfully recovering quick enough that no one seems to notice. No one but him.
His perfect lips raise in a lopsided grin, and he runs his tongue along the seam of his lips. It’s clear where his thoughts are, and you must tear your eyes away to unscramble your head. He’s obviously trying to fluster you and quickly your nerves are replaced with anger, and you use it to fuel the rest of your presentation, finishing it with ease.
You sit with a smile and lift your chin, challenging him with your eyes. He stares right back.
“Thank you,” he says, addressing you by your first name as he stands and commands the room. “That was an excellent presentation. Clearly, you were well prepared.”
You can’t tell if his words are mocking or meaningful and it sets you on edge. He moves around the room and answers any lingering questions before ending the meeting with a dismissive hand.
As people stand and gather their things, Bucky comes up behind you, pressing his chest close to your back as he leans in to pretend to grab something from the table.
“I wasn’t sure you were going to make it thought that” he chuckles.
To everyone else it appears he’s making a funny remark, but you can feel your skin heat at his proximity and taunting words.
“Ugh,” you say through gritted teeth. “You would have loved that wouldn’t you?”
You can feel your eyes fill with unshed tears, the emotions of the day finally catching up to you and when his gaze finds yours his expression morphs from haughty to soft in an instant.
It only sends you reeling again, the confusion flooding through you and before he can say more you gather your things and rush out the door. Unexpectedly, he’s hot on your heels all the way to the elevator.
There are several other people on it so when you stop at the next floor and more employees file in, you’re squeezed toward the back, pushed farther into him, your ass against his crotch.
He’s hard and you feel the rest of him stiffen with the sharp intake of his breath. You take a step away from him, as much as you can in the confined space, but he reaches forward and grips your hip to pull you back.
“Don’t move,” he whispers into your neck.
“I’m two seconds away from shoving my heel up your ass,” you seethe.
He leans even closer, keeping a firm grasp on your hip.
“You were deliberately trying to make me fuck that up!”
You turn your head to peer at him and his mouth falls open, brows furrowed.
“What?” he says.
“You heard me.”
When you reach the floor just before the top, everyone else exits the elevator and the doors close, leaving you both pressed together in the corner.
It starts to move again, and you jerk backward, falling against him as he leans into the wall.
His sudden growl startles you and then he slams his hand into the stop button on the control panel.
His body cages you against the wall and his breathing is harsh.
“I would never want you to fuck anything up,” he exhales. “It’s impossible for me to think about anything but you…how good you taste, and I haven’t even gotten my mouth on you.”
You hide your surprise at his confession.
“Yet.” He adds in a promised whisper.
“This is my career at stake Mr. Barnes. You’re the one with all the power here. What do you have to lose?”
“Me? All the power?” He laughs dryly. “You’re the one who does this to me…the only one.”
You feel him throb against your stomach and you can see the truth in his eyes.
“Then don’t be such a dick all the time.”
You mean the words to come out harsh but instead they’re a quiet whisper and your expression softens.
It’s all he needs before his lips crash to yours and he slides his hands down to your ass, squeezing his way to the hem of your dress.
“I had to sit there and watch you present, the whole fucking time knowing you had nothing on under here.”
His touch is delicate as he spreads your legs and slides a finger through your folds, already wet and aching.
“I was sitting there hard as a rock just thinking about bending you over that table, tasting you, fucking you.”
Your fingers close around his biceps, the soft fabric of his suit jacket bulging under the strained muscles.
“Is that what you want?” he asks as his fingers continue to tease you.
“Yes,” you answer as you grab hold of his tie and bring his lips closer.
He kisses you, never touching you where you need it most and when he pulls away, he presses the elevator button, causing it to start moving again.
He removes his fingers and reaches up to straighten his tie and when the doors open, he backs out, his voice low and deep when he says, “I need to see you in my office. Immediately.”
He turns and glides from the elevator, his long strides carrying him quickly toward his office and you can’t do anything but follow.
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@blackwidownat2814 @hiddles-rose @kmc1989 @goldylions @lizette50
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motorsportbarbie13 · 18 days ago
Text
A Package Deal - Part 5
In which big things happen at Silverstone
Warnings: nothing but fluff, as per usual Pairing: Lando Norris x SingleMom!Reader Word Count: 2.8k words
A Package Deal - A Package Deal - Part 2 - A Package Deal - Part 3 - A Package Deal - Part 4 Master List Don't miss my new project: Track Limits, the fully original sports romance set in the cut-throat world of Formula 1 (first part will be posted tomorrow, January 6th)
yourusername (private) posted
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102 likes liked by landonorris, BFFSarah, stellasgrandpa, and others yourusername home race, best race BFFSarah cuties stellasgrandpa so much fun today with you. that man of yours is a keeper. >>>yourusername ❤️ love you dad >>>landonorris thanks for keeping my girls company today, sir! glad you had fun, would love to have you & stella at more races this year >>>BFFSarah 'my girls' i die
"Momma, it's hot." Stella whines, tugging on your hand as you walk towards the McLaren hospitality suite Sunday morning.
"Baby, I know. Hospitality has aircon though, so let's get inside. Lando's there too and he wants to see you before he gets into the car."
Behind you, your dad and step mom follow along. It's the British Grand Prix weekend and instead of working this race, you're here as Lando's personal guest, along with your family. It's surreal, attending the race but not working. You felt insanely out of place in hospitality in your jeans and black tank top instead of your papaya and black team kit.
Stella scampers off ahead of you, heading straight to the giant orange building that sits behind the garages at Silverstone. She's been with you all weekend, having wanted to watch Lando during all three practice sessions and qualifying. It was her first time in the paddock this weekend and as you watched her take to the atmosphere like a fish you water, you were worried you'd never be able to get her away from here. There was something magical in it though, watching your baby come alive and fall in love with something for the first time in their life.
The glass sliding doors woosh open for you and Stella and you're rewarded with a wash of cool air instantly giving you relief from the hot British summer outside. The main room of the suite is a hub of activity. Several meetings going on all at once, employees coming and going, meals being served for guests. It was all a bit overwhelming but you'd been to a few races already this season and it was beginning to feel routine for you.
You check your phone and see that Lando returned your text, informing you he was just in his drivers room up on the second floor.
"Stella, Lando is up on the second floor in his room. Knock before you go in." You tell your daughter, knowing she's going to want to run to see your boyfriend as soon as she can. You watch as she runs away before turning back to your dad and step mom. "She's been hanging out there all weekend. She says it's her favorite place in the world."
Your dad looks a little surprised, "I don't think I've ever seen Stella that comfortable in a crowd or without one of us." He marvels.
You smile, having noticed the same thing. You follow after Stella as you respond to your dad. "She's been this little social butterfly all weekend, it's like this place is magic for her. She's barely left Lando's side."
Lando and Stella had developed such a special relationship over the last seven months and even though it was normal to you now, sometimes you still had to stop and wonder if this was really real. He picked her up from school on such a regular basis that Ms. Rose in the front office had stopped asking him for ID and stopped calling you to make sure he had permission to take Stella. There had been several times that Stella had made an appearance on one of Max F's streams while Lando raced online with him. Since Lando rarely streamed with video on, you had allowed Stella to 'help' Lando drive when her permitted it, which was whenever Stella asked. Because your little girl had your boyfriend wrapped around her little finger. For a little girl that had always been shy around men other than her own grandpa, Stella blossomed when Lando and her grew closer.
By the time you reach the top of the stairs, you can see that the door to Lando's room is thrown wide open and you just hope Stella had remembered to knock before barging in. You can hear her chatter float out of the door and when you round the corner, Stella is sat next to Lando on the leather couch that sits underneath the window.
“And then Momma made you walk fifteen miles in a heat wave just to see me?” Lando exclaims, barely covering up a laugh at Stella’s dramatics.
“Stella Rose!” You laugh, stopping in your tracks and propping your hands on your hips. “We walked across the track through the air conditioned tunnel from the hotel!”
“Gee, I wonder where she gets her dramatic streak from.” Mutters your dad from behind.
You spin, sound of indignation flying from your lips while everyone else dissolves into laughter.
“Ok, Lan and Stella already gang up on me enough, I can’t have you two choosing their side too!” You say though your own laughter.
Stella continues to chatter away as the four adults in the room listen raptly. This goes on for a while before a soft knock at the door interrupts a story Stella is telling about taking Rosco for a walk yesterday after quali. Everyone turns and you're very surprised to see Andrea standing in the doorway.
"I thought I'd find you here." The Team Principle says, smile playing on his lips. Since you'd been traveling a bit with the team and deployed your tire monitoring program full time a few races ago, Andrea and you had gotten a bit closer. You liked the man, with his gently demeanor and soft spot for your boyfriend.
"Hi Andrea!" Stella chirps from where she sits on Lando's lap. The two had met Friday morning and Stella had taken an immediate liking to the man.
"Hi Ms. Stella, how are you this morning?"
"Good, thank you!" Stella smiles and then goes back to chattering at Lando.
Seemingly dismissed by your daughter, Andrea chuckles and turns back to you. "I know you're not working today but can I steal you for a moment? It won't take long, I just want to chat about something."
Something twists in your stomach, anxiety rising to the surface. Out of the corner of your eye, you see Lando's ears perk up as he continues to listen to Stella talk. He keeps one eye on your daughter but his attention is clearly on you. "Oh, of course. Everything okay?" You can't possibly think of anything you'd left unfinished before leaving for the weekend on Thursday but you could have missed something.,
"Yes yes! Nothing to worry about. Just want to talk to you about something."
Your dad shoos you towards the door, telling you they'll watch Stella while you're busy. Nodding, you turn and follow Andrea out of Lando's room down the hall to where his office is. Anxiety settles in the pit of your stomach despite being assured that nothing is wrong.
Once in his office, Andrea shuts the door behind you and motions for you to sit down. The office is small, just enough room for a small desk and a few chairs. Andrea doesn't spend much time in here on race weekends but it's nice for him to have a quiet place to get away during these hectic days.
"Thank you for taking a few moments. Like I said, I know you're here as Lando's guest and not working but I wanted to get your thoughts on something Zak and I have been discussing for quite some time."
You nod, feeling a little better. It wasn't totally out of the ordinary that Andrea or one of the race engineers needs you randomly on a weekend, despite the program basically running itself now. "Of course, how can I help?"
Andrea tents his fingers in front of his face, resting his elbows on the desk in front of him. "Zak and I have been really impressed by you this season, that program you wrote has been essential in all of our finishes and wins so far."
You flush under the praise. "Thank you."
Andrea nods, "I don't know if you're aware but there's an opening on the strategy team." Your heart stops in your chest. You had heard rumors of one of the race strategists leaving the team to go over to Aston Martin a few weeks ago, but it had never been confirmed by the team anywhere publicly. "Zak and I have been taking our time looking for the replacement and we wanted to see if you'd be interested in the position. You have the data gathering and analysis skills down and that program you developed shows you know how to interpret the data in a way that is helpful to the team. We think you'd be an amazing asset to the strategy team."
For a few moments, you're totally speechless. You only have an undergraduate degree in computer science and data analytics, generally the strategists have degrees in engineering or aerodynamics, neither of which you have. "I...I'm flattered that you think so highly of me, Andrea."
"Then say you'll take the job." He says, grin spreading across his face. "There will be some more travel than your doing right now, but both Zak and I are willing to work with you on the schedule and make sure Stella is taken care of." He adds and you wonder if he was reading your mind in the moment because that was going to be your first question.
"Can I think about it? Run it by my dad and Stella's nanny?" You desperatly want to say yes, a spot on the strategy team something you'd wanted for a long time but had never thought you'd be able to manage.
"Of course! I don't expect an answer right away. Will you be in the office on Tuesday?"
"Yes, I was planning on it."
"Perfect. I'll have Zak's assistant put some time on your calendar for the three of us to sit down and discuss. Sound good?"
You nod, slightly overwhlemed at the decision you now have to make. Andrea has to get to the garage then so you wish him good today and slowly make your way back over to Lando's room.
The room is quiet when you wander in, eyes a bit glazed over from shock as the offer that Andrea just made you begins to sink in.
"Everything okay?" Lando's tone is laced with concern, drawing you out of your own world. He rises before taking your hands in his own. "Baby, you're shaking. What happened?"
"They want me to join the strategy team." You whisper weakly, eyes darting from the floor up to meet Lando's pretty greenish blue ones that you love so much.
"What? Babe! That's huge! I'm so proud of you!"
"I haven't said yes yet."
Lando leads you over to the couch and for the first time since you walked into his room you notice the quiet. "Where's Stella?" You ask as you sit down next to Lando who draws you close into his side.
"Your dad and stepmom took her to get some lunch and ice cream downstairs. Now, why haven't you accepted the offer yet, love? You talk all the time about how you wanted to make the move to doing more strategy and less analysis."
"It's a lot of travel, probably half the races instead of what I've been doing. I can't leave Stella that often."
Lando shakes his head, "You can't let that stop you, this is such an amazing opportunity." Lando knew that if he didn't help talk you into this, you'd pass up a once in a lifetime opportunity. "She adores Tilly and her and your dad have been doing so well too." Tilly was the nanny you had hired back in May after Miami and the two got along so well while you were traveling, sometimes you wondered if Stella loved her more than she loved you.
"Stella is getting older, she understands that you need to travel for work now." Lando continues, tangling your fingers up with his and giving them a squeeze. "She'll be fine, and she'll get to see her mom going out and working hard and living her dreams. When you're not working races and Stella isn't in school, you guys can travel with me. We can make this work, my love, I promise. You don't have to juggle this all alone anymore."
Tears sting at the back of your eyes at your boyfriend's encouragement. As you had walked back from Andrea's office you had been fully prepared to turn down the promotion, not feeling like you could manage the increase in travel and responsibilities but with Lando's encouragement, you were second guessing your decision already. "You think we could handle it?"
"Baby, there's not doubt in my mind that the three of us can handle whatever this crazy job throws at us." Lando pulls you further into his side, arm slipping around your shoulder as he leans in. He dusts a quick kiss on your lips before pressing another one to your temple. "We're a package deal now, remember? It'll all work out."
You draw in a deep breath before nodding, "Okay. Let's do it then."
"That's my girl." He praises, kissing you again as you sink further into his warmth.
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"Momma! Lando won! Lando won the race!" Stella shouts over the pandemonium of the garage. Tears stream down your face as you watch your boyfriend pull into parc ferme after winning his home race, Oscar just behind him in P2. It had been a stressful race, the teammates had traded the lead a few times but in the end, Lando had the superior race pace and had pulled away from Oscar during the last quarter of the race.
It was the first time McLaren had won their home race in ages and everyone in the garage was emotional. The team spills out of the garage, racing over to the barriers to greet the two McLaren drivers. You slowly follow behind, Stella's hand firmly grasped in yours as you lead her over to watch Lando get out of the car.
The moment he's out and his helmet is off, Lando is looking for you. It wasn't his first win of the season but it was the first with you and Stella there to see him win. His entire family was here since it was his home race and the satisfaction and pride that swelled in his chest was almost too much to handle. He spots you at the back of the crowd and he knows you're back there because you don't want to wade deep into the crowd with Stella.
Not wanting to wait until after the race to see you, Lando rounds the barriers making a beeline straight for you. Behind him, a pair of camera's follow up and you're acutely aware of the fact you're about to be on live TV.
"There's my girls!" Lando shouts before scooping up Stella in his arms. "The prettiest good luck charms on the grid." He murmurs in your ear as he cuddles Stella on his other side. "I'm so fucking lucky."
You laugh into his neck, suddenly shy at the fact that your face is being shown on the huge video screens all over the track. Lando draws back before kissing you full on the mouth, much to Stella's dismay.
"Gross!" Stella squeals as she wiggles out of his arms, allowing Lando to fully take you in his arms now, giving you the biggest bear hug he can.
"I'm so proud of you." You sob, so happy you got to see him win his home race. You knew how much this meant to him and being able to witness in person with Stella made it that much more meaningful.
"I love you." Lando murmurs before letting you go. "I have post race stuff to do, media and all that but I'll meet you back in the drivers room as soon as I can, okay?"
You nod as you squeeze his hand. Stella launches herself into Lando's arms once again and he spins her around, head tipped back on a laugh. The cameras capture it all and if you had been watching it on TV, you would have heard every commentator losing their minds at how cute Lando's little family is.
Lando eventually puts Stella down after he hears Victor calling his name. There is so much to do after a win, especially one as big as winning his home race, but he doesn't want to leave you or Stella quite yet. Lando steals one last kiss from you, drops a kiss onto the top of Stella's head and finally jogs away, knowing he needs to get things taken care of after the win.
Hours later, after all the champagne is washed off and Stella is tucked into bed in the second bedroom of your suite for the weekend, Lando and you tumble into bed together, celebrating one of his biggest wins of the year in the best way possible.
landonorris posted:
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508,903 likes liked by yourusername, mclaren, BFFsarah, and others landonorris home race, best race. great race this weekend with my girls here for good luck. yourusername ❤️ so proud of you my love! >>>user992 couple goals fr >>>user334 how does it feel to be god's favorite?! user0299 oh my GODDDD Lando running over to her and Stella after the race and calling them his girls on live tv??? Straight out of a Taylor Swift song. >>>user1221 god, I've seen what you've done for others
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hotchscoffeecup · 6 months ago
Text
unstuck (pt.2 to stuck)
pairing: hotch x reader
word count: 2.1k
genre: fluff
rating: e
summary: it’s been two weeks since you and hotch were stuck in an elevator together and two weeks since he’d nearly kissed you. unable to shake him from your mind, you’re pleasantly surprised when he shows up at your house with flowers and a plan.
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“Well look who decided to show up?” Derek teases as he passes by your desk.
You flash him an amused smile and plop your bag down inside your bottom drawer. “Good morning to you too, Morgan.”
“Are you still on light duty?” Reid asks from his desk, which is parallel to yours.
You nod. “I have a follow up in a week with the doctor to get cleared to go back in the field, but I haven’t had any pain or headaches in several days now.”
“And look,” Derek says, perching on the side of your desk. “You even got a little bitty battle scar.” He inclines his head towards you, where the tail of your eyebrow is now severed; a pale pink line now traversing it.
You scoff, “Battle scar, please. Let’s just tell people I got tackled by an unsub or had to break through a window or anything that isn’t me falling face first into an elevator panel in front of my boss.”
“Speaking of…” Derek trails off and subtly points toward Hotch’s office, where JJ just finished dropping off a file.
Hotch moves swiftly out of his office and knocks on Rossi’s door, summoning him. With Rossi now trailing behind him, he leans over the railing. “Conference room,” he says, and it’s an order. You don’t miss the way his eyes linger on yours for a second longer than he normally would.
“What was that?” Spencer asks as you grab your mug of coffee and head towards the conference room.
“What was what?” you ask, knowing exactly what he’s talking about. Leave it to the boy genius to pick up on that which is imperceptible. Well, okay, that is your job after all, but still.
“The extended eye contact with Hotch. Are you in trouble?”
You let out an exasperated laugh. “Spencer, it’s my first day back. Why would I be in trouble?”
He frowns and shrugs, though there’s a curious glint in his eye. “Not sure.”
“Spencer,” you warn, drawing out his name. His lips twitch into a smile as he quickens his pace and dips into the conference room.
Damn that boy and his big giant brain. You settle in next to him at the round table, where you can keep an eye on him and whatever subtle antics he might try to employ to dig more meaning out of things.
Penelope struts into the room, her multi-colored pigtails streaked with blue and purple bouncing as she draws to a stop in front of the wide monitor.
“Good afternoon, Crime Fighters. Boy, do we have a doozy on our hands today…”
You feel Hotch’s eyes on you as Penelope flashes images across the screen of crime scene photos from the local PD down in Raleigh, North Carolina. It takes everything you have not to look up at him from your case file and listen to what Penelope is saying.
At the end of the briefing, you gather your belongings and swiftly exit the room. Dropping the file on your desk in passing, you dash into the restroom and lean over the sink. You exhale a deep breath and swipe a hand through your hair. “What are you doing?” you whisper to your reflection. “You’re acting like a middle schooler.”
“What’s this about middle school?”
You startle at the sound of Emily’s voice. The door creaks as it shuts behind her.
“Nothing!” you answer quickly, too quickly.
One of Emily’s perfectly manicured eyebrows arches toward her hairline. She crosses her arms over her chest and leans against the wall. “Spill.”
You do, and you don’t hold back. The words tumble out of your mouth in an avalanche of detail.
Emily’s eyes widen. “Hotch?”
You nod vigorously. “Yes!”
“Hotch cupped your face in his hand?”
You groan, “With extended eye contact!”
Emily waves her hands in front of her, face scrunching. “I need a visual. Do it to me. Pretend I’m you and you’re Hotch.”
You roll your eyes and relent, approaching Emily. With eyes locked on hers, you force a concerned expression onto your face and cradle her cheek in your hand.
At that moment, the door swings open and JJ strides into the bathroom. When she sees you and Emily in this compromising position, her face is a wash of confusion.
“What is going on here?”
“Oh my God,” Emily says, mouth agape.
“Oh my God,” you whine and drop your hand from her face.
“Do you understand what I’m talking about now?”
Emily nods slowly, “Yeah.”
“Hello?” JJ says, waving her hand out in front of her. “Anyone want to clue me in here?”
Emily’s lips curve into a sly smile. “Someone has a crush on a certain Unit Chief.”
JJ’s jaw drops to her chest as your eyes sharpen to daggers. You reach forward and punch Emily in the shoulder.
“Ow!” she exclaims, laughing and rubbing her shoulder. “And vice versa!” she adds.
“No!” JJ responds, the disbelief evident in her voice. She leans her hip against the sink. “Well, what are you gonna do about it?”
You throw your hands in the air. “I don’t know! What are you supposed to do after something like that? It’s easy to get lost in the idea of it when you’re stuck in an elevator and then in a small hospital room for six hours. He took me to breakfast at 4am at this 24 hour diner and then insisted on taking me home. The whole time, no matter where we were, we just laughed and talked and none of it was about work.”
