#swagger souls x you | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

kitkatscabinet · 11 months ago

Text

Running home to your sweet nothings

John "Soap" Mactavish x F! Riley! reader

Summary: Simon’s older sister is his entire world, the last person he has left, and someone he's fiercely overprotective of. This is too bad for Soap, who falls head over heels at first sight.

Word count: 4.8k

A/N: No mention of if reader is adopted/step/half/full siblings for inclusivity. NSFW content.

It was raining the first time he met you, a grizzly downpour that seemed even gloomier than the usual shit Hereford weather. Maybe he’d simply forgotten how miserable the country could be after extended time in South America, but Soap could have sworn mother nature had decided to fuck with him specifically.

The rain is one of the only things he remembers from that day, exhaustion heavy set in his bones, other than you that is. He remembers because just as he’d been about to head off into the downpour, a car had come screeching into the base and promptly scared the sleep from his body.

Squinting, Soap barely managed to make out the sight of the car door being thrown open. The booming, thick Mancunian accent that bellowed over the rain was not as hard to distinguish, “Simon, hurry the fuck up!”

Soap nearly choked at the audacity of the stranger, his jaw actually dropping when the Lt. simply grumbled softly, turning to murmur something to their captain. He was still stuck in the emotional rollercoaster when there was suddenly a dripping wet but beaming woman in his vicinity.

Stunning didn’t even begin to describe you, even as strands of hair stuck to your cheeks, a hand hastily coming up to wipe them away as you made it to the undercroft. You’d grinned at the team, all teeth and sparkly eyes even as Ghost seemed like he’d be more enthused if someone told him his dog died.

His hulking Lieutenant said something Soap couldn’t even begin to decipher, too entranced by the stranger in front of him when you spoke again. “You must be Soap! Simon’s been trying to keep me away from his team for some reason, So I decided not to give him a choice.”

You threw your friend? Cousin? Brother? Lover? A playful glare before you laughed. It was the best sound he’d ever heard, and one he had instantly vowed to make sure he heard again.

Soap really hoped you were single.

“John.” Soap’s heart stopped at the melodic sound of his name coming from your mouth, cheeks flushing in mild embarrassment as he realised you weren’t addressing him but Captain Price. The Captain nodded and smiled back at you, clapping a friendly hand on your shoulder in a way that breathed familiarity.

It’s only when Soap finally manages to get his tongue to start working again that he swaggers over, elbowing Simon jokingly in the side as he wiggles his eyebrows “Who’s this then? Been holdin’ out on us Lt?” Simon doesn’t answer, throwing him that signature soulless stare of his as you roll your eyes.

“I shouldn’t be surprised, but I can’t say it hurts a little. Don’t wanna brag about me to your teammates baby brother?” You pouted, leaning against your sibling only to be immediately pushed away by the face as Simon grunted.

Older sister. Soap was both simultaneously relieved and even more horrified by the revelation.

You weren’t dating Simon, which meant he had more of a chance! It also meant he’d have to get Simon’s approval, and given the harsh glare he was on the receiving end of, Soap didn’t rate his chances.

“John Mactavish, at your service lass” he introduced himself, laying on the charm, shaking your hand and marvelling at the feel of your skin against his as you relayed your name. He only spends a few minutes mentally cussing out the Lt for being there, staring into his soul and preventing him from planting a kiss against your knuckles.

Soap’s forced to let go far too soon for his liking when Simon huffs, tugging you back to your car as you chastise him for being rude, waving a hasty goodbye to the 141 before getting back behind the wheel. Leaving him to pine from afar, internally cursing when he realises he’s got no way to contact you.

The car has long since peeled out of the lot and is far from sight when a hand clasps on Soap’s shoulder, startling him from his daydreams, “Not a chance son.” Garrick laughs in the background as Soap pouts at the betrayal.

The second time you meet, the sun is shining, enhancing your radiance as the gentle rays caress your skin. He thinks you’re much better suited to this kind of weather, it allows your smile to really gleam.

It’s a complete coincidence that you run into each other only a few weeks after your initial and far too abrupt meeting and Soap chooses to take it as the universe’s divine blessing. As much as he’d tried to banish the images of you from his mind, aware of your status as “forbidden fruit”, Soap doubted he’d ever truly be able to.

He’s calling your name before he can stop and think, one hand raised and frozen in the air as you steal the breath from his lungs once more. Rapid beeping in the background alerts Soap that the crossing light he’d been waiting for has turned green but he pays it no mind, errands forgotten in the prospect of speaking to you.

You blink in surprise before gracing him with a beaming smile as you jogged to close the gap between you, “Oh, Soap Hello.”

“Call me Johnny,” the words are breathed out with very little thought. He hates people calling him that, but when you utter it he swears he’s never heard a better sound.

“Enjoying a day off?” You inquire, falling into step beside him as the two of you start to walk again with you following his lead.

“Aye, been putting off the grocery run for too long.” You nodded in understanding, listening intently as he started to ramble, only cutting himself off in embarrassment a few minutes later when he realised you’d been silent the entire time. Nervously, he scratches his flushed cheek with an apology, “Sorry for gettin' a bit carried away lass, you’ve probably got better things tae do than listen to little ol’ me carrying on like a twat.”

Your pretty lips slip downwards and your brows furrow adorably as you shake your head, “why are you apologising? I’ve enjoyed listening to you.” Soap’s heart skips a beat at your completely earnest expression, fuck. He was so screwed.

The ding of his phone alerting him to a text from you sends Soap practically flying across the room, leaping onto his bed as he scrambles to respond. Johnny’s not been able to see you in person since that fateful day in the sun, you've been texting nearly non-stop but it’s not nearly enough for him.

Perhaps that’s why he’d so quickly responded with a very enthusiastic yes without fully thinking through the situation's implications. Johnny stares in stunned shock at his phone for a few seconds as it sinks in what he’s just agreed to. A few more seconds and his body kicks into gear, clothes flying as he strips himself to jump into the shower. He nearly slips several times in the rush and ends up squirting shampoo into his eyes, causing him to cuss and then inevitably get it in his mouth.

The next obstacle is his clothes. He needs to impress you but it is like every piece of clothing he owns is suddenly inadequate. Too casual, far too formal, stained, dirty, gym wear, uniform, nothing is working and by the time he settles on some jeans and a semi-nice shirt he’s worked himself into a sweat again.

Checking the time, he decides he has enough left to quickly rinse off once more, nearly scrubbing his skin raw in the rush. Outfit on it isn’t until he’s on the street that he realises he’s left his wallet inside. The wallet he needed to buy you the flowers you deserved.

By the time he finally makes it to your door, wiping sweaty palms on his jeans as he shifts his weight anxiously he’s only got a few minutes to spare. Triple-checking he’s got the right address (after he’d checked multiple times before), he knocks on your door, brain whirring as he tries to figure out his opening line.

As the door swings open the words die abruptly on his tongue, mouth drying like the Sahara as the lumbering figure of his lieutenant answers instead of you. The silence is damning and John wishes for the first time in his life for the Earth to open up and swallow him whole as all the blood drains from his face.

“Johnny?” The gruff voice is flat and unimpressed, the gaze that struck fear into the hearts of enemies boring into his soul. Staring up into those cold brown eyes, John realises with horror that Simon is somehow even scarier without the mask.

“Johnny!” The second call of his name is far lovelier and filled with excitement and Soap dies a little more on the inside as he watches the liuetenants scowl deepens even further. Yet the second he catches a glimpse of the beaming smile on your face as you catch sight of him and the flowers makes it all worth it in Soap’s mind, “for me?” you gasp before giddily taking the bouquet.

He watches you flit around with the sunflowers as you look for a vase, proudly displaying them on your coffee table and the pulling him for a hug. It’s almost enough for him to ignore the menacing figure that is Simon Riley looming in the background like a wraith, almost.

The food is divine, most things are to him compared to the food he consumes on deployment and his own cooking, and he makes sure to complement you endlessly. He watches how receptive you are to his flirtations and lays it on a little thicker, he’s willing to risk that his lieutenant won’t actually beat the shit out of him for it.

Simon’s washing the dishes when Soap finally gets some time alone with you, sitting on the couch next to you close enough that your knee brushes his. “Thank ye for inviting me lass, ‘s been lovely. Though maybe next time I could take ye out, just the two of us?” Your breath hitches a little and you nod eagerly,

“I’d like that a lot Johnny.” The moment is once again cut short, this time by an aggressive cough, and Johnny and you turn simultaneously to catch Simon standing behind the couch with crossed arms. Like a child caught sneaking a cookie before dinner, Soap feels oddly guilty. Before he can move, you’re placing a comforting hand on his knee, responding to your brother even as the man inquisition glares at said hand. “Done with the dishes already?”

A terse nod is the only response and Johnny gets the feeling that Simon is attempting to blow him up with his mind. Yet the feel of your thumb rubbing comforting circles against his knee makes it all worth it in Soap’s mind.

The hours pass as drinks and conversation flow, all the while with Simon brooded in the corner like an angsty toddler. You don’t seem to be too bothered by the hulking man’s behaviour and Johnny’s so enamored by you that he can’t find himself to care about the silent threat.

It’s not until you glance up at the clock on the wall and gasp that Soap realises how late it’s become. “Ah I should probably be heading out,” he reluctantly voices, only to watch as your face becomes aghast.

“Absolutely not, it’s far too late. You’ll sleep here,” you admonished, flitting about to gather blankets and pillows. It’s the first instance of the night where he’s left alone with Simon and as the man continues to stare Soap silently begs for your swift return.

Suddenly Ghost is standing right next to him, the height difference abundantly clear, and not for the first time that night Soap feels small. “I don’t know what you think you’re up to Mactavish, but it stops now,” the man’s voice seems even gruffer than usual, a dangerous whisper just for John’s ears.

Whether it’s from having the silent warning finally voiced or the part of him that is ruffled from being told what to do with his personal life, Johnny’s hackles raise, “and what would that be Lt? Gettin’ tae know a pretty lass that wants to know me too?”

Brown eyes narrow in furious warning, the ‘watch it Mactacish’ abundantly clear. But Soap has never been one to back down, especially not when a potential relationship with you is on the line.

“She’s too old for you,” Simon huffed when it became clear that the younger man wasn’t backing down and Soap’s blood boiled even further, refusing to admit how much the words shook hims confidence.

“Think tha’s up to her mate.” Unfortunately, his voice wavers slightly and Simon notices, evidently deciding to capitalise on it.

“You’re just a child to her, someone to look after and mother.” The sound of your footsteps pacing back down the hallway stops the arguments in its tracks. When you stumble back into the room, arms full of more pillows that anyone could possibly use, it’s to an incredibly tense silence. Though Soap’s heart swells at the sight of the various pillows and blankets obstructing your form.

Finally, Simon exits the room, with one last silent warning as you fuss over Soap, practically tucking him into the couch you’ve fashioned into a bed.

Try as he might, Soap can’t fall asleep, too wired simply by the fact that he’s still in your living space. That you are sleeping not 100m away from him, never mind your imposing younger brother. The ticking of the clock on the wall is minute and on any other occasion he likely wouldn’t have even heard it but it was like hi senses had been dialled to the max.

Groaning in irritation he ground his palms into his eyes before he swung his legs around and wandered through the darkness into the kitchen. He’s wary of waking you as he rifles as quietly through your cupboards for a glass as possible, holding back a pained curse as his shin harshly hits the kitchen bench.

Despite his best efforts he must not have been quiet enough as a few moments later a soft, sleepy voice has him whirling around. “S’everything alright?” You stood before him, rubbing one of your eyes with a yawn and dressed in an oversized shirt. The ensemble was overwhelmingly adorable and it took all his self restraint not to coo at the sight.

“Fine lass, did I wake ye?” He frowned, voice tinged with guilt as he watched you step closer into his space, acutely aware of how close you’d gotten. You shake your head no as you lean on the counter next to him, your arm lightly brushing against his.

“Couldn’t sleep… not when I kept thinking about you out here on the couch.” Hesitantly you allowed yourself to look into his wide blue eyes only to find him already staring at you with blazing intensity.

“Think about me a lot darlin?” His words are a husky whisper, tongue darting out to wet his lips as his gaze darted down to yours.

“No more than you do about me I’d wager,” you managed to reply over the pounding of your heart. You’re not entirely sure who moves first but the light clatter of the glass Johnny had been holding against the counter is quickly drowned out as large, warm hands gently cup your face as lips lined with stubble are on yours.

It’s short and sweet and when you pull back your eyes are wide where Jonny’s are half lidded and dazed. Barely three seconds pass before you’re pulling him back against your lips, hands curling in the hair on the base of his neck as one of your thighs pressed between his legs. You swallow the guttral groan he lets out with a smirk, pushing him further against the counter until the sound of a glass tipping over had you darting apart.

Fighting to regain your breath and composure you reluctantly step back to create a respectful distance even as Johnny’s hands absentmindedly trail after you as if to pull you back against him. When more than thirty seconds pass and there’s no indication that your little brother has awoken, you allow yourself to relax once more.

Johnny’s hands are suddenly on your hips again and he pulls you against him so eagerly your forced to brace your hands on his muscled chest. His lips meet the skin of your neck with a satisfied hum and it takes all your strength to pull away, especially when he whines in dissatisfaction.

“Not tonight Johnny,” you hummed, placing a soft kiss on his cheek before pulling away and forcing yourself to walk back to your room before you dropped to your knees and took him in your mouth righ there in the kitchen as your brother slept in the next room over.

Not tonight Johnny. Your words echoed in his mind, repeating over and over as the implications settled in. Not tonight. But not never, just not now. Throwing his head back Soap exhaled heavily, trying to calm himself down over the thrum of his blood. Shuffling back to the couch he tries valiantly to ignore his throbbing dick, an impossible task when he can still feel your lips against his and the soft squish of your hips beneath his palms.

It’s a long and torturous night.

The next 36 hours are spent with the visage of your kiss swollen lips at the forefront of his mind, the ghost of his name whispered hoarsely from your lips featuring consistently in his fantasies. He’s a lovesick fool reminiscent of a teenage boy but he can’t find it in himself to be embarrassed, especially not when you show up at his front door three days post kiss and drag him off to a local aquarium.

The sight of you getting excited over the various fish and marine wildlife as you eagerly tugged on his hand only served to further his infatuation. Your first date ends with yet another breath taking kiss and Soap falls asleep that night filled with certainty that there will never be another person after you.

You don’t even make it to the third date. Soap opens his door only to freeze at your outfit, dinner long forgotten as he pulls you inside and presses you against the door. You’re quick to reciprocate, moaning against his lips as clothes were thrown and you were finally bared to him. Your body was better than anything Johnny could have ever imagined and he eagerly dropped to his knees, burying his face in your cunt with the voracity of a man starved.

He’s made you cum thrice on his tongue and fingers before you’re harshly tugging on his mohawk and mashing your lips together in a sloppy kiss, walking him backwards until he hits the couch and you're straddling his throbbing length. You’ve already tugged his shirt off, but don’t bother with his pants beyond freeing his cock. He barely gets to appreciate the feel of your soft hand grasping him before its replaced by the silky heat of your cunt.

Soap’s forehead drops to rest on your collarbone as you both groaned, taking a few seconds to adjust to the sensation. It didn’t take long before you were rocking your hips against his, Johnny’s hands gripping your hips to the point of bruising as he lavished your tits with bites and kisses. He’s so pent up from weeks of fucking his own fist and waking up achingly hard from increasingly risque dreams that it hardly takes any time before he’s practically fighting his orgasm. “Need you to slow down darlin, ‘m not gonna last,” he grunted, trying to get you to cooperate a little.

“Then cum baby,” you nonchalantly commanded, continuing to ride him with vigour and Soap’s ears filled with white noise, all he could see, hear, feel was you.

“Where-” He managed to choke out through gritted teeth, only half heartedly trying to pull you off of him.

“Inside” you panted, and that was all it took before his hips stuttered and he climaxed, whining a little as you kept riding him until you clenched down on his already softening cock, reaching your own orgasm. The two of you stayed locked together, your head tucked into his sweaty chest placing lazy kisses as you caught your breath.

By the time you finally rolled out of Johnny’s bed and made your way home the following afternoon you had over twenty texts from your brother and more than a few missed calls that left you cringing. The attempt you make to sneak back into your own residence! Is immediately thwarted by your perpetually overprotective and nosy brother.

The laser focused glare that settles on your bruised neck has you wilting like a scolded child. You manage to play it off as a one night stand, having picked up a random woman from a bar, asking him is sex was suddenly made illegal when you weren’t aware.

As you clamber into the shower to rinse off the stench of sex, a shiver runs down your spine as you mentally vow that Simon can never figure out who the culprit of your mauled neck is.

You’re only granted three weeks of bliss with Johnny before everything came crashing down violently. Until then you’d been vigilant at only sleeping at his and going on dates far away from where you knew Simon would be.

You’d gotten complacent, too comfortable in the belief that Simon wouldn’t find out, that you’d get to enjoy the relationship for a little longer before you were forced to share with your little brother. Simon wasn’t supposed to be home, Johnny had spent the night at yours and it had been so wonderful to wake up in his arms in your own bed.

Johnny had woken you by peppering kisses along your face and neck as you giggled and tried to push him off, complaining about his prickly stubble. He used his training and bulk to weigh you down, the playful nips turning more sensual as he kissed his way down your stomach, throwing one of your legs over his shoulder.

Your hands tangle in his mess of a mohawk as you writhe beneath him, whining in protest when he uses his hands to hold your hips down to keep you still. “Johnny,” you choke out a moan of his name at the same instance your bedroom door swings open and there’s a thunderous roar of fury as Simon screams at your boyfriend.

A shriek leaves your lips as you kick Johnny in the shoulder so hard he flies off the edge of your bed, simultaneously pulling the blanket up and curling in a ball to hide your naked body. Chaos couldn’t even begin to describe the following seconds as your still horny brain tried to cotton on to what was happening.

The mortification of your little brother not only seeing you naked but witnessing you mid fuck quickly fades when he stalks into your room towards the still prone and processing Johnny, and morphs into an immense sense of terror. “Simon!” You clamber to place yourself between the two men, unsure as to whether things are about to descend into violence, as Johnny finally manages to orient himself.

“Out. Now.” Your brother addresses the sergeant, cold fury tinging his words as the muscles in his jaw clench. You scoff at that, reaching back to grab Johnny’s bicep to keep him there.

“No. He stays.” Simon completely ignores your presence, glaring past you as if you weren’t even there.

“Johnny,” the warning is clear and you’re familiar enough with Simon’s tells to know how close he is to blowing up, or rather as close to as he ever gets to blowing up.

“Simon enough! I’m not a child, I’m a grown ass woman and I will fuck whoever I wanna fuck.” You're starting to reach the end of your own tether and it’s only Johnny’s presence, his warm chest pressed to your back that’s grounding you.

“Not him,” he denies stubbornly, arm crossed as he continues to glower at the two of you.

“Why not? He makes me happy. Don’t you want me to be happy?” It takes everything in you not to burst into tears at how poorly this is going. You would have thought that of all the men in the world Simon wouldn’t have minded you falling in love with one that he already knew and trusted.

“Right now maybe. What happens when he breaks your heart? When I have to have his back in the field after you’ve spent days crying over him huh? What happens if he doesn’t come home and I have to watch you shatter into pieces all over again like after Tommy?” You fall silent at that, swallowing harshly at the reminder of your deceased brother. Simon’s words hit you like a slap in the face and you actually stumble backwards a little as Johnny catches you.

“Simon mate I get ye wanting to protect yer family but yer being a little controlling dontcha think?” Johnny tries to speak up in defense of your relationship but from the way your brother’s breathing deepens you can tell the words have the opposite effect.

There’s a few seconds of tense silence before Simon huffed, “fine, do what you want,” before he stormed from your room. It’s not until you hear the front door slam closed that you fully allow yourself to collapse, tears streaming down your face in earnest as Johnny cradled you.

He does his best to console you, whispering reassurances into your ears that you don’t really process as Johnny manoeuvres you back into bed, bundling you up in his arms and the blankets. You spend the rest of the day crying in bed, obsessively checking your phone for news from Simon and waiting to hear the front door open.

“I’m so sorry lass, never intended to come between ye and Simon,” there’s genuine self loathing in your boyfriends voice and it’s enough to finally pull you from your own spiral.

“Don’t you dare apologise for him Johnny” you hissed, taking his face in your hands, “you have done nothing but bring me happiness. Simon will just have to get over it because I don’t intend on giving you up… unless that’s something you want?”

“Never. I’m afraid yer stuck with me forever now bonnie” he stated with such certainty that you’ve no choice but to believe him.

“Forever?” you breathed out.

“Forever.” He confirmed with a goofy grin, planting a comforting kiss on your forehead. “Simon will come around. He loves ya too much to brood forever.” With that he finally manages to coax you to sleep, promising to stay awake and keep an ear out for your wayward brother.

Simon makes his way home a few days later, slinking up to the porch where you sat smoking a cigarette to help relieve the stress like a cat that had run away only to decide the outside sucked. You don’t ask where he’s been and he doesn’t tell, simply slumping down next to you before stealing your smoke.

“Filthy habit, thought you quit,” he grunted, putting it out beneath his boot.

“I did, but it’s been a stressful few days, my little brother decided to go MIA, left me worried shitless,” you huffed, throwing him a blatant side eye as you can’t bring yourself to look at him directly.

There’s silence for a few seconds before you make out the soft rumble of, “He sounds like a right bellend.” You hummed in response, exhaling harshly from your nose. The two of you continue to sit in silence, both unsure how to proceed.

You’re saved from having to say anything when there’s a bang, causing you and Simon to swivel in alarm to watch as the front door was violently swung open to reveal a grinning Johnny dressed in an apron. He pauses upon seeing your brother but takes the man’s appearance in stride, grin never fading as he proclaimed, “eggs are ready,” before disappearing back inside.

