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ckret2 · 2 months

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Chapter 59 of human Bill Cipher possibly not being the Mystery Shack's prisoner because he got executed two chapters ago:

Everything you haven't wondered about how Bill survived his execution.

7:27 a.m.

Mabel didn't know why, but figuring out when to ask Mrs. Grendinator to pull over had felt as stressful as trying to throw a ping pong ball into a passing car's open fuel door to land in the little fuel pipe. All she had to do was ask to pull over after they'd passed everything but the last truck stop, but before it was too late for Mrs. Grendinator to make the turn into the Triple Digit parking lot. That was a large window. It wasn't easy to miss. Somehow Mabel still dreaded that she'd speak up too late and Mrs. Grendinator would say she'd have to wait for the next rest stop—by which point Bill would have splatted like a bug against the weirdness barrier while everyone else passed safely through.

But she'd managed to blurt out "I forgot to use the bathroom at home. Can we pull over?"; they'd stopped at the Triple Digit Truck Stop; and Mabel made it inside before her friends could catch her.

She locked the unisex restroom door, set her backpack on the ground, opened it up, and sighed with relief when she saw Bill sitting on her sweater. She carefully pulled him out, set him on the floor, and pointed the height-altering flashlight at him.

For a moment after returning to his true size, he remained seated on the floor, legs bent, elbows on his knees, head in his hands. Worriedly, Mabel asked, "You okay?"

"Think I learned what motion sickness is," Bill groaned. "Just—gimme a sec."

"Aww, I'm sorry." Mabel surreptitiously checked in her backpack to make sure Bill hadn't been sick on her sweater. (It was a cool one. It had kissing parrots.)

After a few deep breaths, Bill lifted his head enough to look at Mabel. The first thing he said was, "'Cool big brother-slash-sister,' huh?" He gave her a queasy, but cheeky, grin.

"Shut uuup you weren't supposed to hear that!" She'd just about died with embarrassment when Candy had repeated that where she knew Bill could hear.

"I'm flattered." Bill uncurled himself from his nauseous half-fetal position; and then, gripping onto the sink for support, got back to his feet. "Being smaller again was nice, but I'm never traveling like that again."

"You're such a whiner."

"Yeah, yeah. I have a lot to whine about. I'm dead and about to be executed. Talk about... lose your cake and... not-eat it, too."

Mabel laughed. Bill mussed her hair, grinning, and said, "Hey, you've got no room to laugh, you're the one with the not-setting-houses-on-fire bit."

"Arrrgh, don't remind me!" She pushed Bill to the side so she could use the mirror to straighten out her hair again.

"You did pretty well, though! I'd say that was some of the best acting I've ever seen out of you."

"You too! They definitely bought it," Mabel said. "Even Grunkle Stan was getting worried."

"Especially back in the kitchen, wow! That was really convincing." He paused. "Really, really convincing."

Something heavy hung in the air. Mabel focused on her hair in the mirror.

Bill said, "That bit in the kitchen about me 'depending' on you." He exaggerated the air quotes around the word, distancing himself from the concept. "It wasn't on our list."

"Yeah. It just kinda... seemed right. Improv." Mabel waved unenthusiastic jazz hands.

"It bothers you."

Mabel winced. "I mean... I'm not actually mad at you. But. I want to help, but I don't know what to do for..." She gestured at Bill. "The whole being dead on an alien planet issue."

"Believe it or not, the hoodie helps," Bill said. "Listening helps." But he couldn't meet her gaze; he was fiddling with his friendship bracelet instead. He had to know how heavy even just listening to him could be.

"I'm glad, but... I just... wish you had more friends you could talk to."

Bill nodded morosely. "So do I." It wasn't like he'd chosen to only have one friend, was it? Prisoners didn't get to make those kinds of decisions.

Mabel asked, "Do you really think I think you're just a summer fix-it project?"

"I... pfff... come on, I watched you spend all last summer handing out makeovers and dating advice. You've already done my makeup, taken me clothes shopping, and tried to pump me for info on what kinds of freaks I'm into."

(Mabel quietly filed away the fact that Bill referred to "freaks" as his preferred romantic targets.)

"That's how your summer was going to end," Bill said. "You tame the monster, go home triumphant, and don't worry about it anymore. Like how you patched up Broken Heart's love life and left him to sort out the consequences."

"No!" Mabel huffed, "I mean—maybe a little at the beginning, but... you're really my friend now, I'd hate it if I never saw you again. I don't give friendship bracelets to just anybody!"

Bill kind of thought she did; but he wasn't about to argue. "Well, I've only given one person a bracelet, and I meant it." (Even more now than when he'd originally made it.) "You're never getting rid of me now, star girl. You're stuck with me forever!"

Coming out of Bill Cipher, the promise should have filled her with dread. A month ago it would have filled her with dread. But Mabel just found it comforting. "Good."

(And Ford hadn't felt any dread when he'd sworn "until the end of time," either.)

Bill took off his backpack and rummaged through it. "Now let me make sure I can keep that promise."

He took out a map of the mountains and forest around Gravity Falls and spread it out on the floor for them to kneel in front of. "You know about the spaceship buried under town? When its ring cut through the mountain, a few chunks of the ship dislodged and were buried in one of the mountains. No human has ever found them before, not even your great uncle. That's where I'll hide."

"Are the chunks big enough to hide in?"

"Sure! There's one that'd serve as a decent studio apartment. Well—the cheapest studio apartment in Manhattan, maybe. But, hey, I don't have much furniture."

On the map, he showed Mabel a route to reach the base of the cliff, tracing it with his finger. She couldn't afford to take a map with the route marked; if the adults discovered Bill's escape and confiscated Mabel's possessions, a marked map would lead them straight to him. She'd just have to do her best to memorize the route he described. "When and if the coast is clear, you can come find me there."

"How do I get up the cliff?"

"Don't worry about that. You make it that far, I'll take care of the rest."

And that was all they could afford to discuss. Mabel couldn't hide in here for long. As Bill refolded the map (and Mabel was awed to learn he was the kind of person who could refold maps correctly on the first try), and he packed the map and the height-altering flashlight in his backpack, they each tried separately to figure out how to get around to saying goodbye.

"I uh... I know you're sticking your neck out for me, kid." (Bill wasn't used to this, wasn't used to people who didn't help him due to fear or duty or lies, wasn't used to people who still wanted to help him after they knew what he was really like.) "So, thanks—"

Mabel flung her arms around him. Her voice thick, she said, "I think your manners are getting better."

"Shut up, I've always known how to say thanks." It was gratitude that was new.

"Be safe out there," Mabel said. "Don't die, or else. Remember to eat. And drink water! And do laundry sometimes."

"All right, all right. You'll find me in better health than you left me. All the sunshine and fresh air this body can take."

"I'll miss you."

Keep it together, Cipher. He swallowed hard. "Have you ever heard the song 'We'll Meet Again'?"

"Uh-uh?"

"Old war song. Look it up once you're in Portland, when you aren't busy having synthesizers pumped in your ears."

"Is it about... how we'll meet again?"

"Yes, smartypants. Look it up anyway," Bill said. "I'll miss you too."

Mabel washed her face, left the restroom, and shut the door behind her; and Bill waited in the dark while everyone left.

####

7:45 a.m.

A woman with two children opened the unisex restroom door, and gasped in shock when she saw a human silhouette lurking in the dark, one eye shining.

"Hey, thanks, lady! Couldn't get the door for some reason." He breezed past her. "Careful, it sticks from the inside."

He grabbed an empty backpack for sale, and loaded it up with supplies, food, and drinks. (The good stuff, not the weak cider he got in the Mystery Shack. He was making margaritas tonight.) He headed up to the cash register... veered to a currently-unmanned register, stole a handful of loose change out of a tip jar, and timed his exit so he walked out just as a man walked in and kindly held the door for him.

####

7:55 a.m.

It was a fair walk from Triple Digit back to the cliffs around Gravity Falls. When Bill was a safe distance into the woods, he unzipped his first backpack, retrieved his flattened top hat, and popped it out; and then continued on, behatted and using his umbrella like a cane.

Even with no sleep, even just a couple of days after the worst hiking trip in history, even tired and sore from an hour of frenzied dancing, even carrying two full backpacks with one strap slung over each shoulder, even with the sky gloomy and overcast—this was the best he'd felt since Weirdmageddon.

His steps were sure, his body was unchained, and the future had opened up for him again.

####

8:00 a.m.

Mabel kept glancing out the window, back in the direction of Gravity Falls, waiting and waiting to see the light of some kind of killer laser cut through the sky.

Maybe the Quantum Destabilizer's beam just wasn't visible from this far. Maybe they'd decided to wait to execute Bill. Maybe they hadn't wasted their shot because they'd already discovered Bill and Mabel's ruse. Maybe the "enchantment" Bill had written hadn't done its job.

But if they had discovered Bill was missing, they would've called Mabel immediately, trying to find out what she'd done and where he'd gone.

Her phone sat hard and heavy and silent in her pocket.

The butterflies in her stomach didn't stop fluttering until long after they reached Portland.

####

10:30 a.m.

Plus or minus a few trees, the rendezvous point at the base of the cliff was just how Bill had remembered last seeing it millennia ago. The Trilazzx Betan proximity sensor that had been embedded in the cliff face since the ship crash was still there and still sensing, even after millions of years and a layer of stone had closed around it. He could see it behind the face of the cliff; and it could see him.

He took out the multi-tool pocket knife Dipper had "donated" to Bill's supplies, flipped out the blade, and carved his face in a tree far enough from the rendezvous point to avoid notice by anyone who found this spot, but near enough it could see anyone who showed up. He made it as accurate as he could—hat, bow, limbs, eyelashes. That would unfortunately make it easier for humans to identify the face if anyone happened to walk by, but his ability to connect to his other eyes was still weak, he needed as much of a boost as he could get. He licked the bark, leaving his saliva to connect the eye on the tree to him.

And then he returned to the rendezvous point at the base of the cliff, and, beneath the watchful eye of the proximity sensor, began digging in the dirt with his hands.

Beneath the soil, fortunately not buried too deep, was a stone shaped like a small tombstone with several symbols carved into its surface that superficially resembled common runes. Bill brushed the dirt off of his leggings and rubbed it out of the carved lines in the stone. It was lucky that today was overcast; it would make this thing a lot easier to control.

Bill took out the flashlight, removed the height-altering crystal, turned it on, and aimed the beam at the topmost rune.

The runes began glowing an eerie green.

The ground shuddered; and then a patch of ground five feet in diameter lifted up into the air, carrying Bill with it, tearing the grass at the edge of the circle, propelled by a long-forgotten enchanted stone platform concealed in the clump of dirt.

He rose to the gouge that the spaceship had carved into the mountain; and then he moved his flashlight's beam to another rune. The platform smoothly shifted to moving sideways, gliding beneath the ancient overhang. When he turned off the flashlight, the stone stopped glowing and gently settled to the ground. Bill stepped off, fished a spare shirt out of his backpack, and pulled it over the rune-covered stone so it couldn't take off if the sun came out. There was a reason this buried stone was the only platform of its kind left in the area outside of the deep mountain caverns: leave one outside on a sunny day where the light can hit its runes, and next thing you know it's zoomed out over the Pacific and is quickly rising toward space.

He surveyed the area. Every once in a while humans climbed up here just for the challenge of it, delightful little explorers they were; but he doubted anyone had been up here in decades. He stood in front of what was, to all appearances, a completely nondescript patch of stony ground; and he said, in heavily accented but intelligible Trilazzx Betan, "Let me in, you hunk of junk. Activate emergency crash protocols."

A fragment of ship deep beneath the ground stirred awake, registered the command, analyzed itself and concluded from the fact that it wasn't in space and was separated from 99% of the rest of itself that it had indeed crashed, and activated emergency crash protocols. In acknowledgment of the dire situation, it deactivated its usual authorized personnel list—there was no sense in waiting for the captain to approve new orders if the captain might be dead—accepted the command given by the unknown being above it, and opened its hatch.

Millions of years of solid stone groaned and buckled in protest at being moved; but Trilazzx Betan engineering was strong enough for the framework of a portal capable of ripping a hole between dimensions without being ripped apart itself. The stone yielded first. A hatch swung up, revealing a tilted chamber descending into the cliff.

Bill strolled confidently down the walkway. "Cancel distress signal. Disable life support's air filtering." The fragment of a ship beeped a warning, and Bill responded, "I'm aware of this planet's high oxygen content. You worry about your health, I'll worry about mine. Disable air filtering." The ship beeped a confirmation. "Reconnect to all external proximity sensors in range and display on screens one, two, and three." This broken part of the ship had once handled communications. It had a whole wall of screens. He wondered whether he could jury rig this thing to pick up human satellite TV. Nah, probably not worth the effort.

He slung off his backpacks and started unpacking.

####

12:04 p.m.

It was time.

Dipper sat on the floor and put his head in his hands. He felt sick.

He was dead. In just a few seconds Ford would discover that Bill was gone—Dipper was sure he was gone, they hadn't heard a peep from the room, Mabel must've snuck him out or left him some escape route—and then Ford would know that someone had warned Bill and Mabel, and then Dipper was dead—

"Are you alright?"

"Yeah." Dipper waved Ford off. "Just... didn't get much sleep. Little dizzy." Ford would never trust him again. Stan would be furious. They'd both be furious.

"You can go downstairs if you..."

"No no, I'm fine, I..." Dipper took a deep breath and lifted his head. "I'll face it." Better to get it over with now than to hide downstairs and wait for it.

Stan nodded. "Good man." He wouldn't be so proud of Dipper in a moment.

Ford nodded, stood, opened the door—and Dipper buried his face in his hands again.

####

12:06 p.m.

Ford could see Bill up in the loft, hood up and shoulders hunched, back to the room. Ford could shoot Bill in the back without him ever waking up.

He climbed into the loft. Bill lay curled up in a ball, a small as Ford had ever seen him.

But it only took a moment for Ford's eyes to adjust to the dark; and even in the dim light through the stained glass window, he could tell:

The shape in front of him wasn't human. Just lumpy clothes.

Ford whipped around, heart pounding, clutching the Quantum Destabilizer's carrying case against his chest, searching for the real Bill lurking somewhere in the shadows. No sign of him. Ford had already looked on the floor level. Was he gone? How?

He was too dumbfounded to be outraged. He walked up to the dummy to pull it apart—

And saw the paper, folded in quarters, floating in the air above it. Four symbols in a cipher were written atop the paper. Ford recognized them: it was the alien alphabet of an interdimensional pidgin used as a written lingua franca throughout the Nightmare Realm and its bordering regions; it was so widespread that Ford had learned the alphabet before he ever left Earth.

The four letters read, "F O R D".

Ford plucked the paper out of the air and unfolded it.

Stanford–

I'll cut to the chase. I need your help. I don't want to die.

I'm banking on the hope that, in spite of everything you've said and done, part of you also doesn't want me to die.

You have a choice. You can walk out there, tell them I escaped, rally an angry mob, and comb everything under the weirdness barrier for me. This town's not that big and I'll need to eat eventually. We both know I can't hide forever.