“Hotch with a sense of humor?” Emily questions. “Our Hotch?”
“Yes! And now we’re back at work and he’s all serious and stern, but I catch these subtle-not-subtle looks and now I don’t know if I’m reading into things or we’re both just too awkward and scared to acknowledge something was going on that night.”
“Not to be the stick in the mud,” JJ starts, “but do you think it could’ve been a product of being stuck together? Like maybe the forced proximity brought up feelings you might not otherwise feel for one another.”
“No, you’re definitely not a stick in the mud. I thought the exact same thing. And then I thought because I was home for two weeks that I was just ruminating on the idea of toeing that line with him and then I started to focus on the little things like that stupid dimple in his chin when he smiles and the way he remembers the little things about everyone and now I don’t know if I actually like him or just this conflated idea of him.”
Emily blows out a slow breath. “I definitely don’t think you’ve conflated anything. I think you got a glimpse of the real Hotch and that was exciting for both of you and now you’re both in uncharted waters without a map and you’re freaking out.”
You sigh, blowing a piece of hair out of your face. “What am I supposed to do?”
JJ and Emily exchange a knowing look. “Let us handle that.”
You heave a sigh of relief as you settle into the plush couch cushions in your living room. Your phone buzzes on the counter, but you ignore it. You can take at least five minutes to yourself before work summons you back to the office. You’d only just gotten home from work about twenty minutes ago. The clock reads 8:24PM, but you feel as though you could go to bed right now and sleep for twelve hours.
You rub the raised scar tissue at your eyebrow. It doesn’t hurt anymore, but you can’t believe how two weeks out of work has caused your stamina to dwindle. Just sitting at your desk all day has you exhausted…maybe you should take Morgan up on his offer to jog together before work, get your energy levels back up before you return to the field.
That is a call you’ll make later though. For now, your only job is to decide between Indian or Thai takeout for dinner. As you pick up the menus off of your coffee table, there’s a knock at the front door.
Brow furrowed, you stand up and make your way towards the entryway of your apartment, unsure of who it could be.
When you open the door, your lips part in surprise.
“Hotch, what are you doing here?”
He licks his lips before smiling awkwardly. “I, uh, I tried to call.”
“I left my phone on the charger. What uh, is everything okay? Is there a case?” God you hoped not. The team had only just returned from Raleigh a few hours ago.
He nods quickly. “Yeah, yes. Everything is fine. There’s no case. Nothing like that. I um, I brought you these.” He moves fully into the doorway, a bouquet of carnations dotted with baby’s breath in hand.
Your features relax as you take them. “Hotch, these are beautiful.”
He scrubs a hand through his hair, a crimson blush spreading across his cheeks. “Emily told me they were your favorite. I had a really interesting conversation with her and JJ on the plane.”
You stiffen, only mildly embarrassed. Oh God, what did they say?
He smiles again. “They reminded me how out of practice I am when it comes to all of this.” He waves a hand through the air.
“Oh yeah?” you press, a smile of your own playing on your lips. “And what might this be Agent Hotchner?”
He shakes his head as a melodic chuckle tumbles from his mouth. He knows you’re toying with him. “Dating. Asking people out.” His warm eyes flick up to meet yours. “Asking you out.”
“Is that what’s happening now?” you tease.
He nods, the smile never leaving his lips. “Yes, I am asking you out. I thought maybe I’d take you to dinner. We talk, not about work,” he adds pointedly. “We drink some wine, maybe share a dessert.”
“Aaron Hotchner, a dessert guy. Who would’ve thought?”
He inclines his head, amused. “There’s a lot you don’t know about me.”
You arch a brow, intrigued. Grabbing your purse off of the hook by the door, you withdraw your keys and step out onto the welcome mat, closing the door behind you and locking it. “I was wrestling with what to order for dinner tonight. I was stuck between Thai or Indian.” You turn around, your body just barely pressing against him in the small porch space. You tilt your chin up to look at him and
watch his Adam’s apple bob. You stand on your toes and press a kiss to the corner of his mouth before moving to speak in his ear. “Care to surprise me?”
As you step past him onto the sidewalk leading down to the curb, you feel one of Hotch’s wide hands wrap around your forearm. He twirls you around and pulls you up against his body. He doesn’t hesitate and presses his lips against yours, kissing you with such fervor you swear you see stars. When he pulls away you’re both breathless and your eyes are still closed. Hotch whispers in your ear, “Surprised?”
You nod, opening your eyes and looking up at him from beneath your lashes. “Very.”
The corner of his lips twitch as he tucks a strand of hair behind your ear.
“How long have you been wanting to do that?”
He looks up, as if the answer to the question is somewhere in the stars above. After a moment, he levels his gaze back on you. “When did we get stuck inside that elevator?”
Your lips quirk into a smile. “About two weeks, give or take.”
He nods, “I’d say about three months before that.”
Your eyes widen, brow climbing towards your hairline. “Well, damn, Hotch.”
“I’m just full of surprises, aren’t I?” He opens the car door for you and you slide in with ease. When he slides into the driver’s seat, he starts the car. His hand lingers on the gear shift, not quite ready to shift into drive. He looks at you, eyes glimmering in the street lights outside.
“If we do this, it won’t be easy.”
You lean over the center console, meeting his gaze head on. With a smile on your lips, you press a soft kiss to the tip of his nose, no longer scared to make a move; all of your walls having crumbled the second he’d kissed you on the sidewalk. “Nothing about our lives is easy.”
“Then we’re doing this?”
“We’re doing this.”
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lush-lavenders · 2 months ago
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❀Late Bloomer❀
Benedict Bridgerton x Reader
Summary: You are late to enter society, but that doesn't mean you don't catch anyone's eye...
Request: Nope
Author’s Note: Sooo I'm really bad about disappearing. But recently I've been binging Bridgerton and been in the mood to write, so here we are!
Word Count: 1.6k
Warnings: None, just fluff here
Buy me a Ko-Fi
!I don’t own this gif!
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Dearest Reader,
It has come to my attention that a Miss (Y/N) (Y/L/N), youngest daughter to Baron Arthur (Y/L/N), is making her debut, mid-season. Not only that, but she is almost one and twenty!
While this author cannot see the future, she can certainly predict it (and I do predict it well) - this season will be nothing if not eventful for Baron (Y/L/N) children.
As you stepped into the ballroom, the flutter in your stomach threatened to escape from your mouth. 
Lady Whistledown had come out this morning, and your mother was enthralled by the mere mention of your name. This made her fuss over you all day, needing to make your debut even more ‘perfect.’ 
You tried on three different dresses before the right one was picked out. You had five hairstyles tried out before your mother decided on the very first one. You had spent two hours out in search of the perfect matching earrings and necklace.
You were exhausted by the time you had to get ready, and severely tense as you arrived at Lady Danbury’s ball.
Cassandra, your sister-in-law, squeezed your arm softly. “Take a deep breath. This is just a party.”
You quickly took a breath, sighing it out. “That is easy for you to say. You married my brother in your first season after courting for a week.”
Cassie opened her mouth probably to give you more words of encouragement when your brother butted in. “We cannot stand here and talk all night. You need to present yourself to suitors.”
Before you could even think about protesting, Matthew walked ahead of you with Cassie on his arm, leaving you to trail behind.
“That there is Miss Buchan, she’s the only child of Earl Buchan.” The dowager Viscountess Bridgerton was discreetly pointing out young ladies to her two eldest sons, whose attentions would rather be anywhere else.
Benedict was scanning the room for someone he could use to politely excuse himself from his mother’s matchmaking. 
It would be an understatement to say he wasn’t interested in marrying yet. He had just recently started at Art School and wanted nothing more than to enjoy his work as a bachelor.
That’s when he spotted Lady Danbury. Normally he avoided the woman, as she could be as scheming as his mother, but she seemed like his only refuge.
“Excuse me, Mother, but I believe I should give my regards to Lady Danbury for the invite.” Benedict bowed to Violet before quickly heading off in the direction of the hostess. 
He thought about turning away last minute, evading all the prying eyes of those who might want to set him up, but something caught his attention - the once-alone lady of the house was now talking with a young lady. One he had yet to see in the sea of lovely debutantes. 
“Mr. Bridgerton!” Lady Danbury’s distinct voice cleared his mind as he approached. “To what do I owe the pleasure?” She knew better than anyone that the Bridgerton boys tried to avoid her at these balls.
Benedict bowed, offering a smile. “Lady Danbury, I just wanted to compliment your wonderful party.”
Lady Danbury raised her, knowing that there was an ulterior motive. She glanced at where Violet Bridgerton was standing with her eldest, noticing her eyes were following her second child.
She flashed a scheming smile and turned her attention back to the young lady she was with. “Where are my manners? Miss (Y/N), this is Mr. Benedict Bridgerton. Mr. Bridgerton, may I present to you Miss (Y/N) (Y/L/N). This is her first ball, so I expect you to be on your best behavior. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I should go talk to your mother.” 
She gave him a little pat on the shoulder, pushing him towards you as she went to Violet.
You lightly curtseyed as Benedict bowed his head to you. As you stood up straight, you froze, staring into the most beautiful blue eyes. Your heart skipped a beat as you took in the man’s features, stunned that someone such as him could be before you.
“Miss (Y/L/N).” He took your gloved hand and lifted it to his lips, pressing the gentlest kiss one could muster.
“Mr. Bridgerton,” you returned, not knowing what else to say. He had captured any words that might formulate within you.
His grasp lingered on your hand, longer than one might consider proper. It was good that the two of you were sequestered to the back of the ball.
At least you had thought you were hidden away.
A hand and sudden voice from behind told you how wrong you were.
“(Y/N), we have been looking for you. We turned around and you had disappeared.” Cassie let go of her husband to take your arm. “Who might you be talking to?” She asked, hiding the joy she felt for her best friend talking to a very eligible bachelor.
Benedict bowed to her and introduced himself before you could do it. “Benedict Bridgerton, at your service.” He joked lightly, and you bit your lip softly as you smiled.
“Bridgerton,” Matthew said as he bowed his head. “I’ve done quite a bit of business with your brother.”
If it wasn’t for Cassie being between you, you would have elbowed your brother right in the ribs for creating such a boring conversation.
Luckily, Cassie was thinking similarly enough to you. “Now now, my love. I’m sure Mr. Bridgerton does not need to hear about his own brother.”
Benedict chuckled, agreeing with her. “Yes, well, as well not needing to hear from him.” He joked, just as a hand landed on his shoulder.
“Well, Brother, maybe I shall take a look at your allowance?” Viscount Bridgerton came up out of the blue.
It seems as though each of your siblings was trying to prevent the two of you from speaking.
And they just kept coming.
Eloise Bridgerton arrived next, in an effort to escape from her mother. “Anthony, Benedict, you really must not leave me alone with Mama.” She sounded sort of breathless as if she had rushed here.
You cleared your throat, suddenly feeling parched. “Pardon me…” You muttered to no one in particular. Matthew and the Viscount seemed to be conversing about business, while Eloise tried to convince Benedict to return to their mother for her.
Cassie silently went along with you, still holding your arm.
You were silent as you made your way to the refreshments table, grabbing the first glass in front of you. You tried to appear as ladylike as possible while you practically gulped down the lemonade.
“I am so sorry for our interruption, (Y/N),” Cassie said after you had finished. “I did not realize you were speaking with a Bridgerton.” 
You shook your head, setting the glass down. “It’s alright. We didn’t really start to converse yet.” Not that you had the chance.
She picked up a glass herself and took a sip, her thoughts lingering. “You seemed… quite enamored with him.”
You scoffed, but not in a way to be rude. “Did you even look at him, Cassie? He’s…” You were at a loss for words as your gaze landed back on the Bridgerton in question. His eyes were wandering, ignoring both of your brothers. They wandered and wandered… until they eventually landed.
On you.
Your eyes met for the second time that night, but this time you quickly looked away, cheeks growing hot. 
That wasn’t before you noticed his perk up and began heading in your direction.
“Cassie, he’s coming over here. What do I do?” You ask in a panic. The only men you’ve ever really talked to were your father and brother, and neither counted towards this.
She put both hands on your shoulders, making you look at her. “Just be yourself.”
That’s the best advice you have, you thought to yourself.
You barely had the time to think up a response when Benedict made it to you, bowing his head again in greeting. “Mrs. and Miss (Y/L/N).”
You both courtesy, Cassie standing up before you. “I believe my husband needs me.” She says before snicking off, leaving you two alone.
“Mr. Bridgerton,” you say after a moment, lifting your eyes to take a look at his features. Features that seem to be drilled into your mind from the beginning of the night. “Has my brother bored you so much you seek me out?” You joke in a self-deprecating manner, knowing you aren’t exactly worthy of his attention.
He smiled at your humor but shook his head. “Our brothers together are an apparent force to be reckoned with, but it is not them that brings me here. It’s you.”
Your breath caught in your chest at those last two words.
He actually wanted to be around you. There is nothing you could’ve hoped for more.
He looked around your surroundings before having you take his arm. “It gets so stuffy in here, does it not? Let us get some fresh air.”
“Just the two of us?” You asked with raised eyebrows. You had never been left, unchaperoned; yet the thought of it, with Benedict… it excited you.
He smiled a crooked but sweet smile. “Only if we leave now, while no one’s watching.”
You smile back, looking around as you follow him quickly into the hall before going out a backdoor into the gardens.
In the first few moments you observed him under the moonlight, your whole future played out. Everything centered around him.
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archangeldyke-all · 2 months ago
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I miss CEO Sevika :(
What about Reader and Sevika going to...idk a dinner party/charity event with multiple companies in attendance. Sevika is one of the speakers for the night and while she's nervous, she knocks it out of the park. Meanwhile Reader is like "wow my wife is such a fucking boss and so hot for doing that on stage, I can't NOT suck her off and get fucked in a random, out of the way bathroom right afterwards."
i was thinking about this ask the entire time she was up there by vander's statue giving her speech. my sweet baby.
men and minors dni
sometimes, you forget just how important sevika's work is. most days you're stuck in your office together, making phone calls and signing documents.
but it's nights like this, when sevika's company has its annual ball, that you're hit with how much sevika does for the community.
the company built on the idea of giving low income communities low interest loans to build businesses and homes. there're several neighborhoods and families that you know personally that have had their lives transformed by sevika's work. but it's not just that.
it's parks built on the company's dime, community centers and pools and basketball courts sponsored by sevika herself. it's the team of social workers and accountants sevika's carefully hired over the years, who make sure that your clients are trained in financial literacy so they don't fall through the cracks. it's underfunded public schools-- the schools you went to as a kid-- being sent busload after busload of books and computers and supplies from your wife. it's medical bills being paid off by a mysterious, 'anonymous' source--the chickenscratch on the checks all matching your wife's.
and nights like this, with each lead team member of all the departments giving presentations of the differences they've made in the community this year, where it really hits you how incredible your wife is.
your poor wife. sevika's currently on the brink of passing out from her nerves, a glass of whiskey shakily clutched in her palms as she waits behind the stage. "baby." you coo, reaching up to cup her face.
sevika winces and pouts in your hold. "i hate public speaking." she whines. you chuckle.
"i know, love." you sigh. you'd give this speech for her if you could-- but it's kinda a requirement that the ceo speak at these big events. "it's just five minutes, talk about the good you've done this year, get some claps, get some laughs, then we can bail." you promise her.
sevika pouts even more, slouching down against you. "you remember the first time we put one of these shitshows on?" she asks.
you giggle and nod.
your second year working for sevika, a few months into dating, and the company had the first of it's now notorious annual balls. of course, back then it wasn't quite as sophisticated as today's is, but it was pretty memorable. after her speech (which she nailed, because despite how much she hates it sevika is good at talking) sevika ran off the stage, high on the applause she'd received, and practically leapt into your arms where you stood backstage. "fuck i can't believe i did that." she whispered against your scalp. "and they liked it!" she laughs.
you giggled and kissed her cheek. "course they liked it, you're very easy to like."
and then sevika said the words you'd been dying to hear her say, the words you were trying desprately to keep inside your throat until she was ready. "i couldn't've done it without you, y'know." she whispered. your smile got softer, and sevika leaned impossibly closer to you. "you kinda scare the shit outta me and... i think i'm in love with you."
you had just grinned and kissed her, mumbling a teasing "you think or you know?" against her lips.
and here you are, nearly ten years later, on the same little patch of floor backstage of your favorite venue, smiling up at your wife.
"course i remember, baby. one of the best moments in my life. right up there with meeting you 'n marrying you. think it'll be in the little montage that flashes before my eyes once i die." you say, giggling.
sevika smiles sweetly and kisses you. "yeah, me too." she whispers.
you hold her for a moment, hoping the touch will help her relax a bit, both of you swaying gently in your dark little corner as you wait for seamus to finish his speech and introduce sevika. "you're gonna do amazing, y'know. you do every year."
"ugh. i know." sevika huffs against you. you giggle.
"so then why are you so worried?" you ask. sevika shrugs against you.
"just. 's a lotta people. and i like when you baby me." she says.
you burst into laughter just as the audience on the other side of the stage bursts into applause. sevika groans, and you give her one last good squeeze and a smooch to her cheek before pushing her toward the stage. "go ahead baby. you got this." you encourage her. sevika smiles shyly at you, and you curse. "shit, sev, wait! i left a kiss mark on your cheek!" you squeak, scrambling to grab her wrist and wipe off the lipstick that must've transferred from her lips to your own, then onto her cheek.
sevika ducks out of her hold, though, her smile only growing. "good. let 'em see it." she says, winking at you before ducking under a curtain and out onto the stage.
the crowd bursts into applause at her appearance, and your heart melts as her words sink in.
she's such a fucking sap. you love her so much you think you might explode.
she nails it, because of course she does. by the time she walks back off stage, there are literally people chanting her name, like she's a rockstar or something.
you intend to tease her about it, but then you see her and her sweet shy smile, your very obvious kiss mark on her cheek, and her hands nervously clutching her note cards, and something ravenous courses through your bloodstream.
you nearly tackle her to the floor as you launch forward to kiss her. sevika gasps, and her notecards go flying as her hands reach up to hold you tight. fuck you love her. she's the most incredible woman you've ever met.
"sev." you whisper between kisses you can't stop pressing to her skin. "sevika."
"y-yeah?" she asks, her voice squeaky and excited.
"can i blow you in the bathroom, please?" you ask. "want you so fuckin' bad."
sevika shivers full bodied and lets out a shudder before she grabs your wrist and starts sprinting toward the bathroom. you cackle the entire way.
your favorite thing about this venue is that they have plenty of single stall bathrooms. you and sevika have used this feature to your convenience many times over the years.
sevika's already rock hard in her trousers by the time you lock the door and pin her to the wall. she's clawing at you, whimpering as she tries to catch your lips in a kiss. you giggle, cupping her jaw and kissing her soundly, shoving your tongue in her mouth to calm her down a bit.
sevika sighs heavily, and you pull away, gasping a breath before dropping to your knees.
"fuck. i'm not gonna last, baby, fuck." sevika whines as you paw at her pants. you giggle.
"you better. want you to cum inside my cunt, love." you say.
sevika makes a pained noise, and her dick jumps in her boxers. you laugh. "you better touch yourself while you're suckin' me then." she says. "want you to cum with me."
it's your turn to shiver. you claw at her boxers, a little growl escaping you when her cock's finally revealed to you. "fuck." you grunt, before leaning forward and just pressing your face against her cock.
sevika sighs dreamily, reaching down to cup your face as you nuzzle her dick. "so pretty on your knees." she whispers. you smile up at her. "lemme see you touch yourself." sevika requests. you shove a hand down your waistband, rubbing your wet clit with your fingers as you rub your face against her length. "that's it, baby. fuck. now put your mouth on me, love."
you're needy for her, so needy that you take a little too much of her at once, gagging loudly on her cock.
sevika moans at the feeling then laughs at the embarrassment on your face when you pull back and catch your breath before trying again.
"don' laugh at me." you pout, spitting on her dick and jerking her while you blink back your tears.
"'s just cute baby. so fuckin' needy for me you choke yourself on it." she sighs.
you shiver a little. you can't really deny that. "you did amazing, by the way." you whisper. "you always do."
sevika's shoulders scrunch up to her ears, and her eyes dart away from yours. you giggle. "shush. you aren't supposed to be talking right now."
you laugh and kiss her wrist, then try again, taking her back in your mouth and slowly working down her cock.
sevika melts against the wall behind her, and her eyes fly back to yours. you hum around her and she groans. "shit, i'm not gonna last, baby, fuck." sevika whines as she starts thrusting into her mouth.
drool is trailing down your chin and into a puddle on the floor, and when sevika's thigh starts shaking you sink two fingers into your cunt, getting ready to take her.
"fuck, i love you." sevika whines. "i love you so much, baby, love your fuckin' mouth, love fuckin' your mouth--" she cuts herself off with a little giggle, and then she groans. "off-- off-- pull off baby, i'm gonnahh!" sevika shudders as you pull away right before her orgasm. she glares down at you, and you giggle, kissing her clothed thigh. "get up here." she growls, tugging you to your feet and roughly shoving you back against the sink.
you grin, shimmying out of your pants with sevika's help, kissing her anywhere you can reach as she hauls you up.
"you ready for me?" she asks, rubbing her cock against your soaked folds. you whine and nod.
"been ready for you since you put that suit on." you tease.
sevika just chuckles and pushes in, both of you groaning at the feeling.
"oh fuck, please tell me you're close." sevika whines, ducking down to bite at your neck as she starts hammering into you.
your hand flies to your clit, rubbing quick little circles against it in time with her thrusts. "s-so close." you whimper.
sevika shivers at your answer, then lifts up to kiss you on the lips. "i love you so much." she whispers.
"p-please cum inside me, sev, wanna make you feel good."
"y-you always do baby, fuck!" she shouts as she fills you up, cumming and shivering against you.
you grin, satisfaction and pleasure filling you equally until you're falling apart around her, laughing and moaning as you pull sevika to your chest.