Wiping your hands on the cotton material of your pants you stand, take a deep breath and then step back inside, pausing at the threshold to finally look at Simon, tilting your head as if to ask, ‘you coming?’

Simon doesn’t move, sighing in exasperation, “He’s staying then?”

“Looks like it.” To your surprise he simply nods, lumbering up the small steps and following you inside to the warmth of your home, stopping only to kick off his boots, exposing the frog socks you’d bought for him only a few months back.

Things were still far from ok, you weren’t willing to completely forgive Simon for blowing up and promptly worrying you sick with the disappearing act, but the sight of those ridiculous socks was enough to reassure you that they would be soon.

Tags: @innercollectivecomputer @cooliofango @pertinentpostmortem @ghostslillady @domaniquessidehoe2 @ilovehyperfixating @pauphs @skotchi @bunnyreaper @Tokusho @ohworm-writes @jack-crow-lantern @marvellover-12 @skylarf0rest @ghostfkr @bookobsessedram @Frogtowne @dumb-fawkin-bitch @juvenillia

#x reader #cod mw x reader #soap x reader #john mactavish x reader #soap #soap call of duty #john soap mactavish #john mactavish

751 notes · View notes

vmlnrznotfound · 3 months ago

Text

prologue: every shade of blue.

wc: 600+

a michael kaiser x reader series.

cw: angst

taglist: @ikuaiku @someprettyname @fishii28

kaiser never thought he’d see you again, especially not here, not like this. transferring to a new place was supposed to be a fresh start, a clean slate to focus solely on football. but here you were, a specter from his past, haunting the sidelines as the junior manager of his rival team.

from the moment he spotted you, his focus wavered. memories of your turbulent relationship flooded back.

he had thrown himself into his training, into becoming the best, to forget you. but seeing you now, he realized how deeply you had etched yourself into his soul as he watched you interact with other managers.

as the match began, michael channeled his turmoil into the game. every dribble, every pass, was an outlet for the tension simmering inside him..

during a timeout, michael’s coach sent him over to your side to fetch a water bottle. he hesitated, then jogged over with his usual swagger.

his fingers brushed yours as he grabbed the bottle, and for a split second, the world seemed to stop. your eyes met, and unspoken words hung in the air. but you both stayed silent. michael turned away, his heart pounding in his chest, masking his turmoil with a confident smirk.

back on the field, the tension between your teams mirrored the unresolved tension between you and michael. the game was fierce, both sides relentless. michael's every move was shadowed by memories of you. he played with a mix of aggression and finesse, the way he always did when something was eating at him.

in the final minutes, with the score tied, michael saw his chance. he broke through the defense, sprinting toward the goal. shooting the football right into the goal, making the crowd erupt, but all michael could see was you, your eyes locked onto his from across the field. you looked...disappointed, yet adorable in a way with that cute expression of yours he always adored cause you'd smile. and you'd always smile. you were his angel.

after the game, as the stadium emptied, michael found himself gravitating toward you. he stood a few feet away, the words he wanted to say stuck in his throat. you looked at him, your expression unreadable, and for a moment, he thought you might speak. but the silence stretched on.

michael's gaze lingered on you, his mind a whirlwind of what-ifs and could-have-beens. the unspoken connection between you was a delicate thread, frayed but unbroken, binding you in a silent, bittersweet dance. your eyes met, holding a thousand unspoken words, a symphony of past and present playing in the space between you.

finally, michael turned and walked away, frustration and something deeper gnawing at him. he had thought he could move on, but seeing you had reopened old wounds. he wasn’t sure if they could ever heal completely.

as he walked away, the stadium lights dimming, he couldn’t help but steal one last glance at you. you stood there, rooted to the spot, eyes lost in his. in that fleeting moment, everything and nothing was said, and the silence between you spoke volumes.

michael's heart, usually so fiercely guarded, ached with the weight of unsaid words and lingering glances. his mind raced with thoughts of what could have been, and yet, he knew that for now, the silence was all they had.

a/n: im not the best angst writer i apologize :(

#vmlnrz—somewhere down the road.#blue lock x reader #bllk x reader #blue lock #bllk #blue lock x y/n #blue lock x you #micheal kaiser #kaiser x reader #michael kaiser #michael #kaiser #kaiser x y/n #kaiser x you #kaiser smut

108 notes · View notes

pin-k-ink · 2 days ago

Text

COLLATERAL DAMAGE ★ AIZEN SOSUKE FT. ICHIMARU GIN

DAY ONE ➵ aizen had you wrapped around his finger long before gin ever realized it, reducing you to nothing but his mindless little plaything. now, in las noches, he keeps you close—just to make sure gin stays in line.

cw ➵ dark content, possèssive!aizen, dub-con, angst, coeřcion, cućking(?), fořced submíssion, some aizen x gin if you squint, manipúlation, face fucķing, exhibitíonism, humilìation, deep-throàting, asphýxiation, mild body worship, nípple play, unprotécted sèx, fingéring, dírty talk, squírting, creàmpie, gin cúms untouched

wc ➵ 6.1k

kinktober masterlist

The heavy door's groan as it swung inward immediately seized Gin's attention. His casual swagger faltered ever so slightly as he strode into Aizen's private sanctuary, finding a scene that struck him like a physical blow.

There you knelt amid the opulent bedding, clad only in your undergarments as you lavished open-mouthed kisses and caresses across Aizen's bare torso. Your hair was tousled, skin sheened with a thin sheen of sweat from your exertions already. Harsh pants spilled from your parted lips, glazed eyes alight with feverish desire you openly directed towards Aizen's indolent sprawl.

For a stunned instant, Gin could only gape openly at the lewd tableau - his mind whiting out as a barrage of memories overwhelmed him:

You, gazing at him with such profound warmth and tenderness through the nights spent tangled in passion and vulnerability together back in Soul Society. The sweet timbre of your laughter mingling with whispered endearments and shared sake during quiet evenings. How utterly shattered your radiant light had become the day Gin forced himself to sever the bond, knowing the inevitable toxicity of his chosen path would only continue poisoning your brilliance the longer he selfishly clung to you.

He relived every agony tenfold in that crystalline moment - the anguished aftermath of his callous rejection all those weeks ago. Leaving you heartbroken and your future unknown in the desperate hope it would safeguard you from the seething miasma of treacheries shortly to unfold.

Yet the harsh reality now unfolded with pitiless clarity: not only had his brutal efforts to shield you failed, but your untainted essence had been utterly defiled in the meantime. This debauched, wanton creature lavishing open desire upon Aizen's frame could not possibly be the same woman Gin loved so fiercely. Not with the glazed cast of your eyes and utter lack of recognition or compassion shining through.

No...you'd been reduced merely to the basest form - a compliant vessel for brimming need and visceral craving alone. Leaving precious little trace of your former soul glimmering through the lustful husk left in its wake.

Gin's chest constricted with the violence of a collapsing star as he fought not to openly rail against this sick parody playing out before him. His hands clenched and released in twitchy spasms at his sides, nails scoring shallow crescents against his palms.

Then Aizen's rich, cultured baritone slithered through the miasma with lethal languor: "Welcome, Gin," he greeted, utterly unperturbed by the interruption. “How fortunate that our performances align so perfectly this evening.”

You paid the former captain's words no more heed than a favored pet acknowledging their owner's voice in passing. Simply continued trailing wet, shameless kisses down the taut lines of his abdomen and lower still with blissful absorption.

“You’ve arrived just in time to see the opening movements of this overture,” Aizen practically purred, long fingers idly carding through your tousled tresses. His slitted regard flickered over to where Gin had frozen like a moth in the wake of an open flame.

“Surely this reunion is bringing back some fond memories for you as well, old friend?” he crooned in silken tones dripping with dark suggestion. “After all, we wouldn’t want you to feel excluded from our deepening collaboration, would we?”

At that insidiously loaded reference to your past with Gin, your glazed eyes flickered up towards his rigid figure for one suspended heartbeat. A fleeting glimpse of spark flickered behind your unfocused irises, almost hinting at an ember of lucidity briefly emerging through the lustful fog clouding your awareness.

Then Aizen uttered a low, dismissive chuckle as he gripped a handful of your hair in rebuke, hips shifting up towards your open mouth with lewd suggestion. Instantly, your brief flicker of cognizance evaporated beneath the renewed glaze of need absolutely transfixed upon pleasuring your captor further.

"Your timing remains as impeccably wretched as ever, it seems," Aizen intoned in that edged purr, locking Gin with a bold stare brimming with dark promise. “Though I suppose I should feel some gratitude that you chose this important moment to join us rather than arriving after the main performance has already peaked.”

A fresh bloom of visceral disgust lanced through Gin's hollow core at the sadistic implications laced behind each aristocratic murmur. He swallowed hard, willing his nails not to draw blood from his clenched fists as you delved forward into Aizen's cradle without hesitation. Subjugating whatever dormant soul still dwelled behind your eyes towards the primal carnality dictated by your new master.

“Try not to wither like an innocent virgin, Gin,” Aizen crooned, smoky eyes glittering with unveiled menace. “After all, you’re far more intimately familiar with my lover’s particular skills and energies than most. So surely you can appreciate how well she applies herself so selflessly to alleviating certain pressures these days.”

Despite every fiber of his being screaming at Gin to surge forward and physically tear you away from Aizen's depraved grasp, he remained utterly frozen in place. The veiled threats and sinister implications laced behind his former captain's words rendered him temporarily paralyzed.

Aizen seemed to revel in Gin's helpless silence and the anguish playing out across his features. With the utmost casualness, he began discussing imminent plans - troop deployments, securing territory, the expansion of his Arrancar army. All the while, you continued lavishing open-mouthed attention and caresses along his torso and lower abdomen without the slightest hint of shame or restraint.

"As you can see, significant preparations must be made in securing my reign over Hueco Mundo before we can turn our focus elsewhere," Aizen stated coolly, even as his fingers tightened in your hair to guide your mouth lower.

A muffled moan slipped past your lips yet you pressed eagerly onward, determined to satisfy whatever depravity Aizen demanded of you. Gin's hands clenched and released sporadically as he watched the lewd display, his throat feeling as if it were closing up. How rapidly you had descended into this vacant, needy state hellbent on fulfilling Aizen's every carnal whim.

"Of course, maintaining firm leadership and loyalty from my subordinates will be paramount," Aizen continued in that same clinical tone utterly juxtaposed by the wanton tableau playing out before Gin. "I have little patience for...wavering focus or insubordination from those who swore to follow me into this new world."

His gaze lasered in on Gin then, eyes glittering with dark promise as one hand gripped your shoulder to hold you in place. The other tugged insistently at his hakama, freeing his fully stiffened cock with shameless liberty to prod against your swollen lips.

Gin swallowed hard, unable to tear his eyes away as your mouth parted without hesitation, enveloping the thick length in a searing wetness that made Aizen grunt low in his chest. Your eyelids fluttered but remained heavy-lidded and utterly transfixed upon your current purpose.

"So I ensure complete obedience by sating certain...indulgences, shall we say," Aizen practically purred, his voice taking on a deeper, rougher edge as you began bobbing in earnest motions against him. "This approach breeds the utmost loyalty with few exceptions, as you can see."

A choked noise, somewhere between horrified grief and visceral disgust, tore itself from Gin's throat at the blatant display. His vision swam, unable to properly process the sight of your mouth thoroughly debased upon Aizen's cock with mindless fervor and submission.

This hollowed, complicit shell could not possibly be the same passionate, caring woman who used to grace his arms every night with gentle kisses and soulful endearments. It simply wasn't possible for your essence to be so thoroughly stripped away, your spirit violated and remade into Aizen's personal plaything like this.

“Why not stay a little longer and observe more closely how thoroughly committed my subordinates are?” There was no missing the naked taunt dripping from Aizen's voice now as he held Gin's gaze pointedly. “Unless this level of required loyalty makes you question your own dedication to our cause moving forward?”

Gin sucked in a ragged breath through his nostrils, vaguely aware of how Aizen watched his painfully twisted reaction through hooded eyes. Of just how broken down and reduced the sight of you in this state left him. No, he couldn't withstand further defilement of your essence on top of everything else.

With intense effort, Gin managed to pull his gaze away from the horrific display. He took a stumbling step backwards, sheer force of will keeping his reeling legs beneath him as he turned towards the exit. Leaving you whimpering around Aizen's cock like a mindless animal seeking satisfaction and approval from its depraved master.

"I believe you've...illustrated your point rather effectively, Aizen-sama," Gin bit out in a voice kept carefully even yet drained of all inflection. "I shall review your plans in more detail and await further instructions."

Aizen's eyes glinted dangerously at Gin's attempt to retreat. With an almost casual flick of his wrist, he gripped your hair tighter, eliciting a muffled whine of discomfort from around his thick shaft.

"I wasn't dismissing you just yet, Gin," he stated coolly, stalling your obedient ministrations by holding you firmly in place. “In fact, I insist that you stay so we can thoroughly explore the full extent of my lover’s commitment.”

Gin felt his stomach twist into fresh knots at the blatant vindictiveness radiating from his former captain. Clearly, Aizen derived perverse satisfaction from exerting such degrading dominance in front of his eyes. Yet he found himself rooted in place once more, unable to simply turn away as Aizen's fingers tightened their grip in your tresses nearly to the point of pain.

"You forget how intimately familiar I am with your...attachments, old friend," Aizen crooned, dark velvet promise dripping from every word. “I know you wouldn’t dare risk anything harmful happening to my dear lover.”

His eyes bored into Gin's, both confirming the threat and basking in your helpless obedience in equal measure. With your mouth effectively trapped around his cock, Aizen thrust his hips upward in a harsh pumping motion - forcing the thick shaft deeper until your eyes watered and you choked out a soft gag.

Gin clenched his fists hard enough for nails to score his palms, unwilling to grant Aizen the satisfaction of seeing him further crumble. He remained frozen, forcing himself to stare straight back as his former captain ruthlessly face-fucked you without the slightest hesitation or reprieve.

"That's it, keep those pretty eyes on me," Aizen growled in what almost sounded like tender encouragement. His thumb traced the hollowed curve of your cheek, feeling the outline of his cock stretching your mouth full. "Let our dear Gin watch how well you service me, beloved."

A few stray tears leaked from the corners of your eyes but you showed no signs of resisting, holding your obedience steady as Aizen plunged in and out with mounting aggression. Gin swallowed hard, feeling lightheaded from the visceral brutality he was being subjected to.

"I could order you to take those skilled little lips and tongue elsewhere, couldn't I, my love?" Aizen's rich timbre had gone low and rough with arousal. He released his grip on your hair to instead grasp your chin in an iron vise, guiding your mouth up and down his length with renewed ferocity. "Perhaps let you pleasure my most loyal soldiers one by one. Let them see how much you truly love serving your new master."

Your answering moan reverberated along the shaft filling your mouth, utterly affirmative even as fresh tears carved glistening tracks over your flushed cheeks. Aizen groaned in what sounded like dark satisfaction, his skin gleaming from exertion.

"Then again," he panted, pumping his hips in short, vicious thrusts that had your throat rippling and eyes rolling back, "that would mean sharing your talents with all those others when I prefer having you all to myself. Don't I, my dear?"

With a rougher growl, Aizen suddenly threw his head back, tendons standing out in sharp relief as his pelvis pistoned up without mercy. Gin stared in helpless numb revulsion as he took what he wanted from you with ruthless, animalistic savagery - choking whimpers and all.

Just when it seemed you might succumb to unconsciousness from the onslaught, Aizen's entire frame went taut as piano wire. His eyes rolled back as his seed tore free in deep, grunting pulses - spilling thick and hot straight down your quivering throat as you frantically swallowed every rope.

Aizen held you pinned, utterly motionless except for the spasms of rapture wracking his form. Not until he visibly shuddered and sagged backwards did his grip relent, allowing you to pull away with a desperate wheeze of air.

The silence that followed rang with all the finality of a guillotine slamming home. Gin felt utterly disassociated from reality as he stared at the vile display - his former captain slumped in satisfied repletion while you shuddered in a crumpled heap, throat no doubt burning from the brutal assault.

Yet through it all, your eyes remained glassy and averted, not a shred of cognition sparking the lifeless husk of obedience Aizen had molded you into. Simply wheezing and waiting for whatever fresh depravities your depraved master had in store with mindless resignation.

Eventually, Aizen shifted and raised one contemptuous eyebrow towards where Gin lingered. His penetrating stare cut straight to the shattered remains of Gin's splintered soul as if he could see every hairline fracture spiderwing outward there.

"Gin." Aizen's voice cut through the weighted silence, smooth as velvet yet laced with steel. "Don't be so eager to flee just yet. Come, have a seat."

He gestured languidly to a chair positioned just before the bed. Gin's gaze followed the motion, taking in how Aizen had shifted to gather you against his chest in a parody of tenderness. One long-fingered hand stroked idly through your disheveled hair as you remained slumped bonelessly against him.

"There, that's better," Aizen murmured, his deep timbre almost soothing if not for the lingering darkness lurking beneath. “My lover seems to have fully exhausted herself in her efforts to reinforce my authority, at least for now.”

He looked down at your lax form, eyes glinting with something akin to fond possession. A stark contrast to the ruthless disregard displayed mere moments ago.

"Isn't that right, beloved?" Aizen crooned, tipping your chin up with deceptive gentleness. “You’ve pleased your lord greatly with such devoted submission. Though I suppose I have my dear Gin to thank for providing such inspiration as well. Isn’t that so, old friend? You certainly had a significant impact upon my lover, though not quite as profoundly as she had on you, it seems."

A tiny, wordless murmur slipped from your parted lips - a faint whimper of mindless affirmation aimed to grant your master's praise. Gin felt something inside him wither at the sound, chest constricting painfully.

Aizen's penetrating stare snapped back towards him then, lips quirking in a small, satisfied smile that somehow made the hair prickle on the back of Gin's neck.

"Please, make yourself comfortable," he insisted with an indolent wave. “I get the sense that no matter how thoroughly I showcase her loyalty tonight, a part of you still clings to nostalgic delusions about your past… relationship, shall we say?”

The words seemed to drip with layered suggestion and taunting as Aizen's larger hand soothed gentle patterns along your back almost absently. Gin remained frozen, nails biting into his palms hard enough to draw blood as he weathered the onslaught of anguish those observations unleashed.

“I find it difficult to comprehend why my embrace of certain…desires stirs such pain within you,” Aizen stated with infuriating mildness. “Unless you desire a more intimate look at the pleasures her completely transformed self can now experience?”

Gin's tongue felt thick and useless in his mouth, unable to formulate any kind of response even if his screaming instincts didn't warn such would be grievously foolish. Aizen seemed to take his mute stillness as inexorable invitation, lips curving higher as he smoothed your hair back from your brow in an entirely disingenuous caress.

“Ah, I can see that you finally understand what’s happening,” he mused with evident satisfaction. "Tell me then, Gin... are you not even a little curious about what making love to this obedient, devoted creature looks like from a different perspective? One where you are not the one performing, but the one watching?"

Gin remained frozen, trapped beneath Aizen's piercing stare as his former captain's lips curled into a small, satisfied smile.

He paused, eyes glittering with dark promise as he seemed to gauge Gin's reaction. When Gin failed to respond, Aizen's smile widened fractionally.

"Surely you must have thought about it while you were making love to her yourself," he continued in that terribly mild tone. "What it would look like for me to take her apart with every bit as much thoroughness and devotion as you once did. How utterly beautiful she would look spread and writhing beneath me, taking my cock with the same eager abandon and unreserved surrender as she did yours. I'm sure the thoughts crossed your mind even when you tried so valiantly to ignore them."

Aizen trailed off, letting the blatant implication hang heavy in the air between them. His fingers carded almost absently through your disheveled tresses as you remained a boneless, glassy-eyed weight against his chest.

Gin swallowed hard, still rendered mute and frozen by the entire depraved situation. Part of him recoiled in visceral disgust at Aizen's suggestion. But another part, one he didn't dare acknowledge even to himself, felt a traitor's spark of dark curiosity and arousal flicker to sickly life at the prospect.

Aizen seemed to read that reaction in the tense lines of Gin's body. His smile remained triumphant, untainted by any remorse or decency as he pulled you nearer in a parody of tenderness.

"Come now, surely you're not going to leave without taking a moment to properly savor her exquisite form," he purred, fingers sliding down to caress the exposed expanse of your chest. Your eyelids fluttered and another faint, wordless moan escaped. "I know you can't have forgotten how responsive she was for you. I'd hate to think that I'm the only one benefiting from these pleasures now."

He cupped your breast, calloused palm stroking in firm motions over the hardened peak. Your breath caught and eyes slid shut, lips parting with a soft, needy whine as Aizen lavished shameless attention upon your sensitized skin.

"It's been a while since I've been able to indulge in a night alone with my lover," he continued with a touch of regret, fingers rolling and plucking insistently at your nipples. "The demands of my position often require me to remain focused and distant. It would be a shame not to capitalize on the rare opportunity to take her apart as slowly and completely as I want, don't you think, Gin?"

His eyes locked onto Gin's, the unspoken challenge clear as day. Yet despite the revulsion clawing its way up Gin's throat, the sick spark of morbid curiosity refused to be smothered.

Aizen's gaze flickered over the warring emotions playing across Gin's face and his smile widened fractionally. One hand continued teasing and tormenting the stiffened peaks of your breasts, making you writhe and pant against his chest. The other reached down to tug your thighs open, revealing the dampened satin of your panties clinging to your flushed folds.

"She's so wet, it's obscene," he practically purred, fingertips tracing the outline of your swollen clit through the soaked fabric. "It must have been a while since I last gave her a proper fucking, and I'm afraid we're both paying the price now."