Or you can tell them you finished the job. No one looks for me. No one knows but you and me.

I don't have rewards or deals to offer. You already know what I bring to the table. If that hasn't persuaded you to side with me by now, it never will. I'm not bargaining. I'm begging.

I'm asking you, as my friend, to help me survive.

Please.

· –·-– -–

Of course.

How dare he.

Had Bill planned this all along? Was this why he'd insisted he wanted to be Ford's friend? Was this why he'd saved his life? Maybe the entire rescue had been staged—the rescue, the performance of fear over a harmless phenomenon, the mental breakdown, all of it. For all Ford knew, maybe the accursed Axolotl was in on the scheme! How clairvoyant was Bill? Had he seen this moment coming?

But if he'd seen this moment coming, wouldn't it have been easier to just let Ford, his executioner-to-be, die? Ford and Dipper both, so Dipper wouldn't figure out how to synthesize NowUSeeitNowUDontium? If he'd saved them in spite of that, didn't that make it a sincere gesture?

But implication was clear: I've been a friend to you, now be one to me. A life for a life. There was nothing sincere in that. It was pure self interest.

(For just a couple of days, Ford really had thought it was sincere.)

But if the only reason Bill had saved Ford was to save himself—then why had Bill endangered his own life in the process?

With every thought Ford's paranoia pendulumed.

He should get Stan. Call the cops, confess who they'd been harboring for the past month, tell them everything, get a manhunt going before Bill could make it any further away. Even if he couldn't leave the weirdness barrier, there were probably hundreds of hidden hidey-holes Bill could dig himself into that humans had never seen—unexplored hallways in Crash Site Omega, uncharted caverns behind Trembley Falls where Bill didn't even need light to see. They could drag him back into the light, tie him up, aim the Quantum Destabilizer straight at him...

But. In spite of himself, he could still see Mabel's drawing hopefully reassigning Bill the role of a superhero. He could still see the crumpled drawing in his pocket—"I BELIEVE IN YOU. YOU CAN CHANGE!" He could still see Dipper tentatively asking whether they might need Bill someday. He could still see Bill playing teacher in the living room. And for a moment, for just a moment, Bill had been so good. He could be so good.

Why couldn't you have been this person?

Why can't you be this person?

What if he could be better? What if he could be decent? What if he could be a friend?

Ford didn't believe Bill was any better today than he had been the day he died. But—at some point, something had slowly turned over in Ford's mind. He believed that Bill could change. Not would change, not is changing, but could. And if Ford started a manhunt, Bill would never be a threat again—but he'd also never be better.

There was a point where the doubt and hope built up to a critical mass—when they became enough, just enough, to stay the trigger finger. Because once Ford fired on Bill, that was it. All chances were gone forever. It was over. If Bill was alive they could always try again to kill him later; but if Bill was dead, they could never try again to better him.

And for the first time in thirty years, Ford wanted Bill to be better more than he wanted Bill to be dead.

Ford looked at the dummy. Looked at the note.

And then he lay the note on the dummy, knelt by the edge of the loft, opened his case, and removed the Quantum Destabilizer.

####

12:09 p.m.

Ten minutes ago, Bill had been in the process of emptying out his backpacks and finding nooks and cubbies amongst the alien communication workstations where he could tuck his supplies, when he'd glanced out the open hatch and noticed the beforeimage of the shot lighting up the sky.

He'd come out of his shelter to watch the moment approach; but he hadn't quite believed it until it was in the present and actually happening. The blue-white beam of the Quantum Destabilizer—its one and only shot—screamed off into the sky.

"Well, what do you know," he murmured, standing at the edge of the cliff, hands on his hips, staring out in wonder over the town. "I really didn't think you'd do it."

Ford had saved his life.

Bill crossed his arms tight and tried to convince himself he didn't wonder why.

####

12:10 p.m.

Ford heard Dipper and Stan come into the bedroom and climb the ladder. He was seized by an urge to sweep away the ashes and the evidence of his trick before they could realize what he'd done.

"Grunkle Ford...?"

He forced himself to speak. "It's done."

"So... Bill is...?"

Ford suddenly realized: Dipper knew Bill wasn't in here. He must have warned Mabel, and Mabel had arranged for Bill to be alone in their room long enough to escape.

Which meant Dipper knew Bill was alive.

(Bill had written, "No one knows but you and me." Bill was covering for the kids.)

Ford turned to look him in the eyes. "Yes, he's dead."

Which meant Dipper knew what Ford had done—and knew Ford knew what he had done.

Neither one of them needed to say anything else to know what the other was thinking. They just shared a look—the two most miserable co-conspirators in Gravity Falls.

####

12:25 p.m.

Bill sat cross-legged at the edge of the cliff and watched until the afterimage of the Quantum Destabilizer's shot had faded from the sky; and then he went inside his shelter, mixed the world's lamest margarita in a coffee mug, took it outside, sat again, and toasted toward the town and the Mystery Shack.

Here's to survival.

He sat outside until the gash the Quantum Destabilizer had cut in the clouds closed and it began to rain.

####

1:10 p.m.

Stan had come and gone a few minutes ago, and already Ford had forgotten everything he'd said, if he'd even registered it in the first place.

His fingers had itched until he'd finally had a moment to steal down to his study, retrieve Journal 5, and bring it up to the guest room; and now for over half an hour he'd been feverishly writing down every single thing he could remember learning about Bill over the last two days. The drawing of his homeworld. His lecture on biangles and psychic powers. How polygons inherited their sides. (Their royalty sounded nigh on Habsburgian; had their political system ever changed?) What little details Bill had let slip about where Edward Bishop Bishop's book was wrong. (Had he told Mabel more about their relationship? He'd have to ask when she was home.) How Bill signed his letter: "· -·-- --", Morse code for "EYM," was it an acronym, was it a code, what did it mean, why did he write it in two colors? How Bill spelled Mabel's name in alien alphabets: Mabelle, Maybell, the varying extra letters. How Bill danced: how he struggled to cross his ankles, how he turned out his feet, how his spine and shoulders never bent, how the complex ways he tilted his legs and pelvis compensated for his stiff spine.

If Bill was sticking around a while longer, then these details still mattered.

He refused to forget a thing.

####

Sunday, 12:02 a.m.

As "We'll Meet Again" finished playing, Mabel turned off her phone, put it back on her nightstand, and wiped her eyes again. Big stupid dork couldn't even say this himself, he had to hide it behind a song.

Yes. They would meet again. Law of attraction. Believing it was the first step to making it come true.

####

10:20 a.m.

The fearful butterflies in Mabel's stomach had slowly returned during the drive home from Portland. No one had texted her—was that a good sign?—but she was afraid it just meant they'd decided to let her enjoy the rest of her trip before letting her know she was grounded forever for helping Bill escape. When they'd all greeted her at the door, looking so somber, and she was sure she was about to get the bad news, she'd just had to keep acting normal and hope she wasn't gonna get in more trouble for playing dumb.

The last thing she expected Stan to say was, "Weshotim."

"Say wha?"

"We got that—space gun of Ford's working. We shot him. He's... I'm sorry, sweetie."

Mabel stared at Stan. That was impossible—there was no way they'd found Bill. But—if Stan believed he was dead...

She dragged her gaze from his face to Dipper's. Dipper bit his lips, staring at his feet. He wouldn't meet her eyes—too afraid that even looking at her would give something away.

She looked from Dipper to Ford. "Grunkle Ford?" She tried not to hope. "Is it true?"

There was no way he'd believed the dummy was real. The moment she'd read Bill's so-called "enchantment," she'd known making it believable was never the point. Bill's only real plan had always been to get Ford on their side.

For a long moment, Ford said nothing. He dragged his eyes up to meet her stare, took a deep breath, and nodded. "He's dead."

Mabel's eyes widened. Two days ago, Ford had been the one arguing that killing Bill was their only choice. If he'd changed his mind...

If anyone said anything else, she didn't register it in her excitement. She backed out of the doorway, leaped off the porch, and ran around the shack, looking for her bike.

She had to see Bill immediately.

####

10:21 a.m.

Quietly, Dipper asked, "Did we do the right thing?"

Ford didn't know. His stomach had been twisting with guilt and doubt since yesterday. His conscience had kept him up half the night. "I hope so."

He feared they'd have second-guessed themselves no matter what.

####

2:30 p.m.

Bill was asleep. He'd been sleeping off and on for most of the past day. This was the first time since he'd died that he had somewhere safe to sleep—somewhere nobody could touch his vulnerable body, nobody could move him, drown him, kill him.

And this was the first time he hadn't been helpless and sightless.

In his sleep, he saw his own body, curled up on the tilted floor against a wall, on top of the sleeping bag and under the Pony Heist bedsheet, from an eye he'd drawn on the ceiling.

From another eye he'd drawn on the wall, he saw the ship's open hatch, the overhang above, a small sliver of the gray drizzly sky over Gravity Falls.

And from his eye on the tree, blurry and fading as the rain washed away his saliva, he saw a human-shaped mass of raucous colors exploring the pit in the ground left behind by his hovering platform.

A human? He sat up with a gasp and looked at the screen displaying the proximity sensors. Sure enough, the sensor at the base of the cliff was displaying a Mabel-shaped silhouette.

He grabbed his flashlight and climbed out of his shelter.

####

"Kid, what are you doing out out here?!"

Mabel looked up. Bill was some twenty feet above her and quickly descending on what looked like a chunk of flying dirt the same size as the pit in the ground she'd been inspecting. "Bill!" She leaned her bike against the cliff face. Finally—she'd been wandering around in the trees forever trying to figure out where Bill's rendezvous point was hidden.

"It's pouring rain," Bill scolded. "You could lose your immune system or—or slip in the mud or something."

"Wow, nice to see you too, mom." Mabel ran up as Bill landed his floating chunk of ground.

"Hey, I don't want anything happening to my favorite human!" He scooted over to make room for her on the platform. "Just couldn't wait for a sunny day to meet again, huh?"

"Psh, come on! Like you meant that literally." Near Bill, the rain had mysteriously stopped landing on Mabel. She looked up and saw the rain simply parting in the air over Bill's head.

He noticed her glance and said, "Did I ever teach you the spell to repel rain? Remind me to do that before you go." He pointed his flashlight's beam at a rune on a stone rising from the platform, and it lifted off again. "Nice sweater today." He poked one parrot-winged sleeve, its bright colors darkened by the soaking rain. "It probably looked better dry."

Mabel smacked away his hand. "Bill, guess what! Grunkle Ford decided to protect you!"

"I know, I saw the wasted shot from here." He steered the platform onto the cliff. He landed it next to a hatch that opened into a subterranean tunnel. "Of course, I always knew he would. Didn't I say we'd pull this off?"

Sure he'd known. That was why he'd lied about what the "enchanted" paper really was so Mabel wouldn't worry.

Mabel followed him down into the metal tunnel. "Do you know what this means? You can come back to the shack!"

Bill turned to stare at her in bewilderment. "Why would I want to do that?"

"Because... it's safe now? They're not gonna kill you?" Mabel squinted. "Why's it so dark in here?"

"Oh, right. You need this." Bill offered the flashlight.

Mabel turned it on. They were in a metal chamber, about half the size of the Mystery Shack's floor room and nowhere near as tall. One end of it had been torn off and dirt and stone served as the new wall. Most of the walls were dominated by heavy metal consoles, curved metal chairs, and screens, a few of which were on but flickered irritatingly. One chair still had a fossilized alien skeleton in it. Bill had put his top hat on it.

His supplies were piled haphazardly on consoles and the floor; all Mabel saw in his food pile was shelf-stable junk food and drinks. The air somehow felt more damp in here than it did outside with the rain. The chairs didn't have cushions, the floor didn't have carpet; everything was hard and cold and dark. She didn't even see a door for a bathroom in here. This was where Bill was staying?

"The Mystery Shack is safe for now," Bill said. "Just wait until Stanley decides to take another swing at me, or Dolores poisons my dinner again—or Ford changes his mind, dunks me in the bathtub, and doesn't let me back out."

"They wouldn't..." Mabel trailed off. She tried to imagine how mad Stan would be when he found out Bill was alive, and had to concede he might.

"Even if it was safe—why would I go back to that sorry makeshift prison?" Bill hopped up into one of the tilted alien chairs. There was a weird extended bit designed for alien anatomy that curved up at the end of the seat and forced Bill to straddle the chair rather than sit in it normally; it didn't look comfortable. "After almost a month and a half, I'm finally free!"

"Free inside a tiny bubble around the town," Mabel protested. "To live in a... weird little metal dirt room."

"Freely moving inside the entire barrier is a lot better than freely moving through half a shack! Surrounded by people who want me dead! I don't even get full privacy when I'm using the toilet—that's the bare minimum humans offer as basic respect! You don't know how many times I've been walked in on!"

"Do you even have a toilet here?"

Bill hesitated. "There's a—there are gas stations within walking distance."

"How are you gonna get into the restroom?"

"Fine, I'll dig a pit or something, all right? The point is, whatever I do, at least I can do it in freedom!"

He hadn't planned this through at all, Mabel realized. He'd only thought as far ahead as finding food and shelter that would last him the next couple of days. "But..." She gestured at the pathetic room around them. "The shack's got a proper roof and a shower and real food—wouldn't that be better than this?"

Bill scoffed "Only humans care about roofs and showers, and the idea of 'real' food is a social construct I reject!"

He'd be miserable here. Mabel couldn't let Bill do this to himself. "Then don't you wanna be in the shack with your only friend on Earth?" She gave him a pleading look. "Would you really rather spend the rest of summer in some dumb old busted alien ship?"

There was a flash of light reflected in the dark as Bill's eyes turned away from Mabel.

"Bill?"

He didn't respond. He trudged past her, halfway up the walkway out of the ship, and stopped there, his back to Mabel, hands on his hips, staring out into the rain. He sighed. "Kid, you're trying to give me Stockholm syndrome."

"I don't know what that means."

"It means I'll think about it," Bill said, voice flat. "Go back to the shack."

Before Mabel could move, Bill said, "Hold on. Let me teach you that umbrella spell first." He turned and descended back into the ship. "And when's the last time you ate? Human bodies act pathetic if they don't get glucose every three hours. Get some lunch, it's a long bike back to the shack." He gestured at his meager food supplies.

She rummaged through the foil bags and colorful boxes and grabbed some Chipackers and sour gummy dolphins.

Bill sat near her, grabbed a bag of jerky for himself, and said, "And tell me about that concert you abandoned me to my doom for."

####

4:00 p.m.

Bill escorted Mabel down off the cliff—and, at her request, let her borrow the flashlight and wiggle the floating platform back and forth a little as they descended. He took back the flashlight when she nearly crashed the platform and killed them both.

"Where'd this come from?" Mabel asked, poking the stone. "Did the aliens make this, too?"

"Nope! This is good old local Earth magic. Ever hear of Caterpillar Man?"

"Is that some kind of superhero?"

"Afraid not. Well—ever hear of Grendel?"

"Uh-uh."

They were nearly at the ground now. "I think I'll tell you next time."

As the platform lifted him back up, Bill watched Mabel wheel her bike through the trees, slowly heading toward the main road back into town.

