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strangererotica · 1 day

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Soft!dom Eddie x Sub!Reader • Dom!Steve x Sub!Reader • Perv!Dirty Cop!Hopper x Reader

SMUT SMUT SMUT, minors DNI • Includes established MFM relationship, mentions of drugs & incarceration, abuse of power, spanking, rough sex with aftercare, angst, sex in the Blazer. Hopper is a manipulative asshole in this fic; only proceed if you’re comfortable reading his character from that perspective. <3

Eddie sat down heavily, frustrated, on the edge of the bed. He’d been in a weird mood all day, but it seemed his negative attitude had reached a peak. “Over my lap,” he ordered. You smirked back at him in silence, leaning with your ass against the dresser a few feet away. You weren’t going to budge.

Eddie’s eyebrows lifted at your audacity, his big eyes blinking back at you in surprise. He sat forward slightly, palms closed over his knees. “Okay,” he conceded. “You wanna be a brat, that’s fine. I’ll tell Steve when he gets home, let him deal with you…”

You winced, knowing from experience that if Steve delivered your punishment, you wouldn’t be able to sit comfortably for days. Steve’s hands were bigger than Eddie’s, and he had fewer reservations than Eddie did when it came to leaving marks.

Eddie’s lips twisted into a smug grin as you reluctantly made your way over to him, pulling your panties down. “That’s what I thought,” he teased. Eddie guided you onto his lap, your stomach resting over his thighs, head dipped toward the floor. He lightly groped the fat of your left cheek, before drawing back his hand and spanking you.

The sting was minimal, but the burn left in the wake of Eddie’s hand radiated through your muscles. A little shiver ran down your spine as Eddie’s breath blew cool between your shoulders. “What am I being punished for, Sir?” you asked. Eddie chuckled above you.

“You really don’t know?” he asked, before spanking you again. “Thats kind of adorable. You take my hand so well-.” *smack!* “-And you don’t even know what you’re being punished for. Just that I know what’s best for you…” *smack*

Eddie was switching between both sides of your ass, rubbing away the sting each of his strikes left behind. You were grateful for Eddie’s punishment and not Steve’s, because unlike Eddie, Steve never participated in any kind of aftercare. That was Eddie’s job; Steve left the tenderness up to him.

After fucking you into a wet, contented mess, Steve would just leave the room. He’d pull out of whichever of your holes he’d just obliterated, leaving you sloppy and swollen, letting his cum drip all over the place as he staggered off to the shower. Eddie’s job was to clean you up, to soothe your wounds after a particularly rough session, and to make you feel safe. Eddie would lick you head to toe, cleaning Steve’s cum off your skin and from inside whichever hole Steve had used.

You’d sometimes come again while Eddie was cleaning you up, and he’d give you lots of praises and encouragement for doing so. He’d kiss your pussy and tell you, from between your slick, quivering thighs, what a good job you’d done making Steve happy, and making him happy, too.

Eddie would then pull you into his arms and cuddle you to sleep. You’d drift off in the safety of his arms, with the comforting feeling of Eddie’s cock pulsing against your ass. When he was sure you were asleep, Eddie would carefully exit the bed and go relieve himself in the bathroom.

“Such a good girl,” he said softly, caressing the sensitive skin of your ass. “I’ll bet when people see you out and about in Hawkins, they’d never guess what a little freak you are behind closed doors…”

Eddie groped your ass, messaging away the pain. You shifted on his lap, his stiffening cock poking uncomfortably against your ribs.

“I’ll tell you,” Eddie said. “Why you had to be punished.” He guided you off his lap and seated you beside him on the bed. You waited for Eddie’s explanation. “Last night,” he began. “When we were fucking…you called me Jim.”

It was difficult, but you managed to conceal the wave of dread that rushed through you. Shit.

“And it got me thinking…” Eddie continued, his tone cautious, displeased. “…Do we know anyone named Jim?”

You avoided Eddie’s eyes, fearing the look of suspicion you’d undoubtedly see in them.

“Or maybe the real question is…” Eddie sighed, wrapping his arm around you, a soft (but intentional) act of dominance. “…Who do you know named Jim?”

You swallowed, stalling, your mind scrambling to make up a suitable response. You wouldn’t tell Eddie the truth, of course. That you were secretly fucking a man name Jim behind both Eddie and Steve’s back…that Jim was Chief Jim Hopper. You couldn’t tell Eddie that you and the Chief had agreed upon an arrangement of sorts, one which existed in order to keep Eddie out of prison…

Your boyfriend was a drug dealer. Everyone in Hawkins basically knew this about Eddie; but he’d somehow avoided being charged for possessing or selling illegal substances. At least, until a few months ago. Chief Hopper had followed an anonymous tip that had told him where Eddie was currently crashing. The tip had brought Hopper straight to the door of your apartment complex. He’d parked his Blazer in front of the building, and waited for Eddie to emerge.