"you really did do amazing, you know." you sigh after you catch your breath.
sevika smiles against you. "i know. practiced really hard last night, my wife finds it sexy when i give speeches."
"your wife finds it sexy when you do anything, love." you correct her. she grins.
"can we go home now?" she asks.
you giggle and nod. "kinda have to babe. my shirts covered in drool, and i'm sure we got cum somewhere on your pants or something." you say.
sevika cackles.
taglist!
@fyeahnix @lavendersgirl @half-of-a-gay @thesevi0lentdelights @sexysapphicshopowner
@kissyslut @chuucanchuucan @badbye666 @femme-historian @lia-winther
@sevikaspillowprincess @emiliabby @sevikasbeloved @hellorai @my-taintedheart
@glass-apothecary @macaroni676 @artinvain @k3n-dyll @sevsdollette
@ellieslob @xayn-xd @keikuahh @maneskinwh0re @raphaellearp
@iamastar @sevikitty @mascdom @nhaaauyen @annesunshiner
@mirconreadzztuff22 @veoomvroom @lushh-s3vik4s @katyawooga @lesbodietcoke
@lavandasz @strawberrykidneystone
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javiscigarette · 1 year ago
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Silent Night
Joel Miller x f!reader
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Summary: You’re home for the holidays and Joel isn't gonna let a drinking contest or a house full of people stop him.
Warnings: PWP ofc, established relationship, mentions of drinking/alcohol, having to keep quiet?, oral (f&m receiving), thigh grinding, creampie, breeding kink, come play, getting caught, I think that's all lmk if I missed anything
w/c: 6.6k
a/n: hiii everyone! I am in fact alive! I'm finally on break from school and this is just a lil something I wrote real quick bc I've been in the holiday spirit since before October even ended hehehe :) Anyway, thank u to the actual loml @undrthelights for beta reading and finding the perfect pics!! It's nice to be back! Please leave a comment letting me know if you liked it, support is what keeps writers going!! Love u all!!
my masterlist
Your hips grind a little harder against his thigh, a soft sight falling from your lips as he licks and sucks at the spot under your ear that drives you absolutely wild. “I don't think I can be quiet” you whisper, gasping softly when his tongue swipes over your pulse.  "You can" he mumbles against the side of your neck, the vibrations of his voice and his warm breath against your skin sending burning hot sparks down your spine. “You can do whatever I ask, can’t you baby?”
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You can hear them downstairs, muffled sounds of Joel and several other of your family members talking and laughing while they sip on the fancy whiskey that your dad was saving for the occasion. You opted out of it, quickly taking up the offer of the first hour or two of alone time you’ve had since you arrived at your parents house two days ago instead. You figured Joel could use the time too, talking with your dad and uncles and cousins about whatever men talk about when they’re doing whiskey tasting in the mancave of a basement. 
You managed to avoid getting roped into watching a shitty Hallmark Christmas movie with the rest of your family or helping them prep for the big dinner tomorrow. After successfully sneaking away to your old childhood bedroom that’s now redecorated as a simple guest room, you're left with nothing to do besides relax. First up was a long shower with the water so hot you nearly scalded your skin, and now you’re cozied up in bed, nose buried deep in the middle of your book while the rest of the house buzzed with muted background noise. 
Time passes without you noticing, too engrossed in your book to keep track, but eventually the bedroom door creaks open, pulling you back to reality. You’re about to tell off whoever is at the door for interrupting you, but you immediately soften when Joel slips inside, quietly closing the door behind him. 
He looks so sweet, wrapped up in a thick dark brown sweater, his curls flopping over his forehead, a light dusting of pink on his cheeks and the bridge of his nose with a lopsided smile. His eyes are soft, warm, and a bit glassy as he looks at you like you’re the best thing he ever did see.
"Think your dad is trying to kill me" he says, his words slurring just a bit as he crosses the room over to the bed.
You giggle, watching him plop down on the bed on his back, his head rolling over to look at you, "Are you surprised? He does this to you every year."
It's true, every holiday at your parents house, your dad insists on the whiskey "tasting", which is really just him pouring heavy handed shots and glasses and seeing who's going to be the last one to tap out. Usually it's just him and his brothers in the end, hashing out some decades old sibling rivalry in the form of a drinking contest. And ever since the first time you brought Joel home for the holiday five years ago, your father has insisted on dragging him down there and challenging him too.
The first year was the worst with Joel not heeding any of your warnings about how much liquor your dad would actually push on him. Joel was so sick by the end of the night that he made best friends with the toilet and passed out on the couch, then spent most of the next morning with a massive hangover, apologizing profusely to your dad about it who just laughed and said that he can try again next year.
Thankfully, Joel knows his limits now and has made peace with the fact that he'll never beat your dad at his own game. It doesn't mean that the challenge doesn't still stand.
"No" he mumbles, a dopey smile spreading across his face, "Guess I jus' never expect him to pour shots big enough to knock out a horse"
"How many did you have this time?" You ask, bookmarking your place in the book before setting it aside, sitting up a little straighter and adjusting the pillows behind your back.
"Jus' three."
"Oh, so you are  just a lightweight then?"
"I'm not a fuckin' lightweight" he grumbles with a dramatic pout. 
You laugh as you turn to lay on your side, propping yourself up on your elbow. Your hand instinctively falls to his hair, a small content sigh falling from his lips as your fingertips skate across his hairline and glide through his soft curls.  scooting closer to him and reaching down to run your fingers through his hair, "Okay, baby" you hum, smiling when his eyes fall shut as your nails gently scratch his scalp, "If you say so."
Joel melts under your touch, like a cat basking in the sun, a lazy little grin on his face and a dreamy, far off look in his eyes. His face is still flushed, the tips of his ears and the tops of his cheeks a rosy shade of pink, his lips slightly parted, a few more stray curls falling across his forehead. He looks absolutely gorgeous, and the soft, tender look in his eyes when he finally looks back up at you melts you from the inside out.
You cup the side of his face in your hand and ;ean in to press a lingering kiss to his forehead. "You're so cute when you're drunk" you murmur, moving kissing his cheek.
"M'not drunk"
You pull back to look him in the eye, smiling, "Sure you're not"
"I'm not" he whines, "M'just a lil' tipsy."
"Alright" you hum, pressing a quick kiss to his pouty lips.
Joel follows your mouth with the softest whine when you start to pull back, his large hand cupping the back of your head, holding you still while he kisses you, needy, but still so sweet. The taste of whiskey is heavy on his tongue as it slides against yours, a soft, satisfied noise rumbling in his chest when you part your lips further, kissing him deeper. 
When he finally lets you break the kiss, you're left just a little breathless and dazed, a giddy feeling swirling low in your belly. His pupils are blown when he looks up at you, his lips spit slick and plump, a lopsided smile on his face. He turns a little more on his side facing you, his fingers fiddling with the hem of your t-shirt until his hand slips easily underneath like it was meant to be there. The warmth of his palm smoothing up and down the curve of your spine is soothing, his fingers gently tracing over your ribs and the dip of your waist, the slight scratch of his calluses over your skin sending a shiver down your spine.
His eyes are half-lidded as he stares at your lips, licking his own. Realistically, you knew exactly what was going to happen as soon as he entered the bedroom. You know how he gets when he's like this, soft, sweet, and incredibly needy. With all the amount of times he tugged you into a bar bathroom after he's had a few, or when Tommy drops him off after a night out and he's already halfway to undressing you before the front door even shuts. You know he's trouble like this, but you can never deny him when he's looking at you like that, like you're the only thing he needs, the only thing he's ever needed.
He leans in to kiss you again, slow and sweet, his fingers splaying on your lower back and keeping you close. His mouth moves languidly against yours, the tip of his tongue tracing your bottle lip and his teeth sinking in the slightest bit to nip and tug, pulling a desperate little sound out from the back of your throat. 
He sighs at the small sound and starts to lean into you more, using his weight to roll you over until you're flat on your back with him hovering above you, his forearms on either side of your head with his knees bracketing your hips. The kisses grow hungrier, wetter, more insistent, his mouth moving against yours like he's trying to breathe the very air from your lungs. 
He shifts a bit and you moan softly into his mouth when his thigh slots between yours, the firm muscle of his thigh pushing right up against the apex of your thighs, the perfect amount of pressure to make heat spark and smolder in your belly. He does it again, rocking his thigh up against you just a little harder, swallowing the needy whimper that you let out, the heat and friction making you ache. 
You can’t help but grind against his thigh, the seam of your sweatpants pressing against the damp spot that’s already forming on your panties and digging into your clit just right. You’re chasing the growing pleasure, the firmness of his thigh and the intoxicating taste of whiskey on his soft lips mixed with the faint trace of his peppermint toothpaste. You’d give anything to have him, for him to take you, but the sounds of laughter and chatter coming from downstairs is a rude reminder of reality. 
"Joel" you warn with absolutely no heat in your voice, his lips grazing the sensitive spot under your ear, "We can't.”
He ignores you for a beat, crashing his lips back on yours and kissing you until he needs to come up for air. 
"We can" he says, his voice gravelly and thick with want, the deep rumble vibrating in his chest. "We're bein' real quiet"
His lips trail across the line of your jaw and up your cheek before landing on your mouth again. The slow, lazy drag of his tongue against yours makes you throb, another soft when escaping you and the muscles in your legs and stomach tightening as you make no effort to stop moving against his thigh. 
“Everyone will hear us” you try feebly, knowing it’s futile. 
Joel smirks against your lips, the bastard. “Nah. I’ll be quiet.” 
You know he's a damn liar and a bad one at that. In what world could you be quiet with his hands and mouth on you, with his thick cock buried deep inside you, stretching you out and filling you up so good that your toes curl? And in what world could he be quiet, not running his mouth about how good you feel, how pretty you look stuffed full of him, how well you take him. You know exactly how it'll go, if the numerous failed previous attempts are anything to go by.
But then his lips are on the side of your neck, and you're forgetting why it matters. You let your eyes fall shut as his lips press gentle, wet kisses up and down the column of your throat, the stubble on his cheeks and chin scratching and tickling in the best way. You're quickly forgetting why this was a bad idea to begin with.
Your hips grind a little harder against his thigh, a soft sight falling from your lips as he licks and sucks at the spot under your ear that drives you absolutely wild. “I don't think I can,” you whisper, gasping softly when his tongue swipes over your pulse point. 
"You can" he mumbles against the side of your neck, the vibrations of his voice and his warm breath against your skin sending burning hot sparks down your spine. “You can do whatever I ask, can’t you baby?” 
“I don’t- oh…” 
The rest of your sentence dies on the tip of your tongue as he pushes his thigh against you, grinding it up against your core in a way that has your head spinning and toes curling, the pleasure sharp and delicious as it melts into your veins. 
“That’s right” he murmurs, pressing a chaste kiss to the corner of your mouth. “You’ll do whatever I say, huh?” 
There’s a pause and when you open your eyes, his are dark, his pupils blown wide, the deep brown nearly swallowed whole. His hair is tousled and curlier than ever, a few loose strands hanging in his face. His lips are slightly parted, swollen, red, and sick and shiny from your kisses. He’s an absolute sight and you can’t help but nod, eager to do whatever he wants, whatever he asks, because god it’s always worth it. 
His eyes crinkle a bit at the corners and the lopsided smirk on his face widens. He’s the fucking devil. 
Just the thought of him taking you with the rest of the house full of your extended family is making your veins buzz, excitement bubbling low in your belly. But you're well aware of just how thin the walls are and how nosy some members of your family are and you can't fathom how awkward it would be to come down for breakfast the next morning after the whole house heard you getting absolutely railed.
"It’ll be okay" he assures, reading your thoughts, his hands slipping under your shirt again. The fabric bunches up over his wrists as he slides his palms up your torso to cup your breasts, his thumbs brushing over your nipples. "M’not gonna let anyone else hear you. Just me."
Fuck.
His simple words are enough to convince you, not that you needed much convincing in the first place. He had you wrapped around his finger and him around yours, and there was no way you were going to say no to what you know will come next. A jolt of electricity shoots down your spine and settles hot and heavy in the pit of your stomach. Your resolve breaks, your legs falling open further, letting him get even closer, and Joel lets out a soft, happy noise against your mouth.
"Atta girl" he hums, his voice rough and deep, "So good for me, aren't ya baby?"
"Always" you manage to reply, the word more of a sigh as you arch your back, his thumb teasing your nipple until it's pebbled and hard.
He gives into you easily, tugging your shirt up and over your head. His mouth lands on your chest as soon as it’s exposed, immediately licking and kissing across your collarbones and the swell of your breast. He noses along the valley between them, the coarse hair of his beard tickling your skin and making you giggle. You can feel him grinning against your skin before he nips and sucks at the supple flesh until a red mark rises to the surface. 
You squirm beneath him, his leg still nestled perfectly between yours and pressing against you every time he shifts. The pressure is building in your gut, your clit aching and throbbing. The feeling is almost too much with his hot wet mouth now wrapped around your nipple, his tongue swirling around the stiff peak making it harder and harder for you to keep quiet. 
“Joel,” you hiss, the word half warning and half plea. 
“Hush, baby” he mumbles against your skin. His fingers replace his mouth, pinching and teasing your swollen, spit-slick nipple as he kisses across your chest to lavish your other nipple with the same attention. 
“Gotta be quiet, remember?” he says when he pulls back, releasing your nipple with a wet pop. “Unless you want everyone hearin’ ya” 
You open your mouth to say something in protest, to tell him that he’s making things a lot harder right now, but then he starts moving, sliding down the bed and the words die in your throat. The look he gives you as he settles on his stomach between your thighs is sinful, his eyes dark and mischievous, his lips pulled up into a smirk. 
He hooks his fingers in the waistband of your sweats, slowly pulling them along with your panties down your legs, leaving you completely bare. Your stomach swoops at the sight of his eyes trained to your center and your thighs twitch, wanting to snap shut and hide. But his hands on both of your thighs keep you spread open for him. You swallow thickly, your breath catching in your throat, the anticipation building in the pit of your belly as your slick starts to drip down the cleft of your ass. 
Joel’s mouth falls open slightly, a shaky breath escaping him. “Fuck, baby” he sighs, tongue darting out to lick his cherry red lips, his eyes glazing over. A small, content smile tugs at the corners of your mouth, a swell of pride blossoming in your chest. He looks wrecked, like a starving man eyeing his first meal, and the way he's looking at you so intently, like you're the best thing he's ever seen, the thing that's kept him alive all these years, is making your heart pound almost painfully in your chest. 
“Fucking gorgeous,” he praises, his hand running along the inside of your thigh. “And all mine.” 
Like he can’t wait another second, he’s leaning in and licking a long, wet stripe up your center, dragging his tongue through your folds from your leaking hole to your swollen, needy clit. The feeling of his tongue on you pulls a soft, broken sound from you. You clap your hand over your mouth as your head spins, a rush of pleasure washing over you making the muscles in your thighs and stomach twitch and flex. 
He does it again and again, and every time his tongue flicks over the swollen bud, you let out a soft whine that sounds far too loud in the otherwise quiet room.
He groans against you, his mouth already wet and messy as he laps at your pussy like he's starving for it, like he would die without tasting you. His eyes are locked on yours, the look in them so dark and primal that it makes your walls clench, more slick freely leaking out of you and onto his tongue. He laps it up happily, his fingers digging into your hips, holding you steady as his mouth works your clit.
He lets out a quiet, breathy moan when you slide your hand through his hair once again, your fingers tangling in and pulling on the soft brown strands. His eyes flutter shut, a shuddery exhale falling from his parted lips, and the feeling of his warm breath fanning over your wet, sensitive center has you stifling another high pitched whimper.
You roll your hips up against his face, desperate for more, and he gets the hint, the flat of his tongue swiping up through your folds a few more times before he dips it into your entrance, pushing in and out while his nose nudges at your clit. You're writhing beneath him, tugging at his hair, trying so hard to be quiet but failing miserably, soft, desperate little noises pouring out of your mouth. You know he's loving it too, making no effort to keep your noises at bay, not giving a single fuck about who might hear.
He moans against your cunt, the vibrations making you jolt, your hips rolling up to meet him. You're panting, the hand that isn't buried in his hair gripping the sheets tight enough that your knuckles turn white, and your back arches when his tongue fucks in and out of you faster, rougher.
"Joel, fuck" you gasp, "I- I'm-
He growls, the sound muffled by your pussy, the vibrations and the feeling of his stubble dragging along your inner thighs making your toes curl, the familiar coil in your belly tightening, your thighs trembling.
He doubles down, bringing a hand between your legs to replace his tongue with two thick fingers sinking into you and curling up against that spot inside you that has you seeing stars, his tongue circling your clit while his fingers pump in and out of you, his mouth and hand working in tandem to pull you apart.
"Fuck, I'm close" you whimper, his fingers crooking against that spot inside of you, sending white hot fire coursing through your veins as your slick leaks down his fingers and into his palm like hot honey. 
He hums, sucking your clit between his lips, and your legs clamp around his head, your hand tightening in his hair as your orgasm crashes over you, your back arching off the mattress, a muffled, broken moan spilling out from behind your hand. He fucks you through it, his tongue flattening out against your clit while the tips of his fingers rub against that sweet spot inside of you, sending more sparks of pleasure tingling up and down your spine.
When it's too much, when the sensitivity makes tears prick in the corners of your eyes, you make a feeble attempt to push him away. He pulls back, sitting up on his knees, his chin and cheeks wet with your slick, his pupils blown so wide that the brown is almost completely swallowed up by black. He stares at you, his gaze so heavy and intense that it makes another shiver run down your spine.
"You're not being very quiet" he smirks as he moves off the bed to stand up.
You roll your eyes, still coming down from the aftershocks, your thighs quivering, "Yeah, no shit" you mutter, propping yourself up on your elbows.
He chuckles as he pulls off his sweater and the t-shirt underneath it before he starts unbuckling his belt and working on his jeans. You sit up, shuffling closer to the edge of the bed, reaching out and batting his hands away, taking over and quickly unfastening the button and pulling the zipper down.
He doesn't protest, letting you push his jeans and boxers down his legs until he kicks them all the way off. Your mouth waters at the sight of his thick, hard cock hanging heavy between his legs, flushed a deep red with slippery precum beading at the tip. You reach out, wrapping your hand around the base and taking a moment or two to revel in the familiar weight and warmth of him in your hand.
He shudders, a low moan rumbling in his chest, his eyes slipping shut as his hand moves to cup the back of your head. He watches you intently as you take your time, lazily stroking him, rubbing the pad of your thumb over the leaking tip and tracing the throbbing veins that run along the sides. His breathing grows heavy, his jaw clenching and his stomach muscles twitching as he tries so hard not to buck his hips up into the loose circle of your fist.
"C'mon, sweetheart" he pleads, the words leaving his mouth as a low, breathless groan, "Get me all nice and wet for you."
He doesn't have to ask twice. You lean forward and you dart your tongue out to lap up the bead of precum, humming at the salty, bitter taste of it, swirling the flat of your tongue over the head of his cock, your hand pumping the rest of his shaft. His breath catches in his throat, a stuttered curse falling from his lips when you dip your tongue into the slit, teasing more precum out.
He groans, his grip on the back of your head tightening, urging you to take him into the warm, wet heat of your mouth. You sink down, flattening your tongue and taking him all the way until he hits the back of your throat, the tip of his cock brushing against the roof of your mouth. You breathe through your nose, hollowing your cheeks, swallowing around him, and the deep, guttural groan that he lets out has you squirming, slick leaking out of your cunt and onto the sheets below.
"There ya go" he pants, his head lolling back, "Oh, baby, that's it. S'fuckin' perfect."
You pull off, a string of spit and precum connecting his cock to your bottom lip, and you look up at him through your lashes.
"Need to be quiet" you remind him, "Or else I'll stop"
He lets out a shaky breath and nods, swallowing hard, his Adam's apple bobbing in his throat. He's not used to keeping quiet, not used to not telling you how good you feel, not used to not begging you to let him cum in that low, raspy tone that never fails to make you weak.
"I'll be good," he whispers, breathless and needy. "Promise."
Your stomach swoops at his words, arousal burning bright in your belly. Unable to stay away for much longer, you lean forward, pressing a soft kiss to the head of his cock. His hips jerk, another drop of precum leaking out. You lick it up, swirling your tongue around the sensitive, swollen tip before sinking down again. You take him into the wet heat of your mouth, hollowing your cheeks and swallowing around him, bobbing your head slowly and steadily.
He bites his lip hard enough to draw blood trying with all his might to keep his noises in as you drool all over his cock. He can't take his eyes off you, watching the way he disappears into the slick heat of your mouth. You look so pretty with your lips wrapped around him, spit dripping down his cock and leaking out the corners of your mouth while your eyes water as you take him as far as you can.
You take him deeper, and you swallow, your throat convulsing around him, and the way his whole body shudders makes you smile, proud of the effect you have on him. He's so big and thick, and you both know you can't fit him all the way down your throat, but seeing you try your best is enough to make his thighs start to shake. 
His cock hits the back of your throat again and again, the tip dipping into the soft, warm, tight space, and Joel's breathing is getting heavier and faster, his jaw clenched and his eyebrows knitted together.
"Shit" he grits out under his breath, "That's it, sweetheart. That's fuckin' it."
The praise goes straight between your legs, a fresh wave of slick leaking out of you and it's too tempting to resist, so you slip your hand between your thighs and rub circles around your clit, moaning softly around his cock.
He hisses, his eyes snapping down, watching your hand disappear between your legs.
"Are you touchin' yourself?" he asks, the words coming out rough and choked, his eyebrows raised.
You nod, sliding a finger into yourself, and you pull off his cock, panting, a thin strand of spit connecting the head to your bottom lip.
"Can't help it" you whine pathetically, your voice already raspy from how far his cock had been down your throat.