His fingers continued stroking along your drenched folds, making you keen and shift restlessly as the tension continued winding tighter. Gin remained frozen, eyes riveted on the shameless display and the growing damp patch forming around your panties.

"But we have time enough to remedy that tonight," Aizen said, almost to himself. He leaned down to place a lingering kiss against the hollow of your throat. "I think it's only fitting that you watch, Gin. After all, you were her first, weren't you? So it seems only appropriate for you to bear witness to the extent of her transformation now."

The words sent a sharp pang stabbing straight through Gin's gut. The reminder that you were no longer his, not in the ways that mattered, only deepened the gaping wound inside his chest. He remained frozen, his pulse thundering in his ears and hands trembling.

Aizen seemed to take his lack of movement as a form of consent, for he simply gave a small shrug and shifted. Before Gin could react, his former captain had torn your panties off and flipped you around in his lap so that your back pressed against his bare chest. Your legs draped limply over the outside of his thighs, spreading you open in full view.

"There," he said, satisfaction and hunger ringing clear as he tugged the soaked satin aside to bare your glistening slit. "Is this a familiar sight, Gin? I'm sure she used to let you do all manner of things between these supple thighs."

His fingers slid through the slickened flesh, making you moan and arch in his lap. Gin remained frozen, helplessly captivated by the sight of Aizen's fingers sinking inside you. Of how the thick digits glided in and out, coaxing you further into arousal and need.

"You're so tight, beloved," Aizen murmured, his breath brushing your ear as he pumped in and out. "Perhaps my attention has been required elsewhere lately. It will be a pleasure to remind you of just how generous and attentive your master can be."

With a soft grunt, Aizen suddenly pulled his fingers free. He raised them to his lips, deliberately licking the glistening juices from his skin with slow deliberation. A low groan reverberated from his chest, almost guttural in its intensity.

"I always forget just how good you taste," he rumbled, eyes falling half-lidded. "I could spend hours savoring the sweetness of this cunt, but I'm sure you'll have to excuse me for wanting a more complete appreciation of you right now."

With that, Aizen shifted your limp form again, arranging you so that your back arched against his chest. His large hands grasped your thighs, tugging your knees further apart and baring your dripping pussy to Gin's horrified stare.

"I hope you don't mind sharing, Gin," he practically crooned, his breath tickling the shell of your ear. "She’s so perfect, it would be a shame to deprive the world of the pleasures she has to offer. Don’t you agree?"

Gin remained frozen, torn between nausea and dark fascination at the sight of you splayed before him. Of your head lolling against Aizen's shoulder, lips parted and chest heaving with shallow breaths as your dazed gaze remained fixed on the ceiling.

"It's truly a shame that you didn’t appreciate this gorgeous body fully during your time together," Aizen mused, lips caressing the curve of your throat as he spoke. "If you had, perhaps I wouldn't have needed to take such drastic measures to ensure her absolute devotion. After all, the only reason she's here right now is because she knows her lord needs her to be completely and utterly loyal."

"That's...not true..." The words slipped free without Gin's conscious volition, a desperate attempt to deny the painful reality he was forced to witness.

Aizen merely arched an eyebrow in cool amusement, his eyes glinting dangerously. He slid one hand up your body to grip your chin, holding you immobile as his lips brushed the shell of your ear.

"Are you certain?" he asked, voice pitched low and hypnotic. "Or is this the truth you tell yourself because the alternative is simply too painful? Either way, it hardly matters now. Because no matter what lies you try to convince yourself, the truth is that you're here right now."

Aizen's fingers traced down the side of your throat, pausing just above your racing pulse.

"Witnessing this transformation," he continued, the dark promise of every word making the hairs rise on the back of Gin's neck. "This is the reality, no matter how much you would prefer otherwise. So why not enjoy the show? It's not often that I allow others to see such a side of me."

With that, Aizen slid his free hand back between your spread thighs. Gin remained motionless, unable to tear his gaze away from the sight of his former captain's long fingers tracing through the soaked folds with deft, practiced motions.

"But you’ve always been special to me, Gin," Aizen mused, almost idly as he rubbed circles around your clit. You writhed and whined, hips bucking instinctively. "I suppose it's only fair to indulge you in return for the entertainment you've provided over the years."

Gin felt his pulse quicken, skin prickling with visceral awareness. He felt strangely removed, like he was witnessing events from the far side of a screen. And yet the arousal curling in his belly couldn't be denied, especially when his eyes lingered on the sight of your hips rolling in helpless response.

He could remember what it felt like to make love to you, the way your body quivered and tightened around him when your pleasure crested. The way you would clutch at his shoulders and moan his name, a sound that never failed to fill him with a rush of tender possessiveness and satisfaction.

Soon enough, his body betrayed him and began responding to the blatant eroticism playing out before him. His cock stirred, blood surging in a sickening rush of warmth. Gin gritted his teeth, shame and self-loathing clawing at his insides even as his cock hardened further.

"I know what you're thinking, Gin." Aizen's dark, velvet baritone cut through the haze, his fingers stroking over your drenched slit with agonizing slowness. "But what's the harm? I can say for certain that you’re the most deserving to see this particular performance. Perhaps you need a reminder of the way your lover responds when she is loved thoroughly and completely?"

He punctuated the taunting question by sinking two fingers into your quivering cunt, pumping in and out in a leisurely rhythm. You moaned and arched against him, your hands sliding up to clutch at his wrists.

"You look beautiful like this, beloved," Aizen rumbled, his voice gone thick with arousal. He turned his head to press his lips against the side of your throat. "Will you let me make love to you now? It's been far too long since I've had the pleasure of feeling your tight little cunt around my cock."

Your answering whine sounded needy and desperate, the words not penetrating your mindless arousal. Still, it seemed to satisfy Aizen as he withdrew his fingers. Instead, he hooked his hands under your knees and lifted them upwards, forcing your legs wider apart.

The obscene display made Gin's throat go dry. His pulse thundered in his ears as his traitorous eyes remained fixated on the sight of Aizen's hard shaft poised and ready between your parted folds. His former captain's gaze flickered over to him then, eyes glinting in dark satisfaction as if he could sense the exact moment Gin's control began to shatter.

"Enjoy the show, Gin," he practically purred, lips curling upward. With a low growl, Aizen thrust his hips forward, spearing his way inside with a single stroke.

Gin flinched at the same time you gasped and arched, head falling back against Aizen's shoulder. He remained frozen, unable to tear his gaze away from the sight of you taking his former captain's cock with mindless abandon.

The sight was mesmerizing, a terrible parody of the way Gin had made love to you in the past. And yet there was no mistaking the way you writhed and moaned, the way your thighs tensed and back arched in response to each deep thrust.Gin could almost feel the phantom sensation of you pulsing around him, your body welcoming his own in the familiar dance.

The memories only served to heighten the shameful arousal curling within him. Gin's cock throbbed and hardened, straining painfully against his uniform. Precum beaded from the tip, staining the fabric even as he grit his teeth and tried to ignore the aching heat.

"She feels incredible, doesn't she?" Aizen's rough voice snapped him back to the present. The other man had fallen still, hips flush against yours as he held you pinned with your thighs splayed obscenely. His expression had grown darker, almost wild as his eyes bored into Gin. "I imagine you can still remember what it felt like the last time you were inside her, when her cunt was wrapped around you and begging for release. But that's nothing compared to this."

He punctuated the taunting statement with a sharp thrust that had you gasping and rocking forward. Your chest heaved, flushed and glistening with a thin sheen of sweat. Your eyes were still dazed and empty, but there was no mistaking the lust and arousal etched into every line of your face.

"I've spent countless nights learning the secrets of this gorgeous body, memorizing every way she loves to be touched," Aizen practically growled. He rolled his hips up, the motion sending a shudder through your frame. "And she has responded to each and every one with the utmost devotion and loyalty."

"Why are you doing this?" Gin finally found the strength to rasp, his throat aching with the effort. "Why do you have to do it in front of me?"

The question had haunted him since his arrival. Aizen's expression shifted then, eyes glinting and a small, smug smile tugging at his lips.

"I told you, didn't I?" he said, his tone infuriatingly mild once more. "I'm simply rewarding the one who has been most deserving. And perhaps reminding you of what could have been, if only you had shown the proper amount of initiative. But it's too late now, and I find that I quite enjoy the fruits of my labor. She's everything I hoped for and more."

Gin's hands clenched into fists at the implications. Something inside him felt raw and frayed, and the longer he lingered, the faster the thread was unraveling. He couldn't escape the memories, the visceral reminder of how perfectly you'd responded to his touch, to his kiss, to his very presence.

It had been different with Aizen. There was no denying that, no matter how hard Gin tried. Whereas you had melted into his embrace and returned his love with every breath, there had been no trace of those old feelings within you whenever Aizen had touched you. Only blank, glassy-eyed acceptance and mindless obedience.

His heart broke wondering what Aizen must’ve done to you to strip you of the emotions and desires that had made you who you were. The ones that had made him fall in love with you, that had inspired such fierce loyalty and devotion from him.

"What did you do to her?"

Aizen seemed to consider him, expression contemplative. The silence stretched and the air grew thick with tension.

"Nothing beyond what was necessary," he said at last, his voice carefully measured. "It was the only way to ensure her complete and total devotion. To make her understand that her master was the one and only thing she should concern herself with. And I can assure you that she has been nothing short of grateful for my efforts. Isn't that right, my love?"

"Yesh… my lord…" Your soft, slurred murmur was nearly inaudible, yet the sound sent a sharp pang through Gin's chest. His breath caught, stomach churning as his eyes flickered back to where your head lolled limply against Aizen's shoulder."whatever you say… jus’ wanna be good for you…"

"Shh, my love," Aizen soothed, his fingers carding gently through your hair. "Be a good girl and come for me, won't you? Show Gin just how beautiful you are when I fuck you properly."

"Please… mhm, anything for my lord..."

You keened and arched, nails digging into his forearms. Aizen groaned, the sound guttural and hungry as he resumed thrusting. His hips slammed into yours in a frenzied pace, making your breasts bounce and breath come out in soft gasps.

The sight was mesmerizing. A visceral, carnal display of dominance and ownership, one that Gin had no business being privy to. And despite the disgust and self-loathing warring in his gut, the heat continued rising. Gin could feel his cock pulsing and straining, a wet patch forming on the front of his uniform as he fought not to come.

He didn't want to watch, didn't want to be turned on by the sight of Aizen fucking your beautiful, naked body. He didn't want to acknowledge the part of himself that craved you, the part that would give anything for the chance to feel you pulsing around him once more.

It didn't help that the memories continued swirling within him, a cruel mockery of the way things had once been. Of the countless times you'd made love with him, your breathless laughter and soft sighs echoing in his ears. Of how perfect and wonderful it had felt to have your warmth wrapped around him, holding him close and safe.

But that was all gone now, nothing more than a painful illusion shattered to pieces by Aizen's cruelty. You were nothing more than a shell of who you had been, and yet there was no mistaking that his heart still ached at the sight of you. Even like this.

Gin felt the telltale tightness coiling in his gut and he squeezed his eyes shut, trying desperately to ignore the sensations. His breath came out in harsh pants, and he could feel sweat trickling down the back of his neck. His skin felt flushed and prickling, and every muscle in his body tensed and trembled.

A sharp squeal cut through the air and his eyes flew open. You arched and rocked against Aizen, mouth opening on a silent cry as your eyes screwed shut. Your cunt pulsed and fluttered, and a fragrant liquid sprayed over both of your thighs and Aizen's stomach.

Gin watched, transfixed, as Aizen fucked you through the aftershocks. The liquid continued gushing from your body, splattering and coating both your skin and the sheets beneath. It didn't take long for his former captain to reach his peak, hips stuttering and rhythm growing erratic.

A low, guttural groan tore free from his throat. He pressed deep, the muscles in his shoulders and back flexing as his fingers dug into the soft flesh of your hips. Gin could see the base of his shaft pulsing as he released deep inside you, the motions sending a fresh wave of liquid spurting from your abused slit.

Aizen's chest heaved, his expression going slack with pleasure. He gave a few more slow, lazy rolls of his hips before withdrawing completely. His cum leaked and dripped from your swollen folds, and he hummed in satisfaction as he spread you wide for Gin's perusal.

"There, I've given you a thorough demonstration," he said, his voice a deep, husky rumble. "But I'm afraid my dear beloved is far too exhausted to provide you with the same kind of service, so you'll have to excuse us for the night."

With a soft grunt, he lifted you into his arms. Gin remained frozen, his limbs locked in place as the reality of the situation began sinking in. His eyes fell upon your slack, dazed expression, and the pain that sliced through his heart was worse than any wound he'd ever received.

Aizen had taken everything from him. His loyalty, his devotion, and his heart. Even his memories, and the promise of a future with the one person he loved most in the world.

"But… don't worry," Aizen continued, his eyes glinting with a dark promise. "I'll give her plenty of time to recover so you can experience the fruits of my labor for yourself. And when the time comes, I'm sure you'll appreciate just how much more beautiful she is now."

Gin couldn't find the words to respond, couldn't bring himself to speak. His throat felt painfully dry and his tongue heavy.

"After all, there's nothing I wouldn't do for the sake of those closest to me." Aizen paused, eyes burning with an intensity that made Gin's insides freeze. "And the next time I invite you to my bedchambers, you would do well to accept the invitation."

He turned then, cradling your limp form against his bare chest. Gin's eyes fell upon your flushed cheeks and unfocused gaze, his heart squeezing at the sight. It was only then that he became vaguely aware of the damp stain soaking the front of his uniform, the sticky proof of his own shameful arousal.

"Sleep well, Gin."

Aizen's words were a soft, almost hypnotic purr as he crossed the room. Without a backward glance, he left the chamber and disappeared into the corridor, taking the warmth and comfort with him.

98 notes · View notes

spnbabe67 · 25 days ago

Text

Run Baby Run

Kinktober Day 6: Knife Play (D.W.)

Pairing: Demon!Dean Winchester x Fem Original Character

Warnings: DUBCON!, Knife Play, Choking, Handcuffs, Smut, Masturbation (F and M), Deanmon (Yes, he is his own warning)

Summary: Tori was trying to be sneaky. But when Dean spots her at the bar he tracks her to her motel room and she tries to convince him to come back home (I suck at summaries sometimes, I'm sorry!)

Word Count: 1749

Authors Note: This is a lot darker than I usually write so bear with me on this. I saw a thing on tiktok that inspired this fic. Title is based on the song Run Run Run by Dutch Melrose

Taglist: @zepskies @king-of-milf-lovers @nightxcreature

Tori knew that Dean was different. She hadn’t been there when Sam got back to find Dean’s note, but when Sam called her from the other side of the country telling her that Dean was now a demon, Tori couldn’t believe it, refused to believe it. But there he was lounging at the bar and every so often she watched his eyes flick to pure onyx then back to that gorgeous emerald green. The last semblances of hope she had that maybe Sam had hallucinated, he hadn’t been getting much sleep, neither of them had been. All of that flew out the window when she locked gazes with him from her hidey hole in a booth in the back corner of the tavern and his eyes blinked black, narrowing with recognition before returning to their normal color. She wanted to believe that maybe, just maybe, that good and kind heart she knew beat steadily in his broad chest would override the corruption that turned souls into demons.

Much to her dismay, Tori knew she couldn’t bring him back by herself, at least not without putting herself in significant danger. She knew what Dean was capable of as a human, a deadly and cunning hunter. What would he be capable of as a demon? She slipped out the back of the roadhouse, climbing into Baby with a gentle hand on the steering wheel and ran, tail between her legs, back to the motel she’d rented for the night. A pit had opened up inside her, filled by despair, anger and desperation. She sat down at the table in her room, palming the Demon Blade. The polished antler handle was smooth, the pommel rounded off from years and years of use. Tori didn’t know if it was part of the enchantment of the blade, but it never seemed to dull, always razor sharp and ready to be plunged into a demon’s meatsuit. She ran the pad of her thumb parallel against the blade, feeling the edge scrape against the ridges of her skin. Tori had to pull herself from the thought of using the blade on Dean; she wasn’t sure she could if it came down to it. She knew that Mark of Cain was a bad idea, but did anyone listen?

Tori clenched her fist around the handle, starting as a knock sounded at the door. The seedy motel she chose to hole up at didn’t have peepholes so Tori held the knife behind her back as she slowly eased the door open to be met with a pair of green eyes.

“Hiya Sweetheart.” Dean shot her a saccharine smile, shouldering his way into the room all masculine swagger.

Tori stood there stunned for a moment as she processed what just happened. Once her brain and body reconnected, she slammed the door shut and stormed over, shoving Dean against the wall with an arm across his broad chest. It’d been months since she’d seen her lover let alone been this close to him. He had grown a stubble, his hair longer and styled a little differently and sans the black eyes, he was still her Dean. Yeah, this is gonna be hard.

“Okay, this is how this is gonna work.” Tori reached over to the table and grabbed the warded handcuffs. “You are gonna put these on and then we are gonna take you back to the Bunker and figure out how to turn you back.”

Dean smugly looked down at the handcuffs in her hand before trailing his gaze back up to hers. His hand brushed hers as he took the cuffs from her, the other Tori found around her neck. She took a shaky breath as his fingers encircled her neck, pads pressing against her thundering pulse.

“What makes you think that I would ever want to be changed back? I’m stronger, I’m faster, and I can fuck you so much better than I could before.” Dean purred into her ear as he tossed the cuffs to the ground, snatching the knife from her shaky grip.

Tori felt her bottom lip wobble with fear and anger. She knew she shouldn’t have come here alone, should have taken Sam up on his offer to have him come with her to chase this lead. Stupid, stupid, stupid. Tori hated the way her body quivered as she felt the cool metal of the blade against her stomach as Dean slid it between her skin and her tank. The sound of ripping fabric meddled with her shallow breaths as Dean slowly cut away her shirt, leaving her naked from the waist up, her nipples pebbling from the cold air.

“Get on the bed.” His voice void of humor.

Tori swallowed thickly as she backed up until the backs of her knees hit the bed. Dean followed her, stopping at the foot of the bed as Tori retreated towards the head of the bed.

“Strip.”

The one word was enough for Tori to feel her panties become wet. Tori kept her eyes on Dean’s as she slowly hooked her thumbs into the waistband of her basketball shorts, pushing them down her thighs and discarding them off to the side. She felt her breath get caught in her throat as Dean slammed the knife down blade first into the mattress. The blade sank into the fabric, the smooth handle Tori had just been admiring stuck straight out of the duvet. Tori felt her cheeks burn hot as she slowly realized what Dean wanted her to do, brown eyes flitting between the knife and Dean as he pulled a chair towards the bed. As he sat down his fingers made deft work of his jeans, sliding them down to lay loose around his muscled thighs. His pretty cock was standing at attention, the head of him red and weeping with precum.

Dean jerked his chin towards the knife. “You know what to do, pretty girl.”

Tori flicked her tongue across her lower lip, watching Dean’s eyes dip to her lips. Tori hesitantly crawled forward, positioning her knees on either side of the blade, clocking Dean spit into his hand before lazily stroking his length. Tori could feel her core pulsing with arousal as she sank down, the pommel of the knife pushing against her entrance. Her breath hitched as the handle of the knife slid, with little resistance, into her. It didn’t fill her half as good as Dean’s cock, but the curves of the lacquered handle provided delicious pressure against that spot inside her. She set a steady pace, rolling her hips up and down on the handle, breathy moans escaping her lips every time the handle became fully seated inside her. Dean before her stroked himself in time with her movements, his lower lip tucked between his teeth as he watched her. Tori snaked a hand between her legs, coating her fingers in her slick before rubbing small circles around her clit.

Tori whimpered as she felt her orgasm start to build, her free hand kneading her breast as she sped up her movements on the knife, grinding her hips harder. She could see Dean was close, his hips stuttering upwards, chasing his hand. Just before she teetered over the edge Dean lunged at her, pulling her off of the knife, tossing the blade to the ground beside the bed. His lips tasted of the whiskey he’d been drinking back at the bar. They crashed against her own as he roughly pawed at her hips, her chest, her thighs. It was like he couldn’t get enough of her, or the humanity still inside him still craved her after being away for so long, she was his anchor and he was desperately trying to moor himself. One second her mouth was being devoured by him, the next she was on her stomach with a mouth full of sheets as Dean shoved his cock inside her. Tori moaned loudly into the bed, Dean’s cock stretching her until she felt like she’d be ripped in two.

“So fucking tight, Sweetheart.” Dean groaned out, a hand braced on her back as he fucked into her at a punishing pace.

Tori fisted her hands in the sheets, rocking her hips back to meet Dean’s thrusts, his cock sliding in and out of her with insanely pornographic sounds. The buttons of his shirt brushed against her spine, adding to the plethora of sensations assaulting her all at once. Her head was pressed further into the bed as Dean’s hand threaded into her hair close to the scalp. He growled dirty nothings into her ear as his cock hit every spot within her, pushing her closer and closer to her orgasm. With a cry swallowed by the bed, Tori came, her legs shaking and sure her nails would rip the stitching in the duvet with how hard she was clenching the fabric. Her walls clenched around Dean’s cock, overstimulated and trying to get away from the sensation as he sped up his thrusts, his hips meeting her own making sloppy noises from her slick as he chased his own high. Tori felt her tears caused by overstimulation melt into the sheets as Dean came with a loud groan, spilling himself into her.

Tori was already maneuvering onto her back, a plead for reason coating her tongue when she felt the cool metal of the handcuffs slap around her wrist, anchoring her to the headboard of the bed. Her mouth dropped open as Dean buttoned his jeans back up before he rooted around and found the key, setting it on the table where he had sat.

“Dean please.” Tori begged as he came back up to her.