For a midsummer day, it was chilly in the rain.

####

Monday, 1:03 a.m.

And it was even chillier in the post-midnight dark when he knocked on the Mystery Shack's door.

####

(Eager to hear what y'all think now that you've seen the full story of how Bill survived—last week once Dipper and Mabel's roles were revealed, I think most folks thought that fully explained how Bill faked his death. ;) Next week is probably a double length chapter, because there's no graceful way to break it in half and also it'd be nice to get this plot arc wrapped up before The Book of Bill comes out lmao.)

#bill cipher #human bill cipher #grunkle ford #stanford pines #gravity falls #gravity falls fic #gravity falls fanart #fanart #my art #my writing #bill goldilocks cipher

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macfrog · 1 year

Text

welcome home cowboy like me chapter five

he's back!!! and he's putting up DECORATIONS part v is yours, loves. if ya wanna read the first four (!! how did we get here) parts, you can check out my masterlist right here 😊 as always your support means the WORLD to me. i love talking with y'all & hearing your thoughts. lmk what we think of this one!!!

pairing: dbf!joel x fem!reader

summary: joel requests your help to decorate his house for sarah’s return…and a few other things, too

warnings: 18+ minors dni!!! the smut is smutting. oral (f receiving), unprotected p in v sex (wrap it the fuck UP), praise kink, lil bit of overstimulation, age gap (reader is 23, joel is 48), un poco consumption of alcohol, cursing, soft!joel at the end tbh i'm a sucker for him

word count: 5.4k

series masterlist | main masterlist | playlist

It’s where this was headed anyway, wasn’t it? You’ve fucked around with Joel three times now, and none of your clothes have ever made it off your bodies. This is a first. You’ve never had an empty house plus the time and space to really do it. Always someone about to walk in, or someone waiting for one of you. When, if not right this fucking second? “I want,” you breathe, fingers now taking hold of the waistband of his black boxers, “you,” you slip them down, “inside me,” exposing the base of his hard cock, “right now.”

The two front legs of your chair scrape against the wooden floor as you lift it to sit down. Your dad had an early finish today, so said he’d cook dinner. From scratch.

He’d refused your help when you offered to keep an eye on the chicken, was more offended when you said you’d cook the asparagus, and now, looking at your scrunched nose as you stare down at the lumpy mashed potatoes, looks just plain insulted.

“Sit, eat, don’t say a word.”

“I offered to help.”

His fork hits off the porcelain plate and he sighs. “I had a lot to tend to, alright?”

“Chicken, asparagus, and…mashed potatoes?” you say, dragging your fork through the mash – though it’s more lump than it is mash.

“Eat. It.”

You tuck in, ignoring the rattle of the table as you tug your knife back and forth to cut the chicken. Your dad’s face reddens as you chew your way through his meal.

“How was work?”

You throw your mouthful back your throat with a gulp and take a big swig of water. “Good,” you try not to choke out, “Sal let me go early ‘cause it was so quiet.”

“Yeah?”

You nod. “Bill was in lookin’ for screws or something. Was Anna who helped him–”

Your sentence is cut short by your dad’s ringtone, and he leans back in his chair to the sideboard behind to retrieve it.

“Yep?” he says, and you know who’s on the other end. Yep? means Joel. “Shoot, I forgot to ask her. Well, she’s right here, gimme a sec.”

He covers the bottom of his phone with his palm, and nods toward you.

“You alright to head over to Joel’s tonight ‘n help ‘im with the house for Sarah comin’ home?”

You narrow your eyes, head tilting. “What…?”

“He’s got some banner or something. Joel, what is it you got? Yeah, a banner. Decorations.”

He cocks an eyebrow and looks at you blankly.

You slowly nod, teeth pulling asparagus off your fork. “I can help.”

“She’ll be over in a bit, Joel. Alright. Alright. Bye, now.”

The phone is thrown onto the table with a clatter. Your dad silently resumes eating.

You clear your throat, trying to sound normal over something you feel very not normal about.

“You volunteerin’ me for things again? I thought we talked about this when you told Rita I’d fix up her flowerbeds for her.”

“Oh, we’re bringin’ up the past, are we?”

“Just sayin’,” you mutter, staring down at your lumpy potatoes.

“Wasn’t me, anyways. Joel asked for you specially this afternoon. Told him you were workin’, he said to ask you when you got back. Was his idea.”

Was it, now? That’s…interesting.

“What time’s he wanting me over?”

“Whenever. He’s in all night.”

Suddenly you’re not so hungry for overcooked chicken and not-mashed potatoes anymore.

You swallow down what you can – what’s edible, anyway – and head upstairs to get ready. Trying to act casual enough that your dad won’t sense your eagerness.

Sure, just grabbing my shoes. I just want the house to look nice for Sarah. It’s really her I’m thinking of. Okay, cool, see you, bye.

You throw a pair of sneakers on, check yourself once over in the mirror, and grab your keys.

“That was quick,” your dad remarks when you reach the bottom of the stairs. He’s still powering through his asparagus.

“Just…wanna get it done. For Sarah, y’know.”

He nods. “You lookin’ forward to havin’ her back? Your ol’ pal?”

“Sure. Alright, I’m off. Don’t wait up.”

You practically throw yourself out the front door before he can get another word in, striding over to your car. You’re thankful when the late sun hits you to only be in sweat shorts and a vest top; it may be seven in the evening, but the heat is still stifling.

You pull up in Joel’s drive and climb out, giving the neighborhood a quick scan as you walk over to the front door, trying not to skip. Being handed an excuse to spend a few hours alone with him in an empty house feels like winning the lottery, you’re a little embarrassed to admit.

Joel’s in the living room laying out the decorations he’s bought when you walk in. He’s wearing a denim shirt and white Rangers tee underneath, his regular old jeans on the bottom.

His Hello is comprised of a glance up, a lift of his eyebrows, and a quick scan over your body as you approach. You take a deep breath to dissipate the bubbling feeling in your stomach.

“So, you asked for me specially, huh?”

He nods. “It was either you or your dad, and his ass ain’t as nice to look at as yours.”

“Oh, nice. Glad to be of service. Looks good,” you muse, nodding downward.

The supplies are sprawled out over the coffee table between you both. A huge banner folded up; the beginning of the word Welcome visible. A few packets of multi-colored streamers, balloons, and other gold and silver colored stuff lay around it.

“Probably won’t use it all,” Joel says, sniffing. “Just wanted to give her a big welcome home.”

“All my dad did was pick me up at the airport,” you scoff.

Joel looks up, misses a beat, then says, “Well, your welcome home gift is me.”

“Ha. Good one. C’mon. Let’s get started.”

You task Joel with blowing up balloons while you balance along the back of his couch to tape streamers to the top of the walls. It’s a struggle, though, since Joel keeps tying balloons and hitting them over to you, aiming for your head. He titters to himself when your hair begins to go static.

“That funny to you?” you yell, whacking the fifth balloon out of your face.

“Yeah,” he chuckles back. “You should see your hair, kid.”

By the time the streamers are suspended from the ceiling, dancing in the breeze from the open windows, Joel’s out of breath and sweating.

“Hard fuckin’ work,” he mutters, taking off his shirt. He throws it onto the couch without looking, but still, you suspect he knows exactly what you’ll do.

With a sideward glance to him, you lean back and fish it from the couch, throwing it over yourself. There’s something intoxicating about wearing his clothes, smelling him all over yourself, feeling the warmth from his body. Joel knows it. When he glances over at you to see his shirt hanging off your shoulders, he smirks.

“I think we deserve a break,” he says, eyes lingering.

When he makes off for the kitchen, you throw yourself down on his couch, head falling back against the soft cushions.

He returns with two beers, handing one down to you before laying back beside you. Your shoulders rub against one another as you both take a swig.

“Your dad really didn’t do nothin’? When you got home?”

“I guess you could say he did the barbecue,” you reply, shrugging.

“The neighborhood barbecue, that everyone takes a turn at hostin’? The same one he had you out buyin’ steaks and soda for, two hours before it started?”

“I don’t need a welcome home party. I am the welcome home party.” Your middle finger meets your thumb and you give your wrist a shake in the air, and Joel laughs.

“You deserve one.”

“You wanna throw me one?”

“Can do. If you want.”

You smile in response.

A few moments of silence pass. Comfortable silence. You lie, temple resting against Joel’s shoulder, listening to the trees in his back yard rustle, the birds singing. Peaceful, tranquil. Content.

You like talking with Joel. You like when he’s doing other stuff to you, sure, but you like just being around him. It’s different to spending time with anyone else his age. They all want to ask about your future, your career, are you dating anyone?

Joel just lets you be. Doesn’t push nothin’, doesn’t make you worry. Just wants to make you feel good.

Both mentally and physically, of course.

“Heard any more from Arthur Kennedy?” you ask, more just to hear his voice again than anything. You’re kinda worried he’s falling asleep over there.

Joel takes a deep breath, starts playing with the label on his beer bottle. “Nope,” he says, taking a quick sip, “and don’t wanna.”

“What is it with him, anyways? Why is he the way he is?”

“Just a dirtbag of a man. You get ‘em, y’know? Ain’t none of us really like him. I was pissed at your dad for askin’ him the other day.”

“What does he say at Frank’s? What kinda talk does he give?”

Joel shakes his head like he doesn’t even want to open his mouth. When you nudge him, he clears his throat and then speaks.

“Just all this, ‘I bagged this chick last week’, ‘I was messin’ ‘round with this little beauty’… ‘Tighter ‘n a’ this, ‘Wetter ‘n a’ that. We all know he’s just talkin’ load. The man’s too old to even get an erection anymore.”

You snort. “I bet I could run rings around ‘im, if I ever caught him talking like that.”

Joel half laughs, but it falls apart when his tone gets quietly serious again.

“Just…do me a favor, and stay away from him,” he says in a soft voice. “You’d have me up all night if I thought him ‘n his sleazy hands were anywhere near you.”

He turns his head to lean his jaw on your hair. You think over what he just said. The thought of Joel, awake all night with worry about some sleazeball being within a four-house radius of you makes your stomach flutter.

The idea of him being worried about you. The thought of what he’d do if he ever caught wind Arthur Kennedy had even so much as looked at you twice.

Before your stomach lurches out of your throat with the butterflies soaring around it, you decide to cut the moment short.

“Where’s the banner goin’?” You lean forward, placing your beer on the coffee table and taking hold of the sign.

“Was thinkin’ on that wall,” Joel nods to the wall across from the living room door, “so it’s the first thing she sees when she comes in.”

“Uhuh,” you reply, nodding.

“C’mere,” he says, standing up. “Climb on.”

“Climb on what?”

“My shoulders. I can’t reach all the way up there, what with the TV in the way and all.”

“You’re, like, six feet.”

“It’s a big banner,” he grumbles, kneeling to let you swing your legs over his shoulders. “C’mon. Up.”

“Pfft, okay, old man.”

“Old–? Did you just–? That’s not even funny.”

Joel straightens up and you clutch your stomach with laughter.

“Will you just get on, baby?”

“Alright, alright. Stay still.”

You carefully mount his shoulders and his steady hands wrap around your knees, holding you in place. You wobble as he straightens his legs, lifting you so high your head brushes off the ceiling.

“Alright, be careful. No sudden movements.”

“Right here?” you ask, positioning it.

“Little to the left,” he groans, craning his neck to see. “Right there, that’s it.”

You push the pin through the banner and into the wall, releasing your breath once it’s secured. Joel slowly shuffles over to the other side where you line it up and do the same there.

Once all four corners are in place, he steps back, your legs still wrapped over his neck, and you both admire your teamwork. Joel’s thumbs are gently rubbing your thighs.

“Looks good, huh?”

“Mhm,” you reply. “Anything else to go up?”

“Nah. That’ll do.”

“You just keepin’ me up here for company, then?” you ask, leaning over to look at his face.

He looks back up at you and snorts. “Sorry, darlin’.”

Joel slowly makes over to the couch and bends a little, letting you dismount him to stand on the leather cushion. You’re only slightly taller than him, even standing on his furniture.

He doesn’t take his eyes off you, scanning from your lips down to your chest, curtained by his shirt, then over your stomach and down your legs. You know that look. You’ve seen it enough by now. It means…

“What’s next?” you innocently ask, and his eyes snap back up to your face.

Instead of answering, he steps forward, taking your waist in his hands and pulling you against him. His chin tilts up and you smile as you dip your head, connecting your lips.

You immediately deepen the kiss, feeling Joel’s hunger, and satiating your own, too. Your arms drape over his shoulders, relaxing as his form holds you, allowing you to fold into him.

His arms take a grip of you as he bends at the waist, lowering you both down onto the couch, laughing against each other’s lips. He pulls your thighs apart to lean his hips between yours.

His hands begin exploring your body, feeling from your hips over your breasts, making you moan into the kiss, and settle on the collar of his shirt, pushing the sleeves down your shoulders to remove it. In return, your fingers find the hem of his tee and pull it up over his midriff, hunger growing with each hot second that passes.

He leans back, giving you room to whip the shirt over his head, before his naked torso is back on you. His fingers then dance along the waistband of your shorts, untying them whilst his other hand plays at the hem of your vest.

Your shorts lying loose on your hips, he peels your top off of your body, and your shoulders lift to let it over your head. Joel takes the opportunity while your back is off the couch to unclip your bra, throwing the article to the floor.

“Nice,” you whisper into his mouth, and he chuckles in response.

His bare chest, decorated lightly with dark brown hair, is against yours; his lips move to your neck, biting another mark into the sensitive skin. Your head tilts back and you let out a moan, wanting more, but Joel’s taking his time. He’s making every second count.

You buck your hips against his and he lifts his head, giving you a knowing smirk and obeying your silent request. He begins making his way down, not forgetting to stop off by your tits and run his tongue over your nipples.

Your hands find home in his hair and your back arches some as he caresses the hardened buds, lips forming an O shape to suck on one while tending to the other with his thumb and index finger.

When you whine and your hips lift a second time, he moves across your tummy and toward your lowering shorts.

Eyes glazed with lust, you watch as he yanks them down, your panties the only thing separating you from him now. You hear your shorts hit the floor when he drops them, and places a wet kiss over your clothed cunt.

“Joel,” you moan, head falling back against the cushion. He’s driving you fucking insane.

“Mhm,” he murmurs, kissing the insides of your thighs. “Tell me, baby, tell me what you want.”

You writhe under his touch; he’s so close, and yet so far.

“Your tongue,” you whimper.

“Huh? Can’t hear you over your moanin’, pretty girl.”

“Fuck– Need your fucking tongue,” you say as clearly as you can, still whining some.

“Good girl.”

He uncovers your soaking cunt and tears – literally, tears – your panties off of your body, balling them up in a tight fist. You gasp, both delighted and relieved, watching him discard the ripped fabric by his side.

Neither of you give a fuck. You’re desperate to feel each other, be on each other, be in each other.

He dips his head to your sex, and drags a long stripe up to your clit, collecting your juices on his tongue as he does. His tongue runs between your folds, swirling around, licking and threatening to dip further, before he lifts away again.