Joel groans, his dick twitching, and he's had enough. He takes a step back, and you let go, a little confused and worried that you've done something wrong. But he just takes hold of your arms and yanks you off the bed, his strong hands easily manhandling you, and then he's pushing you, turning you around and bending you over the side of the mattress.
"Oh" you breathe out, bracing yourself on your forearms, arching your back, sticking your ass up in the air.
You don't have to wait long for him to move. His hand is smoothing over your ass, the other one guiding his cock towards your sopping cunt. He teases the tip between your folds, spreading your slick and dragging his head over your swollen clit a few times before lining himself up and sinking in.
You bite down on the inside of your cheek to keep quiet, letting out a stuttering breath, the familiar, delicious burn of his thick cock stretching you out making your eyes roll back into your head. You've made peace with the face that you'll never be used to his size. It'll always be too much, the feeling of him pushing into, forcing your walls to make room for him will always make you clench and shiver.
He's got his hands on your hips, holding you steady as he bottoms out, his hips flush with the curve of your ass with the tip of his cock pressed against your cervix. He holds himself there for a moment, both of you adjusting to the feeling, and you're trying so hard not to moan, to keep your noises muffled by the mattress, and you know Joel's struggling too, his jaw clenched tight and his brow furrowed.
"Good girl" he whispers, his fingers digging into the soft flesh of your hips, "Taking my cock so well, aren't ya?"
You nod, whimpering, your fingers twisting in the sheets.
He pulls back and thrusts back in, setting a steady, slow rhythm, the wet slide of his cock making the most obscene sounds. And it's driving you crazy, the need to let out loud, your chest burning with the effort of keeping your noises in. He keeps his pace slow, not wanting to make more noise with his hips snapping against your ass. It’s nearly tortuous though, the drag of his cock in and out of you so slow that you can feel every ridge as he takes his sweet time. You can only handle it for a few moments before the tingling hints of pain from the stretch subside and the burning need for him to fuck you senseless takes over.
"Joel" you whine, "Faster, please."
He leans over you, his front pressed against your back, his lips grazing the shell of your ear. "You're not gonna stay quiet if I do," he says, his voice deep and gravelly, "Just take what I give you, sweetheart."
You're so worked up, the slow pace makes you even more desperate for him, and you can't help it, you need more, and you reach a hand back and grab his hip, urging him to speed up.
"I-I'll try" you promise, "Please, just- Just fuck me, Joel, please"
He hesitates, but the way you're squirming beneath him is so tempting, and the way his cock is throbbing and dripping inside of you is telling him that he needs more too.
Before you can say anything else, he's pulling back, the thick, heavy weight of him sliding out of you. You whimper at sudden empty feeling but you don't have time to complain before he's flipping you over onto your back and scooting you up the bed before climbing on top of you. You can’t help but notice how big he is, the muscles flexing smoothly in his strong arms that box you in as he hovers above you, nearly encompassing your entire body underneath his. His mouth is on yours before you can even blink, his tongue slipping past your lips and kissing you like his life depends on it.
He settles between your legs, his hips nestled in the cradle of your thighs, his cock dragging along your clit again warm and heavy, and you gasp, the sound swallowed by his mouth. You're squirming again, desperate to feel him stretch you out more and he takes mercy on you, reaching between your bodies and grabbing the base of his cock, guiding the thick head towards your entrance.
"Gotta be quiet, baby" he warns, his eyes boring into yours as he looks down at you. "Those pretty noises are just for me, yeah? Can't have anyone hearin' 'em."
You nod frantically and the next second he's pushing in, the fat head of his cock forcing its way into you and bottoming out in one smooth motion. You let out a gasp that's definitely too loud but Joel is quick to remedy it, his hand coming up to cover your mouth, his fingers splaying across your cheek.
"Shh" he shushes you, his hips rolling, the slow, lazy drag of his cock against your walls making you clench around him. Your eyes roll back, your back arching as his hand stops all the whiny little sounds you can't help but make. He continues to fuck you slow and deep, his cock sliding in and out of your soaking wet cunt, the filthy sounds of skin slapping against skin echoing softly in the room.
You can't take your eyes off him, watching his eyes squeeze shut, the muscles in his arms and shoulders flexing as he fucks you, his brows knitted together and his teeth sunk into his bottom lip. He looks beautiful like this, sweat glistening on his skin, his jaw tight, and his eyes shut tight, his mouth hanging open with his breaths coming out in soft, barely audible pants.
"Mmm" he hums, his hips picking up speed, his cock pushing impossibly deeper. "You feel so fuckin' good, baby. Fuck."
You reflexively clench around him and a shudder runs through his whole body.
"Gettin' real tight" he pants, "Tryna milk the cum right outta me, huh? Tryna make me fill up that pretty pussy?"
You whimper into his palm, your pussy fluttering, a fresh wave of slick coating his cock, and he groans, his hips picking up speed.
"S'what you want?" he asks in a hushed tone, his hand still pressed firmly over your mouth. "You want me to fill you up? Make a mess of that pretty pussy? Breed you until you're fuckin' stuffed, baby girl?"
Your back arches off the bed, the coil in your belly so tight that you think you might pass out. He's rambling, his thrusts losing rhythm, his breathing getting ragged and choppy, his chest heaving and his thighs shaking.
"That's it" he coaxes when you tighten around him even more, "Can feel it, can feel how close you are. Go on, baby, cum on my cock. Wanna feel that tight, wet cunt cum all over my cock, please, baby."
His hips snap forward, his cock pushing deep into you, the tip rubbing against the spongy spot deep inside you that makes the coil in your belly finally snap. Your eyes roll back, a muffled, broken moan falling from your lips as your entire body convulses, your orgasm washing over you and making your toes curl as your walls flutter around his cock buried to the hilt inside of you.
Joel lets out a deep, low groan, his hips stuttering as he fucks you through your orgasm. His hand slips away from your mouth so he can grip your hips with both hands, his fingers digging into the soft flesh, holding you in place so he can chase after his own release. His chest is tight as he holds in his grunts and groans, but it’s barely any use with the lewd noises that fill the room as your pussy gushes around him, your slick leaking past the tight seal of your walls around him and dripping down to his balls. 
"Oh, shit, baby. Christ,” he chokes out, his stomach muscles clenching as his hips slam into yours, his cock pushing impossibly deeper and harder. “Keep makin’ a mess, keep lettin’ me feel it. That’s it. Fuckin’ hell.” 
You can feel his cock starting to throb inside of you and you know he’s close. And you can’t stop the words from leaving your mouth, the need to let him know just how good he’s making you feel is destroying any bit of common sense. 
“Want you to fill me up,” you whine. “Please, Joel, wanna feel it.” 
That’s all it takes. His jaw clenches, his nose scrunching as his eyes squeeze shut. His cock twitches and pulses as he buries himself as deep as he can get before spilling into, filling you with thick, hot ropes of his cum. His hips jerking and stuttering d you clench around him, squeezing and milking him for everything he has while he buries his face in the crook of your neck, muffling his broken, ragged moans against your skin.
"So good,” he whimpers. “Fuckin’ perfect.” 
The praise goes straight between your legs and you wrap your arm around his shoulders, trying to pull him closer. He lifts his head, his palm resting on your cheek as he lifts his head and presses his lips against yours, kissing you languidly. His hips rock back and forth lazily, pushing his cum in as deep as he can get it. You melt into the bed underneath him, the only things keeping you tethered to the earth being your fingers combing through his hair and your legs tightening around his waist.
When he finally pulls away, he rests his forehead against yours, and you're both left panting, trying to catch your breath. You listen to the muffled sounds of people downstairs, the movie playing and their drunken voices filtering in through the door, and Joel must be thinking the same thing because he chuckles.
"Well" he says, his thumb rubbing back and forth over your cheekbone, "I don't think anyone heard us."
"You better hope they didn't" you retort, a grin on your face. Joel rolls his eyes. "That's a weird way to say thank you" he teases. You start to laugh, but the sound dies in your throat, morphing to a whimper instead when he starts pulling out his softening cock.
"Joel" you whine, but he doesn't stop. "Joel, please. It's-"
He's not listening, he's too focused on the way his cock looks when he pulls out. The tip slips out of you, and the rest follows, and his eyes widen as he watches a string of thick, sticky cum stretch from the tip of his cock to your cunt. It breaks, falling to your thigh, and he licks his lips. He can't tear his eyes away, watching the way your cunt flutters, and his cum starts to drip out, running down your slit, the obscene sight making Joel's spent cock twitch. 
"Shit" he mutters under his breath, "Ain't that a pretty picture."
He reaches down, dragging a finger through the mess of cum and slick and gathering it on his finger before pushing it back into your cunt. You clench around the digit before he sighs and pulls it back out.
"Gonna be leaking all day tomorrow" he murmurs, almost to himself.
You whimper, the thought of having him dripping out of you all day like that has renewed arousal already seeping into your veins. 
“It’s okay” he assures you, leaning down to press a kiss to your forehead. “I’ll take care ya. Clean you up and put my cock back in right where it belongs, how’s that sound, hm?” 
You sigh, nodding, a wave of fatigue washing over you. “Sounds perfect,” you agree. 
You watch as he climbs off of you and starts to move, but a sudden, sharp sound of knuckles knocking on the other side of the bedroom door makes you both freeze. 
“You two are fucking disgusting!” the voice of your cousin calls out, accompanied by the sound of a couple other people giggling and laughing. “Put some goddamn clothes on and get down here!” 
You and Joel exchange glances, his eyes wide and apologetic, his cheeks burning bright red as you give him a look that says I told you so. 
“Alright, alright, we’re coming” he yells back. 
“We’re coming! Oh, yeah we’re coming!” another voice teases, the sound of everyone bursting out laughing quickly follows. 
“We’re never doing that again” Joel mutters and you can’t help but chuckle. 
“Yeah right. Keep telling yourself that”
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Thank you for reading!!! Plsss let me know if you enjoyed hehehe
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nanamiscocksleeve · 16 days ago
Note
Hi!!! If you're still taking requests, can you do a bodyguard headcanon for the LADS boys pls and thanks 🙏
After talking to @ballorawan740 a little more, an extra detail added for the request was that MC was hired as a bodyguard for a young girl by their family. So I made all the men single dads for this HC. IDK who had they this child with or how it happened, just go with it.
Hey Miss Bodyguard...
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Zayne:
He's a rich, famous, doctor stretched thin. He hadn't expected being a single dad would be this challenging. Being the youngest person to win the Starcatcher award was no small feat after all.
His fear stems from his refusal to work with Ever. He's terrified that they'll take his daughter as leverage.
He holds interviews of course, because how else can he find the best person to keep his little girl safe? When you walk in, he feels a connection that was absent with the other candidates. You got along easily with his child, and it was obvious that you cared for her more than beyond seeing her as a paycheck.
He keeps things professional and beyond offering you a drop home at night or sometimes bringing takeout, he mostly keeps to himself, but he's drawn to the way you spend time with his daughter. He sees how happy she is around you, and he's confident in your abilities to keep her safe.
It's his daughter that points out he likes you. "Miss...I think my daddy like you!" she'll say matter-of-factly while she gets her shoes on for school. Zayne nearly chokes on his coffee, his ears turning red as you stifle a laugh behind your hands, ushering her out the door. Later that day, Zayne calls asking if it would be all right if he asked you to dinner. You accept of course, because how could anyone resist the stoic, handsome, doctor with the cute daughter?
Sylus:
Sylus has a never-ending list of reasons as to why he needed a bodyguard for his daughter. He was the leader of an organized crime group after all, and there were several people who would gladly claim his head on a platter.
He tried to entrust Luke and Kieran but after an almost near accident at a gun range he decided maybe they weren't the best choice.
His daughter is suspicious of you when Sylus hires you. You simply looked out of place in the N109 zone and part of her didn't feel like you were 'one of them'. She would constantly complain to Mephisto and insist uncle Luke and uncle Kieran weren't that bad, and that they were sorry about the gun range incident.
You finally gain her trust when you teach her how to shoot soda cans with your hunter's gun. She's impressed and says you're not a bad shot, the highest compliment she could think of.
She expresses her approval to her dad and says to him, "daddy, she can outshoot you. You should shoot guns together." Sylus who is tossing a salad for their meal glances at you thoughtfully just as you're about to walk out the door. "Is that so? Well, what does our bodyguard think?" You'll freeze for a minute and retort that you had to think about it and leave. Sylus smiles reassuringly at his daughter. "That's a yes."
Xavier:
Xavier decides to ask you to be his daughter's bodyguard after finding out there are traitors amongst the Backtrackers. Their anger at him for deciding to stay in this timeline with his daughter knew no bounds. He feared they would kidnap her and attempt to fly back to dying Philos. They'd never make it, he knew, given the condition of their spaceship. His bigger concern was them getting stuck in the deepspace tunnel with no way to find their coordinates.
Xavier's daughter has an easy relationship with you. She's seen you around the building before and you always have candy ready for her sweet tooth. If Xavier was too busy to give her attention, then down the elevator she came to knock on your door.
On multiple occasions Xavier has come down to retrieve his daughter from you, reminding her that it's not ok to visit when you were off duty. This upsets her and she looks at you teary-eyed and you insist that she's not a bother.
At this point his daughter bursts out loudly, "Daddy, I'm always either at our place or hers. Miss should just move in with you so that I don't have to come downstairs anymore!" Both you and Xavier laugh awkwardly, both of you blushing before bidding each other good night.
But after Xavier has put his daughter to bed, he considers the idea. It seemed practical, but he knew you'd never go for it. So instead he asks you if you'd be interested in joining him for hot pot one of these days.
Rafayel:
Rafayel somehow believes that because you are his bodyguard, it means you are his daughter's too. Even after you told him it would cost double since you're trying to protect two people he shrugs it off and asks Thomas to write you a check for more.
The young girl is similar to her dad and has an artistic flair, painting breathtaking landscapes and adorable little cartoons alike. She often watches you chastising her dad for not following rules and not being safe enough and senses there's more there.
She can't help but notice that some of her dad's portraits feature people with features similar to yours; the same nose, the shape of your eyes, or the fullness of your lips. When she points this out Rafayel shakes his head in denial.
Determined to be right, she pulls you into his studio where all the portraits are kept while he's out one day. You do see the resemblance but try to console the girl that artists can find inspiration from anywhere, and it might not be as simple as him having feelings for you. Of course, she pouts (so much like her dad!) and that's when Rafayel walks in.
You ask him to correct his daughter, that your relationship is strictly professional. Rafayel sighs dramatically, then says, "Yeah, it's professional. But only because I can't get her to change her mind." His daughter smirks in triumph and you leave the room blushing, wondering how you got tangled up with this family.
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© nanamiscocksleeve original work | no copying, plagiarizing or translating
@brekkersgf @ladyparamount @otomegamesforlife @shddyboo @supernaturalbaesduh @sweets-kozume @theimmortalbuns @venussakura
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bouncybongfairy · 11 months ago
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Hello! Could I request some dark smut with Lip? I can also be more specific if you'd like! No worries if you don't want to write it! Also I just found your blog and love your writing! 💕
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Fucked Back Into Reality
Lip Gallagher x Fem Reader
Summary: Your boyfriend Lip, hadn't talked to you in a couple of days. After having several conversations about this reoccuring problem, you decied to give him the cold shoulder. He reminds you why doing this is a riskey game.
Word Count: 2.0k+
TW: Rough Smut, Brat Kink, Masocism.
Ref Account: @kaionyx
<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3
It’s a bitterly cold day in Chicago’s south side. The type of cold where everyone at school is more concerned about staying warm than fashion. You were walking to school, both your parents left for work before you woke up. The school was too close to home for bus services so walking was really the only option. After trying to get in touch with Lip for the past two days, you were now on strike from being nice to him. You weren’t ignorant, Lip had a lot going on at home which meant his undivided attention was rare. Sometimes you wished he would just shoot you a text like: hey super busy day, love you / shits been crazy, talk to you when i can. Having this conversation in the past, you weren’t going to bother having it again. It surprised you to see Lip sitting on the front steps of the school; early which he never was. You started walking up the steps, he stood up and flicked his cigarette bud into the snow. 
“Hey,” he said, you just looked at him and kept walking to your locker. 
“Oh come one, you’re ignoring me?” he asked, leaning up against the mental lockers as you emptied your things into the locker. 
“Seems familiar doesn’t it,” you say, referencing him not reaching out for the past couple days. 
“Yeah but mine was accidental not bratty,” he chuckled. Maybe it was because you haven't eaten or smoked that morning but that comment enraged you. Slamming your locker and walking toward first period, leaving him in the hall. 
Just your luck to have chemistry as the first class of the day. The teacher took 20 minutes to calm the class down. Kids play fighting with each other or flirting in the back of the room. Groups of students in their cliques, not paying any mind to the instructions given. You felt bad for the teacher, I'm sure she thought an education career would help so many teens. Only to be placed in one of the most poorly funded schools in the state. You didn’t feel too bad though, it only meant less work for you. Lip liked the fact that you cared about your grades, that you had a plan after highschool. As stupid as Lip was acting, you also liked how smart he was. You complained about it alot but you liked how he didn’t fall for your little tricks and games. He doesn’t chase you, or let you push him over. Most guys were just so emotionally unintelligent, not to mention Lip was more mature when it came to sex. The last couple guys you were with didn’t even talk while you fucked. Didn’t know what foreplay was or understand a woman's body. Lip had a really good understanding of when to be gentle or rough. When he would whisper things in your ear it always felt so natural and smooth. There were times when your stomach would randomly flip when thinking about the nasty things he’d told or done to you. Maybe part of the reason you had some animosity towards Lip was because you had been sexually frustrated. For the past couple weeks you felt like you were practically throwing yourself at him and he wasn’t in the mood. Of course you respected that, you just missed him was all; maybe a specific part of him. At lunch he came up to you from behind and hugged you. Still feeling quite stubborn, you allowed it but acted like you didn’t care. 
“You still mad?” he whispers into your ear which makes your skin break out with goosebumps. He slides his hands down from your waist to your hips.
“I know we haven’t talked but I’m here now, let’s ditch for the rest of the day,” he said, pressing his lips against your neck. As much as you wanted to give in and agree, you still wanted to make a point. Pushing his hands away, you grab your backpack and walk away without acknowledging him. If he wanted to brand you as a brat then you’d give him his money's worth. 
It was the last period, and everyone was waiting for the bell to ring. Some kids just left when they were ready and the teacher didn’t care. He just sat there, staring with cold dead eyes at his computer. Daren was consistently trying his best to spark conversation with you, all he talked about was how he ran track but he was trying his best. The heaters were blasting inside the school because it was snowing. The classroom windows were wet with condensation which made you feel sticky. Becoming overstimulated you decide to leave early, excusing yourself and walking out. Daren followed you into the hallway, 
“Hey I was wondering if you wanted to stay after school and watch me practice? Maybe I can take you out after, or something?” he asks. 
“Oh sorry I can't. I actually have a ton of homework so, maybe next time?” you say walking away, happy that you’re avoiding the rush of people flooding out the front gates. 
Normally Lip would walk you home but you didn’t see him. Your willpower that was fueling your grudge was weakening. Pulling your phone out of your pocket and seeing if he texted you; he didn’t. Looking back you were feeling silly about your actions because look where they led you. It was really cold, snow sticking to your hair and eyelashes. Once you finally got home, Lip was waiting on the porch which took you by surprise. You went to greet him, this is when you noticed he looked angry. He didn’t even say anything to you, even after opening the door and letting the both of you in. 
“How’s Daren?” he asks, once you both get to your bedroom. 
“What?” you asked confused. 
“Well you talked to him all last period and even after you left,” he said, sitting on your bed and lighting a cig. 
“Okay first of all, I only talk to him for like two seconds. He asked me to watch him practice and I said no,” you defend yourself. 
“That’s two seconds more than you talked to me today,” he remarked. 
“Lip that’s not even fair,” you say, which made him smirk and shake his head as he took a drag. 
“Do you even hear yourself? ‘tHat’s nOt fAiR’ whining like a baby who didn’t get their way. Why were you so offended that I called you a brat even though you’re acting just like one,” he said.
“What are you trying to scare me?” you ask while laughing.
“Trying?” he asked rhetorically. 
You rolled your eyes and started to change into comfortable clothes. While you were only in your bra and underwear, Lip came behind you and ripped the lace material of the panties. You gasp and go to turn around but he presses you against the closet door. Intertwining his hand into your hair, gripping it so tight strands of hair were being pulled out. His dick was extremely hard and feeling it pressed against your ass immediately excited you. Moving your head slightly so he can start kissing and biting your neck. His breathing was hard and with his chest pressed against your back, you could feel his heartbeat. As he marked your neck, whimpers and moans were escaping your mouth. 
“Since you were feeling so brave today let’s hope you keep that energy,” he growled into your ear. 
“You gonna try and teach me a lesson?” you asked with a patronizing tone.
He chuckled and led you to the bed by your hair. Your heart was racing, your sexlife was by no means bland however, this was the first time he was this rough. It felt like the two of you were breaking the rules or something. Like discovering new and daunting territories. He reached his hand down and started feeling you through the hole in your panties he made. He let out a moan once he felt how wet you were. 
“You are such a fucking slut, good to know being put in your place is all it takes for you to soak your panties,” he said, letting go of your hair. 
He sat up onto his knees, instead of fully stripping his clothes, he just pulled his dick out of his zipper. Rubbing the tip against your pussy. Your chest was pressed against the mattress but your ass was pressed against his shaft. You start to rock your hips back and forth against him but he starts spanking his hands against your ass. The pain was so bad it burned, you thought he’d stop after a couple times but he kept going. Wanting to show you were handling the smacks, you try your best to take them without complaint. He was unrelenting and you finally begin to squirm away, which seemed to humor him,
“The more you fight and squirm, the more I wanna fuck you,” he said, running his nails down your now bright red ass. 
“Fuck just do it already then,” you whine, in response he spits at your face. 
“Cum slut’s don’t speak unless spoken to,” he said, pushing himself into your twitching and leaking pussy.