He gripped the hair at the back of her head, smashing his lips to hers before pulling back enough to look her in the eye. Tori flinched as Dean’s eyes flicked black. “Be glad I don’t kill you where you sit. Don't come looking for me again and I won't make the same promise.”

Tori felt tears slip down her cheeks as he turned and walked towards the door. “Dean!” She called out. He paused in the threshold. “This isn’t you.” She said quietly.

Dean didn’t move for a couple seconds, and Tori could see his grip on the doorknob tighten. He glanced back over his shoulder at her, eyes still black as night. “It is now.” And that was all he said before walking out of the room, shutting the door behind him.

#dean winchester fanfic #spn fanfic #spn fanfiction #supernatural dean #supernatural fanfiction #dean winchester #supernatural #dean x tori #dean winchester fanfiction #dean winchester imagine

86 notes · View notes

thosewickedlovelies · 1 month ago

Text

Crossroads | Joel Miller x Reader

Summary: You set out with the intention of selling your soul to the devil. What if, instead, you can make a deal with someone else?

Tags: none YET. GN!Reader. not an age gap fic.

Words: 2,297

Note: Hiii friends. I was not expecting this piece to grab me the way it did, but I guess the vibes tickled my brain in a way I needed. This was fully inspired by this moodboard by @almostfoxglove. I haven'y fully decided where this story will go, but I think I will end up writing more for it, so. lol enjoy! 🙏🏼💗

Masterlist

It was a dark and stormy night.

When else would you expect to meet the devil at a crossroads?

—

Dark clouds roiled overhead, dulling the light as far as the eye could see. It wasn’t strictly night time- it had been closer to late afternoon when you set off- but the weather had quickly taken an ominous turn. The wind whipped past in bursts, pushing and tugging at you in away that somehow felt mocking. The air smelled electric, full of danger and promise and the dust of the desolate way you walked.

You didn’t know what to expect.

You knew what people told you to expect, of course. A creature uncanny of eye, with a personality as persuasive as a siren song. A bag of tricks and twisting words the likes of which a mere mortal could never hope to compete with. Nobody you’d been able to find had actually met him, though.

The devil, that is.

It wasn’t a stylistic exaggeration. There was no other reason you’d be walking this unmarked road, the pavement growing more worn and cracked the longer you walked. Legend said to set your feet to the most deserted road you could find, with whiskey in your pocket and the devil in your thoughts. The rest would take care of itself.

So far, the legends rang true. The longer you walked, the more the trappings of civilization had fallen away. No lane markings, no road signs, not even the specter of a gas station sign in the distance. Even the scrubby roadside vegetation had vanished- nothing was visible beyond the brown dust all around the faded black strip you walked upon.

The appearance of a stop sign smacked you in the face like…well, like a stop sign. In the jaundiced atmosphere, the vivid red of it was jarring. Lurid. A splash of blood against the dull surroundings. Those four authoritative letters were almost bright enough to keep your attention from the crossroads beyond.

Almost.

A gray intersection in the featureless yellow landscape. X marks the spot.

Your shoes scuffing against the pavement was the only sound.

In the dead center of the intersection, you halted. The wind rose again, howling to a pitch like a summoning whistle; just as quickly it dropped to the stillness of bated breath. The sound and the silence jangled some long-dormant human instinct within you. Your ragged breaths sounded unnaturally loud. You spun in a slow circle, squinting to the h. The sound and the silence jangled some long-dormant instinct in you. Your breath echoed in your ears. You spun in a slow circle, squinting to the horizon of all four roads to be sure there was no mysterious figure approaching in the distance. Finally you straightened, your hands on your hips. Where the fuck is the-

“Well, well, well. What have we here?”

–

A voice all but purred from behind you. The words were draped in a deep southern drawl; honestly, that should have been the one thing you did expect.

That same instinct warned you to turn around slowly. Just beyond the stop sign, a figure was sauntering into view. His hands were in the pockets of well-worn jeans. Work boots cushioned his swaggering gait; across a broad set of shoulders, a utilitarian button-down stretched. He could have been any blue-collar man you’d ever met.

It was the eyes that gave him away.

Brimstone and pyrite, ageless and knowing- with something impish around the edges.

It was in the tilt of his head, in the creases fanning out from his eyes, as he smiled his way toward you. The hair on the back of your neck stood up.

“Are you- who I’m looking for?” Somehow it didn’t seem like a good idea to outright accuse him of being who you suspected.

He came to a halt once he crossed into the intersection. His smile didn’t falter. “That depends. Who’re you looking for?”

Your heart beat fast. “Someone to make a deal with.”

His smile broadened. “The devil.”

You nodded.

–

“Do you have my gift?”

Does he mean…You withdrew the bottle you’d carried all this way.

Whiskey in your pocket, indeed. His eyes lit on the bottle with satisfaction, and an unholy shiver licked past you at being even tangentially connected to this being’s pleasure.

He conjured up two glass tumblers and poured a measure for each of you. For all your uncertainty preceding this meeting, seeing his anticipation of this experience just like any other man…your tongue loosened. “If you can summon glasses, couldn’t you also summon the whiskey?”

He’s examining the contents of his glass, swirling the liquid and studying the color. “I could. But then some might forget to bring me a gift. Then we wouldn’t be able to negotiate, and you would have wasted this whole journey.” He waved an arm to indicate your surroundings. “So it’s really me doin’ us both a favor by choosing my own birthday present.”

He lifted the glass to his nose and took a long sniff. “Besides, I can’t summon what I don’t know. I’m inclined to be a little nicer to folk who bring me something original.” The glass finally touched his lips. He took a slow (showy, you think) sip, rolling the liquid around his mouth and, eventually, swallowed. Even the act of swallowing didn’t seem to conclude his tasting- he smacked his mouth softly, processing the finish.

Finally, he looked at his glass, then at you, in disbelief. “Well, I’ll be damned. That’s some quality shit.”

"Original enough?”

"I'd say so.” He inclined his head to you in a gesture of approval.

He gave the impression of lounging then, of somehow leaning back and spreading out although there was nothing but air around him- until all at once there was something, and he was settled into one of two chairs set at a small round table, none of which had existed half a second before.

Your mouth went dry. The glass you held felt cold and heavy against your suddenly sweaty fingers.

The man gave you a disarming grin.

He nodded toward the untouched drink in your hand. “Why don’t you try yours, and then we can get down to business?”

You looked down at your glass, the liquid the same color as the desertous land all around. “Do we both have to drink before we can strike a deal?”

The man lifted a brow. “That would be interesting, wouldn’t it?”

A nonanswer. Nothing less than what you should have anticipated. He wasn’t a man, after all. For all intents and purposes, the creature before you was the devil.

You wondered if that narrative wasn’t a bit overdramatic. Was that really always the scenario? Human strikes deal with non-human entity- and then spins the story out of proportion when they can’t hold up their end of the bargain?

The part of your brain musing on human nature and mythology felt very separate from the part controlling your body as you sat down at the table. Everything seemed to have the surreal quality of a dream. The whiskey seared on its way down your throat.

The devil’s eyes smoldered with amber fire.

Leaning forward, he placed his elbows on the table and folded his hands. “So. What can I do for you?”

You told him your tale. You glossed over the most tragic details, thinking to save yourself some embarrassment if at all possible. To the devil’s credit, he appeared to listen. For all the stories of human folly he must have heard in his endless lifetime, he kept his eyes on you as you spoke and reacted in all the right places, his mouth twitching or his eyes narrowing in turn.

That same errant part of your brain turned its attention to the devil’s looks. Did he appear the same way to everyone? This wasn’t an imitation of any real-life person, you were certain. You’d remember meeting someone like this. His hair was a deep gray threaded with silver, full of curls and swoops. Though older, he seemed to ooze strength and virility. He was unfairly appealing, you decided. It had to be a calculated decision on his part.

When you finished, he sat back in his chair. Took a sip of his whiskey. “So, what,” he said, “precisely, do you want from me?”

He leveled his gilded stare at you.

You shivered. No amount of beauty could detract from the aura of power that emanated from him. While not overtly compelling you to any specific action, it called to something in you- it made you want to confess your wishes, declare your wants with relish.

You ran your finger over the carven edges of the decoration on your glass. “What’s your name?”

He paused with his glass halfway to the table. “My name ain’t worth your soul, honey.” His glass hit the table with a definitive thunk, but the look on his face was gentler. A wry smile.

“That’s not what I meant.” You couldn’t help but roll your eyes. “I’m just trying to be polite. Do you have a name?”

“What makes you think my name isn’t Lucifer?” His teeth flashed in a wicked grin.

Despite the cacophony of butterfly wings in your belly, you kept your face impassive, only lifting your eyebrows.

His grin gradually faded. Something guarded replaced it as he seemed to assess you, eventually coming to a decision. “Once upon a time, I went by Joel.”

“Joel,” you repeated. “That’s an odd nickname for ‘Lucifer Morningstar’.”

He snorted. “Well, I ain’t Lucifer Morningstar, so that’d be why.”

The world tipped beneath you. “You’re…not?” Blood roared in your ears. If this…being wasn’t the devil, then who had you just poured out your life story to?

He was quick to pick up on your rising panic. “Whoa, hey, easy now. I’m here in his place, see? He can only be in so many places at once. Plus, these kinds of deal are sorta small fry to him nowadays. I’m one of his…representatives, you might say.”

“...Oh.” Your breathing slowly began to steady. Okay. That was fine. This Joel clearly had some kind of power, given his summoning of the glasses and the table. You were prepared to bet it was eldritch, too, judging by the current (but not constant) sulfurous yellow of his eyes. Maybe you’d get him to put your deal in writing. And have him be sue-able by human courts. Yeah. That would be fine.

Across the table, Joel was eyeing you. “You all right?”

Adrenaline had left a chill in your veins, but you shook it off. “I didn’t know it worked like that,” you said.

“No reason you should.” Joel shrugged. He sat back in his chair, but concern still lurked in his gaze where it rested on you.

“So. Small fry, huh? Not sure how I feel about my soul being so devalued.” You crossed your arms over your chest.

The corner of his mouth ticked. “I could arrange a meetin’ for you if you want. You could take your feedback directly to the big man himself.” He sat back in his chair, imitating your petulant posture.

His suggestion took the bluster out of you. Face someone even more uncanny than Joel? With feedback? Oh, no.

“I’ll think about it,” you sniffed.

His mouth curved up further.

“Is…is the price always the soul?”

Joel eyed you contemplatively, up and down. “Not always. Depends on the ask. Depends on the bargainer.” He winked.

“On the representative,” you clarified.

“Mmhm.” He waited, watching you think with a citrine shimmer to those otherworldly eyes. The minute changes in your facial expression seemed to fascinate him, his gaze flitting from your eyes to your brow to your mouth.

It wasn’t helping your thought process.

What precisely did you want from him? You thought you’d known, when you assumed you’d be bargaining with Lucifer himself, and for your soul. When the price had been your soul, you’d had an accordingly-sized ask. But if you could bargain him down…

“What if I need more time to decide on my ask? What if…meeting you has changed things?”

His head tilted, gaze sharpening. “Oh?”

“Maybe…we could meet again to negotiate further?”

“Extend our working relationship?” Joel smirked, but there was an undercurrent of wariness in it. You could see the gears in his mind turning as he assessed you, his eyes taking on a darker glimmer.

“Tell you what.” He stood, and your body went on alert. “I’ll come up and meet with you three more times. After that, you can tell me what you want, and we’ll make a deal.

“Well...another deal.” Joel smirked again, but this time there was no reading what lay behind it, his golden eyes hard and glittering. He held out a hand.

You stood with your arm only half-extended. Your heart rate was picking up again. “If I decided that I didn’t want to make a deal, would there be a punishment?”

Joel stared at you, his eyes narrowing. At last he said, “A price. My time ain’t free, you know.”

Before you could stammer out another question he rolled his eyes. “It wouldn’t be your soul.”

He re-extended his hand. He lifted a single, expectant brow.

The desert wind tickled your face. There was nothing supernatural about it now- it was just a breeze, the same air that had cooled and comforted you your whole life.

You breathed it in. Then you placed your hand in the devil’s, and he squeezed it tight.

A slow smile spread across Joel’s face. “Pleasure doin’ business with you.”

The wind kicked up abruptly, and for a second you feared. The gale dashed sand across your eyes and brought a strange smell to your nose. When it cleared, and your vision with it, everything- the table, the whiskey, the crossroads, Joel himself- was gone.

Thanks for reading! 💗

Masterlist

#joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #tlou fic #tlou #tlou hbo

79 notes · View notes

allieebobo · 10 months ago

Text

Merry Crisis—Cast of characters

Romance-focused x Slice-of-life x Queer x Non-Euro-centric x Character-based

Credit: The wonderful amazing INSANELY talented @dumplingcatho made these STUNNING character portraits!! I am still reeling from how dang good she is. I swear she probably made a deal with the devil for this talent but I shall not question it.

Nat [M/F]

The soulmate/ex/best friend.

Your ex. Your parents never approved of them, but you suppose it doesn’t matter anymore. Despite the breakup, you’re still friends, and worse still - you still live with them in a tiny shoebox apartment. New York rent, man—it's hard to say no even though you know you should be moving on, and moving out.

Height: 6′2 (M) | 5′11 (F)

Nationality & race: African-American

Occupation: Post-doc fellow, working towards becoming a tenure-track professor.

Description:

Warm, twinkling eyes, and big, infectious laugh. Can swing from nerdy charm to extreme goofyness at the drop of a pin.

Loving, thoughtful, and kind to a fault. Relaxed, gentle demeanour

The kind of friend—and partner—you can trust with your life.

An incurable optimist.

Loves people, art/movies (especially talking about them with friends), food/cooking, their two dogs.

Nat's dogs

Kiho [M]

Breed: Cairn Terrier

Age: 8

Description: Proud, small, intelligent, standoffish, with a stern grandpa energy. Apparently, a reader/player told me long ago that Kiho means "big boss" in Finnish colloquial slang and that was so perfect that it stuck. If Kiho were human he'd wear an old patagonia vest and spend his weekends fishing (not very adeptly).

Liz [F]

Breed: Border collie

Age: 3 (adopted when MC and Nat were already together.)

Description: Not exactly literal golden retriever energy but... close enough. A ray of sunshine, playful, easygoing, happy-go-lucky and a voracious eater (she eats everything), loves playing in puddles and has a special love for chewed up tennis balls.

Qiu [M/F]

The estranged first love / soulmates.

Your first-love (or platonic soulmate), from junior college. You’d not kept in touch, and now, they’re ridiculously successful. But, according to your intel, still…single.

Height: 5′8 (M) | 5′4 (F)

Nationality & race: Chinese Singaporean

Occupation: Public prosecutor

Description:

Extremely intelligent, with a sharp, cutting wit.

Ambitious, determined, and a bit cynical / jaded.

Dark, piercing gaze, with a completely unreadable expression.

Formal, a little bit stiff, and always impeccably dressed.

Aloof, almost intimidating presence despite their relatively average height/slim build.

Loves a job well done, being useful, stimulating conversation, and solving problems. Peace and quiet.

Shay [M/F]

The charismatic stranger.

Your neighbour (Auntie Pearl)'s new tenant. Sexy, confident, and unabashedly unconventional. Your mother definitely does not approve, but you might not be able to resist their roguish charms.

Height: 5′10 (M) | 5′6 (F)

Nationality & race: Chinese (Peranakan) Singaporean

Occupation: Lead singer & guitarist in a rock band

Description:

Thick, sweeping eyebrows, expressive eyes that twinkle at the edges, and a permanent roguish half-grin.

Tan, athletic, with an undeniable swagger to their walk. Has a penchant for sleeveless muscle tees. Good with their hands (and... possibly other parts of their body).

Adventurous, resilient, unflinchingly honest, and uncompromisingly true to themselves / the people they love.

Loves the outdoors (and constant motion), music (especially rock, reggae and soul), dancing, soccer, nature/plants (including gardening).

Other asks

#if #interactive fiction #merry crisis #nat #shay #qiu #cast of characters #characters #images #main post #don't mind me just making neater posts

326 notes · View notes

koiiiji · 1 month ago

Note

I'm spamming cuz u said spam me soo.. pls do windbreaker wooin x reader

doing nails with Wooin...

author’s note ; ahhh!! again so sorry for such long respond!! again drafts from 2022🥳

author’s note 2 ; please no spam likes, ageless/empty blogs DNI OR I WILL BLOCK YOU!!

tw ; fluff, can be platonic or romantic, as you will interpret it😌

‧˚₊•┈┈┈┈౨ৎ┈┈┈┈•‧₊˚⊹

sunlight streamed through the freshly cleaned windows, casting soft, warm light on the pristine apartment. it was saturday afternoon, and everything had fallen into place. you stirred in your bed, the smooth new linen cool against your skin, a welcome contrast to the warmth of your body. the faint scent of lavender from yesterday’s deep cleaning still lingered in the air. there was something so comforting about waking up to a space that was clean, organized, and entirely yours.

you stretched, feeling the remnants of sleep slip away, and smiled to yourself. unhurried weekend was still stretching ahead of you. your head felt clear and unburdened — a reflection of the tidiness surrounding you. self-care alway felt like a right decision. you had done all the right things: face masks, hair treatments, a long, hot bath. with the day ahead free and easy, you decided to focus on things that nourished your soul. a lazy shopping trip was in order — a gentle drift through your favorite stores, picking up fresh produce and maybe a little something sweet for later.

‧˚₊•┈┈┈┈౨ৎ┈┈┈┈•‧₊˚⊹

by the time you returned home, arms full of groceries, you felt content but not quite ready to let go of the calm, indulgent mood that had enveloped you since yesterday. spa day, round two, you thought with a smile. why not?

today you were going to update your manicure, maybe try that new shade of mauve you’d been eyeing. but just as you settled into the comfort of the moment, fingers brushing over the row of nail polishes, your phone vibrated insistently with multiplate notifications, from the shelf beside you. startled, you paused mid-reach and grabbed it, eyes scanning the screen.

Wooin.

you blinked. of course. your friend always seemed to know, to sense, right when you were slipping into that quiet space of solitude, as if it was some secret alarm only he could hear. with a grin tugging at your lips, you typed an answer.

[hey] [what r u doing cupcake?😎🖕🏻]

you chuckled, leaning back against the counter. he always called you that sweet nickname. ignoring his question, you typed another message.

[let me guess. you need something from me, right?] [mmm, maybe🥱 how do you know?] [somehow you always know im about to do something, and you texting me🤯🤯]

a low chuckle rumbled from his mouth, when he already was in his car, waiting when he can ask his final question.

[oh?? did i interrupt something important?))] [maybe. just another self-care session] [too pity, cupcake... [...i hate to interrupt, but i was thinkin to joined in😎🖕🏻]

you rolled your eyes, though you couldn’t help but laugh. you liked how Wooin didnt even bored to ask your premission to join.

[you? spa day?] [i think i could use a little pampering] [fine]

you typed, feigning reluctance.

[but if you’re coming over, you’re bringing snacks]

[😎🖕🏻]

‧˚₊•┈┈┈┈౨ৎ┈┈┈┈•‧₊˚⊹

just as you finished setting up your little manicure station in the living room, a familiar knock rattled the door — three short taps, and you just knew this bastard knocked by his foot. grinning to yourself, you opened the door to see Wooin standing there, cocky as ever, a smirk tugging at the corners of his lips.

“look who’s finally decided to grace me with his presence,” you teased, stepping aside to let him in.

“of course,” he said, slipping past you with the kind of swagger only he could pull off. “someone has to save you from your boring solo spa day. you’re welcome, by the way.”

he dropped a bag of snacks on the coffee table and gave the nail polish bottles a once-over, his brow lifting. “wow. all of this just for me?” his voice was dripping with fake awe. “so sweet from you, cupcake!”

“hey, this is my self-care,” you replied, plopping down on the couch. “something you clearly know nothing about.”

Wooin raised an eyebrow, that mischievous glint flashing in his eyes. “is that a challenge?” he flopped onto the couch beside you, propping his feet up like he owned the place. “because if you’re daring me to take over this whole operation, i’m in.”

“are you serious?” you shot him a doubtful look, waving a nail polish bottle in his direction. “you’re gonna do my nails?”

he leaned back, stretching his arms behind his head, the picture of pure confidence. “why not? i’ve got the skills.” his grin widened as he showed one of his manicured hands. black polish brightly reflected the light. “actually, you’re lucky.” he said shooting finger gun at you, dead serious.

without missing a beat, he grabbed the nail polish from the table. “alright, sit back, relax and let the master work.”

you eyed him with skepticism, but extended your hand anyway. “if this goes south, i’m never letting you touch my nails again.”

“don’t worry, i’ve got steady hands. steadier than yours, probably.”

you rolled your eyes. “sure, Picasso. just don’t paint my whole nail off.”

he chuckled but proceeded with surprising precision, his touch careful, yet annoyingly smug. “you know, i could totally charge for this. nail bars would pay good money to have someone like me.”

“oh yeah?” you shot back, raising an eyebrow, you watched as he dipped the brush into the bottle with an overly serious expression, like he was handling precious cargo. when he finally swiped the first brush stroke over your nail, it was surprisingly… good.

“see?” he smirked, clearly proud of himself. “i told you i’d nail it.”

you groaned at the pun. “you’ve been waiting to say that, haven’t you?”

“maybe,” he winked, adding another stroke to your nail. “but you’ve gotta admit, i’m kinda killing this.” you glanced at your nails, then back at him. “i hate to say it, but... you’re not half bad.”

‧˚₊•┈┈┈┈౨ৎ┈┈┈┈•‧₊˚⊹

he finished painting your nails, each stroke getting a little faster, a little cockier. “you know, i should’ve charged for this. professional-quality work right here.”

you lifted your hand to inspect the final product, and, annoyingly, it was good. the polish was smooth, no smudges, no streaks.