You let out a long moan, hands still tugging at his hair, attempting to push his head harder on your pussy. He doesn’t budge.

“Patience, baby,” he’s whispering, lowering his chin again to place his soft lips against your swollen clit.

He knows what he’s fucking doing – teasing you and making you wait like this. He wants it to build, really build, before you cum. He’s not cutting any corners.

His lips center over your bud, tongue tapping against it as he sucks, and brings his fingers up to sift through your folds. Your cunt aches for him; your hips find rhythm against his mouth as you fuck yourself off of him, and he lets you.

Feeling how wet you are, he plunges two long, curved fingers into your pussy, and your back, sticky with sweat, peels off of the couch for the second time.

“Fuck, Joel,” you gasp, feeling the stretch of his fingers inside you.

He hums against you, the vibrations of his deep voice pleasuring you more. He’s loving it as much as you are; tasting you, hearing you, breathing all of it in like it’s fresh air to his lungs.

Your breathing begins to falter, your chest rising and falling, your entire body ignited by his touch. You’re panting his name over and over, whining every time his fingers hit the spongey walls of your cunt.

He’s so fucking good at this.

He removes his fingers and replaces them with his lips, mouth planted firmly against your pussy. You widen your legs and he pushes down on your thighs, keeping them apart to make room for his jaw against your core, tongue licking between your folds again.

“Tongue,” you remind him.

“I hear ya,” he mumbles, and opens his lips.

His wet tongue slips into your cunt like it’s made to be there. You screw your eyes shut, pushing your upper back into the couch to lift your ass to him. His top lip cups around your clit as he eats you out, moans strumming against your sex, tongue exploring your wet hole.

“I’m close,” you whisper, and he removes his lips for two seconds to tell you to “Keep goin’, baby.”

“Doin’ so well for me,” he laps at your juices, “taste so fucking good, beautiful.”

He inserts his fingers again to bring you nearer your climax, and your mind starts to blank. You know what’s coming.

You can’t even form the shape of his name with your mouth as you draw nearer and nearer to your high; all you can focus on is the feeling of his hand fucking you, pumping in and out of your tight pussy, the way his tongue soaks your clit, the rutting of your hips all over his face.

It’s so fucking filthy, and so fucking good.

When Joel’s voice breaks through the fog in your brain, telling you to “Let go, baby, I’m here,” you obey him.

The edges of the room start to bleed white as your body lifts, fingers gripping onto Joel’s hair, hips digging further into the cushion.

It’s only ten o’clock; for all you know, Joel’s neighbors might be out in their backyard enjoying the warm night breeze. Do you care? Fuck no. You cry his name loud enough that the whole street might hear.

He coaxes you through it, drinking in your orgasm, moaning when your walls lock around his fingers and you cover his tongue in your sweet wet.

He slips his soaked fingers from your core and you whine at the loss; Joel makes up for it by gently massaging your aching clit as you come down, spreading your cum all over you.

“That’s it, baby, did so good. That felt good, huh?”

Still coming to, you don’t reply; you feel his weight back on top of yours, his safe arms wrapping around your shoulders.

“’s okay, darlin’,” he coos as your sight starts to return. He peppers your neck with gentle, wet kisses, bringing you back to earth.

Before even you realize it, your fingers are grasping at his jeans, blindly trying to undo the button and zipper. Joel laughs, lifting his hips to give you better access.

You giggle, loosening them and hauling them past his hips, and he sits up to drag them down his legs and shove them off near your shorts.

“What now, sweet girl?”

Your voice is low, serious. Barely above a whisper.

“Fuck me.”

He almost looks taken aback. As if he never thought he’d hear those words escape your lips. Like he’d been pushing you, further and further, expecting you to always hold back, always bounce back from the edge.

And here you are, clutching his arms and hauling him over with you.

It’s where this was headed anyway, wasn’t it? You’ve fucked around with Joel three times now, and none of your clothes have ever made it off your bodies. This is a first.

You’ve never had an empty house plus the time and space to really do it. Always someone about to walk in, or someone waiting for one of you. When, if not right this fucking second?

“I want,” you breathe, fingers now taking hold of the waistband of his black boxers, “you,” you slip them down, “inside me,” exposing the base of his hard cock, “right now.”

Joel’s eyes darken just as his huge cock bounces free from his underwear.

He’s watching your lips breathe out the words like it’s all he ever wanted to hear, all he’s thought about since that first night with your hands on his thighs, looking up at him so innocently.

Just waiting to be fucking ruined by him.

You slur the words again. “F-fuck me.”

“Yeah? ‘s that what you want?”

“Mhm.”

He’s kneeling over you now, helping you tug the underwear down his legs, precum-coated tip of his cock drawing circles on your stomach.

When he’s fully naked, he presses his body against yours, speaking to you between hot, wet kisses.

“You sure you can take it, pretty girl?”

“I’m sure,” you reply, lust taking over any remnants of your orgasm. Just fucking fuck me.

Joel’s hips raise, and he looks down to guide his cock to your hole. You bring your knees up, positioning them just under his biceps.

“Good,” he mumbles under his breath.

You’re so wet that when he runs his shaft through your folds, slicking himself up, his tip kisses the entrance of your cunt, drawing a gasp from you and a growl from Joel. You’re desperate for him to just slide in, make himself at home where he belongs, between your hips.

And when he does, it’s fucking euphoric.

He’s big. You knew this already. But feeling him inside you is different.

He pushes in halfway first, letting you get used to him.

“Okay?” he asks quietly.

You nod; your voice catches in your throat as he falls out of you, just to thrust in again and let his cock dive through your soaked, swollen folds straight into your warm cunt.

He’s so big that when he bottoms out inside you for the first time, your mouth falls open wordlessly, and your brain shuts down for a few minutes. Nothing but the feeling of him slipping in and out of your cunt slowly, fucking you dumb.

When he knows you can take him, he picks up the pace, dragging his hips back and forth against yours, filling you up until his tip kisses the edge of your cervix, and pulling out until he’s between your folds again.

You’re holding onto his shoulders like you’re hanging off a cliff edge. The feeling of his hot skin under your arms is the only thing keeping you grounded right now; the pressure between your legs with each thrust of his huge cock threatening to pull you off the edge of the abyss.

When his voice breathes in your ear between his groans, you snap back to reality. Thighs burning, nails scratching, pussy throbbing reality.

“You okay, baby?”

“Mhm.”

“Let me hear you, pretty girl, tell me how good it feels.”

He’s going faster still, balls smacking against your ass every time he bottoms out, sighs and whimpers passing your lips.

You whine his name, telling him, “Harder,” and he obliges, hips snapping ever stronger. His pubic bone grinds against your clit as he thrusts, the pressure spreading spots of pure bliss across your vision.

You look down to where your bodies connect, mesmerized by the sight of his cock pumping in and out of you. It turns you on even more.

“We look good, huh?” his voice lulls from above, and you look back up to find him watching you.

He dips his head and kisses you, and you start to near your second high.

“Joel,” you mewl, the feeling so good you can’t even form the words to tell him.

He knows, anyway.

“So good, baby,” he’s panting, sweaty forehead leaning against yours, “gonna cum all over me again?”

You nod, eyes screwing shut. He’s fucking you so good you’re barely remembering to breathe.

“Let go, darlin’, let me hear you,” he whispers, and you fold.

Joel bites into the crook of your neck and lets out a loud groan as he feels your pussy clamp around him. He fucks you through it, only slowing for a few seconds to let it wash over you, then picks the pace straight back up when you quieten and your breathing calms.

You’re so fucking overstimulated, but he’s not done, and you know what he wants. You want something, too. Maybe you two could work together.

“Joel?”

“Mhm?” He’s gone quiet, chasing his own high. You hear his breathing stammer when you say it.

“Want you to do it from behind.”

“Beh–” He’s almost gasping for breath, but when he understands what you mean, he wastes no time.

Wordlessly, he loosens his grip on you and pushes himself up, dick slipping out. You moan at the feeling of emptiness as it pulls out of you.

He gives you space to turn over, helping you move further up the couch with steady hands on your hips. When you settle, he lifts your ass up.

“Not gonna last long, baby,” he tells you, and you nod. Your right ear lies flat, sweat sticking you to the leather, hands splayed out above your head gripping the cushions.

You feel him line up again, his thighs against yours. Your breathing jilts as his head pushes in, followed by his shaft, filling you up, deeper and deeper until his balls kiss your clit.

You let a deep moan pass your lips. Joel groans, hips leaving your ass, only to smack into them again as he fucks you even deeper from this position.

He’s stretching you out more than you thought possible, cock spearing into you, tears swelling across your half-shut eyes. The feeling, the pain, too good to ask him to stop, but so overwhelming you can feel every thought, every instinct, every other feeling, leave your body with every thrust.

Joel’s all you know. He’s all you want to know.

Your legs start to give, and he places his rough hands on your waist to hold you up, pumping in and out of you at a punishing pace.

“Joel…” you whine.

“I know, baby, I know. I’m there, too.”

You feel his weight pushing on the back of your thighs and open your eyes to see him leaning over you, hands placed either side of your head. You lace your fingers with his and let him fuck you, totally mindless to everything around you except for the man at your ass, pummeling his dick inside you so deep your cunt is aching.

It pushes you over the edge.

Your walls squeeze his dick, threatening to pull him over with you. Your vision blanks for the third time tonight; what energy you have left is poured into the filthy cry which escapes your lips as Joel’s hard cock splits you open.

“So tight, baby, good fuckin’ girl.”

Joel begins to falter, his thrusts become sloppy, and he pushes your ass off of him so not to finish inside you. You kinda feel disappointed, wishing he’d just stay inside and fill you to the brim with his cum.

Joel gives himself a couple more strokes before you feel his seed coat your ass, warm, dripping down the small of your back and the underside of your thighs.

You moan at the feeling of him spilling all over you, the grunts he lets slip as his orgasm washes over him. You smile dumbly at the thought that you’re the one doing this to him; you’re the one covered in his cum. You’re his, even if it’s only in this moment.

He’s panting behind you. He almost collapses on top of your back, propping himself on his elbows to keep some of his weight off.

He gently leans down and nuzzles his nose against your ear, eliciting a quiet giggle from you.

“You okay?” he breathes.

You nod. “Better than okay.”

“You sore?”

“A little.”

“Baby…” he coos, and pushes himself up.

You sigh as his weight leaves you, and you hear his footsteps pad into the kitchen. You stay put, in part to keep from staining Joel’s couch with…well, Joel, but mostly because you’re too fucked-out to even move. Too fucked to feel your thighs, your back, never mind between your legs.

Joel returns with paper towel, and softly wipes from your back to your thighs, cleaning up his mess. He massages your muscles as he goes, and your eyes shut over with the sweet feeling.

When he’s done, he rolls you over and takes hold of your ankle, pulling you down the leather to his grasp, where he puts his tee over your head and helps you feed your arms through the sleeves. The Rangers logo sits just below your chest.

He pulls his boxers back on, before taking your outstretched arms and scooping you up in his. Your head falls limp in the crook of his neck, his arms wrapped securely around your waist.

He carries you, completely dazed and fucked, out of the living room and upstairs. He makes a right at the top, down the dim hallway, past the same closet he went down on you in just two days ago, toward a door at the end. He knocks it open and takes you through.

Even in your half-sleeping state, you know exactly where you are. You’re in Joel’s bedroom.

You’ve been in here before, maybe only a couple times, when Sarah’s needed something or you’ve accompanied your dad to help repair something for Joel, but it feels different now.

It’s dark, the sun almost set on the other side of the house and the streetlights’ glow a burning orange right above Joel’s headboard.

He carries you over to the left side of the bed and lays you down in his soft sheets. He tucks you under the comforter and bends to place a long, tender kiss on top of your head.

You begin to swim in and out of sleep, waking to find him folding your clothes into a neat pile by the bedside, then again to watch him set a glass of water on the nightstand.

Your eyes are glued shut with exhaustion when you feel him lift the duvet behind you and slip in, taking your waist under his forearm and pulling you flush against his frame.

You listen to the faint sound of a cell phone dialing, and then hear his voice; soft, hushed, but still normal Joel.

“Hey, man. Yeah, no, everything’s fine. We were pretty late finishin’ up with these decorations, and then The Shining was on TV, so we stayed up to watch it. She’s pretty exhausted. I let her take Sarah’s room, I hope that’s okay?”

Your dad’s voice is faint down the line as you begin to drop off in Joel’s arms.

“Sure thing, thanks, Joel. You kick her out first thing, you hear? Don’t want her holdin’ you up for gettin’ Sarah.”

When you hear him slide his cell back onto his nightstand, you mumble something incoherent into his arm.

“What, darlin’?” Joel asks, head lifting to hear you better.

“I said, great welcome home party. Thanks.”

His lips press lightly on your shoulder, his breath hot on your skin. Whatever it is he says, you don’t hear it, already long gone to a deep, comfortable sleep.

----------

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#joel miller #joel miller fic #dbf!joel #dbf!joel miller #joel miller x reader #the last of us #tlou #tlou fic #joel miller smut #fic: cowboy like me

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oneforthemunny · 4 months

Note

You are so good with angst!! If you feel like it: thong, but with Mafia!Eddie Oops, he forgot to mention a business associate was coming over with him

i'm guessing and went with smut as the genre like the one thong request with older!eddie haha! here's mafia!eddie <3 minors dni

You closed your eyes, the cool air from the many box fans you had piled in the room finally cooling you. The dogs laid out with their own. You knew they wanted to touch you, they always wants to be near you, but today you'd commanded them to the floor. It was too damn hot for anyone, anything to touch you.

Clothing included.

You found yourself shedding more and more clothes throughout the day until you were left in nothing but your thong. You ridded yourself of your tank top last, calling it quits for the day and retreating to Eddie's office- the coolest and sunless room in the house, dragging all the fans into there.

The air conditioning unit had stopped working yesterday evening, of course, in the middle of the heatwave that was terrorizing Hawkins right now. Eddie had told you he'd get it fixed, that someone would be there soon. That was this morning, hours ago, and they still hadn't shown up.

The front door opened, closing with a heavy thud that had the dogs up and at alert. "Baby?" Eddie's muffled voice called from downstairs.

Diablo let out a commanding bark, ears erect and pointed, nose touching the door. "In here," You groaned, too tired to move. Why would you? It was too hot to, and the fan felt so nice on your hot skin, finally comfortable for the first time all day.

"In my office?" Eddie's voice got closer. You didn't bother moving, not even opening your eyes, the cool air and hum of the fan lulling you.

The dogs barked in excitement when Eddie walked in, running around him. Eddie clicked, a demand for them to get back. "Did they not come and get it fixed?" Eddie asked.

"No," You groaned, a soft pout on your features. "It's so hot, Ed. I don't kno-"

"-Woah!"

"-Baby!" Eddie's hiss came after another voice, your eyes snapping open. Eddie's wide eyed meeting yours, a blush rising up his neck, Jeff standing behind him, back turned from you, undoubtedly with the same embarrassed expression.

"Eddie!" You squeaked, hands flying to cover your pebbled nipples. You squeezed your legs together, hoping to hide what the tiny thong didn't. "I-I didn't- You didn't tell me people were coming over!"