The feeling was enough to make your eyes roll back. After weeks of Lip blue-balling you, the sensation of being filled by him was pure bliss. He was going at a painfully slow rate, pulling himself fully in and out of you after every thrust. As pleasurable as it was, you’d do anything to get him to speed up. Unable to rock your own hips, you kick your feet a little in protest. This made him laugh and slow down even further. He grabbed your wrists and pressed them against your lower back, taking full control of your body. You were dripping down both thighs and tears pooled in your eyes. You were at your limit with his teasing, tightly clenching around him. He pulled out and flipped you onto your back, feeling too embarrassed to look him in the eye. Tears had stained your cheeks and your hair was in complete disarray from being yanked and pulled. He crawled on top of you and started pushing his tip in and out. You were bucking your hips up, tears coming back as he teased relentlessly. 
“You’re sensitive here? Perfect spot to abuse huh?” he asked sarcastically, using one hand to smack his cock against your pussy.
In your own little world, trying to cum with what little friction he was giving you. He finally stops and instead wraps his hands around your neck. Then starts pounding into you, slowly tightening his grip over time. You were feeling dizzy and foggy, letting out a moan every time his length fully pressed into you. He was grunting and groaning, a couple beads of sweat dropping onto the bed from how much he was exerting himself. The closer you got to your orgasm the tighter his grip on your throat became. Your face was bright red and a wheezing sound came out of your mouth with every inhale. He seemed to be hummored by this and started to mock you. 
“Can’t breathe? Good,” he chuckled. 
The mixture of degradation and the fast paced abuse on your cunt was enough to send you over the edge. Shockwaves of pure pleasure began to ripple throughout your body. Legs trembling and eyes rolling back. He was chasing his own climax, seeing and feeling you cum around his cock was enough for him. Rutting into you with no regard for you, as if you were nothing but a toy for him. Seeing how he turned you into such a slutty mess made him feel feral. It wasn’t until he was fully finished that he removed his hands from your neck. After a small coughing fit, you began to come too. Lip was already up, using his shirt to clean you up. Pulling your hair out of your face and into a messy bun. You were half dead, completely exhausted and worn down. He laid down next to you, rubbing your back and whispering affirmations into your ear. You wrapped your arms around his neck, trying to be as close to him as you could. 
“I’m glad I could fuck the attitude out of you,” he said, as you fell asleep.
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bones4thecats · 7 months ago
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Hi hi hello! It's me 🧑‍🧑‍🧒 again, hehe. Your writing always sparks joy! And I have a new idea for a request (^w^)
Could I request Ace, Deuce, and Floyd with a reader who often patches them up or straightens out their hair/clothes for them whenever they get into some sort of mischief or fight? Like, they clean wounds and uses plasters or bandages with cute designs or fix crooked ties or collars. It's their way of showing affection (like a little cleaner shrimp haha)
I hope you have a wonderful day! Remember to stay hydrated (⁠ノ⁠◕⁠ヮ⁠◕⁠)⁠ノ⁠*⁠.⁠✧
When Their S/O Straightens Them Out
Characters: Ace Trappola, Deuce Spade, and Floyd Leech Requester: 👪Anon A/N: This is honestly so cute! By the way, like in my other Twisted Wonderland pieces, the reader is not considered to be MC (or Yuu Sei and I have dubbed him in my au) ⚠️ Spoilers/Trigger Warnings for: Book 1 Chapters 24-28 and Book 3 Chapters 33-39 (not fully-centered - just mentioned) and Mentions of speaking lewdly, fighting, injuries from fights, and physical assault leading to almost-permanent damage ⚠️
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»»———————————-  Ace Trappola  ———————————-««
🪅 Ace has always had a big issue when it comes to relationships. It is literally canon that he had a girlfriend in middle school and when he lost interest he ghosted her till they broke up
🪅 But, when he finally met you, the first year began to seemingly become more mellow around you. Well, he was still a little rascal to others, but he loved to just sneak behind you a spook you instead of dunking buckets full of water on you
🪅 And he was the same until another Heartslabyul student began to get a little close to you. And by close, I mean by stating his care for you loudly during practices, oblivious to the fact that your boyfriend was a mere few feet away from him
🪅 Let's just say the jealousy bubbled over and he threw a basketball at his face, sending the other into anger. And to sum it up, you and the teachers were beyond pissed
"I mean what were you thinking?! You could've gotten suspended, and if you think Riddle would get super angry about a missing tart imagine a suspension!"
🪅 Ace sat there as you began to re-wrap his injuries from the fight, and seeing the fairly deep cuts and scrapes reminded you of when you helped the rest of your dorm and the magicless human and his pet cat against Riddle's overblot
🪅 He watched carefully and pretty much ignored your scoldings in favor of seeing your face flush slightly in anger and contort as you spoke. Ace may not seem like it, but he does love to observe you caring for him. Some would call that slightly creepy, but you found it flattering, he paid you more attention than his homework
🪅 You began to put the bandages away with the cleaning materials when you felt two arms hug you from behind and a man's chin lay on the top of your head
"Thank ya', lovely."
"Anything for the Ace of my Heart."
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»»———————————-  Deuce Spade ———————————-««
♠️ Despite what he wants, Deuce does still have his delinquent urges inside of him. He is severely protective over you to the point where others would think that he was forcing you in the relationship. Thankfully you know better
♠️ He loves to see you happy, even if it means others make you that. But Deuce can tell what someone is really thinking. He spent quite a bit of his childhood around people who hid their true emotions, heck, he was even one of those people!
♠️ So, seeing this random Pomefiore student come up to you constantly and act as if he just wanted friendship, but in reality he was just trying to woo you over. Wanting you to leave Deuce for himself
♠️ Deuce was getting angrier by the day, so it was bound for his anger to finally take over and cause him to act out
♠️ All it took was hearing the other man speak awfully gross things of you in the changing room after Track and Field practice. And he took the first hit
♠️ Next thing he knew you were fixing him up and trying to heal around the collar that came from Riddle earlier that day. The housewarden had found out about the disagreement and yelled his signature spell's name, making you sigh in annoyance
"Dearest, I understand that you love me. But you shouldn't have put yourself through that kind of action, Great Seven knows if he were to press assault charges onto you!"
"Y/N... I'm sorry. I've tried so hard to be the perfect straight-A student for you, my mother, and grandmother and then hearing that- that bastard talk about you that way just made me snap. Y'know?"
♠️ You smiled gently as you laid the extra materials aside and held your boyfriend's face to look at you. You rested your forehead onto his as he sighed and hugged you back
"I love you so much, Deuce. Just the idea of you being minorly hurt, nonetheless severely hurts."
"Understood. I'll try to be a bit better, okay?" Deuce asked, his smile enlarging as you nodded and kissed his cheek.
"Thank you so much for loving me, Y/N."
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»»——————————-  Floyd Leech  ——————————-««
🎭 When you first met Floyd during your first years at Night Raven College, you knew that you would feel sorry for his future one and only. Little did you know that you were that one and only
🎭 Everyone understood the memo when Floyd was around. Do not speak ill of him or someone he was close to, it would only result in the sadistic eel-mer to pop up and practically squeeze you until you had a permanent dent in your ribs
🎭 Unfortunately for a new Octavinelle first year, he viewed the rumors as dumb. He was obviously acting this way to gain attention in that way, there was no way that a puny-looking eel-mer was stronger than the gorgeous and powerful betta-mer that he was!
🎭 Over the passing couple weeks, you have been hiding every interaction close to flirting away from the Octavinelle trio, knowing that either Azul and Jade would tell Floyd in a heartbeat
🎭 But, again, sadly for that new student, Floyd was walking around instead of being on his shift -due to finding it boring- and found the male taking his hair, which was flipped onto one side, and attempting to use dark-red and white colors to attract you. And that was not just going to pass by Floyd like nothing
"Y/N! Who is this you're talkin' too? A new friend?"
🎭 The sharp row of Floyd's teeth poking out from his smile didn't even spook the other male. And when he tried to lay a hand on you, Floyd snapped and began to twist the other male's arm to the point it was on the bridge of breaking. He just smiled as you laid a hand on his shoulder and asked him to put the guy's arm down
🎭 He did and watched with amusement as the other being began to run away in pure fear, gripping his arm as the pain echoed. You just groaned and adjust Floyd's jacket and look over his hands for any kind of scrape from work or being an idiot
🎭 Floyd smiled with wonder in his eyes as you cleaned him up like a little shrimp. Kind of like the magicless guy from Ramshackle!
"Y/N~ Would you ever leave me for that little baby fish?~"
"No. Why, you jealous?"
"Psh! Please. I know that I'm better than all those other bottom feeders."
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tteokdoroki · 1 year ago
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ೀ⋆OCT 3RD MEAN GIRLS ━━ katsuki bakugou + free use !
୨୧ — caution, you are now watching. katsuki bakugou + free use. on october third, he asked you what day it was. btw, in girl world, halloween is the only time of the year when katsuki bakugou can slut girls out and no one can say anything about it. boo, you whore! (4.9K)
୨୧ — rated r. minors, blank and ageless blogs do not interact ! nsfw, heavy smut, characters aged up to 20s, college!au, free use, dub-con, cum-play, voyeurism, humiliation, manipulation, dacryphilia, no prep, public sex(ish), unprotected sex, suprise guest appearance from shouto as aaron samuels, fem!reader, reigina george coded!bakugou.
୨୧ — director’s note. "it's october third." and you know what that means! another nasty kinktober fic for you all! i hope you enjoy this one, its probably my favourite...because uh hello!? reigina george and bakugou? name a more iconic duo! anyways enjoy mwah! - m.list ⋆ kinktober m.list ⋆ taglist ✧
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halloween is the only time of the year where anyone can dress like a slut and not get called one for it. 
in the world of the conventionally attractive (or the plastics), the kings and queens of the social jungle, it means ditching the guts and gore in favour of skin tight lingerie with a little fake blood that drips calculatedly through the valley between your breasts — just for a little bit of added attention. it’s the one night of the year where self-objectification becomes acceptable, and you by all means, were not planning on missing out.
for you, a well spent Halloween consisted of tooth rotting candy corn, bad movies and trying to avoid the feeling of fomo (fear of missing out, fyi) building up like fluid in the lungs of a sick person. you’ve been an a-grade loser all your life and you’ve never had the chance to experience a proper friend group, high school, (and now) college experience. 
however this year would be different. this year you would be ditching loser-ville for boobs and bunny ears and the shortest dress you could find. because you finally had a friendship group who did these kinds of things and you had an invite to the biggest festive rager hosted by the hottest guy on campus — shouto todoroki. 
the rest of your friend group, the college renowned plastics, had warned you not to get involved with the half and half campus jock. he already had relations to your beloved ring leader, katsuki bakugou, and your involvement would be breaking several laws of girl and guy code — according to dumb blonde kaminari (he swears he has ESPN or something). katsuki was the head of U.A. university, ruling over the entire student body with an iron fist, an attitude so mean you’re sure you’ve seen professors cry and a glare so sinister he could turn milk sour if he tried hard enough. 
bakugou was the definition of the picture perfect guy and he knew it. it was almost as if his face had been ripped straight from a vogue magazine, his shoulders broad, waist slutty and tiny, abs to die for too — you’d be a liar to say you hadn’t thought about him a few times before bed. katsuki was a king bee (if bees could even have kings) and you were a nobody lucky enough to have been indoctrinated into his group of flawless friends — taken under the guidance of his wing. 
your own friends had told you not to fall for the glitz and the glamour that seemed to follow the barbie blonde everywhere he went. but you couldn’t help it, you were enamoured by everything that katsuki did — turned a blind eye to his bitchy persona and twisted mindset. you hardly believed the rumours about him, blissfully ignoring the truth behind the gossip because katsuki was nice to you. just the other night he had been kind enough to offer his help in setting you up with shouto. even if kirishima had tattle told on you.
regardless, katsuki had your back — you knew that. he was even talking to shouto right now, admist the full swing of the halloween party. how could anyone ever hate bakugou? he was so kind, so considerate, treating you like family from the moment you got here. you see shouto look your way fondly as they chatter about you, his lips curling perfectly around your name while he sends you a wave that makes you feel like the only girl in the world. 
“she likes you, yanno.” the shorter blonde purrs, the corner of his perfectly plump lips twitching up into a knowing grin. he says your name, glowering at the way his ex perks up at the mention. 
shouto blinks slow, mismatched eyes filling with affection the longer he looks at you awkwardly swaying to music you’ve never heard before. “yeah? she does?” 
“it’s adorable, really. she writes your fuckin’ name in the corner of her notes with little hearts. even has the name of your future brats written in a cute little list.” the lie slips from bakugou easily, as if manipulating people is second nature to him.
“don’t bother with that, katsuki.” 
when todoroki’s gaze on you lingers for too long, he kicks it up a notch pressing the head of his body into his ex’s side. “listen, half ‘n half,” with his eyes dark and sensual, the blonde allows his voice to slip into deeper, more mocking tones — playing up this innocent act. one that shouto falls for every time. “i know that she can be a little fuckin’ weird but, she’s my friend…so be nice, yeah?”
men are such fickle creatures — for all it takes is a pair of sweltering, red puppy dog eyes to drag the jock under his spell. shouto nods slowly, his own topaz and granite eyes glossing over with some form of obedience, a loyalty to bakugou that no one else would understand. “yeah, alright.” 
“good,” bakugou purrs, the sound causing his brain to short circuit. “such’a good friend, half ‘n half.” the tail end of his words are replaced by the sloppy sound effect of his lips on shouto’s, tongues beginning to clash and hands possessively gripping waists. 
your rose-tinted window shatters at the sight. 
background conversation falls away as your friend and your crush begin to make out right in front of your fucking eyes. “you know who’s  looking fine tonight, neito monoma.” kaminari squeals, shimmying in his little mouse costume. 
“denki, that’s your cousin.” kirishima frowns. 
the blonde shrugs. “yeah! but he’s my first cousin…that’s not right is it,” 
you don’t have time to dwell on their chit chat — you feel like someone has thrown your entire body  out of whack. you feel like you’re drowning as the realisation hits, katsuki bakugou doesn’t give a shit about you or your feelings. storming away from the scene, you make for the nearest bedroom, hurt and confusion swirling around in the tightness of your chest.
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“what are you doin’ in here sweetness? ‘minari and kirishima have been looking everywhere for ya.”
you’re still crying like a sore loser when the king of the plastics finds you hauled up in one of shouto’s many rooms. and you hate that it’s katsuki who’s come to comfort you, sitting beside you on the queen sized bed as his hand slips over your bare thigh.  
but you shrug him off, barely keeping your cool. after all, you’re still mad at him for making out with your crush. “don’t touch me, katsuki.” you snarl, doing your best to sound menacing. “i saw what you did. how could you? i thought we were friends?”
he clicks his tongue, ruby red eyes rolling as if he gives a fuck. “oh, you mean that thing with icyhot?” you don’t understand how the blonde can be so nonchalant, tossing around the situation as if it weighs nothing — costing not an ounce of your feelings. “he came onto me, sweetness. i’d never do somethin’ like that to you.” 
denying katsuki bakugou is never an easy feat, he’s a man that knows where his strengths lie. in the deep timber of his rumbling voice and those eyes, with the blood lust curled around each of his pupils. katsuki is a well trained hunter, and on this occasion, you are his prey. a large hand smooths over the meaty swell of your trembling thigh, pushing the likely pair wide open for him to make room between them. “i’m a good friend, r’member?”
his hands roam your blistering hot body, gripping and grabbing at your flesh from over your costume — it feels good, you feel wanted and melt like a lump of butter in a pan at every cascading touch of his. 
you’d be smart to come to your senses, before you’re snapped up in the unrelenting jaws of a hunter. but you’re entranced by those insanely red eyes, the perfect slant to his lips and all-knowing smile — it’d be useless to escape when you’ve fallen this deep. “you’re not…” your bottom lip wobbles, the achy feeling in your chest now submissive to the liquid lust katsuki has spent months conditioning you to feel. “you’re a bad friend.” 
“d’aw…you don’t think i am?” dropping his tone into a sultry coo, bakugou leans in real close and you instinctively follow the tilt of his head. he looms over you, just enough so that you can see the smear of pink eyeshadow across his eyelids, the plasticky glisten of lip gloss masking the true colour of his plump lips, along with the spark of lust swirling through the brown flecks in his eyes.
you shake your head no. “no, you’re not.” big mistake. 
the of temperature of the room rises just from his proximity and you find yourself willing to let the king of the plastics swallow you whole. “i don’t think i like the way yer talkin’ to me, sweets.” he growls darkly and in warning. “i should make you apologise for bein’ so fuckin’ mean.” 
his breath is warm and wet against your cheek, grip rough on your waist and you can’t help but think how mean he is to you. katsuki gaslights you like it’s second nature or another one of his five senses, manipulates you with ease, putting himself on you when you know you can’t say no. because without him you would have been in social suicide, you wouldn’t have any friends, you wouldn’t have had the college experience. you would have just been ordinary.
“gimme a kiss, gorgeous.” the blonde bites down on your lower tip, tugging it away from you because he misses the metallic taste of golden blood on you — the taste of blossoming obedience in your bloodstream. 
you push back, but it’s no use — bakugou’s closing the gap before your brain can even catch up, fizzing like candied pop rocks while you sink further into debauchery. 
“c’mon…” he forces his tongue past the seams of your lips, bursting through with only the darkest of intentions. you briefly seize up, because your body knows this isn’t what you want, at least not 100%.  but katsuki knows how to work stubborn, prude little things like you — squeezing down on your waist heartily as he leads you into a stupid-drunk kiss. “that’s it, there we go…good fuckin’ girl.”
the world tilts on its axis and you grow lightheaded at the blonde’s praise — you should be mad at him for kissing your crush but at the same time, you’ve never wanted someone so bad. mewling against his watermelon and alcohol flavoured lips is like sealing your fate, giving up little pieces of yourself just to appease your ring leader.
“katsuki, i don’t—“ 
his thumb digs into your cheeks, preventing you from pulling away — not that you’d want to. wet sounds from your kisses vibrate through you and cause a twinge in the heartbeat between your thighs. “i wasn’t askin’, i was tellin’.” he grunts into your drooling mouth, wide open to echo your sweet and pliant voice. it’s with those words that you remember your place, being a plastic requires sacrifices — for you to give up pieces of yourself in order to stay by katsuki’s side. 
including letting him use your mind, body and soul freely. 
“so fuckin’ pretty when you’re obedient for me,” he’s snarls, hot under the collar and eager to steal more from you. he grins at how your eyes roll back just from a couple of half-hearted words. leaning back, katsuki shrugs off his shirt, revealing his  perfectly carved hips and washboard abs, golden skin that only the gods could have blessed him with. the sight of him is enough to make your quivering cunt deep juices into the crotch of your panties. “let’s get back at sho, huh? for playin’ us both.” 
the lines of morality and dissoluteness are often blurred when you’re with him — you become a vessel for his pleasure and you don’t even think to mind. somewhere amidst the messy, sensual lip locks bated breaths, katsuki has managed to get you onto your back and tear through your skimpy little halloween costume to suck his claim into your neck. painting you with deep mauve and midnight blue hues. his eyes dilate, roaring obsidian black taking over his mean, rage filled red eyes in a way that lets you know how bad he wants to fuck you. 
it’s when the sharp edges of his canines graze your pulse point that you remember just how much of a wild jungle college is. you remember that katsuki has the ability to make your life a living hell, the power to take a bite and rip your throat out at any second. in this world, you are nothing but a meek gazelle and katsuki bakugou the lion ready for a feast. 
irrespective of how much the very fact may frighten you, you ignore bakugou’s talons as they sink into your chest and leave indented crescent moons on against each breast. he rips apart the costume you worked so hard on and pushes your hands away from your body when you attempt to cover yourself up. so, from that moment, you let lust slither over your brain so you can arch yourself into him for more pleasure, and remind yourself that even if you're being used — it feels good. katsuki feels good. 
you like that he’s a little mean, a mean girl. all teeth and tongue and biting when he licks into you and breaks the strings of honey saliva that tie your tongue to the roof of your mouth. you love how he roughly grabs you by the meat at your hips and tugs you up to meet the grind of his cock against your underwear. you adore how he pulls the very fabric apart like they’re nothing, rolling you onto your stomach and positioning your hips in a way that makes your back arch.
you don’t even realised that bakugou has kicked off the lower part of his costume until you feel the heat of his firm thighs against the backs of your own and the sticky tap of his flushed cockhead on your ass cheeks — smearing white globs of precum over your hot skin. the blonde groans at the visible twitch of your cunt, the way it glistens and spews lightly for him. 
“oh sweetheart,” he laughs through the coagulated feeling of prurience in his throat. “so fuckin’ wet for me, hah?” he manages, spreading your ass cheeks apart hungrily, a curious finger running through your slick folds and dragging your wetness over your pulsating clit. “s’kinda embarrassing. barely even touched you.” 
the situation is embarrassing, humiliating almost and a fresh set of tears burn at your waterline — mascaras already tracking down your cheeks. you don’t fight bakugou as a muscled arm snakes it’s way around your waist and pulls you onto him until your sex is flush against bakugou’s thick cock — your hearts beating in sync, heavy breathing in tune. his dripping dick slips and slides a through your quivering pussy lips, grinding against the pulse in your clit before easing the mushroomed tip through the tight ring at your entrance. 