“you’re actually pretty decent at this,” you admitted, narrowing your eyes at him. “i hate it.”

“aw, are you jealous of my superior skills?” he teased, tossing the brush back onto the table with a flourish. “i told you, i’m multi-talented.” he leaned back, grinning smugly and you cant help but rolled your eyes again, couldn’t hide your smile.

as the two of you lounged on the couch, snacking and bickering, you glanced at your freshly painted nails and couldn’t help but feel… lighter. there was something about Wooin’s playful, teasing presence that made everything feel more… comfortable.

“alright, alright,” you admitted, breaking the comfortable silence. “you did good.”

“Damn right, i did,” he said, flashing you a grin. “you’re welcome, cupcake”

shaking your head, you grabbed a chocolate bar and tossed it at him. “don’t get too cocky. next time, i’m making you paint your own nails.”

“oh, please. i’d rock it,” he said, catching the bar effortlessly. “you’d be begging me to teach you.”

you laughed, sinking deeper into the cushions of your sofa. maybe Wooin’s cocky, mischievous charm wasn’t so bad after all.

‧˚₊•┈┈┈┈౨ৎ┈┈┈┈•‧₊˚⊹

MASTERLIST

#[ ~ koi.talks🗣]#windbreaker #windbreaker webtoon #x reader #windbreaker x reader #webtoon #windbreaker headcanon #headcanon #windbreaker manhwa #wind breaker #windbreaker webtoon x reader #wooin #wooin sabbath #wooin x reader #wooin windbreaker #windbreaker wooin #wooin yoo

47 notes · View notes

isthlsfate · 2 months ago

Text

⌞ 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐟𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 ⌝

⋆˚ 𝜗𝜚˚⋆

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: elvis presley/austin!elvis x black!reader, public confession of love, fluff

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 980

⋆˚ 𝜗𝜚˚⋆

the lights dim as the murmurs of the crowd hush, anticipation thick in the air.

it’s another sold-out show at the international, another night where elvis presley would take the stage and send thousands of hearts racing.

you had seen it all before, night after night, but tonight felt different.

there’s a current of something new between you two, an unspoken feeling that had been growing, quietly weaving its way into your conversations, your shared glances.

you stand in the wings, as you always do, your heart pounding in your chest.

you watch as elvis takes his place under the spotlight, the crowd’s roar deafening as he smiles and waves, his usual swagger in full effect. but when he turns his head, just slightly, and his eyes find yours in the shadows, that swagger falters for a split second, replaced by something softer, more vulnerable.

he gives you a small nod, and for a moment, it’s as if you’re the only two people in the room.

you smile back, a nervous flutter in your stomach.

something about tonight feels different, but you can’t quite put your finger on it.

elvis steps up to the mic, the band easing into the familiar strains of ’can’t help falling in love’.

the crowd instantly swoons, couples pulling each other close, lost in the romance of the song. as soon as elvis begins to sing, his eyes lock on you, and the rest of the world fades away.

"wise men say… only fools rush in…"

the warmth in his voice is unmistakable, but there’s something else there too, something deeper. it’s as if he isn’t singing for the audience.

he’s singing for you.

your breath catches in your throat, your heart pounding harder as the realization hits you.

"but i can’t help… falling in love with you."

his voice wraps around you, every word carrying a weight that makes your chest tighten. he hadn’t said it aloud before, not in so many words, but now, through the music, he’s confessing what had been growing between you.

you can feel it, the way each note seems to pull you closer to him, the way his eyes never leave yours, not for a second.

the room around you disappears.

it doesn’t matter that there are thousands of people watching. it doesn’t matter that this is supposed to be just another performance. in this moment, it’s just him and you.

"shall i stay? would it be a sin?"

his voice dips lower, more intimate, as if the question is meant only for you.

the intensity of his gaze, the way his fingers grip the mic stand, tells you this isn’t just a song anymore.

this is him, bare and open, laying his heart at your feet. you feel your own heart swell, your throat tightening as you blink back the tears threatening to spill.

"if i can’t help… falling in love with you."

as the melody flows, the words envelope you, each line pressing against your soul.

he’s telling you something you already knew deep down but had been too afraid to admit to yourself—that he’s unashamedly, deeply in love with you. and now, standing on the stage in front of the world, he isn’t afraid to say it.

the vulnerability in his voice makes your knees weak.

you step forward, just barely out of the shadows, unable to resist the pull between you any longer. elvis sees you move and his smile softens.

he doesn’t break eye contact, not even for a second.

the rest of the performance continues, but it feels like an afterthought now, just a blur of sound and light around you.

when he reaches the final lines, his voice is softer, almost a whisper, but still clear as it carries across the room.

"take my hand, take my whole life too…"

the words hit you like a tidal wave.

he isn’t just singing anymore.

this is a promise, a plea. the weight of his love, so openly shared in front of everyone, hanging between you like a delicate thread, waiting for you to grasp it.

"for i can’t help… falling in love with you."

as the last note lingers in the air, the audience erupts into applause, but you barely hear it.

all you can focus on is elvis, who had stepped away from the mic and was now walking straight toward you, his eyes never wavering.

your heart pounds in your chest as he reaches the edge of the stage, extending his hand toward you.

without thinking, you step out of the shadows and into the light, your fingers slipping into his.

the warmth of his touch sends a shiver down your spine. he pulls you closer, his other hand gently cradling your face as the roar of the crowd seems to fade into the background.

"you heard me, little?" he whispers, his thumb brushing against your cheek.

you nod, unable to find the words, your emotions too raw, too overwhelming.

he smiles softly, his forehead resting against yours.

“i meant every word. i love you.”

tears finally spill over, but they’re tears of joy, of relief.

“i love you too.” you whisper, your voice trembling as you let the truth of it wash over you.

elvis kisses you then, softly, tenderly, as if you’re something precious, something he’d waited his whole life for.

and in that kiss, you feel everything—the love, the fear, the hope.

all of it poured into that moment, shared between you as the world around you cheers.

it doesn’t matter that thousands of people are watching. it doesn’t matter that the lights are blinding and the noise is deafening.

in this moment, it’s just you and elvis, and the love you were both too afraid to admit is finally out in the open, shining as brightly as the stars in the vegas sky.

#reader insert #x reader #elvis 2022 #elvis presley x reader #austin!elvis x reader #elvis presley #austin butler

46 notes · View notes

owen-writes · 10 months ago

Text

Dysphoria Blues

Ineffable Husbands x Gender Neutral Reader

No pronouns but the reader is implied as transgender

You were feeling a bit off today, the weight of dysphoria settling on your shoulders like a heavy cloak. Sensing your mood, Aziraphale and Crowley decided to take matters into their own celestial hands.

Aziraphale, ever the caring one, ushered you to the living room, adorned with soft cushions and warm lighting. "My dear, I can't bear to see you like this," he said with genuine concern. "Crowley and I have devised a plan to lift your spirits."

Crowley, leaning against the doorframe with a sly grin, added, "Yeah, angel and demon dream team at your service."

They gently guided you to the couch, Crowley's touch reassuringly warm against your skin. Once settled, Aziraphale fetched a weighted blanket, draping it over you like a comforting embrace. Crowley, with his characteristic swagger, took his place beside you.

Aziraphale's soothing voice filled the room as he began reading aloud from your favorite book. "Darling, we thought this might distract you a bit," he said, his eyes sparkling with kindness.

Crowley, with his characteristic wit, chimed in, "And if it doesn't, blame the angel. I'm just here for moral support."

You couldn't help but crack a small smile at their banter. Aziraphale continued reading, his voice like a balm to your troubled soul. Meanwhile, Crowley, draped in an air of nonchalant confidence, had his arm around you, fingers tracing absent patterns on your shoulder.

"Angel," you murmured, your head nestled comfortably in Aziraphale's lap, "thank you for this. It really helps."

He looked down at you, his expression softening. "Anything for you, my dear. We only want to see you happy."

Crowley, playing his part, smirked and whispered, "Yeah, don't go thinking we're turning soft or anything."

As Aziraphale continued reading, Crowley's fingers found yours, intertwining in a subtle display of solidarity. "You know," Crowley said, his voice lower now, "you're not alone in this. We're here for you."

You nodded, feeling a warmth spreading through you—a warmth that had nothing to do with the weighted blanket. Despite Crowley's tough exterior, there was a genuine concern in his eyes, and you couldn't help but appreciate the effort they both put into making you feel better.

Hours passed in the cozy embrace of the weighted blanket, Aziraphale's voice becoming a lullaby, and Crowley's presence a steady anchor. As the story unfolded, so did a sense of calm within you.

In that shared space between an angel and a demon, you found solace—a reminder that love and care transcend celestial boundaries. And as the words of your favorite book wove a tapestry of comfort around you, you couldn't help but be grateful for the extraordinary beings who had chosen to share their ordinary, heartwarming moments with you.

#crowley x you #crowley good omens #crowley x reader #crowley #good omems fic #good omens x reader #good omens imagine #good omens #crowley x aziraphale #crowley x Aziraphale x reader #aziraphale x reader #aziraphale x crowley #aziraphale x you #Aziraphale x Crowley x reader #ineffable husbands #ineffable idiots #ineffable spouses #ineffable husbands x reader #ineffable spouses x reader

145 notes · View notes

lowaltitude · 1 year ago

Text

Imperfect Storm | Billy Hargrove

- Stranger Things

- x Reader

❪ FEM! ❫ ❪ adult aroace virgin attempts to write smut ❫ ❪ Altitude ❫

───── ❝ description + disclaimer ❞ ─────

𖥻 Billy Hargrove x AFAB+FEM!reader, in which there’s nowhere to escape. OR in which unexpected downpour and the start of a hurricane locks down Hawkins High trapping studious and rebellious together for hours.

𖥻 established relationships. bffs with steve bc im lazy. i could not for the life of me think up a reason from them to be fighting, sorry. a lot of plot and scattered corn with a p. light choking. 15,729 words

───── ❝ introduction❞ ─────

In the small town of Hawkins, Indiana, amidst the echoes of adventure and whatever we were told to believe was really going on in the mysteries of the lab, I navigated the familiar corridors of Hawkins High School with an air of quiet determination. Clad in the same hoodie I think i'd worn to school every other day this week I blended seamlessly into the background. The simple jumper embraces me, shielding me from both the chills of the hallways and enigmatic pull of the township.

Behind my glasses, my eyes observe the world around me with a mixture of curiosity and caution, silently analyzing the dynamics that play out around me. The crowds in the halls split into their cliques and leave me feeling left behind as the gather into their little groups and start chatting.

Billy, the embodiment of rebellion and unpredictable predictability, strides through the halls with a seemingly magnetic presence. His confidence and smoldering gaze are s stark contrast to the usually reserved demeanor of people in Hawkins. In his presence, I am simultaneously drawn to his charismatic energy and apprehensive of the unknown depths beneath his charismatic facade.

As I delve into my locker, mentally seeking solace, I find myself lost in thought. Attempting to unravel the mysteries of my own life. It is within these moments of quiet introspection that my thoughts of Billy begin to infiltrate my mind, disrupting the careful equilibrium i've cultivated.

Though our paths rarely intersect, our lives have briefly intertwined during multiple chance encounters, and although they usually resulted in tense exchanges and snarky comments, something stirred within me- A curiosity that transcended the boundaries of my studious world. As I peered past his tough exterior, I could catch a glimpse of vulnerability in his eyes, a flicker of a troubled soul that yearned for understanding.

In Hawkins, where extraordinary occurrences seemed to intertwine with the mundane, I had managed to find myself cautiously navigating the uncharted territories of the heart.

As Billy swaggered into the bustling halls of Hawkins High, his eyes scanned the crowd for a potential target to amuse himself with.

As I stood by my locker, lost in my own thoughts, a sudden jolt shook me from my daydream. I stumbled forward, my belongings slipping from my grasp and clattering to the ground. It took me a moment to realize what had happened—Billy, the epitome of arrogance, had deliberately knocked into me.

Anger flared within me, and embarrassment tinged my cheeks. It seemed that Billy took delight in humiliating others for his own amusement. The laughter that escaped his lips only fueled my frustration, intensifying the need to show him that he couldn’t simply walk all over people.

I swiftly knelt down to gather my scattered books and papers, my mind seething with defiance. I refused to let his actions break my spirit. As I rose back to my feet, I met his gaze head-on, a fire burning in my eyes.

───── ❝ fight❞ ─────

"Billy, I can't help it notice your constant need for attention. It's like you thrive on pushing people's buttons and causing unnecessary drama."

His eyes narrowed, and a cocky smirk tugged at the corners of his lips. "Oh, sweetheart, just trying to keep things interesting. Can't have this boring town lull me to sleep now, can we?"

took a deep breathe, attempting to suppress the surge of anger that threatened to consume me. "You know, not everyone finds your reckless behaviour captivating. It's exhausting, Billy. It's one thing to be confident, but it's another to treat people like disposable playthings."

He leaned in, his voice dripping with dosain. "Well, maybe you're just too uptight, never willing to take a risk. You think you're better than everyone else don't you?"

My temper flared, and I met his gaze with unwavering intensity. "No, Billy, I don't think I'm better than anyone. But unlike you, I don't go around hurting others just to fill a void inside me. Maybe if you too a moment to look beyond your own ego, you'd see the damage you're causing."

Billy's expression hardened, his words laced with bitter edge. "You don't know a damn thing about me. You don't know what it's like to fight for every scrap of happiness in a messed-up world."

I shook my head, my voice filled with frustration. "And what about everyone else? Do their feelings not matter? Your actions have consequences, Billy. You can't keep treating people like collateral damage in your personal war."

He scoffed, his voice now full of derision. "Spare me the lecture, sweetheart. Not all of us can hide behind our books and pretend like we have it all figured out."

My patience waned, replaced by a resolute fire. "I don't pretend to have it all figured out, but at least I strive to be better. I won't stand idly by while you leave a trail of broken hearts, i highly suspect a lot of STDs and shattered friendships in your wake."

The tension between us was palpable, the air heavy with unspoken resentment. We stood at an impasse, our words and emotions colliding in a tempest of heated argument. It was a clash between two forces unwilling to yield, each defending their own perspective with unwavering determination. As the echoes of our confrontation reverberated through the halls of Hawkins High, the rest of the student body seemingly silent, a lingering animosity hanging in the air.

The hallway fell into a hushed silence as the door swung open, revealing Mr. Thompson, a stern and no-nonsense teacher known for his unwavering discipline. His eyes scanned the crowd, settling on Billy Hargrove and me, both still tinged with the remnants of our heated argument.

With a voice that brooked no dissent, Mr. Thompson spoke, his tone laced with disappointment. "Mr. Hargrove, Miss Y/N, I trust you are both aware of the disruption you caused with your altercation. Such behavior is not befitting of the students I know you are capable of being."

Billy leaned back against the metal locker, an air of defiance lingering around him. "Look, teach, she started it. She always acts like she's better than everyone else."

Mr. Thompson's gaze hardened, his stern expression unyielding. "I will not entertain excuses or attempts to shift blame, Mr. Hargrove. Both of you played a role in this unfortunate incident, and as such, you will face the consequences."

His words hung heavy in the air, the weight of our actions pressing down upon us. I swallowed hard, understanding the gravity of the situation. "I apologize, Mr. Thompson. My behavior was out of line, and I take full responsibility for my part in the argument."

The teacher nodded, his tone firm yet fair. "Acknowledging your mistake is the first step, Miss Y/N. However, understanding the impact of your actions is equally important. Disruption within the school community undermines the learning environment for your fellow students."

Billy shot a defiant glare in Mr. Thompson's direction, but the teacher remained unfazed. "As for you, Mr. Hargrove, this is not the first time you have found yourself in a situation like this. It's time to recognize the consequences of your actions and learn from them."

The weight of Mr. Thompson's words settled upon us, the realization of our transgressions sinking in. We were about to face the repercussions of our heated argument— A lesson that would extend beyond the confines of the classroom unfortunately.

With a measured tone, Mr. Thompson concluded, "Both of you will serve detention after school today. It is an opportunity for reflection and understanding, a chance to contemplate the impact of your choices. I expect better from you both moving forward." As the halls emptied and the weight of our detention loomed.

───── ❝ detention❞ ─────

The detention room was heavy with unspoken tension, a sterile and somber space, its walls adorned with faded motivational posters. Billy Hargrove and I sat in stony silence, our gazes locked in a battle of wills. As we awaited the passage of time, a silence settled over us, broken only by the occasional creak of chairs, the heavy rain hitting the windows or distant footsteps in the hallway.

Unable to bear the silence any longer, I broke it with a voice sharpened by resentment. "You know, Billy, I never expected much from you, but I thought you would at least have the decency to apologize."

Billy's jaw clenched, his eyes narrowing with a flicker of defiance. "Apologize? For what? Standing up for myself? Or for not letting you walk all over me with your self-righteous lectures? You’re the one that should be grovelling and begging for me to accept your apology."

The words stung, igniting a fire within me. "You think this is about me wanting to control you? It's not, Billy. It's about treating people with respect and recognizing the consequences of our actions."

He scoffed, his voice laced with bitter sarcasm. "Oh, spare me your moral high ground, sweetheart. You act like you've never made a mistake in your life."

My temper flared, my voice rising in defiance. "I never claimed to be perfect, Billy. But at least I try to learn from my mistakes. You, on the other hand, continue to hurt people without a second thought."

His eyes flashed with anger, his voice dripping with venom. "You think you know me? You think you understand a damn thing about what I've been through?"

The room crackled with the intensity of our confrontation, the boundaries between us growing sharper with every word. We were two opposing forces on a collision course, our anger fueling the flames of resentment.

"I may not know your entire story, Billy, but that doesn't excuse your actions," I retorted, my voice trembling with suppressed emotion. "Hurting others won't fix whatever pain you're carrying."

His gaze hardened, his voice a low growl. "You don't get to play therapist, Y/N. You don't get to pretend like you can fix me."

My heart raced, my fists clenched in frustration. "I never said that I have all the answers, but I refuse to let you continue down this destructive path without saying something. You're capable of so much more, Billy. But until you face the truth and acknowledge the pain you're causing, you'll remain trapped in this cycle of anger and hurt."

Silence enveloped us once again, the weight of our words hanging in the air. Anger still simmered beneath the surface, but a glimmer of vulnerability shone in Billy's eyes. It was a fleeting moment, easily masked by his hardened facade, but it was enough to sow a seed of doubt within me.

The storm outside was taking a treacherous turn. The distant rumble of thunder grew louder, and rain pounded against the windows with an unrelenting force.

Breaking the silence, my voice quivered with a mix of trepidation and sincerity. "Billy, I want to apologize for the things I said earlier. I let my anger get the best of me, and I didn't consider the pain you might be carrying."

Billy's guard softened, his gaze meeting mine with a flicker of surprise and appreciation. "I... I appreciate that, Y/N.”

There was a pause, a shared moment of introspection as we grappled with our own inner turmoil. I reached out tentatively, my hand finding Billy's, my touch a gentle reassurance amidst the remnants of our conflict.

"I've seen glimpses of a different person beneath your… tough exterior, Billy," I admitted, voice filled with genuine concern. "There's more to you than the asshole that parades himself around this school."

“Y/N, I-”

Suddenly, the shrill wail of sirens pierced the air, signaling an imminent danger—A tornado.

We exchanged startled glances, their previous animosity momentarily forgotten as the gravity of the situation sank in.

As the tornado siren blared its warning, panic gripped the halls of Hawkins High School. Remaining students and teachers scrambled to find shelter, seeking refuge in designated safe areas.

Their footsteps quickened, driven by the urgency to reach safety. My hand instinctively grasped the doorknob, twisting it desperately, only to be met with resistance. Billy stepped forward, trying to force the door open with all his might, but it remained stubbornly shut. We were trapped, confined within the detention room's four walls while the storm raged outside.

Frantic thoughts raced through my mind as the tornado siren continued its relentless call. Time seemed to stretch, each passing second intensifying our worry. We pounded on the door, our voices blending with the howling wind outside, hoping to catch the attention of someone who could free us from these confines.

But the chaos of the storm swallowed the cries, leaving us stranded in a place where punishment had transformed into something far more sinister.

Together, we faced the daunting prospect of weathering the storm from the confines of the detention room. The previous conflicts and animosity were pushed aside by the shared predicament we found themselves in. In this moment of vulnerability, I, overwhelmed by the situation, instinctively sought comfort and found solace in the proximity of Billy.

Trembling, I pressed closer to him, seeking refuge in his presence. Billy, taken aback by the vulnerability displayed before him, was unsure of how to respond. Awkwardly, he tentatively wrapped his arms around me, his touch uncertain yet gentle, trying to offer whatever comfort he could muster.

His voice, usually laced with defiance, softened as he spoke, "Hey, it's gonna be okay." His words held a glimmer of reassurance, though they were foreign on his tongue.

Finding solace in the sincerity behind his words, I nodded against his chest. The storm's fury continued to unleash its wrath, yet within the confines of his embrace, a bubble of comfort formed—a shelter against the chaos outside.

Despite his initial hesitation, Billy recognized the importance of providing support in his own way. He began to stroke Y/N's back with gentle motions, a silent gesture of solidarity.

"Sorry," I mumbled, my voice laced with embarrassment, as I gently pushed away from Billy's embrace. My cheeks flushed with a mix of emotions, and I hastily wiped my nose on the back of my hand, trying to regain composure. Avoiding his gaze, I looked down, my focus shifting to the ground beneath us.

Billy, ever the composed one, noticed my unease. With a gentle touch, he reached out and brushed off a speck of dust from his shirt, as if to show that the minor incident hadn't fazed him.