Eddie snatched the blanket off the arm of the couch, covering it over you. Your skin pricked with sweat at the thick cashmere laying over you, but you didn't dare move.

"Jeff, gimme a sec." Eddie nodded towards him.

Jeff muttered something, back still turned as she quickly left the room. Your body burned, both with the heat and from embarrassment.

"Why do you not have any clothes on?" Eddie lifted a brow, voice dropping lowly when Jeff shut the door.

"I was hot!" You squeaked. "I didn't know people were coming over!"

"What about the air conditioning guy?" Eddie frowned at you, a dark, possessive look clouding over him.

"You said he wouldn't come in the house, and I didn't need to answer the door!" You countered, glaring at him lightly. "That's why I came in your office with all the fans, because I knew- Well, I thought, no one would come in here."

Eddie's face softened, a small huff leaving his lips. His hair was pulled back, curls frizzy from the heat. He had opted for a short sleeve shirt today, still black, but silk, the top buttons undone.

"My clothes are over there." You nodded towards the arm chair, where you'd lazily thrown your tank top and tiny cotton shorts.

Eddie walked over, switching your clothes for the blanket. You slipped the tank top over your head, the cotton clinging to your clammy skin. Maybe you'd have a cool bath instead, soak in the cold water and finally cool down.

Eddie lazily folded the blanket back, eyes watching you through a half lidded gaze. "When'd you get those?" He hummed, eyes lingering over your tiny, lacy thong. "That's new."

Your skin pricked with heat, excited, flushed, a little embarrassed still. "Last week," You muttered, looking up at him carefully. "When Nancy and I went shopping. I saw them and thought they were cute."

Eddie hummed. "Very cute." His lips twitched in a grin. "Keep 'em on for me, ok? I'm gonna try and get rid of Jeff. Send him to go get that lazy fucking asshole to fix this air conditioning." He huffed in annoyance.

You rolled your eyes gently. "Yeah? And do what? It's way too hot to have sex right now, Eddie. I'm already boiling."

Eddie grinned wickedly, eyes darkening in a way that made you shiver, body kissed in goosebumps. "I think I can find a way for us to cool down." He hummed, gaze rolling over your frame again. "Stay here. I'll be right back."

Eddie returned with his own shirt off, a champagne bucket filled with ice in his hands. The blanket was spread on the floor this time, fans still pointed all around you, before Eddie stripped you back down to nothing but the thong, dragging the ice over your nipples, down your sternum, holding it between his teeth when he drug it up the inside of your thighs leaving you shivering in its wake.

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ssahotchnerr · 1 year

Note

ok what about watching a scary movie that doesnt scare YOU but it scares the shit out aaron?😭 or at least creeps him out more than the murders he sees 24/7

keep the light on

AWWWW omg cw; horror movie details, poor aaron baby is uneasy </3

you reached over to switch off the light, but a sudden hand on your waist halts you.

"wait."

your hand stilled, fingers pulling back an inch or two but lingering within the vicinity of the lampshade. the abrupt stop caused your half of the comforter to dip downward off your body, your eyebrows furrowing in question as you peered behind at aaron.

"can you leave it on?"

"yeah," you fully pulled your hand away and turned your body, switching to your other side and supporting your weight on your elbow. this allowed you to have a clearer, better view of him. "is everything alright?"

"fine." aaron shrugged, a rather forced, nonchalant manner to his action, and in his voice. his head eased back against his pillow, searching for that comfortable spot. "just want it on tonight."

"okay." your fingers stroked through his hair, your nails scratching at his scalp gently. aaron leaned into your touch, his facial features relaxing at the contact; the small lines caused by uneasiness beginning to fade away.

the soft gesture also aided to him voicing his thoughts; safe and secure with you. but first, he stared at you, his brown eyes bordered with a hint of surprise.

confusion arose on your face. "what?"

"are you seriously not freaked out?"

"freaked out...?"

"the movie?"

"oh," you pondered, your fingers slowing as you did so. the horror film the two of you had just finished, not even an hour ago, was already long forgotten in your mind. it had been pretty standard - set in a small town, a psychotic killer on the hunt for victims, some paranormal elements to it. "i mean, not really. why, are you?"

you received a soft grunt in response, aaron now being the one to turn on his side, facing away from you.

"no!" you grabbed at his shoulder, eagerly attempting to readjust him but ultimately failing as he was much stronger than you. but after a bit of struggle, he assisted, easily succumbing and rolling back onto his back, his soft eyes gazing up at you. "are you?"

"a bit." he admitted, chuckling softly in embarrassment, despite not having a reason to be - especially not with you.

"aw," you laughed softly, a small, pitiful smile forming on your face. "i'm sorry love."

"it just..." he shivered vaguely in place, and you continued to run your fingers through his hair soothingly. "too realistic, believe me. that one scene, with the," his face scrunched a bit in disgust. "the gore, to put it simply. seen something like that before."

your face, and heart, dropped. "i'm sorry, i would've shut it off if-"

he moved his head, causing your hand to drop so he could kiss your palm. "i know. it's fine - i'm fine - really."

"are you positive?" your hand moved to his cheek, cupping it, the pad of your thumb grazing along the surface of his skin.

"completely." aaron nodded, the ends of his lips twitching into a barely there smile. his hand slid to your hip, giving it a gentle pat. "just keep the light on for me, please."

part of him still didn't sound like himself, nor was his current expression convincing at all, so you quickly decided to offer the usual, always successful reinforcement, "want me to get jack?"

jack had gone to bed hours ago, but it wasn't uncommon, in times of uneasiness, for one of you to retrieve him in the middle of the night to sleep soundly between the two of you. the close proximity, the added company, was the only thing needed, sometimes.

aaron quieted. an answer within itself.

you brushed his cowlicks away from his forehead, a kiss following afterwards. you kicked off the comforter, quickly getting out of bed. "gimme a sec."

#aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner fluff #aaron hotchner x you #aaron hotch x reader #aaron hotchner imagine #criminal minds #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds x you #criminal minds drabble #aaron hotchner drabble #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds fanfiction #hotch imagine

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hyunjilicious · 1 year

Text

[perv!bang chan x f!reader] and also [lee felix x reader but established relationship]

Summary: the 'there was only one bed trope' but with a twist, because there were more beds available, you were already in a perfect relationship with Felix, and neither of you knew just how head over heels for you Chan was (SMUT) 3k

Warning: obsessed!Chan, like crazy after you why-is-she-so-perfect!Chan, unprotected sex, fucking while someone's supposed to be sleeping in the same bed?? (😭), Chan's a bit of a perv so mentions of creampies, masturbation (m.), cum play, oral (m. receiving), hints of degradation etc. also unedited 🤧 18+ PLS

"I think I'm gonna go to sleep" you mumbled, jolting awake after the sound of an explosion ripped through the room. You rubbed your cheek against Felix's shoulder as a little goodbye, and prepared to stand up.

"No, no, wait!" he called for you, hands still on the controller and eyes still on the enemies on the screen. "I'm coming with you, gimme a sec"

"Hey" Jeongin nudged Felix in the side, him too partially absorbed by the game as he spoke, "We just started this campaign, you're not going to sleep unless you find someone to take your place"

"Yeah, but-"

"Lixie, it's fine" you cooed, pecking the top of his head, "Play all night if you want, don't worry"

"Are you sure?" he asked, turning to face you only for Jeongin to snap.

"Dude!" he cried, doing his best to cover his lovesick friend, "Pay attention, we'll get surrounded"

"Shit, sorry" Felix resumed playing only for his friend to chuckle.

"It's ok"

"I'm gonna go now, ok?" you giggled and advanced towards the door. "Make sure to win!"

Despite turning his head to face you, Felix's eyes remained on the screen. "Good night, angel. I love you"

"Good night, Y/n!"

"Good night, guys. And good luck!"

After leaving their room, you stopped by the kitchen for a little snack, washed your face, changed into your pajamas and then joined Chan in bed.

This wasn't the first time you, Felix and Chan all shared a room, but it was the first time it happened because neither of you bothered to think of the sleeping arrangements before renting the cabin.

With 4 double beds and 9 people in the group, Chan decided to take one for the team and be the one to sleep on the couch. And he would've done just that, had the living room not been the main hangout spot day and night - so that was why he was there tonight, in your bed, almost drifting off, because you and Felix were the most adamant about having him a decent place to sleep.

"Hey, Y/n" Chan greeted you, only his eyes peeking from under the fluffy duvet. "Where's Felix?"

"Playing"

"Still?" he gasped, "It's almost 3"

Laughing, you got in bed under the covers, "I know, I'm surprised too. You're in bed before him and I.n. Never thought I'd live to see this"

"Maybe it's my turn to be an early bird, who knows?" he said softly, eyes drifting closed as the words left his mouth. The light was swiftly turned off, and silence settled.

Truth be told, you were extremely tired and Chan sleeping so close to you wasn't a source of discomfort, yet somehow, your brain refused to settle into a peaceful sleep. You were used to sleeping without Felix due to your schedules, what you weren't used to however was sleeping without him when he was in the same building as you. But, with no plans for the next day, you settled for slipping in and out of consciousness, slightly amused by Chan's little snores as you waited for Felix to come to bed.

At one point, during one of those little time frames where you managed to fall asleep, you were jostled awake by the feeling of the mattress dipping on either side of your hips.

"Felix?" you mumbled, trying to turn around but the weight on your back kept you pinned into place. "Felix, what are you doing?" this time you giggled, knowing very well that no one else would be shamelessly kissing your neck like that.

"Quiet, love" he shushed you and moved on to attack the other side of your neck, "Mm, so sweet"

"Felix, what are you doing!?" you whispered - or moaned, smiling as you tried to pry him off of you.

"Shh, you'll wake Chan"

You were about to ask something, say something - mumble whatever, but then you felt it, "Felix-" you cupped his cheek, "That's your phone, right?"

"My phone's here, flower" he grinned and waved it around in his hand that was resting by your pillow.

"What did you and Jeongin do?" you laughed, the feeling of his rock hard cock against your ass helping you awaken fully. You were ready to get out of bed, head to the bathroom, hop in the shower maybe, relieve the stress somehow, but he had other ideas.

"Doesn't matter, all I know is that I want you now"

But you didn't get a chance to even try to stand up because his hand found its way past the waistband of your pants, under your underwear and to your pussy in record time.

"Felix!" you whispered exasperated, "Chan's right here! Are you insane!?"

"He's fast asleep, relax"

"Felix! He can wake at any moment!"

"Be quiet if you don't want that to happen" he groaned, and tugged down your pants without even the tiniest bit of help from you.

Unable to suppress your lust induced grin, you watched him over your shoulder as he worked himself out of his own sweatpants, his cock springing free, hard and throbbing against your naked ass.

"Quiet, yeah?" he more so demanded, but then refused to help you whatsoever. He knew what he was doing, pushing your limits - of self control, fed on the fact that Chan might catch you - his cock aching at the thought. And the fact that you were visibly on the same length, pussy wet and warm against his fingers, your heart beating rapidly under him, only fueled him more. Maybe you wanted Chan to hear you. It drove him wild.

Initially, he was going to work you up a bit, get you right where he wanted you with a few simple but experienced flicks of his fingers, but you were already there, panting and waiting. So, without bothering to waste any more time, he guided himself to your entrance and rammed his cock inside you, balls deep from the first thrust.

"Fuck!" the whine involuntarily broke past your lips, forcing you to press your face into the pillow.

"Easy, baby, like that" Felix praised you, his tone deep and raspy against your ear, as he started rolling his hips into yours.

Knowing you should keep quiet made everything worse. Every single sense was amplified, you could feel his breath - hear it, hot and goosebumps worthy. One of his arms around your body, the other one right beside your head - his hand, gathered into a fist, and his silver rings having the faint light from outside beautifully roll off them inches away from your lips. He smelled pretty - chocolate on his lips and the cologne he always wore. It was bad, you were done for, because the second your mind wandered off and you felt every single little vein on his throbbing cock rub against your walls, you bit into your lips and cried in order to suppress your moan.

"Angel" Felix threatened, "You're too loud, you'll wake him up"

"Felix-" you barely said before he slapped his hand against your mouth, lowered himself completely on top of you and fully halted his movements.

Only when Felix stilled, did you hear Chan. Wide eyed and terrified, you both watched him roll onto his back to face the ceiling - mouth slightly open as he prepared to resume snoring.

You wanted to say something, but Felix's hand covering your mouth wasn't budging. "Think you can shut up, love?" he asked.

Had you two been alone, you'd have dared push it and swear you'd be quiet, but with Chan stirring in his sleep mere inches away from Felix's dick which was balls deep inside your cunt, you didn't really need the extra adrenaline. So you just squeezed your eyes shut and shook your head against his hand, your honesty making him chuckle.

"That's ok, I got you"

His tone was reassuring, he knew how to talk to you to keep you calm, but he did it on purpose now. He had no reason to be this sweet only to then resume his thrusting with no warning whatsoever.

You couldn't call his name, you couldn't moan, couldn't cry, all that was left for you to do was sink - and drown under the weight of his body on top of yours. His thrusts were slow but deep and rhythmic, enough to drive you crazy, but again, he knew you.

"Can you cum for me like this?" he questioned again against your ear.

He knew it wasn't always exactly the easiest for you to finish, and he knew exactly what to do and how to do it in order to get you there, but what he didn't know was just how much Chan's presence affected you. He was about to find out though, and you weren't exactly excited for the conversation.

Oh, the dread. It was excruciating for him really, the anxiety making it all worse. What kind of a pervert just lays there listening - what kind of a man - oh, the whimpers. Fuck.

Why did he think turning over to sleep on his back would be a better idea - less pressure on his throbbing cock, obviously, but his face was exposed and one long enough look from either you or Felix and his cover would have been blown. No one sweats that much in their sleep, no one breathes like that when they're supposed to be far away, deep inside the dreamland, unless it was a nightmare. But the more he thought about it, that was what this was, a long, painful and disgusting nightmare.

He didn't know when it all stopped, when either of you finished. Chan wished he could've heard you, maybe also stolen a glance but it was too much, too risky, he knew he'd have never been able to look either of you in the eye if he had been caught.

But once it was all done, once it was all over and you two had cleaned up and cuddled into each other to sleep, he finally felt free enough to turn around and face away from you. Now he could keep his eyes open and squint in pain as much as he needed, as just because his best friend was done fucking the love of his life, didn't mean his raging erection suddenly disappeared.

What he was waiting for was a snore, a loud noise which you'd both ignore, something, anything, to let him know you were both asleep and that he could get out of bed.

While in reality it had been no more than 20 minutes since Felix entered the bedroom, to Chan it felt like it was already the last day of vacation, as if a whole week had been drained out of him by the time he finally reached the bathroom.

He had never hopped in the shower as fast as he did now, not even waiting for the water to warm up. He just propped himself there, one hand against the marble wall and his head hanging low as he stood and cursed.

He hoped the water would not only wash away the sweat off his body, but also the absolute obscenities that crossed his mind. The way he grabbed his cock was involuntary, making him hiss in pain from the amount of torture he had been put through.