“f-fuck!” you squeak, a little out of turn. fuckdolls don’t talk. katsuki is quick to growl and remind you, collapsing his entire weight into your body while you take him with ease. no prep required whatsoever. there’s a delicious burn as his girth stretches you wide open and he fucks you with just the tip — a pleasing buzz layering itself over your logical thoughts. the ones that tell you this isn’t right. the ones that tell you that you’re more than just a plastic play thing. 
bakugou squeezes your hips harshly when you push back onto him, desperate to be fed more of his cock. “keep fuckin’ still, alright?” the king of the plastics rasps, taunting you as he thrusts all the way into your tight heat with no warning. you ooze at the sudden stimulation, basking in the weight of his dick against the insides of your crying cunt and fluttering walls. “sho’s gonna love this, maybe he’ll really want you then.” he continues to purr, jamming a thumb past your swollen lips to press down on your tongue. his other hand grasps at his phone once lost in the sheets, talking a picture of your teary face while you suck on his digit to soothe yourself. 
like a baby sucking on a pacifier as it cries.
sending the photo to shouto, bakugou takes a few more selfies of you like this. his favourite is the one of your face squished between his large fingers, covered in salty tears and sticky drool. “don’t cry sweets. ‘m gonna fix this, help you get together. what are friends for?” 
his voice is soft, nose nudging against your cheek in a reassuring manner. 
but it’s all too good to be true.
briefly, there’s a second where everything is calm, where the blonde lets you relax around him between gentle juts of his hips forward and affectionate kisses peppered against your skin. you should have realised that katsuki’s pleasure is always above your own. because he suddenly finds the motivation to pull out of your snug, sensual heat to pound into you properly, dragging is seedy cock along all of the spots along your ribbed walls that make you see stars. 
you feel like a pocket pussy, only one that comes with crybaby wails and pitiful hiccuped noises. it’s all music to katsuki’s ears, blending seamlessly with the intense base from the party’s music and thump of the headboard smashing against the wall all from the sheer force of his thrusts into you. it’s easy to forget how humiliatingly loud you’re being, you can’t find yourself to be worried about someone catching you either. even if the door is wide open. 
why not? because katsuki claims you willingly, over and over again with each brutish brush of his leaky cockhead against your g-spot. “s-suki! please.” you slur around his fingers that fuck your drooling mouth in perfect rhythm with his dick that plunged in and out of your puckered, creamy hole.  
“yeah, yeah. i gotcha. give into me, sweetness.” 
where he had been keeping you pinned against the sex-soaked cheeks — bakugou pulls  his sweaty chest away from your back and adjusts the roll of his hips, letting them crash into you like waves on a shoreline. to support his body weight above you, his toned arms cage you in, head tilted to the side to watch you sniffle on his dick, red rimming your watery eyeline. “you’re so fuckin’ pretty when you cry, sweetheart.” he moans condescendingly against the shell of your ear, painting a chaste kiss against your wet cheek. “what a pretty fuckin’ girl, suckin’ me in… takin’ my cock. oh fuck.” 
if you could see him, will yourself from the pillows you take purchase in and use to muffle your salacious screams — you would notice how an evil smirk as spread across the blonde’s lips while he ravages you, fucks you beyond the stars and back. “you my pretty girl, yeah? fuckin’ sweet thing.” the praise has you spiralling and simultaneously soothes the burning hatred you have for katsuki in your chest. “why you cryin’ so much? is it over him, or over me?”
the answer to his question slips out of you faster than your sex-crazed brain can catch up. “o-over you!” it’s like you can’t even think for yourself, make any choices for your body outside of what bakugou has planned for you. you’d do anything to please him so that he keeps fucking you, so that you can forget your feelings and keep your place amongst the socially elite. maybe that makes you selfish, maybe it makes you dumb — that you’re a whore for katsuki’s bully cock that churns up your guts and uses you for ecstasy filled relief. 
“y-yeah? mmhm, just like that baby,” katsuki stutters, licking his lips while you throw it back on him. the weak snap of his voice (caused by you clenching down on him) has you gushing nastily down bakugou’s length. bathing him in your juices, dripping down his balls as they clap against your ass, and swing against your clit. 
“yeah…yeah…y-you’re my friend, k-katsuki! didn’t wanna lose you…”
satisfied with your response and feeling a little mean once more, the king of the plastics brings a heavy hand down against your ass before gripping it tight, forcing you back and forth on his creamed dick. you hiss at the newfound pain blooming underneath your skin, blinking back more tears. 
“that’s right sweets, you’ll let me do anythin’ to keep me right? stay bein’ friends.” bakugou barks salaciously into your shoulder blade. greed and power and control sparks between your bodies that move in sync with one another, your hips shakily attempting to catch up with his rough pace.
you gasp when he hits a spot that’s got you howling at the moon. “y-yes, god, yes!”
“even let me fuck your crush? let me fuck you in front’a him?” 
all you can do is nod and gargle in response, passionately sucking on his fingers. “get ‘em nice and wet for me. wanna play with you, gorgeous.” he nips at your skin, leaving the imprint of his canines against you before his red eyes laser focus on where your bodies continually meet. “lift your hips. atta girl.” 
a heinous squeal escapes you, borderline pornographic as katsuki fumbles between your body and shouto’s high thread count sheets. his sticky fingers press into your pleasure nub in tight, calculated circles and he rewards the sound of your choked moans with another barrage of love bites to your neck. ones that you won’t be able to cover up. ones that show how much you’ve been used. 
you wonder if his appetite for your dedication will ever be satisfied. even though your pussy works it’s way back onto him and swallows his cock down like fucking magic — bakugou still wants more of you. he grins sinisterly at the bruises that form just under your skin, that make you hiss when he licks over them and spills his curse words over against that sensitive spot underneath your ear. the sensitivity makes you yelp loudly, despite the people that walk by. 
including none other than shouto todoroki. 
“you’d even let him watch as i creamed your cute cunt, wouldn’t ya? so pathetic. it’s adorable, sweetness.” the blonde goads, pulling back so that he can get a better view of your ass bouncing against his slender hips. spreading you apart with large hands, he drools down onto his cock and your asshole, spitting onto the point at which his shaft slips inside of you — watching the white froth mix in with your viscous nectar and disappear into the creaminess of your tight hole. 
your crush audibly gasps as he enters the room — mismatched eyes drinking in the view of you being absolutely wrecked from behind by his ex. shouto can’t help but admire your puffy face and equally puffy folds while he settles on the bed next to katsuki. he has no idea how his feet even carried him there. 
“bakugou what are you—?” 
the tail end of shouto’s words slip away when you clench down hard on bakugou, his head falling onto the latter’s shoulder while you share shaky moans. “oh my god,” katsuki pants, pulsing against your silken walls and driving his dick upwards into your sweltering mound. “you’re fuckin’ obsessed with me. with him. you just won’t let this dick go, will ya?” 
admitting that you like shouto watching you get fucked by bakugou would be just as embarrassing as admitting your crush on him. it doesn’t matter if you’re crying too hard to confess the matter with words, both of them know it. they can tell by the way your pussy spasms around katsuki’s bulbous cockhead as it bullies it’s way into you with every thrust.  “see icyhot, told ya she was a weirdo,” He chuckles down at you menacingly. “letting me be the one t’stretch her pussy open even though you’re the one that she wants. s’so embarrassing.” 
todoroki let’s out a noncommittal grunt, equally amused by the situation like his ex. “yeah… so weird…”
he reaches around to grab at the fat of your waist and tugs you back onto katsuki so that his dick never leaves you. so that your clit is smooshed up against perfect abs, that contract with every thrust and overstimulate you. 
maybe it’s not such a bad thing to be used by the king of the plastics, if it means shouto gets to touch you too. 
“i think she’s about to cum, katsuki.” the two-toned haired jock states as if it’s obvious, his voice husky and low as the scent of sex trickles into the air. “you’re gonna make her cum, baby.” 
“can fuckin’ feel it, she’s ‘boutta make a mess of me.” they share a lustful look behind you, that leads to them sharing sloppy, uncoordinated  kisses as if you’re not even there. truly treating you like a sex toy to be used whenever, wherever. 
the sounds of their kisses ring in your ears, cause heat to burn at your cheeks and shame to settle in your chest once again. but this time, you don’t fucking care — not when you’re close to cumming, not when both of the people you adore in your life are using little old you. 
forcing you back and forth over katsuki’s dick even faster, shouto finds it in himself to address you, moaning out your name. “a-are you close?” he simpers, tongue rolling over his ex’s.
“i— i am. p-please. let me cum. lemme cum. lemme c-cum—!” you chant as if it’s the gospel, voice tapering off into a set of whistle tone simpers as you finally hit your high. black spots dot your vision, katsuki using a last burst of energy to canter into you, slamming against your g-spot over and over again. the dam breaks before your brain can register it, release trickling out of your fluttering hole like a flash flood after a vicious storm. it soaks his soft tuft of blonde pubes and soils the sheets below, your body wracked with shakes and aftershocks. 
katsuki's cock against your cervix being the epicentre. 
the two men behind you share a sick little laugh when you collapse into the sheets face first, both of them leaning down to kiss either of your cheeks soothingly. 
“so fuckin’ cute ‘n loyal,” bakugou coos in a twisted tone, pulling out of you to jerk himself off over your quivering body. 
shouto smiles and rubs soothing circles in the small of your back in an attempt to calm you down — taking pleasure in your tiny sniffles and hiccups while you come down from your high. 
“your turn, bakugou.” he purrs slightly, using his arm to prop himself up on the bed for a perfect view of you both.  
“mmfuck, shit ‘m so close.” colourful curses spew from between bakugou’s perfect, cherry bitten lips just as he hits his peak. slick sounds accompany the movements of his rough palm up and down his length, coaxing himself towards orgasm. he cums with a shout, a feral growl tearing his chest in two with how loud it is. all while ropes of his blistering hot and white cum land on your ass, pussy and back. 
he collapses next to shouto after that. 
you feel a finger drag through the hot mess on your back and turn around just in time to watch bakugou feed a scoop of his cum to your crush. todoroki sucking his fingers happily. “go get her a towel, icyhot.” he demands, and like a slave to the crown, todoroki follows — disappearing from the room in search for a rag to clean you up with. surprisingly, the blonde helps you to sit up, taking you into his chest so you can snuggle against it. “don’t cry sweetness, s’okay. i forgive you for thinkin’ i was a bad friend.” 
tilting your chin up, you’re rewarded with a firm chaste kiss — swallowing katsuki’s moans as he tastes the saltine tears in your lips. “you’ll never do it again, right?” 
“r-right…” you reply meekly, flinching at the blonde who boops your nose almost affectionately. 
he busies himself with fixing your costume until shouto returns with a wet rag to wipe the cum from between your thighs and the rest of you. you try not to let it get to you when they share another passionate kiss, sucking on each other’s tongues and mussing up each other’s hair until they’re all rosy cheeked and short of breath. 
you would be a fool to think that you ever stood a chance with shouto todoroki after tonight. 
much like you, he’s just another piece in katsuki’s game of chess. he’ll never escape the toxic cycle of their relationship when things keep going like this. 
“you look sexy with your hair pushed back, icyhot.” katsuki says to shouto once they come up for air, ruffling his silky locks out of place. his ruby, crazed, gaze slinks over to you next, a coy smirk playing at his lips. “sweetness, tell him, icyhot he looks sexy with his hair pushed back.” 
katsuki bakugou is terrible. evil. conniving. but he’s all you’ve got, even if he is a mean girl. 
“shouto…you look sexy with your hair pushed back.”
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꒰ end. — all rights reserved © tteokdoroki 2023. do not copy, repost, translate & recommend elsewhere.
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twstedreamweaver · 8 months ago
Text
Missing Magazines
Octavinelle with a Fashion Model Reader
How would the Octavinelle boys react to you being a model? Based on the premise that you, the reader, are a model and are featured in a popular fashion magazine that Sam sells at the school - except when you go to buy one, you realize that someone bought out almost all the magazines. Who could it be?
Things to mention: Azul never stopped signing contracts with people and the Octotrio are still shady. Reader is slightly different from canon Yuu. Also, this is my first fanfic, so I apologize in advance for any inconsistencies with POV! Twisted Boys featured: Azul, Jade, Floyd
The warm sun was a welcome surprise after several dreary weeks of intermittent rains and grey skies. Throngs of students were happily milling about on the central lawn, some boys from Savanaclaw were throwing a Spelldrive Disc like a frisbee, and you spotted some Ignihyde students actually touching grass for once.
With the passing of the Spring rains, Night Raven College seemed to spring back to life with the touch of a little sunshine.
And just in time for the release of the summer edition of one of the top magazines in Twisted Wonderland, Fleurs de la mode. However, this edition was special - it was your first official modeling gig for a fashion magazine.
Admittedly, when you were first scouted by a modeling agent at the NRC's Song and Dance Championship, you were hesitant (I mean, after dealing with the outrageous amount of con artists at NRC, who wouldn't be skeptical), but the Fleur City Associates modeling agency turned out to be legitimate. After some back and forth with your agent, and several gigs later, you got the opportunity to model for a popular fashion magazine on account of your unique "otherworldly'" flair, which you assumed was a weird compliment from one of your managers. Regardless, your nerves had long since worn off with the first paycheck (thaumarks are hard to come by) and now you were excited to see your hard work in print.
"Welcome back, my little imp." Sam waved from behind the counter. "What can I conjure for you today?"
"Good morning, Sam!" You smiled, "I heard that you just got in the newest edition of Fleurs, could I buy one off you?"
Sam gave you a peculiar look, before smiling - wait, was that a trace of a smirk?
"I do apologize little imp, but I am fresh out of stock. Those magazines flew off the shelves this morning."
"Wait, but didn't you just open like thirty minutes ago?"
You were a bit disappointed. On one hand, you didn't really need the magazine, but on the other hand, it would've been nice to have at least some proof of your accomplishment in this strange world. At a school where magic was the highest priority, it was nice to finally be known for something that wasn't just your lack of magic ability.
"Yes but, eh hee hee, it seems the magazine was quite popular this time around." Sam snickered. You sighed.
"However," Sam continued, "You've lucked out this time little imp, For the same price as a magazine, I can tell you who bought out half my stock. I'm certain that you can get one from him for free!"
"Thanks Sam, for the, uh, considerate offer, but I think I'll pass!" You remarked, trying to think of who might have bought out such a large stock of magazines.
"Are you certain, my little imp?" Sam leaned over the counter, smiling, a bit too maliciously for your liking. "Don't you want to see your magazine debut firsthand?" Huh?
You were only featured on a few pages, so how did he even know you were in there? Did he actually read the fashion magazine? Looking at his attire, you find that highly doubtful.
"How'd you know about that?" You inquired, trying not to sound overtly suspicious.
"Why else would so many imps be standing in line outside my shop at seven in the morning?" Sam, for sure, was smirking this time.
No way. How did this get around? You felt your face go hot, suddenly embarrassed. Hold on, you reasoned with yourself. Vil is a model too, along with some other Pomefiore students, so students modeling shouldn't be a shock to anyone!
But if the reason the magazines sold out so quickly was - that is, if Sam's not tricking you - because of your shoot, then why would anyone buy half of the entire stock? Especially at Sam's ridiculous prices.
You sighed; you'll figure this out later.
"I'm good, Sam. Thanks for the offer, but I've got to get going to my next class." You quickly backed away from Sam and ducked out the front door before he could cut you off with another suspicious offer.
"Come back anytime little imp!" The door swinging shut behind you as Sam big you goodbye.
God, was there a single good person in this school??
Wait, a realization suddenly hit you. The guy who bought half the magazines, was it-
——-
You practically stomped across the school, through the mirror room, and into the Octavinelle dorm.
You didn't lie to Sam earlier; you really did have to go to class. And then after four classes and nearly eight hours, you had to go to club. So, now it was practically late afternoon, and you were only now on your mission to hunt down the buyer of some 60+ magazines.
The moment you stepped inside Mostro Lounge, two tall, ominous figures seemed to materialize directly beside you.
"Hello Jade. Hey Floyd."
"Shrimpy!" Floyd exclaimed, before wrapping his long arms around your torso and squeezing tightly.
"Now now, Floyd," Jade smirked, "Let's not squeeze the life out of our little Prefect."
"I'm here to discuss some things with Azul." You told the two 6-foot-tall eels.
You must have sounded agitated because Floyd and Jade quickly took the hit and grabbed onto each of your arms respectively and dragged walked me to the VIP room.
"Now then, who are we to interfere with your business affairs?" Jade let go of your left arm to open the large, ornate VIP room doors.
"Only VIP access for our Shrimpy!" Floyd exclaimed, striding into the VIP room where some student was groveling on his hands and knees, begging Azul for something. I noticed that he had a small anemone sprouting from his head, looks like Azul got another freshman. Grinning, Floyd roughly grabbed the poor student by his shirt collar and unceremoniously threw him out the door.
Jade sinisterly smiled at the boy, before bending down to say something in a hushed tone, causing the boy to squeal and shuffle away frantically. Jade smirked, stood, and walked over to stand beside the seated and slightly flustered Azul, as Floyd slammed the doors.
For once, and to my astonishment, Azul, usually the pristine image of a savvy businessman, looked a little nervous.
You were surprised that he didn't even object to Floyd tossing his client (more likely his victim, given the anemone) out.
Azul pursued his lips and tented his fingers on the table, before taking a breath and seeming to regain his composure.
"Why, (Y/N), to what do I owe the pleasure of your company this evening?"
Azul typically spoke formally and eloquently, but given your and his relationship as friends, his behavior was a little, unusual. Something smelled fishy, and it wasn't the fish swimming outside or the mermen in the room.
You chalked it up to your own misunderstanding of the situation, or to Azul already going into business mode to prepare for what was coming.
"I'm here about the Fleur magazines you bought."
For a brief second, the three (well, more like two, Floyd just seemed slightly humored) seemed to go pale. Azul gave you a blank stare, mouth slightly open, and Jade turned away to focus intently on the wall with a trace of a grimace on his face. Floyd chuckled and looked at Azul.
Weirdos. What is up with them today?
"You're reselling those Fleur magazines for a profit, aren't you?" You continued on.
A brief moment passed. Jade turned back to look at you and Azul quickly snapped back to reality with a small laugh and a smirk.
"Yes! Why, you deduce correctly, Prefect, I did buy the remaining stock in order to resell them. They're quite in high demand, given your popularity amongst the student body."
"I apologize if you wanted to buy one, but I couldn't miss such a lucrative and perfectly legal business opportunity!" Azul cloyingly apologized, gesturing with his hands in a show of mock apology.
Floyd and Jade nodded along in fake sincerity. Seems you guessed right after all.
"Okay, seeing that you're admitting it, I'm not really that mad. But, also, seeing that you're going to profit off my face, I have a proposal."
The three leaned forward. "Do go on," Azul nodded.
"I can sign my picture in one of the magazines, so you can ramp up the price, and, in return, I can get a free magazine."
"Done!" Azul exclaimed, magically flying over a contract to you. You have no idea how he managed to write one so fast, because it seemingly materialized out of thin air.
The contract wasn't wordy and there were no terms and conditions. You suppose it makes sense given how simple the agreement is, but it still seemed quite hasty.
Regardless, after reading it over twice - it is Azul after all - you signed, and Azul magically lifted the contract and pen into his hands and swiftly slid them into some drawer.
While you were reading the contract, Jade quietly ducked out before returning with two magazines in hand. He hovered over your shoulder, before flipping one magazine open to reveal one of your swimsuit model pictures and setting it on the table for you to sign.
You signed, although it felt a little weird autographing something, but it was best 'business' proposal you could come up with.
Jade handed you the other magazine and Azul stood up. You still find the height difference between him and Tweels humorous, although Azul was still taller than you, so you didn't have much room to judge.
"It's a pleasure doing business with you, (Y/N), as always." Azul smiled, fumbling with something out of view in his desk drawer. "Have a good night."
"Want a drink Shrimpy?" Floyd inquired, placing an arm on your shoulder, turning you away from Azul.
"I would be more than happy to make something to your liking." Jade agreed, leading me out of the room. "On the house." He quickly added.
"As much as I'd love to, I have a tutoring session with Riddle. He saw my grade on last week's midterm and almost exploded on the spot."
"Aah, I haven't seen Goldfishy in a while." Floyd wondered aloud. "Hey, Shrimpy," He smiled, "Let me come with ya."
"Absolutely not," Jade remarked with a cold smile that did not reach his eyes, "You have a shift to work Floyd." You have always found the difference between their personalities amusing.
Remembering your appointment, you whipped out your phone to look at the time. Oh no. You had five minutes.
"Shit, I got to go, see you guys later!" You waved and ran off, terrified that you might actually witness Riddle explode this time.
"Goodbye, (Y/N)." "See ya, Shrimpy!"
Two sets of mismatched eyes intently followed you out the door.
------
"JADE." Azul practically screeched, slamming his hands on the table. "Do you know how BADLY that could have gone? Are you insane? You're lucky the prefect thought I was trying to resell them!"
"We're lucky." Jade corrected, carefully and meticulously removing pages from a Fleur magazine at a Mostro Lounge table. Azul threw his hands up in frustration.
"Hey, Azul, I never heard you objecting." Floyd rolled his eyes. "And why are you so embarrassed anyway; you're puffing up like a pufferfish."
"Well now, we have to sell the magazines." Azul huffed to himself and sat down besides Jade and the stack of magazines. "So, stop tearing the merchandise!"
"No." Jade snapped angrily. Realizing, Jade quickly collected himself and returned to his typical collected attitude, resuming his carefully removal of magazine pages, "There is a clear solution - we sell the magazines, just without certain pages featuring the prefect."
Azul stared, deadpan at Jade, clearly exasperated. "And just what are you going to do with half a hundred pictures of the prefect?"
"Remind me, who took one of the magazines after I bought them for 'personal use'?" Jade sneered, meeting Azul's stare, causing Azul to blush and begin stuttering excuses.
"I still don't get why we can't just tell Shrimpy." Floyd shrugged, leaning back in his chair, holding up one of the torn-out magazine pages of (Y/N) standing on a beach, hair blowing in the (fake) wind, dressed in a one-piece swimsuit, with a chic cover-up.
"Absolutely not!" Jade and Azul shouted in unison.
Thankfully, the Mostro Lounge was closed, and no one could hear the three mermen squabbling late into the night.