Billy took a seat on the floor, his back leaned against the door, his hands resting on his knees. A somber calmness settled over him as he watched the storm brewing just outside the windows. His gaze traced the dark clouds swirling in the sky, their ominous presence mirrored in the intensity of his eyes.

There was a sense of introspection about him, a contemplation that matched the turbulent energy of the storm. As the thunder rumbled and the rain battered against the windows, he seemed lost in thought, his thoughts perhaps wandering through the labyrinth of his own emotions.

I couldn't help but be drawn to his stillness, his silent observation of the chaos outside. His composed demeanor in the face of the tempest fascinated me, revealing a depth that extended beyond his tough exterior. In that moment, he seemed like an enigma, simultaneously a part of the storm and yet untouched by its fury.

Sitting beside him, I watched his profile, his features softened by the dim light that filtered through the darkened room. There was an air of melancholy around him, an unspoken weight that he carried. I yearned to understand the depths of his thoughts, to be the solace that anchored him amidst the storm.

───── ❝ the calm❞ ─────

As the storm raged outside, Billy and I found ourselves engaged in a conversation that embodied the essence of teenage banter.

Billy leaned in, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "If you could have any superpower, what would it be? And don't say something boring like 'the ability to study all night'."

I chuckled, playfully rolling my eyes at his remark. "Alright, impatient. If I had to pick, I'd go with telekinesis. Imagine the possibilities! No more reaching for the remote or dealing with heavy backpacks. I could be the ultimate multitasker."

He nodded, a smirk tugging at the corners of his lips. "Telekinesis, huh? That's a solid choice. I'd probably go with teleportation. Think about it—no more long commutes, instant travel to any corner of the world. Plus, I'd never be late for detention again."

As the thunder rumbled in the distance, Billy leaned closer, his tone filled with curiosity. "Alright, what's the most embarrassing thing that's ever happened to you in school? Come on, I know you've got a good story."

I smirked, playfully nudging him. "Well, there was this one time in sophomore year when I accidentally walked into the boys' restroom. Needless to say, I made a hasty retreat."

Billy burst into laughter, his infectious mirth filling the room. "You sure know how to make an entrance, sweetheart."

As we continued swapping stories and playful jabs, the detention room transformed into a hub of energy, where we could momentarily forget our worries and simply enjoy each other's company.

A low, distant rumble of thunder echoed through the air, as if nature itself was growling in anticipation. The wind intensified, howling and gusting with an almost primal force. The trees bowed and thrashed, their branches caught in a frenzied dance, struggling against the impending tempest.

I watched in awe as the atmosphere transformed before my eyes. The sky, once a tranquil blue, now displayed a multitude of shades—shades of gray, indigo, and charcoal, swirling together in a chaotic symphony. The sun, now hidden behind a thick layer of swirling clouds, cast an eerie, ethereal glow over the landscape.

Bolts of lightning streaked across the darkened sky, illuminating the swirling mass of clouds with their electric brilliance. Each flash was followed by a deep, rumbling clap of thunder, reverberating through the air like the growl of a mighty beast. The sound seemed to vibrate within me, a reminder of the power and unpredictability of nature.

Raindrops fell, at first sporadic and gentle, then growing in intensity. They splattered against the windows, creating a distorted view of the world outside. The rain seemed to move in waves, driven by the ever-growing ferocity of the storm.

As the tornado formed in the distance, a funnel-shaped cloud descended from the heavens, its dark core swirling with an ominous intensity. It seemed like a monstrous entity, a force of nature unleashed, ready to wreak havoc upon the land.

As I watched the tornado continue to gather strength, my heart pounded with a mix of fear and fascination. The storm's fury was a stark reminder of our place in the universe, a humbling experience that left me in awe.

"Truth or dare?" Billy's voice cut through the air, pulling me away from my initial skepticism, a smirk playing at the corners of his lips.

I scoffed playfully, playing along with the game. "Dare," I replied, ready to accept whatever challenge he threw my way.

His eyes sparkled with mischief as he leaned in closer. "Draw something inappropriate on the whiteboard," he suggested, his voice laden with amusement.

I rolled my eyes, trying to suppress a smile, and reluctantly rose from the floor. Picking up a black marker, I uncapped it and sketched a crude representation of a penis on the whiteboard.

Rolling my eyes but unable to suppress a smile, I got up from the floor and reached for a black marker. With deliberate strokes, I crudely sketched a crude representation of a penis on the whiteboard. Billy's laughter filled the room, his teasing comment echoing in the air.

“It’s a bit small, don’t you think?” He jested, unable to contain his amusement.

Glancing at the drawing, I raise an eyebrow, a smirk forming on my lips. “Oh, really? Well, I suppose it’s yours then,” I retort, playfully taking a seat beside him, reveling in our shared banter.

Billy’s eyes widen momentarily before a mischievous smile dances on his lips. “Oh, sweetheart. It definitely is not,” he quips, the implication lingering in the air between us.

Interrupting his suggestive smile, I shift the focus back to the game. “Truth or dare?” I ask, deliberately ignoring his playful demeanor.

Billy ponders for a moment, his gaze meeting mine with a newfound curiosity. “Truth,” he finally decides, a tinge of vulnerability seeping into his voice.

With a casual shrug, I meet his request with nonchalance. “Tell me a secret,” I challenge, my curiosity piqued.

I see a flicker of contemplation in Billy’s eyes, a momentary vulnerability that captures my attention. “I… I think this game is stupid,” he confesses, his tone filled with a hint of reluctance.

A burst of laughter escapes me, and I playfully grumble, pouting as I lightly swat him with the back of my hand. “Come on, Hargrove,” I retort, a playful glint in my eyes. “That’s not a real secret,” I tease, finding joy in the lighthearted exchange between us.

"I love when you say my name," he confesses softly, his voice laced with sincerity.

I raise an eyebrow, a playful smile tugging at the corners of my lips. "Billy is your name, not Hargrove," I remind him, a hint of mischief coloring my tone.

He closes his eyes, savoring the words as they linger in the air. Tilting his head back slightly, a contented sigh escapes his lips. "God, I love that," he admits, a faint smile playing on his features.

A mixture of curiosity and affection fills me as I gaze at him, captivated by the rare vulnerability that shines through. "Your own name?" I inquire, wanting to understand the depths of his feelings.

His smile grows wider, his eyes sparkling with a newfound lightness. It's a smile I've never witnessed before—a genuine expression that reaches his eyes. It's a departure from the usual smirks and cocky grins that often adorned his face.

With a teasing glint, he responds, "Only when you say it."

In that moment, the room feels charged with an unspoken connection—a mutual understanding that extends beyond words. Billy's admission reveals a layer of vulnerability, a longing to be seen and appreciated for who he truly is. And in return, I find myself drawn to the authenticity behind his smiles, cherishing this newfound glimpse into his soul.

As the tornado's fury rages outside, within the detention room, a tender understanding forms—a recognition that behind the tough exterior and troubled past, there is a person deserving of acceptance.

The air between us hums with unspoken emotions, the room fills with an electrifying tension. A charged atmosphere enveloping us, our eyes locked. There, in the midst of the detention room's confined space, a fleeting moment of clarity washed over me, and I couldn't resist the overwhelming urge to bridge the remaining distance between us.

Closing the gap, I reached out, my fingers gently cupping Billy's cheek. The room fell silent, the sounds of the storm outside fading into the background, as our hearts beat in unison. With a mixture of trepidation and longing, I pressed my lips against his, capturing the essence of that tender moment.

Time seemed to stand still as our mouths met, a fusion of uncertainty and desire intertwining in the embrace. The sensation was electric, igniting a fire that had smoldered beneath the surface for far too long. In that brief exchange, our souls spoke a language words couldn't convey.

Billy, initially surprised by the unexpected kiss, soon melted into it, responding with a passion that matched my own. His hands found their way to the small of my back, pulling me closer, deepening the connection.

When our lips finally parted, we remained locked in a breathless moment, our eyes lingering as if searching for something in the depths of each other's gaze. The storm's turmoil outside seemed distant, inconsequential compared to the whirlwind of emotions we experienced within that single, stolen kiss.

A radiant smile spread across Billy's face, a genuine expression that mirrored the warmth filling my own heart.

Our eyes remain locked, reflecting the fire that still burns within. It's a pivotal moment—an awakening of desires.

As the heat between us subsides slightly, I tentatively reach out, my hand trembling with anticipation, seeking to caress the contours of Billy's face. But just as my fingers brush against his skin, he gently catches my hand, his touch firm yet tender.

Time seems to suspend as Billy's eyes search mine, his grip on my hand a gentle yet deliberate restraint. The intensity of the moment is palpable, the unspoken words echoing between us.

My heart pounded in anticipation, and my breath hitched as I felt his gaze fixate on the sensitive curve of my neck.

A mixture of excitement and vulnerability coursed through me as Billy leaned in, his lips lightly grazing my skin. Each gentle kiss sent an electric jolt through my body, awakening every nerve ending. It was an exquisite torment, a sweet agony that left me yearning for more.

I shivered, surrendering to the intoxicating pleasure of his touch, as his lips continued to explore the contours of my neck. The warmth of his breath against my skin sent waves of desire cascading through me, intensifying with each tender press of his mouth.

The sensations overwhelmed me, causing a soft gasp to escape my lips. In that moment, I lost myself in the exquisite pleasure, my body responding to his every touch. It was a delicate dance of passion and vulnerability, a symphony of sensations that bound us together in an intimate connection.

Time seemed to stand still as Billy's kisses grew more impassioned, each one leaving a trail of desire in its wake. My senses were heightened, the world around us fading into insignificance. In that intimate exchange, I felt seen, cherished, and desired.

As I surrendered to the pleasure coursing through me, the room became a sanctuary—a place where worries and responsibilities dissolved, leaving only the intensity of our connection. Billy's lips on my neck were a testament to the depths of our desires intertwining.

Amidst the storm's raging chaos outside, our bodies entwined, the sweet caress of his kisses on my neck brought solace and an indescribable intimacy. It was a moment where the boundaries between us blurred, where our desires and emotions melded into one.

With a mix of strength and tenderness, Billy's arms wrapped around me, lifting me effortlessly off the ground. I gasped, caught off guard by his display of power and the rush of exhilaration that surged through me.

With purposeful steps, Billy carried me across the room, our bodies pressed close together. Gently, Billy set me down on top of a desk, our eyes locked in a fiery gaze. The smooth surface was cool against my skin, heightening my awareness of the intimate connection we were about to explore.

Billy stood before me, his gaze filled with a mix of desire and vulnerability. With a slight smirk playing on his lips, he reached for the buttons of his shirt, his fingers deftly undoing them one by one.

His hands paused momentarily, allowing me a moment to appreciate the sight before him. A hint of a smile tugged at the corners of his lips, his usual confidence shining through. With a deliberate slowness, he shrugged off the shirt, letting it fall to the ground, revealing his bare chest in all its glory.

Steady hand, he reached out, his fingers grazing the fabric of my shirt. His touch was gentle yet purposeful, tracing a path along my skin, leaving a trail of goosebumps in its wake. With a gentle yet determined pull, he started to lift the shirt upward, exposing the skin beneath.

───── ❝ the storm❞ ─────

As my shirt slipped off, a rush of vulnerability and desire washed over me. Billy's eyes traced the lines of my exposed flesh, a mixture of reverence and hunger in his gaze. His touch was both careful and passionate, his fingertips grazing my skin with an electric intensity that sent shivers down my spine.

His hand reaches up my throat, until it reaches my chin, grabbing and running his thumb over my full bottom lip. I part my lips, drawing his thumb into my mouth and sucking.

“Y/N,” he whispers, closing his eyes, his jaw clenching as he grinds his back teeth.

He pulls his thumb from my lips, his fingers flying to my jeans as he fumbles with the button and rips them from me.

His eyes fall to my underwear. “Okay” He rasps, his fingers rubbing through the material.

“Oh” I breathe, pushing my arms behind me and wrapping my fingers round the edge of the desk unit.

“Legs up,” He orders and I do as he says without thinking, widening my legs for him, his eyes falling between them. Swirling his fingertips over me, his spare hand moves up around my throat as he wraps his fingers there, holding me in position.

His fingers slip into the side of my panties, rubbing slowly before gliding his fingers through my parted lips and plunging two fingers deep inside of me.

“Fuck,” I whisper.

His fingers slip out of me, before tugging on his own pants, kicking them down his legs. “You clean?”

I nod, “Yeah, are you?”

“Haven’t been with anyone in a while, but yeah.” I feel shocked and confused by his admission, but don’t let him see it.

He strokes himself in long, slow strokes then pushes his thick tip at my tight opening. “You’re mine from this moment on, do you understand me?” He rasps, his eyes levelling with mine and I nod.

Billy’s voice resonates with authority and possessiveness as he utters those words, his intense gaze locked with mine. The weight of his declaration hangs in the air, and for a brief moment, my mind races with conflicting emotions. I want to surrender, to fully embrace this connection that has ignited between us, but a lingering trace of hesitation remains.

“Yours.” I whisper, my voice tinged with a mix of excitement and fear. My eyes roll in the back of my head as he slowly pushes his thick cock inside me, the burn caused by him stretching me taking my breath away.

“Y/N.” His grip around my throat tightens as he watches his cock slip in and out of me with ease. “Fuck, you feel so good.” His jaw is tight, his teeth gritted as he fucks me slowly.

“Billy.” I whisper moan, looking between us as his thick cock pulls to the tip, then slips straight back into me.

My heart races under my skin when my gaze lands on the classroom door, the school hallway lies quiet and still, devoid of the usual bustling energy that fills its space during the day. My eyes widen and Billy winks at me, smirking.

“Look at you” he moans, his thrusts speeding up. “You’re such a naughty girl, sweetheart.”

The pet name that so often bothered me now felt like a reward, slipping off his tongue it brings my orgasm close. I clench down, tightening around him.

“You like that, don’t you?”

I nod, mewling as his voice floats through me, his cock hitting that spot.

“I think you can take more,” he whispers, his head turning to the door then back to face me. “Do you?” he asks.

I nod eagerly, letting my eyes watch as he fucks me.

He smiles, looking down between us as he pulls his cock to his tip, then places two fingers at my opening, resting on top of his arousal coated cock.

Without warning, he pushes back into me, my mouth agape as my eyes roll in the back of my head.

“Fuck yes,” I pant. Uncurling my white knuckled fingers from the edge, I reach between my legs and rub my swollen clit.

Billy laughs a little, amusement evident in his voice. “You’re so greedy” he grits, as he fucks me harder,

My fingers rub faster, matching his thrusts into me. Billy grins at me, his eyes hooded as he slows his thrusts into me to a torturous pace.

“God” I rush out, ignoring the urge to moan out after that.

Billy continues at the slow pace for a moment then picks up the pace again, fucking me hard.

“Fuck,” I whisper, my eyes glassing as tears threaten, the pleasure ripping through me.

“Did anyone fuck you like this?” I see Billy’s veins bulging and throbbing at his question and I shake my head. “Good, no one will.” He grits, pulling his two fingers out. My orgasm teeters as he pushes his cock deep into me.

“I’m going to come,” I whisper, tears rolling down my cheek at this overwhelming fullness that I feel. I tilt my hips up so his long cock rubs on the spot I need.

I can no longer resist the magnetic pull drawing me toward him. With a mixture of hesitation and longing, I close the remaining distance between us, my lips pressing against his in a bold and passionate kiss.

His response is immediate, his arms encircling me, pulling me closer, as if he too craves this connection. The kiss deepens, becoming a fierce exchange of desire and emotion.

My eyes roll, my back arches and I come hard, my orgasm splintering me in two. I swear I see stars, my ears ringing as the relief swarms me.

“Such a good girl,” He chokes, fucking me in short, hard thrusts, “I’m going to come,” he whispers.

I pant, he pants, his face edging towards me in an electrifying instant, our lips collide in a passionate fusion. It’s a dance of fire and vulnerability, a symphony of sensations that overwhelm my senses.

Our kiss deepens, a mingling of passion and tenderness. It’s as if time suspends, leaving only the intensity of our shared moment. Our lips move in perfect harmony, fueled by a hunger

A symphony of moans escapes my parted lips, blending with the intoxicating atmosphere around us. I lose myself in the intoxicating taste of his mouth, surrendering to the whirlwind of emotions that swirl within me. In that moment, nothing else matters but the heat and urgency of our connection.

His touch is electric, his hands guiding me closer, holding me as if afraid to let go. Fingers tangle in my hair, creating an anchor in this storm of desire.

Each brush of his lips against mine sends waves of pleasure coursing through me.

───── ❝ fear ❞ ─────

The tornado emerges on the horizon as a monstrous force of nature, its destructive power evident in its towering funnel cloud. It's a swirling vortex of darkness, a tempest that devours everything in its path. The winds, furious and relentless, whip through the air, creating a deafening roar that reverberates through the surroundings.

As it approaches, the tornado leaves a trail of devastation in its wake. Trees are uprooted, their branches tossed like twigs in the ferocious gusts. Debris becomes airborne, propelled with alarming velocity, transforming everyday objects into deadly projectiles.

The sheer magnitude of the tornado is awe-inspiring and terrifying. Its darkness stretches towards the heavens, a menacing presence against the darkened sky. It seems to command the atmosphere, bending it to its will as it spirals relentlessly forward.

The swirling mass engulfs the landscape, obscuring visibility with a dense cloud of dust and debris. Its raw power is palpable, an unstoppable force of nature that demands respect and humility.

Inside the school, the building shudders under the onslaught of the approaching storm. The air pressure fluctuates, causing windows to rattle and doors to creak. The sounds of destruction outside are muffled by the solid structure, yet the vibrations serve as a chilling reminder of the chaos unfolding just beyond the walls.

As I cower with Billy, a sense of vulnerability washes over me. We cling to each other, seeking solace and protection in our shared fear. The tornado's proximity amplifies the urgency, the desperate need to find shelter and hold on to hope amidst the chaos.

Through the windows, I catch glimpses of the swirling mass, the dark tendrils reaching out like ominous fingers. It's a sight that commands both awe and terror, a stark reminder of the immense power of nature and our own fragility in its presence.

The tornado rages on, its path cutting through the land with merciless force. It serves as a testament to the indomitable forces of nature, leaving behind a trail of destruction that serves as a somber reminder of its might. In its wake, lives are upended, and the true strength of the human spirit is tested.

I can't help but succumb to a vulnerable admission. With trembling words and a sheepish tone, I confess my deepest fear. "I'm... scared," I admit, my voice barely above a whisper, as if speaking the words aloud would make the fear all the more real.

Billy's gaze softens, his eyes reflecting a mixture of understanding and concern.

"I know," he responds, his voice gentle yet filled with an unwavering determination. "It's alright to be scared."

His words offer a glimmer of comfort amidst the chaos. I find solace in the fact that I'm not alone.

As the tornado's howling winds continue to pummel the school, we huddle closer, seeking shelter in each other's embrace. Billy's arms envelop me, providing a sense of protection against the outside world. In the safety of his presence, I allow myself to lean on him, to release the weight of my fears.

The deafening roar of the tornado intensifies, its monstrous presence drawing ever closer, a surge of adrenaline courses through my veins. Despite our attempts to find comfort in each other's embrace, the fear within me intensifies, threatening to overwhelm my senses.

I can feel the vibrations reverberating through the walls, the tremors of the approaching storm rattling the very foundation of the school. The once-distant sounds of destruction now grow ominously near, a chilling reminder of the tornado's relentless pursuit.

The windows tremble under the assault of the wind, and shards of glass occasionally shatter, scattering across the floor like glistening fragments of chaos. The air becomes heavy with debris, carried on the gusts that infiltrate the building, serving as a grim testament to the tornado's destructive path.

In the midst of this swirling chaos, I cling tightly to Billy, seeking refuge in his presence. His strong arms provide a sense of security, anchoring me to the present moment, even as the world outside seems to be spiraling out of control.

The tornado's wrath looms just beyond the school walls, a relentless force that threatens to consume everything in its path. The air grows thick with anticipation, our breaths shallow, as if awaiting the inevitable impact.

In the face of this impending danger, Billy's grip tightens, his unwavering strength serving as an anchor amidst the storm. His gaze meets mine, his eyes filled with determination, and I draw strength from the unwavering resolve in his expression.

"We're going to make it through this," he assures me, his voice steady despite the chaos surrounding us. His words resonate deep within me, stirring a flicker of hope amidst the fear that threatens to consume me.

As the tornado's monstrous presence engulfs the school, we brace ourselves, both physically and emotionally. Time seems to slow, each second stretching into eternity as we steel ourselves for the impact.

Exhausted from the harrowing ordeal, our bodies intertwined as we succumb to the weariness that envelops us. The tumultuous events of the storm have taken their toll, and we drift into a deep, restless sleep.

───── ❝ hope ❞ ─────

As the hours pass, the storm finally subsides, its wrath replaced by an eerie calm. The once-fierce winds now whisper faintly outside, their power spent. Slowly, consciousness begins to stir within us, like emerging from a foggy dream.

Then, as the tempest finally subsides, we are abruptly awoken by a profound silence. The deafening roar of the tornado gives way to an eerie stillness, broken only by the distant sound of emergency sirens and the occasional creak of a damaged structure.

Opening our eyes, we survey our surroundings, a scene of devastation unfolding before us. The once-familiar corridors are now marred by broken walls, shattered windows, and debris scattered haphazardly across the floor.

It’s a surreal sight, the aftermath of nature’s wrath. Yet, amidst the chaos, there is a glimmer of hope. We’ve made it through the storm, emerging on the other side battered but alive.

With the shattered glass on the detention room door, Billy reaches through and deftly turns the handle from the other side. A glimmer of relief washes over us, knowing that we now have an exit from the confined space. Though the windows are broken and the path to safety is strewn with debris, we realize that any open window will suffice, as the glass practically no longer exists.