It was him whimpering in the empty bathroom but he could only hear you, the way you breathed, moaned, and called his best friend's name. The water had barely warmed up enough to not sting his skin, but it was already steaming off of him.

"Fuck-" Chan cursed, furiously pumping his cock in his hand. He did his best not to picture you there, kneeling in front of him, mouth wide open and ready to receive his cum. He tried so hard not to imagine what your cunt felt like, what it was like to grip your hair into his fist, what sounds you made when he hurt you just enough to make your pussy tighten around him.

And because his mind was intoxicated and only god could judge him now, he couldn't help but wonder what your relationship with Felix was like - what talks you had and how much you had done together, because no random couple decides to fuck like this out of nowhere. How many times when you two had slipped away, was it actually so that he could fuck you? At the studio? When you offered to head downstairs and grab the food for everyone and Felix insisted he helped you? At Chan’s parties when you pretended to need a breath of fresh air? When you two would sleep over on his couch? Had he fucked you there? Chan’s cock twitched at the thought of you getting your cunt pounded in his bathroom, a hand clamped against your mouth so that he wouldn't find out what kind of a cock thirsty whore you were.

"Damn it" he cried again, only needing a few more painful strokes to finish. Your name left his lips as cum shot out of his tip, wasting away down the drain.

This was ridiculous, he felt pathetic. Usually when he got himself off alone, he was hit with a wave of lucidity right after. Not now, though. Now he was aching to go again. But it would've been useless, the shower didn't do anything, he wanted to cum inside you, on you, to see his cum on your fingers, on your lips, to hear you beg for it. He wanted to see you cry and choke on his cock, to see the little tears at the corners of your eyes as you preferred to keep his dick down your throat a bit more rather than breathe. He was fucked.

But everyone was asleep, a ridiculously long shower wouldn't raise any suspicion - that was what he said to himself as he grabbed his cock again and went for another round.

By the time Chan walked downstairs and into the kitchen, it was already morning. He busied himself around the cabin, made himself a little breakfast which he couldn't eat, and then buried his nose in his phone waiting for any of his friends to wake up.

Seungmin was the first to join him, and not much time passed before the two of them decided to head out and get whatever other groceries would be needed for that day's lunch. The ride wasn't long and the local supermarket didn't offer the broadest variety of products, so the trip had been much shorter than Chan had hoped.

When they returned to the cabin, almost everyone was already awake - the kitchen and the living space buzzing with life. It looked like just about any other morning, but some things that he was technically used to, bothered him now more than ever.

Why the fuck weren't you wearing a bra? There were 8 men around you, why didn't you care they could all see your nipples? Why didn't Felix care?

"You two!" Changbin called as soon as he spotted his friends. "The food is getting cold, where have you been?"

"Shopping" Chan motioned to the bags. He placed them on whatever free counter space he found and started unpacking. "I already ate, thanks though"

"I haven't!" Minnie rubbed his hands together, "What do we have?"

Grateful for the positioning of the fridge, Chan kept his back at the rest of the room as he carefully placed the groceries inside the refrigerator. He looked normal, but he felt sick, and wanted to be out of there as soon as possible. As he did his thing, he carefully listened to your voice, breathing relieved as he could hear you talking about the fruits you just chopped.

"Channie!" he neatly dropped the meat he was holding as you popped out of nowhere right beside him. How the fuck did he miss that? "Do you wanna try?"

Ah, you weren't wearing pants either. Sure, the shirt covered your ass, and sure, half the guys were topless, so it was probably fine for you to be walking around like that, but then why did his breathing get heavier.

"What's-" he cleared his throat, "What's that?"

"Ice cream" you said. "I made it with Felix while you two were out. I wanna know what you guys think. We only made this little. We didn't wanna make a whole gallon of ice cream in case it was bad. So? Try it!"

"If you want us to tell you what we think about it, why won't you let us try it!?" Hyunjin yelled in frustration.

"Eat your breakfast first, you child" you laughed and went to grab a spoon for Chan. "Here!"

"Ah, it's good. Damn, it's so good" his eyes widened progressively as the taste settled in. He went for another try, his smile widening as the ice cream melted on his tongue.

"Really? It's good?" Felix beamed from across the kitchen, walking over as he dried his hands on a towel, "You like it?"

"Mhm! It's amazing! When are you making more?"

"We thought after lunch?" Felix nodded. "The guys said we should head to the pool this afternoon, so I think it'll be enough time for it to cool down until we get back"

"Do we really have to go swimming?" you cringed in disgust, your eyes begging Felix to reconsider.

"Yes!" he kissed your temple. He didn't even try to hide just how little he cared about your disinterest, which only deepened your frown. "I'm done with you not knowing how to swim. You promised me you'd learn. It could save your life one day"

You pouted. "What about Minho?"

"Hey!" the man in question yelled from the living room. "It may have taken me a whole week, but I can swim now. Doggy style, but I can do it!"

"Doggy style" Felix laughed to himself. "If Minho can do it, so can you, love"

"Well… when you put it like that…"

"Great" Felix beamed, and started walking away as he pointed at his friend. "Plus, Chan can teach you. He's much better than I am."

That snapped him out of his trance, god knows where his mind had wandered these past few moments. "I can do what?"

"Teach her doggy style" Felix chuckled.

"Teach me how to swim" you rolled your eyes, "Right?"

Fuck.

#bang chan x reader #bang chan smut #lee felix x reader #lee felix smut #bang chan fanfic #lee felix imagines #bang chan imagines #lee felix fanfic #skz imagines #stray kids x reader

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sashaforthewin · 2 years

Text

[Thank you to @avi17 for beta services, any remaining whoopsie-doodles are my own]

Steve Harrington pulled out his pack of cigarettes and placed one between his lips. He dropped the pack back into his pocket and then patted around himself for his lighter.

Fuck. He sighed.

It didn't matter how many gas station lighters he bought and stuck into the pockets of all his clothes, he somehow always ended up losing them immediately.

Talking around his cigarette, he turned to Eddie.

"Help me out here, man. Light me." He aimed the unlit cigarette at his friend.

"Yeah, gimme a sec," Eddie said as he put his acoustic guitar to the side and patted his own pocket. He pulled out a lighter and then reached over and plucked the cigarette from Steve's lips and placed it between his own and proceeded to light it. Then, once lit, he removed it and placed it back between Steve's lips.

Steve just stared, shocked.

What the hell was that? Who lit someone's cigarette that way?

By this point, Eddie had already gone back to messing around on his guitar, didn't seem to notice Steve's reaction at all.

"What was that?"

"You asked me to light your cigarette, I did," Eddie shrugged.

"You could've lit it while it was in my mouth."

"Consider it paying the toll."

Steve laughed at the audacity and got back to digging through Eddie's cassettes as he smoked.

That was the first time. But then it happened again. And again. And eventually it was just the natural way Steve smoked. More than once Steve had realized he did in fact have a lighter, right after Eddie had lit his.

And then once, Steve felt the lighter in his pocket and asked Eddie to light his anyway.

After that, he just stopped trying to carry lighters.

It wasn't until months in, when the habit had well and truly formed, that it happened in front of someone else.

Of course it was Nancy. Why wouldn't it be Nancy?

It was a momentary lapse in judgment. He was running on autopilot. Cigarette goes in mouth, ask Eddie to light him, Eddie takes his toll and puts the cigarette back in Steve's mouth. That's just how Steve's cigarettes get lit.

But then as he was taking his first drag, his eyes happened to catch on Nancy and the look on her face made his blood run cold.

With a barely detectable nod leftward from Nancy, Steve knew his presence was requested for a chat.

He let Eddie know he was helping Nancy get something down from a high shelf and would be right back, and then followed Nancy up to his dad's home office and shut the door quietly.

"What the hell was that!?"

"What, he was just lighting my cigarette," Steve said defensively.

"Are you two dating?"

"What? No!"

"It looked rather intimate."

"I mean, yeah, I guess it is. I dunno, it's just how Eddie lights people's cigarettes."

"He does this to other people?"

"I assume so," Steve shrugged, realizing he had only ever imagined Eddie lighting other people's cigarettes that way after the very first time. After that, he hadn't really circled back to the the thought but now that it was back, Steve found he didn't much like this mental image at all.

Some of what he was thinking must have shown on his face because Nancy gave him a look dripping with kindness and a sprinkling of pity.

"You like him."

"No."

"You like him."

"I don't."

"Steve. You like Eddie."

"...Shit," he cursed, looking off to the top of the bookshelves. Then he looked back at Nancy, seemingly miserable.

"What do I do, Nance?"

She thought about it a moment then shrugged. "Date him, I guess."

"I mean, clearly I'm gay for him, as you just rudely forced me to realize. But I don't even know if he would be willing or interested in dating men. Well, not men, just me."

"I think he is interested. He lights your cigarette in his own mouth."

"Yeah, but that's just paying the toll, Nance! It doesn't mean he likes me! You gotta tell me what to do soon or Eddie will think we are doing something up here. Come on, use that big nerd brain."

Nancy rolled her eyes, but smiled in amusement. "Fine. A simple experiment. Next time he smokes, you do too. See what he does when his lips are already busy. See you this evening, don't be late or we'll miss all the trailers."

And with that she grabbed a pack of printer paper and left the office. He heard her say goodbye to Eddie and then leave.

The rest of the day was spent waiting for Eddie to smoke, and as they say, a watched pot never boils.

Eventually, it was time to head out for the theater. Steve was on edge from trying to act like he was just hanging out with his friend in a normal way instead of obsessively watching him for clues and waiting for him to smoke.

Finally, when Eddie climbed into the passenger seat, he cranked the window a bit and lit his own cigarette. Steve waited a moment while waiting for the car to warm up, then pulled his own out and placed it to his lips.

"Light me?" Steve asked.

"Yep, I got you."

Eddie placed both hands on the edges of Steve's jaw and brought their faces together. Steve's heart nearly burst out of his chest thinking Eddie was going to kiss him, but then he realized Eddie was trying to position their cigarettes tip to tip. Steve snapped out of it and used his lips to help aim, then they both puffed in and out quickly a few times to pass the flame.

He cursed the flammability of thin paper wrappers when his cigarette caught and Eddie released his face. Steve felt fluttery from how unbelievably intimate and sensual that had felt. Not only had Eddie cupped his jaw, fingers bracketing his ears and fingertips in his hair, but it was also very easy to convince yourself someone is looking at your lips instead of your cigarette in such close proximity.

He took a moment to breathe, overwhelmed.

"Steve?"

"Yeah, should be good, just making sure the engine was warmed up." He threw the car in gear and backed out of the drive.

When they arrived, Nancy and Jonathan were waiting out front, huddled for warmth or because they were in love. In a Midwest winter it was hard to tell sometimes.

As soon as Nancy was in view, she and Steve had a nonverbal conversation with their eyes. She questioned, he answered, she looked exasperated, he shrugged.

As soon as they got their seats, Steve threw his coat down next to Eddie and announced he'd grab everyone's snacks if Nancy would help carry. Eddie and Jonathan both offered but Steve and Nancy shot them down and dashed off to chat.

"Wow, really?"

"Yeah! I thought my heart was going to leap out of my throat, I'm a changed man, I'm never going to recover from that. I'm never going to let him smoke alone, either, even if this doesn't mean anything, at least I could relive that moment again and again!"

"I really think he likes you, but if you really want more proof, I'll think of something…"

After the movie, the four stood out back behind the theater, chatting about the film. Nancy watched Steve and Eddie talking excitedly to each other, unintentionally ignoring her and Jonathan. They were quite clearly so intimately comfortable with each other, there was no way they wouldn't be the perfect fit.

And then an idea came to her and she grabbed Jonathan by the shoulder and pulled him down to whisper in his ear.

He glanced nervously over at the two and then back to Nancy, then pulled out his cigarettes which had a lighter stuck down the clear foil, clearly visible, realized and shoved them back into his pocket awkwardly and fumbled to pull a cigarette out with the pack in his pocket.

"Hey Eddie, light me?"

"Sure," Eddie shrugged, tossing his lighter to Jonathan in an underhand throw, barely sparing the man a glance. Steve waited a very conservative five seconds before leaning in to kiss Eddie and Nancy was both pleased and embarrassed that Eddie responded by pressing Steve up against the wall by the dumpster.

#steddie #stranger things #steve harrington #eddie munson #cw smoking

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sstormyskyess · 8 months

Text

A New Dynamic

author's note: so. this is my first a/b/o fic and uhh i've managed to make it trans! basically in my a/b/o universe people can switch their secondary gender with hormone therapy, just like with trans people and HRT irl, and reader in this fic transitioned from omega to alpha [idk if i explained that perfectly but! please enjoy and also feedback would be nice since i'm new to writing a/b/o]

cw: a/b/o dynamics, smut, male alpha reader, omega gaz, masturbation [from both reader and gaz], general awkwardness because they're exes, knotting

word count: 3500+ [i think this is my longest one shot i've written. uhh may have gotten carried away woops]

Kyle "Gaz" Garrick / M!Reader

“Kyle!” You run up to him with a big grin on your face, pulling him into a hug which he graciously accepts. You bury your face into his shoulder and he does the same, his hands holding onto your shirt as though you might fade away if he lets go.

It’s been almost five years since you last saw your best friend from secondary school and your lover up until he left for enlistment. To say you missed him would be an understatement. You’ve kept in touch with one another through letters and the occasional call here and there, but obviously nothing could compare to being face to face again.

All the way home, your hand is on his thigh and you tell him all about what’s been happening in your life recently. A new promotion at work, shenanigans during a fun night out with friends—friends who Kyle would have to say hello to as well—and some new hobbies you’ve picked up. He shared his own stories, though some of the details had to be axed because of their classified status. You were particularly caught off-guard by him recounting the time he fell out of a helicopter and nearly broke his spine, but that was neither here nor there. At least in his eyes.

Once you pull into the driveway and help him carry all his bags inside, he takes notice of something… interesting. “Are you seeing someone right now, mate?” He asks with a tilt of his head.

You look at him, confused for a good few moments. “...No? Why?” He stares back at you, almost as if he didn’t believe you. “Is something up?”

It just doesn’t add up in his head. If you weren’t in a relationship with someone, then why did your house smell so distinctly of alpha? When he thought about it further, he did think something was off at the train station as well. He must’ve been distracted by his joy seeing you after so long, but thinking back on it, you had an alpha’s scent all over you. He must realize that he was looking at you as if you’d grown a third arm so he quickly shakes his head to recover from his stupor.

“You okay, Kyle?” You raise an eyebrow, equally confused as he is. Why would he assume you’re dating someone? That’s certainly something you would’ve told him before letting him stay at your place. It would be fairly awkward to have two omegas under one roof with you, especially when one of them was in a relationship with you and the other wasn’t. There was a definite possibility of… jealousy sprouting up.

“I’m gonna take my bags upstairs, just uh—gimme a sec.” He says quickly, picking up his stuff and heading up to the guest room he’s staying in for the next month. You stare after him, still left a little confused. You figure you can bring it up later. Maybe he was tired from jet lag or something. You check the time, your eyes widening a bit when you realize you missed your hormone injection, going upstairs to your bathroom and getting all your things ready.