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99woez · 7 months ago
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crush ᰔᩚ l.sh
warnings. smut, best friend!sohee, childhood best friends to lovers, oral (fem receiving), making out, ethel cain inspired so obviously mentions of cannibalism as a metaphor for love, no actual cannibalism lmao, mentions of poverty. heavily inspired by "crush" by ethel cain. i think that's it but if i missed something please let me know! enjoy <3
part one || part two
wc. 4.4k
summary. the only escape from this deadbeat town is your best friend, lee sohee.
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“You know, my brother was the valedictorian.”
“Yeah, your mom yells at you about it all the time,” You deadpan, eyes shut behind your heart-shaped sunglasses as you lay out in Sohee’s backyard. One thing about Sohee’s mother is she didn’t give a damn about who was around; she was going to remind Sohee he should be more like his brother. She was a rough woman, but you figured she had to be with a husband on death row. She raised two boys alone in this good-for-nothing town you so desperately wanted to get out of but were trapped in. Like a fly stuck in the sticky yellow paper curling up in the corners of Sohee’s kitchen, you think with a huff as the sun beats down on your skin, leaving it hot to the touch.
Sohee looks down at you and pushes out a chuckle.
“She does yell about that a lot.” It sounds like he’s never thought about it before. He probably hasn’t. Sohee was an optimist, kind, and smart despite thinking he was not. He could’ve gotten better grades in school if he tried harder––That was his problem. He was a people pleaser and started pleasing the wrong people. His friends moved dope, so Sohee did as well despite never trying a drug in his life, even to this day. 
“You going to the Pecan Festival?” Sohee asks after a passing moment of silence. You open your eyes at the mention of the event. There were very few things to look forward to in this town: The flea market, the Wet Leaf ball you and Sohee were too poor to get invited to, and the Pecan Festival. Everything else fun was a trip out of town on a highway you’ve grown fond of. Still, you love the Peacan Festival. You’ve been going since you were little. Tickets were cheap, the food was greasy, and the rides looked like they failed several safety tests but you loved it. It was one of the few things that kept you here.
Besides Sohee, of course.
You prop yourself up on your elbows to get a better look at Sohee, tipping your head down so he can see your eyes over the thick red rims of your sunglasses. He smiles softly when he see your eyes, a crooked smile that only he possesses and makes your heart stutter a bit. There’s no one like Sohee, you think as you feel your own lips begin to turn upwards in a smile of their own.
“Of course I am,” You quip, “I was the Pecan Princess, you know?”
Sohee laughs at that, head tipping back as his laughter fills the sky.
“Yeah, when you were, like, ten. You’re too old to be a princess now.”
Your jaw drops in faux offense, putting your hand over your heart.
“Well, if I’m not a princess, what am I, Sohee? An old hag?”
“You’re a queen. Real royalty,” He jokes, making you click your tongue at his poor attempts of flirting, rolling your eyes. Sohee inhales sharply through his teeth, turning his face away from you when he realizes the joke didn’t land like he wanted to, embarrassed chuckles leaving his lips as his cheeks get even more pink.
You still smile at him despite his flubbed joke, reaching out and pinching his warm cheek. He squeezes his eyes shut with a whine but doesn’t move away from your touch, making you coo playfully.
“Come on, jester. You’re going to get a heat stroke,” You tease as you push yourself to your feet with a grunt. Sohee lingers in the dying grass for a moment, looking up at you for a beat too long. You put your hands on your hips, raising your brows at him to silently tell him to hurry his ass up. He takes the silent command with a sigh, pushing himself up to his feet and nodding towards his small house.
“Mama has lemonade in the fridge.” 
“Did she make it, or was it store-bought?”
“Made it, of course. You know she’s scared of artificial sugars,” Sohee reminds you as he opens the screen door that hollers when it’s pulled open, then pulls hard on the actual door into his rickety old house to open it for you. You do a small skip at that news. As crazy as she may be, Sohee’s mom could tear it up in the kitchen if she wanted to. Most of the time, she didn’t want to and left the cooking to Sohee. He’s become a better cook over the years, but there was a time when you were over every night either cooking him dinner or making sure he didn’t burn the house down.
You sip the perfectly tart yet sweet yellow liquid through a red and white striped paper straw, sitting in the corner of the green velvet couch in Sohee’s living room as he begins flipping through the channels from the other side of the couch. The sounds of the channels blend in a dull symphony as you look at the white front door with a slight hum.
“When does your mama come home?” You ask, turning your attention to Sohee’s side profile as he shrugs.
“Late. She has a night shift.”
“Think I can spend the night?” You wonder casually before taking another sip of lemonade. Sleepovers were common between the two of you. You’ve been having them since you were kids though when you were younger, you would sleep in separate sleeping bags in the living room. His sleeping bag was big and green, like a soldier, he would say, and yours purple and had a faded picture of Cinderella on the front. The memories are fond. You always smile when you remember how long Sohee has been in your life.
Sohee shrugs again, turning to look at you as he pauses his channel search. It’s on some local channel; a woman with too much lipstick on talks excitedly to a sunburnt man about the Pecan Festival, but you barely hear her. You’re too busy focusing on Sohee as you wrap your lips around your straw again and sip down the final sips of your drink.
“Don’t see why not,” Sohee says softly, big brown eyes flicking to your lips and then back in your eyes. You watch as he dampens his lips by sticking his tongue out just slightly, causing heat to spread throughout your chest. You have to turn your gaze away from him, watching the TV with a knowing smirk. You shake your cup to jiggle the ice cubes inside it around before reaching in and plopping a cube into your mouth, keeping you preoccupied.
You can feel Sohee’s gaze on your profile for a few moments too long before he turns back towards the TV, awkwardly clearing his throat and shifting in his seat.
“Are we going to-”
“Do what we did last time?” You finish for him, shaking your cup again as you crunch down on the hard ice cube in your mouth, cooling your body down instantly. Sohee’s gaze is back on the side of your face, but it’s more intense now, making your heart beat faster. You play it cool. You always play it cool with Sohee, which isn’t hard to do since Sohee is so easy to please more often than not.
“We can,” You hum, looking at the boy beside you with a sly smirk as he stares at you with the biggest, most desperate eyes you’ve ever seen. You pout playfully at him, reaching out and grazing his cheek with the back of your fingers. “You want me to suck your dick again, pretty boy?” You ask as if you’re asking what he wants for dinner, grabbing his chin gently and shaking his face barely. 
You didn’t mean to suck Sohee off––You swear, it just happened. He was the one to bring up how he still hasn’t fucked anyone, droning on and on about how he craves to be touched by someone, anyone, at this point. You were just doing him a favor. It didn’t mean anything.
But the kiss you shared most certainly did. You haven’t stopped thinking about kissing Sohee since it happened, your gaze lingering on his lips longer than they should during conversations, or your hand working yourself to an orgasm, thinking of how good his soft lips would feel wrapped around your clit. You have to contain yourself to not bite your lip at the thought of leaning in and kissing him right now. You don’t dare look at his lips, knowing you’ll lose self-control if you do.
Sohee inhales deeply through his nose, watching your face closely, eyes trained on your lips as he wets his again. He nods before giving a nonchalant shrug. You notice the tips of his ears are already red. He’s so cute.
“I mean, I wouldn’t mind. ‘Totally wouldn’t say no,” He laughs, making you smile and inch towards him. Sohee leans back slightly, making you pull back, but he shakes his head. “I just…You know, that’s not all I care about, right? Like, it’d be cool to do all that with you, but I don't…We don’t have to do that if you don’t want to. We’re friends before anything. Always.” 
Then his pinky is out between the two of you. You look down at his hand, chuckling softly before looking back at his face. You never thought otherwise, but you suppose it’s sweet. Sohee wanted to assure you of that. Again, you know Sohee and know yourself at this point, so you didn’t need the assurance that he wasn’t using you as a fleshlight.
You hook your pinky with his, shaking his hand firmly with a smile.
“Always.”
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Sohee’s room is such a wreck.
He climbs on his bed, lying across it to push open his window just enough to let some air in. The AC unit in his room blew out about a month ago when the heat started to kick in. It was only a matter of time. The thing had been running since Sohee was three. You’re shocked it lasted this long. You go to the white box fan in the corner of his room, sitting on a chair as you click it onto the highest setting. The hum instantly fills the once-still room, and warm air circulates throughout the stuffy room.
Sohee sits up on his bed, leaning his back against the wall his bed was against with a hand behind his head to act as a cushion. His big brown eyes watch as you go to his dresser, opening it to dig for your favorite shirt of his. You can feel his eyes on your back as you shuffle through his drawer, making you smile faintly. You always liked having Sohee’s attention, but having him look at you like he wanted to eat you whole was a new kind of rush. You craved it more than you had for any other boy in your life.
There were only two before Sohee if you’re being honest. This town didn’t have the best selection of men to pick from. First, there was Wonbin, your first boyfriend. He was beautiful, stunning, striking even, with pretty long black hair and a nose you memorized the shape of a thousand times over. You suppose you loved him and his gentle ways but always wanted more from him. It’s not like it mattered; you two broke up a week after graduation when he was accepted into Yale. You don’t exactly blame him. He was going to fucking Yale, and you were going to the community college in the neighboring town. You hope he’s well.
Then there was Eunseok. You’re shocked you remember his name. After you two met in a bar, he was a hook-up in the back of his car under the underpass. He was driving through on “business,” at least that’s what he told you. Easily, it was the best sex you’d ever had. He was way more experienced than Wonbin had been and rougher. He knew what he wanted and he knew how to get it. You had to appreciate that about him. Plus, he was gorgeous. You still follow him on Instagram just to never forget what he looked like.
And now, there’s Sohee, and Sohee is so different from the first two. You know it, he knows it, everyone knows it, but no one says it. 
His eyes are still trained on your back, practically burning holes into your skin as you slowly peel your own shirt off and over your head. You let a beat pass to feel his gaze on you a few more seconds before you pull his shirt over your head and let it drape over your frame. You hear him clear his throat, causing you to turn around to face him with a kind smile and tilt of your head. He blinks at you with a crooked smile that seems to keep growing the longer he looks at you before patting the spot next to you excessively.
You skip a bit as a big smile takes your face, rushing over to his bed, jumping onto it, and landing on your knees next to him, bouncing a bit when you land thanks to the springs in the old mattress of Sohee’s bed. You curl your lips in when you look at him, watching his eyes scatter across your face with that same smile on his face. You both can’t seem to stop smiling; both of you are giddy but too unsure to make the first move. You giggle quietly at the silence, leaning closer to him to bump your forehead against the side of his head. 
"Nervous?" you tease, and Sohee chuckles in response - a sound so sweet it makes your heart flutter. His large hand reaches out to tuck a loose strand of your hair behind your ear, his touch light and careful. This simple act sends an indescribable shiver down your spine.
"Not nervous. Just…" He hesitates momentarily, glancing away as he searches for the right words. But then he's looking back at you with those warm brown eyes full of nothing but love. "Just wanna make sure this is what you want," he finalizes, his thumb gently brushing against your cheek.
His concern is touching, but also slightly amusing. And it only serves to deepen that heat building up in your chest - this feeling so different from anything you've ever felt. Everything feels new with Sohee but also so familiar.
You take in his worried expression before giving him a reassuring smile, reaching up to cup his face with both hands. "Trust me," you state firmly, pressing a chaste kiss on the tip of his nose for emphasis. "This is what I want."
His pretty eyes blink at you once, twice, before his lips stretch into another one of his adorable smiles, crinkling up into crescent moons at the corners. As always, it's contagious, and you can't help but smile back at him.
He leans in first, slow and careful, like he's afraid he might break you. Your heart pounds against your ribcage as your eyes flutter close, the anticipation almost unbearable now.
Then, finally, his lips meet yours softly, gently, almost like a breath against your skin in the beginning. It sets you ablaze. Everywhere. You can feel the heat pooling low in your stomach instantly, spreading through your bloodstream as he leans into you further. His fingers lace with yours, his hand resting on your lower back as he opens himself up to you more, asking you to deepen the kiss. And when you do, it’s perfect.
Soft and slow, his lips pressing against yours in a familiar rhythm. Sohee tastes of sweet lemonade and mint gum as they move against yours. You don’t know how much of it is real life and how much is a dream because Sohee’s lips seem to mold to yours so effortlessly that you forget everything else but his warmth, the smell of his breath on your face, and the taste of his mouth.
You moan softly into his lips, feeling him curve into the touch, nudging closer to you until their bodies are pressed together from shoulder to thigh. Your fingers dig into his arms, not wanting to lose this contact for one second as your free hand lingers at the hem of his t-shirt. You both sigh into each other’s mouths softly before pulling away just enough to suck on his bottom lip softly, feeling him whine in response.
“So cute as always,” You whisper against his lips before pressing them together once more, feeling him moan into your mouth at the mere touch of your lips against his. It still boggles your mind that he’s never done stuff like this before. When you asked him why he never just got on a dating app, he told you he tried, and it wasn’t as easy as it sounded or that none of the people he found on there were his type. The more you thought about it, the more it made sense that Sohee never had sex before last weekend. 
Sohee didn’t talk to a lot of girls. He was shy, very sweet, but very shy. It wasn’t that girls didn’t like him. Plenty of them did. He just couldn’t talk to them for long. The longer you thought about it, it was a miracle he had managed to kiss a girl before you blew him. To be fair, they were both drunk, and at a party the cops would end up showing up to. It’s not like it mattered now, but it plagued your thoughts, knowing you’re the only one he’s had like this.
His hand finds its way into your hair, his fingers tangling in the strands as his other hand traces a slow path down your side. The feel of him, his closeness, and the pure 'Sohee' of him is intoxicating, and you can't get enough. You angle your head slightly to deepen the kiss, feeling his grip on you tighten.
There's a slight rustle of fabric as Sohee shifts closer, and what was sweet and gentle heats up to an intensity that takes your breath away. He pulls back ever so slightly, but before you can protest, he's claiming your lips again with a fervor that makes your heart pound even harder.
You gasp into his kiss, feeling it wash over you like a wave. His hands are on your waist now, pulling you closer as if there's not already enough heat between the two of you. There's a sudden boldness to him that sends a thrill down your spine. This is Sohee - sweet and shy Sohee - who has somehow managed to transform into this passionate, assertive thing that has you pressed into his sheets and kissing you like it's the last thing he'll ever do.
Suddenly, he pulls away from your lips and starts trailing kisses down your neck. You reach up to his hair, tugging lightly at the strands as he moves further down. His hands roam over your body, tentative but becoming more confident by the second. 
“You okay?” he whispers against your skin. His voice is unsteady, revealing just how much he’s holding back. Your heart tightens at his concern, making you want him even more.
“Yeah,” you breathe out, “More than okay.”
That seems to be all the encouragement Sohee needs. He pulls away to tug at your clothes, looking up at you for permission before slipping them off entirely. Now, nothing but bare skin and the dim light that filters through the room.
His eyes never leave yours as he moves lower, pressing a kiss just above your belly button. The anticipation of what’s to come has you trembling. It's as if his shyness is melting away and being replaced with something raw and hungry.
“Sohee…” Your voice is barely a whisper as he hovers above you. His gaze is intense, full of questions that he doesn’t need to ask because, yes, of course, you want this.
His fingers trace over your thighs before spreading them apart gently as if he's afraid you'll break. His eyes flicker up to meet yours once again, and his head dips down.
It's clumsy and awkward at first. Sohee has no idea what he's doing, and it's as clear as day. But something is endearing about his determination to make this good for you: how he tries different movements until he finds one he likes. More so, he likes the reactions you give him.
His lips brush against you, soft and warm, like a feather on your skin. It's electric, and you let out a tiny moan, more surprised than anything. Sohee's fingers curl into your thighs harder, his nose grazing the patch of hair below your navel. That tiny touch sends shivers down your spine. He continues his exploration, kissing and licking upwards until he reaches the sensitive spot between your legs. The feeling is unbearable, and you gasp for air as he finally settles there. His nose moves softly against your folds, taking in your scent. You feel him inhale deeply, almost like he's absorbing you into his system.
"Sohee," you whisper his name against the pillow, unable to form any other words as he parts you with his fingers and dips his head lower, pressing another kiss there before swirling his tongue around your clit. You can feel yourself melting under his touch; it's almost too much. Sohee's hair tickles against your inner thighs as he burrows deeper this time, tasting you properly. Every pulse of pleasure that goes through you spurs him on, making him suck harder on your clit as one hand moves across the sheets to intertwine with yours. You whimper at the feeling of his palm against yours, squeezing tightly as you watch him with heavy-lidded eyes.
You buckle beneath him, crying out his name, feeling each breath he takes against your skin. His lips dart in and out, tracing circles with his tongue as he grazes over your clit. You grip the sheets tightly, arching your back and moaning into the pillow. Sohee's fingers squeeze your hand while the other hand continues to explore every inch of you he can reach from his position. You can feel every shudder run through him as he takes you into his mouth, tasting you, teasing you mercilessly with gentle sucks against your folds.
You open your eyes to look at him, seeing the concentration on his face as he lavishes attention on you. His free hand traces your inner thigh, sending sparks of pleasure up your spine. He licks and teases, sucking softly at your clit as you squirm underneath him. The bed creeks with every move he makes, adding another layer of stimulation as your moans become louder and more desperate for release.
Your hips rise off the bed a little before coming back down hard onto the mattress as you let out a long, low groan. Your fingers dig into his hair as Sohee's tongue darts out to flick across your entrance – a taste test that has your toes curling in response. He hums around you, smiling against your skin as he takes you deeper into his mouth. The vibrations send shockwaves of pleasure through you, making it harder to keep quiet. You bite down on your bottom lip as pleasure builds within you, feeling so close to the edge but not quite there yet.
You feel your walls start to tremble and quake as you near your peak, your hips bucking up and forcing him deeper into your mouth. Soon, he's sucking at just the right rhythm, sending waves of pleasure over you that build and crash with each passing moment. Your fingers dig into his hair, holding on for dear life as he moans around you, encouraging him to continue. He does so, pushing you further and further until your orgasm hits you like a tidal wave, crashing through you in waves. Your body tenses, and your breath quickens as your muscles contract in ecstasy. A tight moan rips from your throat as you reach the peak of pleasure, waves of bliss pulsing through every inch of you.
Sohee doesn't let up, swirling his tongue around your entrance until the last shudder passes through you. Then, he slowly pulls away from you, giving your clit one last lick before looking up at you with those brown eyes that hold nothing but love and adoration. His hands smooth over your stomach before gently kissing the skin, lifting his head, and colliding his full lips with yours. You taste sweet against his lips, moaning against him as your arms drape over his shoulders, grabbing his shirt by the back of the neck and pulling it over his head.
He breaks from the kiss to let you take his shirt off, but he’s dragging himself back to your lips, moaning when he crashes into you. “Always wanted to do that,” Sohee pants against your lips as he ruts his hips against yours, making you whimper up at him as the fabric of his basketball shorts brush against your sensitive folds. 
“You’re-You taste so good. Fuck, every bit of you tastes so good. I just want to eat every part of you.” His breathless confessions make you moan quietly, nodding along in agreement as your breathing begins to pick up again. Your heart is pounding in your throat like you just ran a marathon, your hands scrambling to press against his chest. When your palms press to his chest, you hear his heart pounding against his ribcage.
“I’d let you eat me,” You tell him breathlessly, feeling him smile against your lips. “Want to live inside you forever. ‘Don’t ever want to leave you.” Sohee groans at your dragged-out words, ducking his head into the crook of your neck where his lips attack the skin there, nipping and sucking to leave bruises, marking you as his for everyone to see.
“Promise me you’ll never leave me, baby. Please,” Sohee whispers into your skin, his words sinking into your bones and carving themselves into them. You nod without hesitation, digging your nails into his back. Your brain is too clouded to think rationally, to remember how you hated this town, to remember the dozens of out-of-state college applications you sent out to rid yourself of this place, even to contemplate how you would leave Sohee one day. Not now, it doesn’t matter now.
“I promise. I swear, Sohee,” You whisper, turning your head for your lips to brush against the shell of his ear. He moans, body trembling against you before lifting his lips to collide with yours again.
Beneath the hum of the box fan and squeaks of a mattress with every move you two make, you can hear the cicadas sing.
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ckret2 · 8 months ago
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Chapter 52 of human Bill Cipher being the Mystery Shack's prisoner: the Pines get their hands on a book that, they hope, might explain Bill's entire history.
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And Ford, Dipper, and Mabel debate the ethics of executing a wanna-be tyrant who recently saved their lives.
"Hey, hey you with the inner eye! How'd your show go, inner eye?"
"Did you read anybody's mind?"
"Did you get next week's lottery numbers?"
"Yeah! Did you predict when anyone's gonna die?"
Brag one time about identifying somebody's cancer and nobody lets it go for years. As the triangle stuffed his bookbag in his locker, he tried to ignore the square and rectangle laughing at him down the hall. Every time he missed a few days of school so his parents could haul him to a speaking engagement several states away, he got this when he got back. They knew he couldn't read minds and they knew he couldn't tell the future. They didn't care; they just wanted to make him mad. If he tried to correct them, they'd just laugh at him for caring about what they said.
"How come your inner eye's on the outside, inner eye?"
"Yeah, shouldn't it be in your stomach?"
"Can you see the ghosts from in there?"
He slammed his locker and turned toward the square leading the harassment. "You know what, I did have a vision at the show," he shouted. "I saw who your real dad is! Hey, did you mom ever get that mutt fixed?"
He didn't need to tell the future to know he'd better run for it. He bolted for class.
He'd missed the last three days of school so he could wow the crowds by telling them what was in their pockets, while his parents talked about cleansing negative energy from their spirits or some junk like that; and he'd come back just in time for a history test he hadn't studied for.
He wasn't worried. He was sitting behind the smartest line in class. On test days, the teacher set up cardboard barriers between everybody's desks to prevent them from reading each other's tests, and he took it on faith that this worked on the other students; but for his own part, the barriers were so thin that sometimes he walked into them without noticing they were there. He just looked straight past them as if they didn't exist. He had a clear view of the smart line's test.