"Be careful," Billy instructs, his voice laced with concern as he surveys the scattered remnants across the hallway. Taking my hand in his, we proceed with caution, navigating through the remnants of the storm's aftermath. The floor is littered with shattered glass, fallen ceiling tiles, and splintered furniture, a visual testament to the chaos we've endured.

As we make our way through the treacherous path, a fireman catches sight of us and rushes towards us, his expression a mix of relief and urgency. "I FOUND SOMEONE!" he exclaims, his voice filled with a mixture of triumph and concern. With a reassuring hand, he guides us toward the front yard where other students and teachers who sought refuge in the cellar have gathered.

The paramedics swiftly approach, their trained eyes assessing our well-being. Billy reluctantly releases my hand as the paramedic begins to check on us, ensuring that we've escaped the storm's grasp unscathed. I stand alongside Billy, the weight of the harrowing experience settling in, as we wait to be examined.

In the midst of the chaos and the flurry of emergency responders, a sense of gratitude washes over me. We've emerged from the devastation, finding our way to safety against all odds. As the paramedic assesses our physical well-being, I steal a glance at Billy, our eyes meeting briefly.

"Y/N!" Steve Harrington rushes to my side after the paramedics give us the all-clear. His face is filled with relief and a touch of disbelief. "Dude, I definitely thought you were dead."

I offer a wry smile, trying to lighten the mood. "Nope, just left for dead in detention."

Steve pulls me into a tight hug, a mixture of genuine concern and his signature humor. "I can't believe you almost died a virgin," he whispers, a mischievous glint in his eyes as he laughs to himself.

I feel a rush of embarrassment and look around, catching Billy's widened eyes. I see him trying to conceal his reaction, a flicker of annoyance briefly crossing his face.

"Steve!" I exclaim, a mixture of embarrassment and frustration tainting my tone. I shoot a quick glance at Billy, silently pleading for him to understand that Steve's comment was just typical Steve being Steve.

Steve, seemingly aware of the tension, quickly shifts his gaze to Billy, offering him a small smile. It's a gesture of acknowledgement and perhaps even an attempt at easing the tension in the moment.

Realizing that it's time to move on from the chaotic aftermath, Steve takes charge. "Come on," he says, gently guiding me away from the scene. Together, we leave Billy behind, the crowd engulfing him as friends and admirers gather to offer their support.

As we walk away, Steve's presence provides a sense of familiarity and comfort. His friendship, though at times unconventional, has become a pillar of support in the face of adversity. In this moment, his light-hearted banter serves as a reminder that we have survived, and life goes on.

"Hey guys," I halfheartedly greet Steve's friends, who have gradually accepted me as part of their group. They each offer their well wishes, making sure I'm okay before effortlessly transitioning into a different topic of conversation.

As I glance over my shoulder, I catch a glimpse of Billy, his smug demeanor fully intact as he revels in the attention he receives. It's not long before a girl eagerly throws herself at him, adding to the throng of admirers that surround him.

A pang of frustration tugs at my heart, a mix of envy and disappointment. Despite the connection we had forged amidst the chaos of the storm, it seems that Billy's attention is quickly diverted by others. I can't help but wonder if our momentary bond was merely a product of the circumstances, destined to fade away once the storm subsided.

I turn my attention back to Steve's friends, forcing a smile and engaging in their lighthearted banter. They provide a welcome distraction, reminding me that I have a support system of my own within this circle. Despite the lingering disappointment, I find ease in their genuine concern and acceptance.

Amidst the chatter and laughter, I take a deep breath, pushing aside the lingering thoughts of Billy's sudden shift in focus. I remind myself that friendships take time to develop and that everyone has their own journey. Perhaps Billy's actions are simply a reflection of his own insecurities, his need for validation in the wake of the storm.

Resolving to focus on my own path, I immerse myself in the conversation, allowing the warmth of friendship to wash over me. I appreciate the genuine connections I've formed with Steve's friends, knowing that their support will be a constant source of strength as we navigate the challenges that lie ahead.

While Billy may bask in the attention of others, I find comfort in the knowledge that true friendships are built on more than just fleeting moments. It's the shared experiences, the genuine support, and the unwavering presence in times of both joy and adversity that truly define the bonds we hold dear.

And so, I embrace the camaraderie of Steve's friends, grateful for their acceptance and friendship. As we continue to navigate the aftermath of the storm, I know that I have a place within this circle, even as the dynamics around us may shift. Together, we will face whatever comes our way, united in our resilience and the unwavering spirit of Hawkins.

───── ❝ unwilling ❞ ─────

"I don't really want to go," I sighed, sprawling out on Steve's couch. It had been a week since the storm wreaked havoc on our lives, and school was still on hold as they worked to repair and rebuild.

Steve, leaning against the armrest, nudged my feet off the couch. "Come on, it's a party. You're a teenager," he retorted, a playful glint in his eyes. "Besides, it's to celebrate you."

I let out a half-hearted groan, feeling a mix of reluctance and confusion. "It's to celebrate Billy Hargrove," I muttered, my voice laced with a hint of bitterness.

Steve rolled his eyes, sitting down next to me as he tied his shoe. He had never been a fan of Billy, and I knew I now had to act the same way. Deep down, buried beneath the layers of conflicting emotions, I couldn't deny that I carried feelings for Billy. Yet, it had been over a week since the storm, and he hadn't reached out or even acknowledged what had happened.

"You survived a whole eight-hour storm with him," Steve scoffed, a trace of admiration mixed with annoyance in his voice. "That deserves to be celebrated, whether you want to admit it or not."

"Alright, fine," I relented, sitting up on the couch and running a hand through my hair. "But I'm not going for Billy. I'm going for the people who supported me throughout it all, including you."

Steve flashed a smile, a genuine warmth in his eyes. "That's the spirit," he said, clapping a hand on my shoulder. "Now, let's go show them how strong we are, and have a little fun in the process."

I mustered a smile, appreciating Steve's unwavering support. With a renewed sense of purpose, I agreed to join him at the party. It was at Carol Perkins' house, a name that didn't reveal much apart from the fact that Steve seemed genuinely excited about it.

Steve and I hopped into his car, ready for the short drive across town to the party. As we cruised through the familiar streets of Hawkins, the buzz of excitement filled the air. The music from nearby houses echoed through the night, drawing us closer to the vibrant scene that awaited us.

We arrived at our destination, parking amidst a sea of cars that lined the street. The house before us was aglow with colored lights, and laughter and voices carried on the breeze. The front yard was transformed into a lively gathering, with groups of people engaged in animated conversations, clutching red cups or puffing on cigarettes.

Steve and I stepped out of the car, joining the lively crowd that had gathered. The atmosphere was electric, with the mingling scents of alcohol and smoke hanging in the air. Music pulsed through the speakers, setting the rhythm for the night ahead.

"Hey!" Carol greeted with enthusiasm as Steve walked in, and I followed closely behind him.

"Hey," Steve smiled in response, his charm radiating as always.

Carol, as the host of the party, beamed at us, eager to ensure our enjoyment. "Let's get you two some drinks!" she exclaimed, leading us toward the bustling kitchen. As we navigated through the crowd, Carol exchanged greetings with people along the way, her presence captivating those around her.

Finally reaching the kitchen, my eyes caught sight of Billy, engaged in conversation with a girl as he casually sipped from his plastic cup. He exuded a confident demeanor, drawing attention effortlessly.

"It's the survivors!" the girl practically glued against Billy's chest exclaimed, a wide grin spreading across her face. She gestured between me and Billy. "What was it like? Being in the storm?"

I felt a lump form in my throat, momentarily taken aback by the directness of her question. The memories of the storm still lingered, the chaos and other things vivid in my mind. I swallowed, searching for the right words to convey our shared experience.

"Um," I hesitated, my voice betraying a mix of emotions. It was difficult to put into words what we had endured. The storm had brought us together in unexpected ways, and part of me was still grappling with the complex emotions that surfaced in its wake. "Oh, you know, it was a wild ride,"

Steve, offered a lighthearted smile. "But Y/N is here now, stronger than ever."

His words served as a gentle reminder that we had emerged from the storm with a newfound strength. It was a subtle redirection of the conversation, allowing us to navigate the topic with a touch of optimism.

The surrounding people’s attention shifted from me to Steve, intrigued by his playful response. As the conversation continued, I took a moment to collect myself, reminding myself that it was okay to feel a mix of emotions.

Taking a deep breath, I looked around the lively kitchen, the hum of laughter and music filling the air. Despite the lingering unease, there was a sense of camaraderie among the partygoers, united by the shared experience of surviving the storm. As the evening unfolded, I knew there would be more conversations, and more reflections. And as I raised my own plastic cup in a silent toast to resilience, I embraced the uncertainty of the night, ready to navigate the intricacies of the party at Carol’s house.

The girl turned her attention back to Billy, her flirtatious demeanor unwavering. "Babe," she cooed, her voice dripping with sugary sweetness, causing me to snap my attention back towards them. "I really like this song. Let's go dance."

Billy furrowed his eyebrows, a trace of annoyance flickering across his face as he took another sip of his drink. "I don't dance," he replied curtly, his tone leaving no room for negotiation.

Undeterred, the girl forced a laugh, attempting to brush off his resistance. "Yes, you do," she insisted, her hand balling his shirt in a feeble attempt to pull him towards the dance floor.

In a moment of defiance, Billy swiftly pulled her hand off him, his gaze steely. "And I'm not your 'babe'. Fuck off," he snapped, his words dripping with a mixture of frustration and defiance.

A stunned silence fell between them, the girl taken aback by Billy's unexpected rejection. As she stumbled to find a response, I couldn't help but feel a surge of satisfaction.

I watched as Billy turned away from her, his attention shifting elsewhere. His eyes met mine briefly, a flicker of recognition passing between us as the girl retreated, nursing her bruised ego.

Steve threw his head back, a wide grin on his face as he finished his drink. "Do you want to play beer pong?" he asked, his excitement evident.

"I've never played, Steve," I admitted, a mix of curiosity and apprehension in my voice.

Steve's smile only grew wider as he responded, "No worries! We'll be a team. Tommy!" he called out, scanning the crowd. "Beer pong? Me and Y/N versus you and..."

Tommy Hagen, his cup in hand, made his way into the somewhat crowded kitchen, his eyes searching for the source of the invitation. "Hargrove," his tone carrying a hint of challenge.

"Yeah, sure," Billy agreed, casually throwing back the remainder of his drink. Without missing a beat, he headed towards the back yard, Tommy following closely behind.

Steve interlaced our fingers, ensuring we wouldn't be separated in the sea of people. Together, we slowly weaved through the partygoers, making our way to the table set up in the back yard. I watched as Tommy filled the plastic cups with alcohol, his movements fluid and precise.

Billy's gaze briefly flickered towards our intertwined hands, a subtle tension radiating from him. In a quick motion, he averted his eyes, unwilling to dwell on the sight.

As we joined the others at the beer pong table, I couldn't help but feel a mix of excitement and nerves. The air was filled with a blend of anticipation and friendly competition as we prepared to face off against Tommy and Billy.

As the game commenced, laughter and cheers filled the air, mingling with the pulsating beat of the music. We threw ourselves into the game, reveling in the friendly banter and the thrill of each successful shot.

In the midst of the playful competition, I stole glances at Billy, our eyes occasionally meeting in brief, unguarded moments.

───── ❝ unwavering ❞ ─────

Steve and Tommy stood on the sidelines, their eyes fixed on the final ball I held in my hand. With determination in their voices, they offered words of encouragement. "You can do it!" Steve cheered, his voice filled with unwavering support.

But Billy, leaning casually against the table on the opposite end, couldn't resist taunting me. His laughter rang through the air as he dismissed my chances of success. "No, you can't," he taunted, his voice laced with playful arrogance. "Sweetheart, you're gonna miss it. Just give up and let me win this."

I took a deep breath, blocking out Billy's teasing remarks. With a focused gaze, I bounced the ping pong ball, sending it soaring through the air. Time seemed to slow down as it descended, its trajectory aligning perfectly with the last cup in front of Billy.

A moment of silence hung in the air, followed by a collective gasp from the onlookers. The ball found its mark, landing with precision and sinking into the cup. Tommy groaned in defeat, while Steve erupted into jubilant celebration.

In the midst of the commotion, Steve embraced me in a tight hug. As we basked in the victory, Steve's voice cut through the noise. "How's the normal teenage experience going?" he asked, a hint of mischief in his tone.

I shrug, a playful smile tugging at the corners of my lips. "I don't think I love parties, but this one is okay," I replied, my words carrying a sense of lightheartedness.

Steve guided me back inside, his hand resting on the small of my back, leading me away from the beer pong table and the lingering sight of Billy surrounded by his admirers. The pulsating energy of the party filled the air, as people mingled and conversations buzzed around us.

But before I could process it all, a girl stepped forward, a flirtatious smile playing on her lips. "Hey, Steve. You look really great tonight," she said, her fingers absently toying with the hem of her shirt.

Steve returned her smile, and I felt a twinge of discomfort at the sight. Not wanting to be a mere bystander in his flirtations, I decided to make my way to the kitchen, in search of a respite from the lively crowd.

As I stood by the sink, filling my cup with cool water, a voice interrupted my thoughts. "Hi, Y/N, right?" a boy asked, catching my attention.

I turned to face him, trying to place his face. "Yep, that's me," I replied, my voice friendly and polite.

“We had English together last year, remember?”

I racked my brain, desperately searching for any recollection of our past encounter. But the truth was, I drew a blank. "Oh! Yeah, totally," I replied, offering a quick smile and a small nod, hoping to mask my lack of memory.

"I think you're, like, really brave for managing to stay strong after what you went through," the boy remarked, taking a step closer to me.

I smiled appreciatively at his kind words, grateful for the acknowledgment. "Well, I wasn't alone,"

He chuckled, a warm sound that echoed in the lively atmosphere. "But you and Billy don't exactly get along," he observed, his eyes sparkling with curiosity. "I don't think I could have gotten out of that detention unscathed like you."

A soft laugh escaped my lips, a blend of amusement and understanding. "You never know, sometimes the people you least expect can surprise you," I mused, my gaze meeting his with a touch of optimism.

"So, you having fun?" he asked, a playful grin on his face.

I nodded "I was. It's been quite a night."

He chuckled, teasingly. "Steve ditch you?" he asked, raising an eyebrow. "Is he like your boyfriend now or something?"

I let out a laugh, shaking my head at the suggestion. "Ew, no," I replied, a touch of amusement in my tone. "Steve and I have been best friends since like Kindergarten."

Billy entered the kitchen, his gaze fixated on the boy I was engaged in conversation with. There was a subtle tension in the air as he approached us, his eyes narrowing in an unspoken challenge.

The boy in front of me joined in on the laughter, the sound filling the space between us. "So, there's no boyfriend then?" he inquired, curiosity glinting in his eyes.

Billy's presence beside me was palpable, his intense gaze fixed on the boy as he approached the sink next to me.

I shifted slightly, feeling the subtle brush of Billy’s arm against mine as he reached behind me to fill his cup with water. The proximity sent a shiver down my spine, a mix of excitement and trepidation coursing through me.

As I turned my attention back to the boy in front of me, I couldn't help but notice the curiosity gleaming in his eyes. His question lingered in the air, and I felt a playful smile tug at the corners of my lips.

"No," I replied, my voice carrying a hint of amusement.

Billy cleared his throat, drawing our attention to his presence as he leaned against the counter beside me. His piercing gaze locked onto the other boy, sizing him up with an intense scrutiny. He took a deliberate sip of his water, his lips curling into a faint smirk.

The boy, seemingly unfazed by Billy's imposing aura, mustered up the courage to ask, "Would you want to go out sometime then? With me?"

Caught off guard, I glanced around, feeling a slight twinge of awkwardness. The weight of the moment seemed to hang in the air, and I searched for the right words to respond. “Oh,” I stammered, my cheeks flushing slightly. “Yeah, maybe.”

As the words left my lips, I sensed a shift in the energy between Billy and me. A silent tension enveloped us, as if the unspoken connection we shared danced on the precipice of something more. Billy’s expression remained inscrutable, his gaze holding mine for a fleeting moment before he turned and walked away.

Left standing there, my attention returned to the boy in front of me, who seemed content with my response.

“Awesome,” the boy grinned, his excitement palpable. “So should I, like, call you?”

I offered a smile. “Obviously not right now, but I’ll see you around,” I replied, slowly starting to leave the kitchen.

But before I could make my way through the crowd, the boy took a few steps to follow me. His enthusiasm was endearing, but my mind was elsewhere. “Do you want to dance or anything?”

“No, I actually have to find Steve,” I explained, my voice barely audible above the pulsating music. “Make sure he isn’t passed out or whatever.”

As I turned to make my way back into the heart of the party, I found myself engulfed in a sea of people, the noise and energy enveloping me. It was then that I felt a hand brush past my waist, sending a shiver down my spine. A familiar breath tickled my ear, and I turned to find Billy standing there, his presence commanding my attention.

His words, laced with a mixture of intrigue and mischief, sent a jolt of excitement through me. “You excited for your little date?” he whispered, his voice filled with a hint of playfulness.

I could feel my heart race in response, a surge of conflicting emotions swirling within me.

With a playful smile, I leaned closer to Billy, allowing myself to be caught up in the electrifying atmosphere of the party. “I guess we’ll see,” I whispered back, my voice carrying a touch of mystery.

Billy’s hand wrapped around my wrist, his grip firm yet gentle. I held my breath, anticipation coursing through me as I waited for him to speak. “I thought I told you,”

Before Billy could utter another word, Steve’s voice cut through the noise of the party, calling out my name. The moment shattered as I turned my head in Steve’s direction, momentarily distracted by his presence.

Billy's jaw clenched, his eyes refusing to waver from mine as he released my wrist. A mixture of frustration and longing crossed his face, evident in the way he huffed and ran a hand through his hair. Without another word, he turned and walked away, disappearing into the swirling sea of partygoers.

Steve finally reached me, his presence providing a sense of grounding amidst the whirlwind of emotions. He took my hand, his touch comforting as he pulled me away from the chaotic scene. "I've been looking for you!" he exclaimed, a mixture of relief and concern in his voice. "Let's take a break and sit outside."

I allowed Steve to lead me towards the door, but my gaze kept turning back, trying to catch a glimpse of Billy amidst the crowd. There was a part of me that yearned for closure, for answers to the unspoken connection between us.

As we stepped outside, the noise of the party faded into the background, replaced by the soft breeze and the distant sound of music. Steve found a quiet spot, and we settled down, the weight of the evening's events settling upon us.

Even as I tried to focus on the present moment with Steve, my mind kept drifting back to Billy. I couldn't shake the feeling of unfinished business, the lingering questions that remained unanswered.

I found myself torn between the familiarity of Steve's friendship and the magnetic pull of Billy's enigmatic presence.

“How’s your night been?” I asked Steve, a playful smile tugging at the corners of my lips. “What happened with that girl?”

Steve’s face lit up with excitement as he shared the news. “We’re going out tomorrow night!” he exclaimed, unable to contain his happiness.

I let out a dramatic sigh, teasing him gently. “Finally!” I exclaimed, feigning exasperation. “I thought you’d never make a move on anyone.”

Steve pouted playfully, his eyes sparkling with amusement. “Hey now,” he protested, his tone mockingly hurt. “You’re the only girl my parents like. You’re stuck with me for life.”

“Yeah, I’m okay with that,” I replied, a playful smile curling on my lips. “As long as I’m not forced to be the next Mrs. Harrington.”

Steve chuckled, his eyes shining with affection. “I love you, but let’s hope it doesn’t come to that,” he teased. “The only way we’re ever getting married is if we’re both unhappy, stuck in Hawkins, and still single at the ripe old age of 35.”

We shared a lighthearted laugh, knowing that our futures held so much more than the small town we called home.

I gazed out at the street, the aftermath of the storm evident in the fallen trees and debris scattered along the pavement. The cool breeze brushed against my skin, providing a refreshing respite from the muffled sounds of the ongoing party.

Steve's voice broke through my reverie, his question drawing my attention. "You ready to go home?" he asked, concern lacing his words.

I tilted my head playfully, eyeing him. "Are you sober enough to drive?" I teased, knowing Steve's tendency to indulge in a drink or two during social gatherings.

A mischievous grin appeared on his face. "Do you need me to recite the alphabet backwards?" he retorted, a hint of mock seriousness in his tone.

Chuckling, I pushed myself up from the spot where I had been sitting. "I have to use the bathroom first," I informed him, gesturing towards the house. "I'll meet you at the car."

Steve nodded, his eyes following me as I made my way back inside. Finding my way through the lively crowd, I navigated towards the bathroom, grateful for a moment of solitude amidst the vibrant energy of the party.

I closed the bathroom door behind me, shutting out the chaos of the party, and I took a moment to collect myself. Placing my hands on either side of the sink, I leaned forward, my eyes fixed on my reflection in the mirror.

Taking a deep breath, I let the weight of the night wash over me. The exhilaration, the uncertainties, and the tantalizing possibilities that lay just beyond the horizon. With renewed determination, I straightened up and met my own gaze in the mirror.

I reached for the door handle, my hand poised to open it and rejoin the party outside. However, before I could grasp the handle, the door swung open, revealing Billy standing there, his expression filled with a mix of anger and frustration. He stepped inside, closing the door behind him, effectively trapping us in the confined space of the bathroom.

My breath caught in my throat as I met his intense gaze. The air between us crackled with tension, and I could feel the weight of his words before he even spoke them. “I’m real fucking mad at you,” he stated firmly, his voice laced with a raw intensity. he reaches his hand forward, wrapping his fingers around the base of my throat.

“Why is that?” I challenged, my voice laced with a mixture of frustration and determination. My eyes blazed with heat as I locked onto his.