By the time the sun set and you both had finished dinner, Kyle is still trying to rationalize what could possibly be the explanation behind the alpha scent wafting around the room and teasing his olfactory glands. It was almost making his head hurt with how enticing it was.

To be honest, you’re not faring any better. His scent never triggered anything in you when you were an omega, but now he just smells so sweet. You hope you’re doing a decent job of hiding the shuffling you’re doing to try and relieve some of the tension growing in your boxers. It would most definitely throw things off to get all riled up for someone you broke up with years ago. It was amicable between the both of you, of course, but it’s been so long since either of you had contact with each other.

You dwell on it a bit more all while trying to keep your attention on whatever TV show it was that he put on. Every time he tried to get more comfortable, though, he either squished your legs closer together or brushed up every so slightly against the bulge in your pants. You start to wonder if he knows what he’s doing. He had to, right? He couldn’t be doing this by accident.

Swallowing past the lump in your throat, you struggle ignoring the way your cock twitches in your sweatpants when he mutters something about how your couch is too lumpy and needs to be replaced before readjusting his legs and hips. His motions press your legs together and a shiver goes up your spine when the cloth of your boxers rubs up against your erection. You groan quietly and clear your throat when Kyle shoots a look your way. “You alright, mate?” He asks all too innocently.

You reach over to the end table to grab your glass of water with shaky hands, taking a long sip from it. “I’m fine.” Your voice is strained when you speak and you quickly set the glass back down before pulling a blanket over your lap as nonchalantly as you can manage.

You stare forward with unfocused eyes before you finally stand up, the intoxicating scent of sandalwood and vanilla permeating around the living room too much to handle. “I’ll—I’ll be right back.” You eke out, going to the downstairs bathroom in a hurry. You don’t see the concern on his face before you’re shutting the door and releasing a deep breath you didn’t know you were holding.

The moment you have your back against the cool tile on the walls, you’re doing everything you can to stave off what you can feel building up against your will. This couldn’t be happening, not now. You couldn’t be going into rut the very day your best friend was finally seeing you again after all this time. You palm at the bulge in your sweatpants, groaning as quietly as you can and tilting your head back against the wall.

Cursing under your breath, you begrudgingly yet desperately yank your pants and underwear down and take hold of your hard cock. You try taking deep breaths to stop yourself from losing yourself to the pleasure. It was so amplified by the remnants of Kyle’s scent that had seeped into your shirt just from him sitting next to him. It’s so much more powerful than it was earlier in the day, so you know your rut is coming.

You’re in there for a few more minutes than would’ve been normal, but you couldn’t find it in yourself to care when your cum spills all over your fist. It covers your fingers and your softening cock and deflating knot when you give yourself a few more pumps to ride out your orgasm. But it wasn’t enough. You regretfully give in to the fact you would have to turn in early for the night.

After washing your hand off in the sink, you head back to the living room and look at Kyle, who was on his phone, scrolling mindlessly. “Uh, Kyle? I’m gonna head to bed, I’m super tired.”

He sits up and turns to you, tilting his head. “Are you okay? What’s up?” He stands up and starts walking over to you until you put your hands up defensively. “Yeah! Yeah, I’m fine, I think I might be sick. I don’t wanna get you sick too, so I’m just going to bed.” You stumble through your weak excuse, voice cracking a bit when you neared the end of your sentence. You stare at each other for a few more moments before you turn away and rush up the stairs, closing your door a little more forcefully than you would’ve liked.

A couple hours pass and you’ve nearly pushed yourself to the brink of fainting with how many times you’ve brought yourself to orgasm. You’re glad that you had enough foresight to put a towel down before falling down the rabbit hole; if you hadn’t you would have to change your sheets before you went to sleep with how much cum you’ve expended.

Your chest heaves and sweat drips down your forehead. You’ve long since gotten rid of your clothes, now laid bare in the center of your bed. One thing you found after you transitioned from omega to alpha was that your ruts were much more intense than a natural alpha’s was. Your doctor told you it was something about the remnants of your omega biology making your ruts closer to heats.

The knot at the base of your cock was aching with how thick it’s gotten. The amount of blood rushing down there was making you lightheaded, but you just couldn’t stop. Your body won’t let you stop, you need to keep going. You feel like you might collapse in on yourself if you stopped for even a second.

But the muscles in your arm are tiring by the minute and your hand is starting to give out on you. Even thrusting up into your fist isn’t working because your fingers are cramping up from how hard you were squeezing your dick. You swallow thickly, already getting dehydrated, but you’d rather die than make a fool of yourself trying to stumble to the kitchen to get water—plus, Kyle didn’t need to know you went into a rut because of him. So, through all the brain fog, you remind yourself to listen for Kyle in his room to get you an opportunity to get a much needed glass of water.

You’ve long since given up on trying to stay quiet, deciding to forgo suppressing your wanton moans and desperate whines. Every now and then, shame builds up in your gut because Kyle’s name passes your lips, pleading for him despite the knowledge you shouldn’t want him so bad. But you want him anyway, and it almost made you feel too guilty to keep going. Almost.

Little did you know, Kyle’s in the guest room separated by just one wall, and he can hear everything. Every groan and huff and grunt. Every call of his name. And he has his hand in his pants, stroking himself with the same guilt that you’re feeling. He twisted his hand around his cock languidly, his palm closing around the tip with every few strokes.

When he walked past your room on the way to his earlier that night, he got the strongest whiff of your musk that he’d ever gotten, even when the two of you were in a relationship so many years ago. It all finally clicked in his mind at that moment.

He’s heard about people replacing their designation a couple times before, but he never expected you to be one of those people. Through his entire time knowing you, you never expressed any interest in that kind of thing. But quite honestly, he doesn’t care. All he knows is that you were going through a rut and God, did he want to be there to help you.

After he recovers from a couple quick orgasms and cleans up the mess as best he could, he gets up and deliberates for a bit. He could offer you some assistance, but imagine the consequences. He would never be able to live it down if he asked to help you with your rut and you turned him away point blank. The embarrassment would be too much. He sighs and gets himself together to at the very least get you some water.

He knocks on your door with a glass of water in hand a couple minutes later and hears you stumble off your bed with a harsh thud. “J-Just a sec!” You call out to him, trying to pull on a pair of sweatpants as fast as possible after wiping your sticky hand off on the towel.

When you open your door, your skin is practically dripping with sweat and your limbs are shaking just a bit. “Sorry, just, uh—tripped. Y’caught me off guard,” is what you’re able to muster up, but not without a voice crack in the middle. “What did you need?”

He looks almost as embarrassed as you do, with his eyes darting everywhere but you. “Um… I just thought I’d bring you some water.” He offers the glass to you and you take it, knowing at that moment that he’s heard everything you’ve been doing. Your teeth dig into your bottom lip nervously and you clear your throat, trying to stave off that ever-present feeling of guilt that settled in your stomach from the moment you got into bed. “Thanks. I appreciate it.” You mumble, looking at the floor.

The silence is awkward while you stand there in front of each other. You desperately urge the floor to swallow you whole to avoid the question you know he’s going to ask you, but instead you settle for broaching the subject yourself.

“Can you help me with—”

“Do you want me to help—”

You end up cutting each other off and you internally curse whatever higher power put you in this situation. They had to be out to get you at this point.

You shift from one foot to the other uncomfortably. Through all of this tension, your throbbing boner still hadn’t gone away. In fact, it was actually getting worse with Kyle standing barely a foot away from you, forcing his tantalizing scent to fill your nostrils and sending wave after devastating wave of desire through your body and straight to your cock.

He sees your fingers clinging to the door frame where you were holding it to keep yourself upright, the veins in your hand springing to the surface with how tightly you were grasping it. He puts a hand on your still bare chest, making your hairs stand on end from the skin on skin contact. “Here, just—go lay down, okay? You can barely stand, c’mon…” He takes the water from your hand and carefully herds you over to the bed, letting you collapse on it.

He could smell the sex in here; it was overpowering, making his pupils dilate and his mouth water. You pant with little huffs of breath looking up at him with glassy eyes filled with unbridled lust. “Kyle—fuck, please let me fuck you, please,” you groan.

He snaps out of the trance he got locked into from watching you slip your sweats down to let your cock spring free and land, heavy and dripping, onto your stomach. You reach for the waistband of his shorts, tugging on them. He gets the hint and pulls his shirt and bottoms off before climbing onto the bed and sitting on his knees.

You shakily roll over and wrap your arms around him from behind. You lean over him, urging him on all fours. He gasps when he feels your swollen, rock hard cock slide against his slick, wet asshole. Memories of how well you fill him come flooding back as though it was yesterday, sending a shiver down his spine. He mumbles your name and glances back at you when he notices you’ve gone rigid behind him. “Are you okay—”

He yelps when you spear him on your cock all of a sudden, sinking all the way to the hilt. You let out a deep, long moan at the feeling of his hole stretching to make room for you. “Shit—Kyle…” You drag out his name, burying your face in the space between his shoulder blades. “You feel so good, so so good,” you babble on, halfway incoherent with his name on your lips over and over.

Kyle reaches back and rests his hand on your shoulder, trailing it up to pet along the back of your neck and eliciting a pleased grumble in the pits of your chest. You rock your hips back and forth ever so slightly, working him open to make room for your dick for a while. He moans at the way one of the ridges of your cock rubs against his prostate over and over.

When you felt he was ready for you, you start to thrust into him properly, pulling out almost to the tip and then right back in slowly. “Y’feel good, love,” he says, a small quake in his voice and a small smile on his face.

Your lips connect to his neck, nibbling and sucking on his skin roughly, wanting to leave bruises that would last for a good while. You needed to make him yours. He accepts every mark you leave along his neck and shoulders, his smile growing the longer your cock dragged along his walls. You luckily managed to keep teeth away from where you last left your mark on him, narrowly avoiding the sensitive patch of skin.

You start to groan quietly, body shaking from the way you’re tensing your muscles and holding back. He takes notice of your reluctance and looks back at you, concerned. “What’s wrong?” He asks and you whine, your fingers starting to dig into the meat of his stomach where your arms were wrapped around him. “D-Don’t want… to hurt you, Kyle,” you pant, voice breathy. “Not gonna be able to stop myself…”

“You’re not gonna hurt me, love. Don’t hold back, it’s okay,” he reassures you with a soft voice, his tone releasing the tension in your body.

His words renewed the overwhelming desperation clouding your mind. You clench your teeth and, with a deep, rumbling growl, you speed up your pace and your thrusts become rough, merciless. He tosses his head back in surprise and moans your name sharply. The power of your hips slamming into him ends up pushing him face down and ass up, his face getting buried in the sheets.

His moans get chopped up in time with each time you pump your cock into his hole, his whole body getting jostled forward from the force you’re exerting. Goosebumps rise on his skin as your groans reverberate through your chest into his back and your shaft twitches against his walls, all the sensations overwhelming him. To ground himself, he lifts one of his arms up from where it had been laying uselessly by his side and reaches behind him to grab your shoulder.

Kyle feels his orgasm sneak up on him, having gotten lost in the pleasure of being with you again, but in so many new ways. “Shit, love—fuck—I want your knot baby, please,” he cries, tossing his head back. He never imagined he would be asking you for such a thing; you’ve had sex with each other many, many times before, but never like this. This was something else entirely, and it felt so, so good.

You groan in response to his words. You’ve never heard him so desperate before, and it fills you with a deep sense of confidence. It’s not as though you haven’t slept with anyone since splitting with Kyle, but something about him begging for you sent you into a frenzy.

He yelps at the sudden change in pace. You unintentionally forced him down into a prone bone position, your full weight on top of him and your arms pulling him into every thrust. Your teeth latch onto the back of his neck and scruff him with a growl. You vaguely register that you’re trying to say something despite your mouth being occupied, but you can’t find it in yourself to stop, no matter how embarrassing it might be later.

He shivers at the feeling of your saliva dripping down his neck and seeping into the bedsheets, joining the pool of his own drool where his mouth was hanging open from pure ecstasy. Your cock was hitting the perfect angle in this position, flat on his stomach and his legs pinned between your knees. With you on top of him it was easier to feel your swelling knot catching on the rim of his wet asshole. He slowly joins you in your mindless babbling, begging and pleading for you to give him that sweet release.

“I-I missed you so much, love, oh God—please, want you to fill me up, please, please, please—!” He wails when he cums, his spend getting caught under his body and wetting the sheets along with a wave of slick gushing out of his hole past your dick. It was the most intense orgasm he’s had in ages, all because of you.

The clutch of his walls fluttering around you makes you finally let go of his neck and throw your head back with a sharp groan. “Fuck—fuck!” You hiss, squeezing him tighter in your arms and shoving your knot into his tight, wet heat. Your cum floods his hole, filling him up to the brim. He sobs at the warm feeling. It felt so different with your knot added to the mix, stretching him wide.

You relax on top of him, with a heavy sigh, taking hold of him and rolling you both on your sides to spoon him and hold him close. You nuzzle your face in his neck, already rocking your hips into him again needily. It was gonna be a long night, he thinks to himself while running his hands up and down your forearms where they lay against his stomach.

𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

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bunnyinfoxclothing · 1 month

Note

Do you have anymore chaggie rants? Would love to hear em

You're in luck. It's 2 am again and I have awoken to more head cannons and ideas.

If I do more of these most will probably be about Vaggie, because I love my girl.

that being said:

Vaggie is a self fulfilling prophecy that Charlie simply won't let happen.

So for anyone who doesn't know. Self fulfilling prophecies, in psychology, refer to someone who has an expectation or belief that can influence their behaviors, thus causing the belief to come true.

Vaggie is someone with abandonment issues (Chaggie mental illness twins)

Charlie is someone who wants to never be alone, so holds tight onto whomever she can, and is extra forgiving in wanting them to stay. (I will expand on this if anyone wants)

Vaggie on the other hand, expects abandonment to be excruciatingly painful. It's not a logical thought nor is it even a conscious one. She just has a feeling that the moment she messes something up she will be left hurting.

That also means that anytime there is even the slightest fuck up, Vaggie will run away. She preemptively leaves to avoid that hurt.

But Bun that's not a self fulfilling prophecy

Gimme a sec i'm getting there.

Now Vaggie also doesn't have it in her to fully abandon Charlie. She has heard Charlie's fears of being alone, and can never do that to her.

That being said, this is where she starts treating Charlie like Charlie is going to abandon her.

Isolation

Reduced Physical Contact

One-sided Emotional Disconnect

Manipulation

Vaggie does anything to distance herself emotionally from the situation while still being there for Charlie.

If this is prior to being in a relationship it is spending more time in her own room. If it is post relationship it is just more time spent doing different things. Where they used to do chores together Vaggie will outright just start on something without telling Charlie, or work on something else entirely.

Vaggie isn't as touchy with Charlie, maybe not cuddling up to Charlie, but letting Charlie cuddle up to her. Only participating in physical closeness if Charlie initiates.

Being there for Charlie emotionally, but dealing with all of her emotional turmoil on her own.