As he bolted for his classroom, he could see through the walls that the line was already in there, talking to the teacher. He slowed down his mad dash before reaching the doorway and came in at a stroll, just in time to hear her quietly say to the teacher, "Just for this test, can I switch seats? I don't want to sit by..." She trailed off when she caught the triangle coming in; she and the teacher both stared.
He stared back, irritation flaring up, and snapped defensively, "What?" What did she care if he copied her test? It didn't cost her anything and it didn't make her do any extra work. Wasn't it considerate to help a fellow classmate out? Why should she be selfish about her test?
The square and rectangle tumbled into the room, advanced on the triangle, saw the teacher watching, and shoved past him to get to their own seats. They glared at him as they passed, but didn't say anything. Yeah, that's right, look who got the final word in.
To the line, the teacher quietly said, "Don't worry about it, just get ready for the test." She raised her voice. "All right, settle down, everyone at your desks. Put your notes away. This is a long test, so we're starting immediately." Several students grumbled in dismay.
The triangle couldn't be more delighted. The teacher didn't believe in psychic abilities—to his benefit, since so far it had let him get away with copying other students with impunity—but she also didn't like him. He'd been sure that she'd agree to let the smart line switch seats to get away with him. But apparently she'd rather dismiss the class pet than admit that maybe it was possible for him to psychically cheat. He smugly headed for his desk, ready for the easiest test of the class.
The teacher put a hand on his arm before he could pass her. "Not you," she said. "Get your stuff from your desk, you'll be taking the test at the front of the class. At my desk."
"What!" He whirled to stare at her indignantly. "Why?!" (The rest of the class fell silent. He could feel a dozen eyes on his base.)
"Because, your last few test scores have been... unusual. I want to keep my eye on you—"
"Unusual how! My grades have been great! You should be thrilled I'm keeping up with my absences!"
"Your test grades haven't been consistent with your classroom performance," she said tersely.
The other students started to titter. His sides flushed in humiliation.
His classroom performance was abysmal. He never finished his homework (he rarely started his homework), he never had an answer when he was called on in class and usually substituted with something sarcastic that'd at least make the other kids laugh, he never did the readings, and he wasn't even sure which town he'd lost his history textbook in. Studying was boring! He had better things to do! He was a busy guy! (And why bother, when he wasn't any good at it anyway.)
"What, you think I'm too stupid to make A's?!" He planted his fists on his corners. "If I'm cheating, how!" She had the privacy walls between students on test days, she'd searched his desk twice, and during the last test she'd passed behind him like a dozen times as he filled out the answers. Sarcastically, he asked, "Am I psychically reading the other students' minds? Maybe looking at their tests through the walls with my laser vision?"
The class giggled again, but at least this time it was with him. Everyone in the school knew about his family's traveling show and the performances he put on. And everyone in class knew that the teacher thought his family's shows were scams and that he was a fraud, and she'd made that clear from the first week. The other kids believed in his abilities. He'd been in class with most of them since they started school, and his default reaction to being called a liar about his abilities had always been to do something to prove them wrong—and he'd kept doing that even after he realized that telling kids what they were hiding in their bags only creeped them out. 
But it didn't matter if all the kids believed. As long as the teacher didn't, he could get away with anything—and everyone else in class knew he was making a fool of her.
She narrowed her eye. "That's enough. Just get your pen and come to the front."
"This is stupid! You can't prove I've done anything wrong!"
"I'm not going to fight with you."
"You just hate my family, you don't have any proof I—"
"Get. Your. Pen. Or you'll be taking your test in the office."
He shot her a dark look; but stormed to his desk, snatched up his pen, and returned to the front. Times like this, he really did wish he had laser vision. He could, just, grow a laser gun out of his eye, shoot her in half...
As he passed the teacher, he muttered under his breath, "I'm telling my mom," but apparently not quietly enough, because the square who'd been bothering him all morning announced, "Hey, he's gonna tell his mommy!" and half the class laughed.
"Behave," the teacher snapped; then said tiredly to the triangle, "You can tell anybody you want, just—take your test."
Sure, she said that now. She didn't know what his mom was like when she thought her golden child was being mistreated. He'd go home whining and moaning about how unfair his teacher was, and tomorrow morning his mom would be in the front office ripping into the principal over the terrible teacher slandering and humiliating her perfect little triangle. And she was shrill. The whole hallway would hear it. Wielding his mom was a double-edged sword (or maybe double-edged whip would be a more apt metaphor): the other kids would make fun of him for weeks; but he'd definitely get what he wanted. Either his teacher would shape up, or he'd get a new teacher.
Assuming he did convince his mom he was being mistreated. His confidence waned as he waited at the teacher's desk for her to finish passing tests out to the rest of the students. What if calling in his mom backfired? What if his teacher graded his test tonight? What if his mom got there in the morning and the teacher could show her that he'd gotten almost perfect grades on his other tests, but flunked the one where he'd been forced to sit at the teacher's desk? The teacher didn't believe he could see through walls, but his mom sure did—and he wasn't sure whether she'd care that he'd cheated, but she'd sure care if they could prove that he'd cheated and make her look bad. But now that he'd said he'd tell his mom, he'd look like an even bigger loser if he didn't...
The teacher set his test on her desk last. He filled out his name and stared miserably at the first question. Who was the first triangular president. How was he supposed to know? There'd been like, seven. It was a multiple choice question; he looked at the options to see if any names sounded old-timey, concluded they all sounded old-timey, and sighed in frustration. Now what? He'd heard a kid say once that if you didn't know what to guess, you should always guess C. Would he get enough right answers to pass...?
He let his all-seeing gaze drift past the test to snoop through the teacher's desk—sheets of stickers he'd never earn, eye drops, coupons to a movie theater, spicy novel... and then stopped in wonder. She'd left the answer key to the test inside her desk. Every answer, right there. This would be the easiest test he'd ever taken!
As the teacher watched in increasing frustration, he cheerfully highlighted answer after answer, pausing between each question to read a couple paragraphs from the novel in her desk to make it look like he was actually thinking.
The line at the top of the class and a couple other kids had turned in their tests by the time the triangle had finished his performance. With a flourish, he turned and presented his test to the teacher still standing behind him. "Well?" He gave her his most innocent look. "So how'd I do?" He'd almost asked her, so how'd I do it?
She glowered at him, seething; but simply took his paper and snapped, "Go back to your desk."
"Whatever you say!" Cheerfully, he sauntered back to his desk. As he passed Miss Perfect Grades, he said quietly—but not so quietly the other nearby kids couldn't hear—"You got question 7 wrong, idiot." She groaned.
Nobody would get the best of him. He was making it through this class with flying colors. Maybe the teacher was right, maybe he was stupid—but he certainly wasn't a loser.
####
As soon as he'd dressed, Dipper ran downstairs to get the phone book in Soos's office and call the library. This was it. He was rested, his schedule was free, and he was ready to read. Today, he was buckling down and reading Flatworld. He was gonna crack Bill's secret history wide open—and on top of that he'd get a leg up on a year of math, and he'd learn something big about Bill before Mabel.
Which he felt guilty for being excited about; but he figured it wasn't wrong to want to be the better twin at paranormal investigation, right? That was his whole thing. Anyway, Mabel might be grateful for it—she'd seemed annoyed at the prospect of reading a hundred year old book on math; maybe he could summarize the important parts for her, it was just like when he'd help her study for big tests...
The librarian on the phone said, "Flatworld by Edward Bishop Bishop? Sorry, our only copy is checked out."
There went Dipper's plans for the day. "When's it due back?"
"In twenty days. Do you want to put it on hold?"
"Yeah, thanks."
Dipper hung up. The Gravity Falls Library let you check out a book for twenty-one days; so somebody had grabbed Flatworld yesterday. Who else would want it?
####
Absolutely aghast, Mabel cried, "They banned colors?!"
Bill and Abuelita, sitting at the kitchen table having breakfast, stared at her. Mabel was standing in the doorway, still in her pajamas, hair unbrushed, bags under her eyes, distraught. Bill said, "What?"
"On Flatworld!" Mabel dragged her hands down her face in distress. "They made colors ILLEGAL?! It's ILLEGAL to have COLORS?! That's as bad as—as—I can't actually think of anything as bad as banning colors!"
Bill gave her a surprised look. "Oh, you're reading Flatworld!"
"Bill, you've been through so much!" Mabel grabbed his shoulders. "What a traumatic childhood!"
"Mabel."
"No wonder you turned evil, I'd be evil if I grew up without coloring books—"
"Mabel. Kid."
"What!"
"Colors weren't illegal," Bill said.
Mabel paused. "They weren't?"
"They weren't. I was even born gold. I drew my house, remember? You saw the rose bushes?"
"Oh." Mabel thought about that. She planted her hands on her hips. "Then I take it back, you've got no excuse for being evil!"
"I'm devastated."
"What is Flatworld?" Abuelita asked politely.
"Book inspired by my home world," Bill muttered. "Loosely."
Abuelita nodded, puzzled. "¿Pero tú no eras del infierno?"
Bill laughed. "¡Puede ser!"
Mabel asked, "So if colors weren't banned, why did the book say they were?"
"Ahh, Eddie was a writer." Bill shrugged and turned back to his breakfast. "He took some creative liberties to make the story more exciting. He wasn't writing a history textbook."
"Which parts are true?"
Bill gave her a sly sideways glance. "Which parts pardon me from being evil?"
Mabel blew a raspberry.
In the entryway, Dipper said, "Mabel? You checked out Flatworld?"
She jogged over to him. "Yes! Augh, Dipper, you've gotta read it after me! There's some crazy bonkers stuff in here!"
"Yeah," Dipper said, mildly deflated, "sure. When did you pick it up?"
"Yesterday! I biked to the library after Bill fell asleep. I had to find out what it said. Did you realize we don't know anything about where Bill came from? I don't even know if he had dirt."
Bill had avoided looking at Mabel as she talked to Dipper, focused on eating, mouth set in a flat line; but without glancing over, he said dismissively, "Sure, of course we had dirt. It was cheap to import."
Mabel turned back to Dipper, her eyes bugging out. "He had to import dirt. I didn't know that!" 
"Okay, I get the picture."
"Here!" She dragged Dipper into the living room.
Bill looked at Abuelita. "Ask how cheap it was to import dirt."
"No."
"It was dirt cheap. Ha!"
Abuelita shook her head.
Mabel picked up the book from the end table by the sofa bed. Out of range of the kitchen, she whispered, "All that talk about the Axolotl and prophecies just kept bugging me until I read the book. I stayed up half the night! I thought maybe it'd help us remember more of the poem."
"Did it work?"
"Not yet. But I think I feel something percolating in my brain! It's coming, I know it." She pushed the book into Dipper's hands. "We've gotta talk as soon as you read it."
It was a much smaller book than Dipper had anticipated; a cover about the size of a paperback novel, but it was only as thick as one of those easy chapter books for new readers that Dipper had started devouring in second grade. Even if the text was dense, it shouldn't take more than a couple of hours to read.
"By the way, who put me back in my bed?" Mabel asked.
"Oh. Bill d—" The hairs on the back of Dipper's arms stood on end as he realized something he'd been too tired to notice last night. "Bill did."
"Aww, that's sweet of him," Mabel said.
"But Mabel," Dipper hissed. "I don't know how he got through the bedroom door."
####
Ford shut his journal and turned his desk chair to face the children. This was serious enough to warrant his full attention. "You're sure you didn't prop the door open last night?"
"Positive," Dipper said. "We talked about it. We decided it would be safer if Bill was stuck in one spot and had to ask to leave."
"The doorknob's been busted since the tooth fairy broke in," Mabel said. "Maybe Bill just pushed it open?"
Ford said, "Under the terms of the curse, he shouldn't even be able to do that much. It's supposed to magically prevent him from remembering or imagining any way to get through a door." Still, he made a mental note to ask Soos to repair the door as soon as possible. They ought to at least remove the possibility that Bill might have found a loophole.
"Could the curse be wearing off?" Dipper asked. "Maybe you just need to do it again?"
"This isn't a curse that should wear off. It was originally designed to keep hidden treasures guarded for a thousand years—and as far as I know, the only way to remove it is for the person who placed it to lift it," Ford said. "If Bill's getting through doors, either he knows a way to break the spell that he never told me, or he's found a way around the spell. Both mean bad news. For all we know, he might already be able to get through any door and is just pretending he can't."
Dipper thought back to the pitiful performance he'd seen in the bathroom. "I... don't think he's faking." Unless that wasjust a big act? Bill flung himself down staircases and stuck forks in his arms for fun; what was stopping him from writing on the walls in his own blood?
"Well, he can get through at least one door." Ford got to his feet and began pacing up and down the length of his study. "On top of that, by now he's revealed he can see through walls, see the future, see in the dark, and see who knows what else in other dimensions... He's trying to befriend Wendy, he's already befriended—" he cast a guilty look at Mabel, "... one of us, and I suspect he's getting into Stan's head... He has a standing weekly appointment to network with the mayor, the sheriff, and the deputy... He could be up to almost anything by now. I'm afraid he's right on the verge of slipping through our fingers. If only we could get that blasted fuel! We need to destroy him before he finds a way to escape for good—"
"Wait," Mabel said. That alone was enough to make Ford flinch. "Didn't he just save you guys' lives yesterday?"
Dipper winced, but Ford didn't seem surprised that Mabel knew; he just averted his gaze and sighed. "I know. And I'm..." he wrestled with his words until he reluctantly conceded, "grateful that he did. But even so—"
"Grunkle Ford! How can you still hate him after that?!"
Ford pressed his lips together to avoid saying pretty easily. "It's not about hatred, Mabel. It's an issue of the greater good."
"The gr—pbbbt!" Mabel blew a raspberry and flung her arms in the air. "Come on!"
Dipper said, "Grunkle Ford's right. Even if Bill isn't just trying to manipulate us somehow... if he had a chance, he'd still take over the world."
"Exactly," Ford said. "Two lives isn't a sufficient down payment to let him purchase the rest of our reality. We must put the safety of the universe first, and... put our consciences second."
Mabel looked between them in disbelief. "It's not a down payment, it's—it's progress. It means he's changing for the better! Guys, you don't know what the world he came from is like!" She pointed at the book Dipper was carrying. "Of course he's evil after how he grew up! Maybe he just needs some people to be nice to him and he'll learn to be nice back!"
"He grew up more than a trillion years ago," Ford said. "That's over seventy times longer than our entire universe has existed. He's had plenty of chances to outgrow his upbringing. I'm sure somebody's been kind to him in that time." He'd been kind to Bill.
"Then why is he being nicer now? First he was nice to me, now he's been nice to you two—if he keeps getting nicer to more and more people..."
Ford shook his head. "He could be nice to the whole world and it wouldn't mean he's any different."
"How do you know?!"
"How often does he talk to you about his plans for Weirdmageddon?"
Mabel fell silent, thinking uncomfortably about all the times he'd freely told her what boring animals he planned to upgrade once he'd conquered the world, or which fun places he wanted to destroy with his alien friends, or which laws of physics and spacetime he planned to change. She thought about all the times he'd expressed his gratitude by swearing to shed blood or rearrange stars on her behalf.
"He doesn't see befriending his future victims as a conflict of interests. So why wouldn't he start Weirdmageddon again?" Ford asked. "He doesn't feel remorse over a single thing he's done."
Mabel thought about Bill offering to put back the stolen ring at the mall.
Dipper thought about Mabel's Fault.
But did that really prove he felt remorse?
"But—doesn't he ever get a chance?" Mabel's voice was thick. "How do you know if he'll be selfish next time if you don't let him try? He can do better, I know it! He just needs a chance to prove it!" She looked pleadingly at Ford, then at Dipper. "What if he could be good this time? What if he could help?"
Dipper had to avert his gaze. "If we were talking about shoplifting or vandalism, yeah, but... if we give him a chance and he lets us down, it's the end of the world. We can't risk that."
Ford knew Bill would be just as selfish this time, because Ford knew Bill. Because Ford had heard, throughout the multiverse, on world after exploited world, just how selfish Bill had been for billions and billions of years. Because as far as Bill was concerned, he didn't have any reason to change outside of the fear of death—and fear never made anybody better. But Ford said, "His second chance is whatever he can do between now and whenever we find or make a fuel that will let us destroy him. But once we can..."
Mabel's face scrunched up as she fought not to cry. She squeezed her eyes shut, crossed her arms, and lowered her head.
"Mabel..." Dipper reached for her shoulder.
She shook him off and shook her head; but she said, voice muffled by the collar of her sweater, "I know. You're right. He's too dangerous." She sniffled.
"I'm sorry," Ford said.
"It—it's fine." She wiped her eyes and turned away. "I'm gonna get breakfast."
"Mabel, wait," Ford said. "You... know not to mention any of this conversation to Bill, right? Even if you want to help him, it might just make him pretend to be better long enough to fool us—or escape entirely, if he's found a way how yet..."
She turned to give him a teary-eyed frown; but she said, "I won't. I promise." She got into the elevator to head upstairs.
Ford sighed and sank back down into his chair. Should he have done more to keep her from Bill? Used his summer guardian privileges to ban her from talking to him, and dealt with the relationship fallout? What he and Stan really should have done was just send the kids home. He'd thought this would all be over weeks before now.
He didn't think Mabel would betray them for Bill. He hoped not.
But this was going to break her heart.
"Grunkle Ford?" Dipper said. "About the fuel we need to power the Quantum Destabilizer..."
Ford sighed. "The impossible-to-synthesize paradox fuel?"
"Actually... I think I have an idea."
####
In order to generate NowUSeeitNowUDontium, Fiddleford had said, they needed a paradox: someone to simultaneously both observe but not think about and think about but not observe the miniature particle accelerator as the experiment was run. Fiddleford had tried to cheat by using a pair of twins, hoping they'd be similar enough that they could still generate Dontium, albeit at a much slower rate; but to no avail. Which left them at a road block. How could one person both observe and not observe and think about and not think about the experiment at the same time?
Dipper thought he might have found away.
Bill had made a comment last night that stuck with Dipper, about how his body stared at nothing while he was outside it. (He'd called him "stupid looking." That was the real reason it had stuck with Dipper.) Would that meet the criteria of the paradox? A body that was looking at the experiment, but not thinking; and then if his soul was thinking about it but not looking...
Ford thought it was worth a shot. He could call Fiddleford and propose it. "As long as you're sure you want to try?" he asked Dipper. "You only just figured out you've been slipping out of your body—and too long a separation without anything occupying your body might kill you. And who knows if there's more risks we don't know about yet?" Ford put a hand on Dipper's shoulder. "We can still look for other possibilities first. You don't need to be a hero."
Dipper scowled. All he could think of was Bill capturing Ford, laughing at him as he turned him into a statue, burning up his journals in front of Dipper's eyes: Don't be a hero, kid. This is what happens to heroes in my world!
"I'm going to do it," Dipper said. "And we should do it now. Before I lose my nerve."
Ford frowned. "I'm serious, Dipper. If you're afraid—"
"I didn't mean that," Dipper said. "I mean—about Bill. He did just..."
"Ah," Ford said. "Yes. There's that."
It had been easier to treat the issue like it was black and white when Mabel was in the room—when she saw it all in black and they needed to balance out her perspective with white. But when she was gone, and the muddled shades of gray crept in like fog?
Dipper could still see Bill gloating as he kidnapped his great uncle and burned the journals; but at the same time, he could also see Bill angrily muttering under his breath as he delicately reeled in Dipper's body by a thread, and then rushing to the cliff's edge to drag Ford to safety. Safety of the universe aside—it felt wrong to plot to kill the guy who'd just saved them.
After an uncomfortable silence, Ford said, "But it doesn't change anything else he's done."
"Yeah," Dipper said, "it doesn't change anything." All the same, his stomach twisted with guilt. He wondered if Ford's did too.
Ford sighed heavily. "I'll call Fiddleford."
####
Fiddleford was wary about trying a new strategy, although for different reasons: he didn't want to change their method to create Dontium before he'd spent several days calculating how the new variables would affect the experiment. But desperate times... He agreed they needed to do whatever they could before Bill found a way to escape.
Dipper went upstairs to grab his backpack. He didn't even unpack all his camping equipment; he just shoved in his journal and Flatworld, and headed back downstairs.
Meanwhile, Ford tracked down Soos in between tour groups to ask him to fix the kids' door.
To Ford's surprise, Soos looked uncomfortable at the request. "Dude, are you sure that's... y'know... necessary?"
"Even if Bill weren't a threat, it would need to be fixed sooner or later, wouldn't it? I can help when we get home if it will take too much of your time." Or maybe Stan could help, he didn't seem too busy; last Ford had seen, he was hunting through the house for a missing remote control.
"It's not that." Soos fiddled with his hands uncertainly. "It's just, I know Mabel and Bill have been getting along really well lately, and I think that's probably a good sign for Bill; and I thought, if Bill can use their door, maybe Mabel would like it if Bill can visit her a little easier?"
Ford stared at Soos, bewildered. He'd expected this out of Mabel, but Soos? "And I think Dipper would like it if he couldn't."
"True," Soos conceded.
"Not to mention ensuring he can't sneak in during the night, or snoop when they aren't home..."
"Okay, okay. You're right." Soos sighed. "I'll fix it after work."
"Thank you."
A tourist family came in, and Soos went to greet them; Ford watched him a moment. Where had that come from? Soos rarely interacted with Bill; if anything, Bill seemed to steer away from Soos, and certainly never had anything kind to say to him when they did interact.
Maybe the pet geodite had won him over. Ford shook his head and returned to the living room.
Dipper was waiting on the couch, adjusting the straps of his overstuffed backpack. Ford glanced in on Mabel having breakfast by herself in the kitchen, picking at a waffle, lost in thought; but they left without saying anything to her.
####
(Took two weeks to get the next few chapters cleaned up, but finally here it is! Hope y'all enjoyed—and we'll be hearing a lot more about what's in that book next week.)
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