His response came as a whisper, yet it reverberated through the room. “I told you, you’re mine,” he declared, his voice filled with a mix of possessiveness and vulnerability. “Or did you forget?”

“Maybe,” I retorted, my voice filled with a mix of defiance and playful challenge. “Are you going to have to remind me?”

A mischievous grin danced across Billy’s lips, and he closed the distance between us, stepping towards me until my back was pressed against the cool surface of the kitchen sink. His proximity sent a thrill coursing through me, and my breath hitched in anticipation.

In that moment, the world around us faded into the background as his lips captured mine in a passionate and all-consuming kiss.

The intensity of his touch sent shivers down my spine, erasing any doubts or hesitations that lingered within me. Our lips moved in perfect synchrony, a dance of desire and longing.

As our kiss deepened, the outside world ceased to exist. There was only the heat of our connection, the intertwining of our breaths, and the shared exploration of unspoken desires. The sound of the party faded into a distant hum, drowned out by the rising tide of passion between us. I surrendered myself to the intoxicating pull of Billy’s touch. The heat of his lips against mine, the possessiveness of his embrace.

“Are you okay Y/N?” I hear Steve’s voice, his fingers knocking on the door.

I heard Steve’s voice outside the bathroom door, his concerned tone breaking through the haze of passion that enveloped me. Billy pulled back slightly, his body still pressed against mine, as he placed a few sloppy kisses along my jaw and collarbones. The sensation sent a shiver down my spine, heightening the desire that pulsed between us.

I struggled to compose myself, my voice slightly breathless as I responded to Steve, “Yeah, I’m okay! Just be a minute!” My words came out in a rushed whisper, my mind still clouded by the intensity of the moment.

“Okay, I’ll be in the car. Hurry up” Steve’s voice faded into the background as Billy suckles at the perfect tender spot on my skin and I moan softly.

Billy’s lips found their way back to mine, his kisses carrying a mix of urgency and longing. I couldn’t help but respond, my own desire intertwining with his, as our lips met in another passionate embrace

As I reluctantly pulled back from Billy’s intoxicating kiss, my mind momentarily drifted to the world outside our passionate bubble. “I have to go”

Billy groaned in response, his lips seeking mine once more as if pleading to continue. In that moment, I found myself succumbing to the allure of his touch, momentarily forgetting everything around me.

But reality had a way of sneaking back in, and I gently pushed against Billy’s chest, creating a small space between us. “Steve’s waiting,” I reminded him, my voice filled with a mixture of longing and apprehension. Steve’s name hung in the air like a fleeting reminder of responsibility.

A flicker of frustration danced across Billy’s face, but he quickly composed himself. His breath brushed against my skin as he muttered, “Don’t think about him when I’m touching you,” his words laced with desire and possessiveness. His lips found their way to my collarbones, planting a series of fervent kisses, igniting a fire within me that was hard to extinguish.

The sensations overwhelmed me, and for a moment, I was lost in the thought of what could happen tonight. But the knowledge that I couldn’t keep Steve waiting tugged at my conscience, and with a heavy sigh, I reluctantly disentangled myself from Billy’s embrace.

“I have to go,” I whispered, my voice filled with a mix of longing and regret. I brushed a strand of hair away from my face, my eyes locked with his for a fleeting moment, conveying the unspoken desire and unfinished emotions between us.

Billy nodded, his eyes holding a mix of longing and disappointment. With a final lingering kiss on my lips, he released me, allowing me to make my way back to the reality awaiting me outside the secluded space we had shared.

As I closed the bathroom door behind me, leaving Billy in the temporary sanctuary of our shared desires, I returned to the vibrant atmosphere of the party. The sounds of laughter and music filled the air, mingling with the fluttering butterflies in my stomach.

Outside, Steve awaited me in his car, his impatience evident as he drummed his hands on the steering wheel. I slid into the passenger seat, a small smile playing on my lips. "That took forever," he groaned, playfully expressing his frustration.

I rolled my eyes, a hint of amusement in my voice. "Oh, come on. It wasn't that long."

He chuckled, shaking his head in mock exasperation. With a twist of the ignition, the car roared to life, carrying us away from the lingering echoes of the party. The drive back to his house was filled with comfortable silence.

As the familiar sights of Hawkins passed by, I couldn't help but feel a mix of excitement and uncertainty. The memory of Billy's touch still lingered. But for now, as Steve maneuvered through the familiar streets, I leaned back in my seat, allowing the cool night air to brush against my skin.

As we approached Steve's house, I couldn't help but steal a glance at the rearview mirror, catching a glimpse of my reflection. The spark in my eyes, the trace of a smile on my lips, and the memories of the stolen moments with Billy were reminders of the whirlwind that had enveloped me.

As we stepped out of the car and made our way into Steve's house, a heavy sigh escaped his lips, drawing my attention to my best friend. Concern etched across my face, I reached out to him. "What's up?" I inquired, my voice filled with genuine curiosity.

Steve's shoulders slumped, his gaze fixed on the ground. "I feel like an asshole," he admitted, his voice laced with self-blame.

Surprised by his confession, I searched his eyes for answers. "Why?" I questioned gently, hoping to understand his turmoil.

"When the sirens went off, I didn't even think about you," Steve confessed, his words heavy with regret. "We got to the cellar and locked the doors. Nobody noticed you and Billy were gone."

I listened attentively, a mix of understanding and compassion flooding my heart. I reached out, gently placing my hand on his arm. "Steve, it's okay. We lived," I reassured him, my voice filled with reassurance.

His eyes met mine, a glimmer of sadness reflecting in their depths. "And if you didn't? Y/N, I can't imagine a world without you," he confessed, his voice choked with emotion. "Seriously, if they had pulled out your body, I'd..."

I placed a comforting hand on his cheek, my touch meant to convey understanding. "Billy actually protected me," I interrupted softly, wanting to ease his guilt. "He made sure I was okay. We talked and slept through most of the storm."

Steve's eyes widened in surprise, his expression a mix of relief and concern. "I wish I could have been there with you," he whispered, his voice filled with genuine regret.

Squeezing his hand gently, I offered him a small smile. "It's okay, Steve," I reassured him, my words filled with sincerity. "You couldn't have known what would happen."

Steve nodded, a mix of gratitude and sadness in his eyes.

───── ❝ unknown ❞ ─────

Steve parked the car in front of my house, and we both sat there for a moment, a mixture of excitement and nerves filling the air. He turned to look at me from the driver’s seat, his eyes searching for reassurance.

"Are you sure this shirt isn't ugly?" he asked, a hint of insecurity in his voice.

I couldn't help but gasp in surprise. "I brought you that shirt," I exclaimed, remembering the day we went shopping together and stumbled upon that particular piece.

He didn't say anything, just stared at me with a mix of gratitude and surprise.

"No, Steve," I reassured him. "You look great. Go enjoy your date. Just make sure she doesn't realize how much of a dumbass you can be sometimes."

A smile played on his lips as he nodded. "I'll call you later."

"I don't need the details," I teased, rolling my eyes playfully.

He waved goodbye and drove off, leaving me standing in front of my house wearing one of Steve's old shirts and a pair of shorts. I watched as his car disappeared down the street, feeling a mix of happiness for him and a tinge of loneliness.

Just then, the sound of a car engine caught my attention. I turned and saw Billy parking his blue Camaro a few houses away. My heart skipped a beat as I watched him step out of the car, his presence commanding attention.

I took a deep breath, adjusting my borrowed shirt, and made my way towards him.

“Hey,” I greeted Billy as I approached him, a mix of anticipation and nervousness swirling inside me.

"You weren't here last night," he observed, his eyes scanning me for any signs of explanation.

"No," I replied, raising an eyebrow. "I stayed at Steve's."

Billy's expression flickered, a hint of surprise and something else I couldn't quite decipher. He glanced away momentarily before meeting my gaze again.

"Steve's, huh?" he remarked, his tone laced with a hint of skepticism.

I shrugged, not wanting to delve into the details. "Yeah, we just hung out, talked, and watched some movies. Nothing special."

Billy's eyes lingered on me for a moment longer, as if searching for something beneath the surface. He seemed torn between curiosity and restraint, his usual guarded demeanor wavering.

"Well," he finally said, a smirk tugging at the corners of his lips. "Guess I'll have to make up for lost time then." A playful glint danced in Billy's eyes as he asked, "Are you going to invite me inside, or do I have to settle for fucking you in my car?"

I smirked, enjoying Billy's playful challenge. "Well, if you're offering, I wouldn't mind the car," I replied with a teasing glint in my eyes.

Billy raised an eyebrow, a mischievous smile playing on his lips. "Is that so?" he responded, stepping closer to me.

Before I could respond, he leaned in, capturing my lips in a searing kiss. The intensity of his touch sent a jolt of electricity through me, igniting a fire that had been smoldering between us

As the kiss deepened, I could feel the hunger and desire building between us, a magnetic force pulling us closer together. The touch of his lips against mine was both passionate and tender, a perfect balance of raw emotion and restrained longing.

Eventually, we pulled apart, our breaths mingling in the air. Billy's eyes bore into mine, his gaze filled with a mixture of desire and vulnerability. It was a silent invitation, an unspoken question hanging between us.

I smiled, the answer clear in my eyes. "Why don't we take this inside?" I suggested, my voice filled with anticipation.

Billy nodded, his grip tightening around his keys. "Lead the way," he murmured, a newfound excitement dancing in his eyes.

As I entered the house, Billy followed closely behind, the anticipation between us growing with each passing moment. I called out, hoping nobody would be home to answer. The absence of any response confirmed that we were alone, adding an extra layer of excitement to the air. “I guess it’s just us”

“Good” Billy responded quickly, pressing me against the wall, a surge of heat coursed through my veins, intensifying the desire between us. His hands explored my body with a hunger that mirrored my own, igniting a fiery passion that consumed us both.

Our lips met in a desperate kiss, a collision of lips and tongues that spoke volumes of the untamed desire we shared. Each touch, each caress sent electric shocks through my body, awakening every nerve ending. I melted into his embrace, surrendering to the intoxicating sensations that enveloped us.

Billy’s touch was both gentle and possessive, his fingertips tracing delicate patterns along my skin, leaving a trail of tingling sensations in their wake. The heat between us grew, fueling an insatiable hunger that seemed to consume us entirely.

As our bodies moved in sync, the rhythm of our desires matched perfectly. Moans and whispers filled the air, mingling with the sound of our racing hearts.

"Where's your bedroom?" Billy asked between kisses, his voice husky with desire.

"It's right over..." I started to respond, but my words were interrupted by a yelp as he effortlessly picked me up, his strength evident. The excitement in his eyes only intensified my own anticipation.

"Tell me," he demanded, his voice laced with a mix of command and desire.

I quickly directed him to my room, my heart racing as we made our way there. The anticipation grew with every step, each one bringing us closer to the privacy we both craved.

As we entered the room, Billy wasted no time in locking the door, ensuring that we were completely alone in our intimate space. The click of the lock echoed through the room, sealing us away from the outside world.

He gently placed me down on the bed, his touch sending sparks of electricity through my body. The hunger in his eyes mirrored my own.

“You makes my heart thump, my cock hard and my mind dirty. The things I want to do to you should be considered a sin.” Billy mumbled, his gaze fixed on me as I lay on my bed. His words caused a warmth to spread across my cheeks, a blush that betrayed the mix of emotions swirling within me.

Billy shifted his position, his body now hovering above mine, his strength carefully balanced to ensure he didn’t overwhelm me with his weight. As he settled into this new position, his hand gently traced the curve of my bottom lip, his touch eliciting a shiver that ran down my spine.

His gaze locked with mine, his eyes filled with a mixture of desire and tenderness. The touch of his hand on my lip was both electrifying and gentle, a delicate cares.. His fingers traced the outline, as if memorizing every contour, every detail, igniting a fiery longing within me. I felt my breath hitch in anticipation, my heart pounding with a mixture of excitement and nervousness.

“I want you, right now” I whisper, my lips hovering over his as I grabs the hem of Steve’s shirt, “but I need to get this off.” Billy nods. It’s bad enough I’m about to fuck my best friend’s enemy again, but I don’t want to fuck him with his clothes on.

I lift the large shirt over my head, discarding it to the floor and he dives forward, lips on my neck as he licks, kisses and sucks on my soft skin. My hands are in his hair, pulling his lips from her skin so I can sink my lips over his in a slow, torturous kiss before I pull on my bottom lip with my teeth.

Billy moves away from me, pulling at the string of the shorts and tugging them down my legs. My hands find his broad shoulders as I sit up and balance herself, removing one foot at a time. Billy throws them to the side before his eyes glide up my body, taking every inch of me in until his eyes finally land on mine. My eyes fluttering as I blink, chest rising and falling fast.

Billy tugs my legs forward so i’m sat on the edge of my mattress before pushing his lips against my inner thigh, trailing soft kisses against my hot skin.

“Y/N” He whispers, looking up at me through his lashes, “You’re mine.”

I cant help but nod my head, shallow pants leaving me.

“Good,” He groans, lifting his lips and pressing them on my other thigh, hooking a long finger in the side of the scrap of material and pull it to the side, exposing me. Sinking his teeth into his bottom lip, I watch him fall back on his knees as he reaches for me with his other hand and pushes my lips apart, sucking in a breath through his teeth.

“Billy,” I whisper, as he lifts my leg and place it over his shoulder, then tap my inner thigh of my left leg asking for me to spread out a little.

“Remember what I said before the storm?” He let his eyes find mine. “I said I like it when you say my name. Now sweetheart, I want you to show me how good my name sounds coming off your tongue whilst you cum on mine.”

“Fuck,” I whisper, as he swipes his tongue through my parted lips, flicking it against my clit then gliding it down, swirling and teasing before his back on the clit, sucking and nibbling. His fingers dig into my sensitive skin, spare hand skimming up to my bare stomach and holding me in place to stop my wriggling.

He buries his tongue deeper, trailing a hand to my other thigh and lift it over his left shoulder, then grip to my waist as he holds me where he wants me.

Slowly grazing his fingers under her ass, he lets them trail down behind me and tease at her opening, edging the tip of two fingers into my soaked pussy which causes my hips to buck forward, as his tongue laps across my sensitive area.

“Oh, Billy,” I pant, fingers finding his hair as I tug at the root, pushing him deeper.

Edging a little further into me, I feel him curl his fingers as he rubs my g-spot then slowly begin pumping in and out, matching the strokes of his tongue.

“Please Billy, I need more,” I begs, and he lifts his mouth from me, so he can look at me, fingers still fucking me.

“Then come,” He smirks, throwing a wink at me as he lurches forward and sinks his tongue between my lips again, sucking on my clit.

Billy teases with a third fingertip causing me to whimper as he slowly slips it in. I constrict around his fingers, pelvis tilting up slightly, giving him better access.

“I knew you were greedy,” He whispers between tongue strokes.

“Billy,” I moans, feeling him tilt his head to the side slightly and press his tongue flat against my clit “Shit,” I cry.

“Are you going to come for me?” His fingers fuck faster, harder.

“Yes, so fucking hard,” I cry again, fingers knot in his hair. I clench tightly as I grind down on his fingers, hips rocking back and forth slowly and I start to lose control.

I screams his name, pleasure lacing my voice. I feel Billy slide his tongue to her opening, lapping up as the wetness coats his fingers. He pulls away, watching as his fingers continue to fuck me, arousal coats his hand, a few drips running down his wrist and he smirks up at me.

“Enjoying this, sweetheart?” He asks in a raspy tone as he slowly moves my legs down and they tremble in his tight grip. I nod slowly, hazy from the orgasm that ripped through me. I reach between her legs and starts swirling my fingers over my clit.

He keeps his eyes focused on my pussy but just as I gets into it, I make myself stop, reaching for his hand and slipping his fingers out. I lifts them to my lips and sucks the three of them clean whilst keeping my eyes pinned on his. “Oh fuck,” Billy moans as pleasure ripples through him.

I grab his chin, fingers tight as I grips, and pulls him to my feet. Billy towers over me, causing my hand to drop.

“Now it’s my turn,” My fingers run under the waistband of his jeans, then hungrily tug them down his toned thighs. I feel my eyes widen, glazing with delight as I looks from his cock to his face, and smiles.

“I want you to take all of me,” Billy grips a fistful of my hair, tipping my head back so she has no option now but to look at him. “Do you understand? Every, single, inch of me.”

I nods eagerly, licking my lips.

“Good” He croons, stepping forwards as he pulls me towards him. My hands wrap around his girthy length as I purse my lips at his tip. My tongue swipes across, licking the precum away then hollowing my cheeks as I take him to the back of my throat. My body lurches forward as I gag, slipping me from her mouth. “Take it slow…”

I hear Billy choke on his own breath as I push my mouth down my cock, stilling when I get to the base and this time, I don’t gag.

“Shit,” He sucks in a harsh breath, and I slip him in and out of my mouth then twirls my tongue at his tip, I flatten my tongue and run it down the underside of his cock.

“Y/N,” Billy grits out, head tipping back as he grabs a bigger fistful of her hair, mouth slipping down his. “I’m going to explode,” He moans, moving my head up and down, teeth gently grazing along the sensitive skin. I pull him from my mouth, then spits on him. Rubbing my thumb over the tip of his dick. “Fuck. Open your mouth.”

I do as he says, sitting on my knees, eyes on him as, waiting with open mouth. I watch as Billy fists himself, keeping eyes locked on me.

His jaw clenches, head falling forward as pleasure consumes him. I just kneel up, taking him in my mouth as he wraps a hand around the back of my head, holding me there as he gently fucks my mouth. Saliva runs down my chin, my moans pushing Billy to continue.

“I’m going to come,” He grits, hips thrusting fast, cock slipping in and out of my mouth sloppily.

His eyes roll in the back of his head as I suck the life from him, lurching forward spurting down the back of my throat.

“Fuck!” He roars, a shiver blankets him causing him to shudder. I fall back, wiping the corner of her mouth before standing. Pulling me her towards him, Billy wraps his arms around me. We just stand for a while, completely forgetting where we are, just lost in this moment.

And in the aftermath, as our breaths mingled and our bodies trembled with the intensity of our shared release, we lay intertwined, our hearts still racing in the aftermath of our fiery encounter.

───── ❝ exposition ❞ ─────

School returned to its normal routine a week later, and during that time, Billy and I hadn’t crossed paths. The absence of his presence left a lingering sense of anticipation and curiosity within me.

Walking through the familiar hallways, I couldn’t help but steal glances, searching for that familiar mop of dark hair, those piercing blue eyes that had ignited a fire within me.

Billy sauntered into the hallways, his presence commanding attention as his eyes locked with mine. A smile tugged at the corners of my lips. However, before I could fully revel in that moment, my view of Billy was interrupted by the boy from the party, who had approached me.

“Hey, Y/N, how are you?” he greeted, trying to engage in conversation.

I offered a polite smile, my mind still lingering on the enigmatic boy who had captured my attention. “Um, fine,” I replied, trying to keep my focus on the present as I opened my locker.

The boy seemed eager, perhaps misinterpreting my friendliness. “I was a little nervous to call, so I was hoping we could just go for dinner and a movie tonight after school.”

I hesitated, my thoughts momentarily shifting to the secret moments I had shared with Billy, the secret connection that still lingered.

“Oh, sorry,” I began, my voice gentle yet firm, “but I’m actually not interested.”

His expression faltered, a mix of surprise and disappointment evident on his face. I felt a pang of guilt, understanding that I had inadvertently led him on.

“But you…” he started, his voice tinged with frustration as he reached out and grabbed my arm.

“Please don’t touch me,” I firmly requested, pulling my arm away from his grasp. It was a clear boundary that needed to be set, a reminder that my consent and personal space were to be respected.

I could feel Billy’s gaze on me as I shut my locker, determined to create distance between myself and the boy who had approached me. With a resolute stride, I made my way down the hall and into an empty classroom, seeking solace in the familiar walls and quiet atmosphere. I sat on a desk near the front, my eyes fixed on the door, silently hoping that Billy would follow.

A minute later, the door cracked open, and I held my breath as Billy slipped inside. There was a mixture of curiosity and concern in his eyes, as if he had sensed something amiss and was now seeking answers.

Without uttering a word, I gestured for him to join me. He closed the door behind him, the sound of it sealing us off from the outside world.

Billy took a few tentative steps toward me, his expression filled with an unspoken question. I met his gaze, my eyes reflecting a myriad of emotions, a mix of uncertainty and longing.

Billy positioned his hands on either side of me. I could feel his touch, his fingers lightly brushing against my thighs, sending a shiver down my spine.

“Yours,” I whispered, my voice barely audible in the intimate space between us.

A smug smirk danced on Billy’s lips as he leaned in, closing the distance between us. Our lips met in a passionate kiss, a merging of desire. His hands explored my body, tracing tantalizing paths, leaving a trail of electrifying sensations in their wake.

But just as the intensity between us reached its peak, the sound of the bell echoed through the classroom, signaling the end of our stolen moment. With reluctance, Billy pulled away, his eyes locked with mine, both of us left craving more.

“We’ll continue this later,” he murmured, his voice laced with a mixture of promise and frustration.

#written while i wasted 4 hours of my life in a queue for taylor swift tickets (no i didn’t get any)#this has been rewritten about 18 times because tumblr hates me so much what the fuck #btw my tumblr page looks so much cuter on desktop #fanfic #billy hargrove #stranger things #x reader #billy hargrove fanfiction #billy hargrove fanfic #billy hargrove x reader #billy hargove smut #billy hargove imagine #stranger things fanfic #billy hargrove x y/n #x yn #dacre montgomery #i dont know why yn says billy’s name so much sorry i didn’t reedit or reread #smut #billy hargrove smut

285 notes · View notes