Purposefully painting herself in the worst light possible at any given situation in an attempt to 'be honest' to Charlie about who she is. Hiding the good things because Charlie knows the good things, but pointing out every bad miss step she herself has taken since.

All of this is in an attempt to emotionally disconnect herself to what is coming and push Charlie towards the abandoning her, so she has control over when it happens.

And Charlie just doesn't let her.

Charlie isn't always 100% aware of when Vaggie goes into this self destructive behavior.

So sometimes it's just a moment of: Charlie feeling overly affectionate that it forces Vaggie to be unable to do one or a few of her isolation tactics.

And Charlie is just so proud of her for being honest, and their in hell so what more could she expect...

And so Vaggie just fails at distancing herself, so eventually when the guilt goes away Vaggie is just left still in Charlies arms like... huh?

And other times, Charlie is fully aware of the self destructing train wreak that is coming.

So she talks Vaggie through it. She provides ample times for Vaggie to comfort her. Gives Vaggie every once of praise every time Vaggie does something for her, just so in Vaggie's tally, the positive things she has done far outweigh any bad Vaggie can come up with.

Charlie turns up the charm, to wear down Vaggie's walls and force her to ask for cuddles. Then cuddles Vaggie until she's squirming out of Charlie's arms.

Charlie casually gentle parenting Vaggie's manipulation tactics like:

Well, yeah sure you could say that you placing your spear by the door was a tripping hazard, but if you think about it, it was very kind of you to leave your spear by the door so we can have a more comfortable cuddle time. And while it wasn't nice for me to trip on it, and it could have been very dangerous for any of our guests to trip on it, we have seen in the past that a lot of dangerous people come to the hotel, so thank you for looking out for us. How about next time we find a safer place to put your spear, so that it is still near the door, but out of the way. Does that sound good? Perfect.

And Vaggie is forced to be like. Oh, yeah, my actions are easily fixable. Why was I so stressed before?

#hazbin hotel #vaggie #vaggie x charlie #hazbin vaggie #chaggie #charlie morningstar #hazbin hotel fanfiction #charlie x vaggie #hazbin headcanons #vaggie headcanons #i love doing this #please give me more asks

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sailing-through-hawkins · 1 year

Text

✧ sequel to my vampire eddie microfic because i had the urge to write a scene from steve's pov and make it super sweet so have 1k of a fluffy morning after ✧

Everything is so warm.

Steve rubs his nose deeper into the sheets with a content sigh, basking in the glow of a soft morning.

"What are you still doing here?!"

Blearily, Steve pulls his eyes open, slowly shifting in place to survey the room around him. He's alone, which is a major bummer, he's gonna have to dock points from Eddie for that. Then again, he muses as he looks over the clothes that are hanging from everywhere, including on top of the ceiling fan, maybe a few points don't matter much when he's definitely up in the hundreds already.

Oh shit, that's the brand new outfit, the one he and Robin spent hours agonizing over before their night out, thrown across the floor, isn't it? Fuck.

"Be polite, he's a guest -"

Steve stretches out his back, lifting his sore arms up towards the sky where his hands brush against the muscle tee, the one on the ceiling fan, that Eddie was wearing last night. Oh, now there's an idea.

With a smirk, Steve pulls the tee down and onto himself, fluffing out his hair and hoping today is one of those days he can pull off the bedhead look.

"Eddie?" he calls out softly as he steps out of the bedroom, rubbing at one of his eyes, the one on the side that was squished up against Eddie all night (well, not all night...).

"Stevie!"

His voice is loud and happy, far more chipper than Steve expected from a vampire after a long night. He blinks, looking up to see Eddie beaming at him with flour dusting his hair and a whisk in one hand. The sunlight filters through with the shades to cast lines of light across him and with the way he's smiling, Steve doesn't think he's ever seen a prettier sight.

"I was just making breakfast for you, I wasn't sure if you were a morning person but I figure, y'know, sun-kissed skin and whatnot, it'd make sense if you were -"

He can't help it, Steve lets out a giggle, something small and light, something he used to never let himself have. But Eddie's smile makes it so worth it. Steve smiles back shyly, gliding in closer and stroking a hand up Eddie's arm (he's wearing a different shirt, maybe he took it out of his closet?). "You're making me breakfast?"

The vampire sighs dreamily as he looks into Steve's eyes, his fangs peeking out from his dopey little smile. There's so much flour in his hair, did he forget to tie it up before starting to cook? "Yeah..."

"That's so sweet," Steve coos, bringing his hands up to cup Eddie's face, pull him in closer and nuzzle their noses together. "Thank you, Eds."

He slowly opens his eyes and stifles back a giggle at how desperately cute Eddie's expression is, eyes flickering between Steve's face and his own shirt, cheeks flushed pink with Steve's blood. He has a feeling that if vampires had tails, Eddie's would be wagging uncontrollably right now.

"So, what're you making me?" he whispers, dragging his nose down the curve of Eddie's jaw, breathing in his scent of iron and cranberries (did he have some juice? or does blood just smell like cranberries on a vampire?).

"I - uh, ha -" Eddie swallows and Steve tracks the motion with the bridge of his nose, peeking up over Eddie's shoulder to look at -

"Shit, is that the time?!"

"Wha -"

Steve shoves himself away from Eddie, rushing back into the bedroom and slamming the door shut. He frantically pulls off the tee (goodbye cozy morning, sigh) and grabs his skirt from last night - no stains on it, or on his top, thank fuck.

"Stevie?"

"Gimme a sec!" Steve calls out, crawling out from under the bed with his shoes in hand. Fuck, fuck, fuck, how did it get so late, Robin's gonna be so mad -

"What's -"

"I'm so sorry, Eddie!" Steve yanks the door open, guilt curdling up his insides when he sees Eddie waiting outside his own bedroom door with a hopeful-turned-distressed expression. He walks past him, hopping on one leg as he puts a shoe on. "I have a thing I need to get to, I honestly forgot until I saw the time -"

"Pfft, likely story," a random voice says.

He spins to stare at the sofa, where three people are strewn about, legs and arms overlapping each other. Only one of them is awake, a bleary-eyed, wavy-haired guy that's glaring at Steve.

"Shoulda thought of that excuse before he started nagging at us."

"It's not an excuse," Steve snaps, finally managing to get his second shoe on. "I have brunch -"

"Told you, dude," the guy lazily rolls his eyes over to Eddie, sending a hot flash of anger through Steve.

"Oh fuck you," he hisses, pointedly grabbing Eddie's hand (the one without the whisk, why is he still holding it?) and pulling him in closer. He glares at Eddie, who's staring at him with big doe eyes, softening at the gaze. "I'm really sorry I can't stay, Eds."

"But...waffles?" he says quietly, like he's confused, like Steve isn't making any sense.

And he isn't, not really, but he can't afford to be late to the Robin-and-Steve-Monthly-Gossip-Brunch after they both missed the past two months already, third time's the charm and he does not want to find out what that charm would be for.

"I'm sorry," he says again, wincing when Eddie visibly deflates. Steve presses a kiss to the corner of his mouth, just so he doesn't get distracted and lose even more time, and pats his chest. "I was really looking forward to breakfast with you."

A little bit of shine comes back to Eddie's eyes, flickering over from Steve to the window. He speeds away, whisk clattering somewhere in the kitchen, as Steve blinks and suddenly he's back, holding up his leather jacket towards Steve with a shy smile.

"'S cold out. Take my jacket?" Eddie asks and Steve pulls him in, flour-hair and all, for the deepest, filthiest kiss he can give, swallowing down his gasp, his moan and every last sliver of his minty breath.

"Thanks, babe." Steve whispers, pulling the jacket on (at least it makes up for the muscle tee failure) and relishing in the warmth. He opens the front door, presses one final, chaste kiss to Eddie's lips and walks out, the smell of cranberries sticking to his skin.

Eddie watches Steve leave in his jacket with a sigh, already longing for that pretty voice to say "Eds" to him again.

"You know," Gareth says from the couch, which pops the blissful balloon Eddie was happily floating in. He turns to glare at his three friends, all lounging on the couch even after he told them to be presentable. Gareth continues, "You know, you could have offered to drop him off. He'd get there faster and you'd get more time with him too. I mean, did you even get his number?"

Silence. Then -

"Fuck!"

#sailor✧writes #steddie #steveddie #ficlet #writing #au content: vampire #this was so much fun #i debated having hints of vampire hunter steve who actually doesn't want to hunt them but then i thought eh let's have it sweet for now

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little-miss-dilf-lover · 9 months

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ooohh, alr,,! so can i pls request tan x crybaby and soft!reader. can it be abt how tan is always "mean" to everyone and then he is accidentally mean to the reader? (not wanting to ask too much but can the fic pls have some smut? i would love to see how tan would treat the reader) u can also do this w pietro if u want. Sorry that my request is long, luv ur work and baiii :)

- 😾

hii bby!! love love it! must admit I did kinda steer off course a little bit. thanks for requesting, hope you like it💌

MAKE TIME

tangerine x fem!reader

word count. 1089

warnings. 18+ only!! tiny bit of arguing, tan being a bit of a turd, but a total cutie after!! fingering, horny brainrot from writer. mdni

Tangerine is always coming and going with work, that his mind is often detached - thoughts spread out in more than one place at a time. Sometimes, it's hard for him to adjust to his surroundings, especially when he's constantly filtering between locations.

Though, when he's with you, he's home. Back in your shared house, he's finally settled.

But that doesn't stop him from bringing work home - he'd spend hours locked in his office, planning schedules and routes for upcoming missions, never once giving you an ounce of attention during his minimal time at home.

You knew what you signed up for, though you hated how insignificant you felt compared to his work. You didn't like how he'd be so blase when it came to failed, planned date nights, how he'd be casual about cancelling for the fourth time in a row. You knew work was important to him, but eventually, you were hoping his view would change - that he'd value you more than some silly little mission.

Tangerine had returned home from an assignment a mere hour ago, and all he had given you was seven measly words. You were planning on allowing him some time to adjust to being back home - to clean up, to clear his mind, but he never joined you back downstairs.

You weren't angry or upset about it - you just felt disappointed. You always gave Tangerine leeway, constantly allowing him the benefit of the doubt; maybe he was tired from travelling or that he saw something gruesome. You were always sure to see from his side, so you often felt wounded when you didn't get the same treatment.

You wait on the sofa, phone in hand, as you consider sending him a text. Sending him a slither of your frustrations, but you decide not to - not wanting things to escalate.

And just like that, you hear footsteps trickle down the stairs, Tangerine accompanying the sound.

"Hi," you call out from your spot on the sofa.

Your greeting goes unheard, your voice blocked out by his phone call.

"Mate, gimme a sec," he says into the receiver, pulling his phone away from his ear as he meets you.

"Oh, you got time for me now?" you quip.

"What's that now?" he asks, his tone alarmed. "Mhm?" he repeats, brows furrowing.

You hear his friend make a snidey comment through the phone - something that loosens a screw in Tan's head. You watch from a near distance, seeing the change on his face.

"Alright, mate. Yeah, that's enough. I got it," he angrily dismisses, ending the call.

"What was that about?" you ask, perching higher from your corner spot, showing interest.

"Why would'ya fuckin' say that?" he snaps at you, eyes narrowing. "Now, I got him in my ear giving me a fuckin' bollocking and you—" he cuts himself off, watching the way your bottom lip wobbled under his reprimand. "No, love. I'm sorry, I didn't mean that— he just got in my head, and I—" he rambles, quick footsteps carrying himself to you.

He sits at the edge of the coffee table, facing you, taking your hands in his. "Darlin', that weren't meant for you," he hushes, thumbing over the back of your hand. "I'm so sorry."

"It's okay," you shrug, wiping your eyes with your shoulder. "I know," you sniffle, blinking away a few tears.

"No, it ain't," he shakes his head and slips a hand from your grasp, swiping away the wet under your eyes. "Did you mean that a minute ago?" he asks, his tone hesitant.

"Mean what?"

"About me not having time for you," he asks, eyes following you when you divert from his gaze.

You shrug once more, closing your eyes before nodding.

"Is that what you think?" he quietly questions.

"Kind of," you whisper. "Sometimes I don't feel important to you," your words soften, speaking like you were reluctant to share.

"Love," he draws out, hushing you. "That's—" he sighs, rubbing the bridge of his nose. "I never want you to feel like that... I guess I have been neglecting you lately," he admits. "The work is never-ending. My head is always frazzled, and I always try to get it done fast, so I have more time with you, but—"

"I know," you reassure, slipping your hand into his. "I understand."

"How about this..." he proposes, leaning in to give you a chaste kiss. "I take some time off. And I can take you away? Really show how much I love you."

Your smile widens, eyes practically lighting up. "Okay," you nod, leaning forward to kiss Tangerine's lips. "I'd love that."

"Yeah?" he grins, almost boyishly. "Good. I'll make some calls later."

He brings your face back towards his, cupping your cheeks and kissing your lips soft and sweet, guiding you backwards - pushing you against the couch so he can hover above. He rests a hand on the back of the sofa, using it as stability as he towers over you, caging you.

He parts from the kiss, both of you breathless from the sudden desperation it had turned into. His grip loosens from the side of your face, and his palm slowly travels downwards, slipping over your tits as he continues down. He runs his hand down your t-shirt-covered stomach, halting when he reaches the waistband of your lounge shorts.

"I have some time now," he offers, his tone teasing as his hand slides down the front of your underwear, fingers dancing over your slit. "Would that get me out the dog house?"

"Maybe," you reply, voice airy when you feel his thumb press over your clit, slowly circling it. "Possibly," you add, spreading your legs.

He hums, a soft, sultry coo against your skin, lips barely brushing yours. Dipping the pad of his middle finger between your folds, delving slowly into your cunt til the last knuckle. Long, thick finger wedged into you so nicely.

You keep him close to you, hands engulfing the sides of his face as you meet his lips, copying his slow, sloppy kisses. He begins pumping his finger inside you, hooking upwards as he rocks it into you, swallowing those pretty little sounds you make so well.

He slowly adds his ring finger, joining it with his other - spreading you ever so slightly, leisurely fucking you with his two skilled fingers.

"I'll let you cum if you forgive me," he teases, picking up pace, rubbing against that gummy spot. "Say you forgive me, darlin'."

— — — — — — — — — — ☆ — — — — — — — — — —

tan taglist: (tagging bc it’s not a blurb/drabble) @tangerinesgf @kpopgirlbtssvt @earth-elemental18 @ashlynhasmanyhyperfixations @idontknowwhattohaveasmyuser @thewinterv @navs-bhat @ilovetangerinewithallmyheart @theredvelvetbitch @randomawesomeperson102 @lov3lypeaches7 @princess-pebbles-things @astermath @dynamitehacke @boldlyimportantface @charmedkim @fruitlovertangerine @psiiconic @bubblezuku @soradiccherryblossom @landryslove @daenerys-supremacy @dontknownameauthor @honestly-who-even-is-this @simplyreflected @apxtowiris

#request #😾#tangerine #tangerine x reader #tangerine bullet train #tangerine x you #tangerine smut #tangerine x fem!reader

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