With every intention of arresting Eddie, Hopper had waited, and watched. But when Eddie did emerge from behind the door, he wasn’t alone. He was with you. And from the way you were hanging on Eddie, lifting on your tiptoes to reach his neck for a kiss, it was more than obvious to Hopper that you and Eddie were a couple.

A rather sinister idea was born in Hopper’s mind…that if you cared for Eddie as much as it appeared you did, you’d likely be willing to do whatever it took to keep him out of trouble. Hopper chose to postpone Eddie’s arrest until he’d had the chance to confront you in private. The following afternoon, Hopper waited for you to leave the apartment alone, and then made his move.

Under the guise of arresting you for drug possession, Hopper had gone through the whole cuffing process, making sure to grope you more than he needed to in his search for any ‘weapons’ you may have had on you. Hopper loaded you into his vehicle, but put you in the front seat beside him instead of the back. When you questioned him what evidence he had against you, Hopper explained that he was actually there for a different reason.

“That scumbag boyfriend of yours,” Hopper started, and left the sentence hanging as if it didn’t require a conclusion. You didn’t bother explaining to Hopper that you had two boyfriends, because it wasn’t necessary. Given Eddie’s reputation in Hawkins as a metal-loving, devil-worshiping, pothead deviant, assuming Hopper was referring to Eddie made sense.

To play off your nerves, you pretended not to know about Eddie’s drug usage or selling. Batting your lashes at Hopper in an attempt at naïveté, you hoped to throw him off any suspicion of Eddie (and by association, you and Steve also). “You mean Eddie?”

Hopper smirked back at you, digging a cigarette from his pocket. Your charm wasn’t working on him. “Yeah,” he replied dryly. “Who the fuck else would I mean?” Hopper rested the cigarette between his lips and held his lighter beneath its tip. You watched it bloom and crackle alight, your heart rate steadily increasing. You knew that if Eddie were to be arrested, the cops would likely have enough evidence to lock him away for a long time. And that terrified you.

Affirming the direction your thoughts were taking, Hopper explained, “Reason I’m here now, talking to you instead of Eddie, is because l see how much you care about him.”

Hopper exhaled smoke in front of him, looking ahead through the windshield as he spoke. “You don’t wanna see Eddie do time…hell, I don’t want to see the kid get locked up, either…”

That was a lie, and you knew it. Hopper didn’t give a shit about someone like Eddie. “But he does have some serious charges against him…some that could land him years behind bars.”

You shuddered at the thought of Eddie missing from your life. You and Steve would have each other, of course…but without Eddie’s softness, there would only be Steve’s roughness. The tenderness Eddie showed you, the cuddling, the warmth, the gentle punishment rather than harsh, would be gone. Your world would be a darker, lonelier place, without Eddie in it…

“So what can I do?” you asked, unprepared for what Hopper did next. “I mean, how can I help Eddie?”

The Chief removed his cigarette and licked his lips, a lecherous little smile replacing his former look of compassion. His tone was colored with a husky, suggestive darkness when he spoke, his hand moving to rest atop your thigh… “I’m sure you and I can work something out...”

You gazed down at Hopper’s hand, watching his fingers boldly trace further between your legs. He didn’t react when you called him a pig, and when you asked “are you really that fucking desperate for a woman to touch you?” Hopper laughed, unaffected.

“Trust me, sweetheart,” he assured you, taking another relaxed drag of his cigarette. “I don’t need this…” Hopper slipped his hand deeper, till he was cupping your cunt in his palm. You drew in a shocked breath.

“…But if you want your loser boyfriend to stay out of prison-.” Hopper continued, slipping his fingers under the fabric of your panties. “-You do need me…”

There was a pause between you, as Hopper awaited your response. He let his fingers glide between your lips, gently spreading your labia apart. When Hopper’s thumb pressed against your clit, a soft whimper left your lips before you could stop it. He snickered callously; Hopper’s ego was boundless.

“Fine,” you conceded, after weighing your options (you had none). “If you promise to keep Eddie safe.” Your jaw was tensed in a look of defiance.

Hopper nodded his approval, a triumphant, sick grin on his face. He removed his hand from between your thighs with a groan, and placed it on the gear shift. “Atta girl,” he muttered over his cigarette, and put the Blazer in reverse.

Hopper pulled out of the building’s parking lot, and drove you somewhere private, a place where no one would see how he touched you, how his fingers pumped in and out of you in time with the rhythm of your hand around his cock. No one knew that twice a week for the past three months, you’d been fucking the town’s Chief of Police in the back of his squad car. And what only you knew, not even Hopper, was that you liked it.

You’d liked it the first time, and every time since. Hopper was older than Steve and Eddie, and with those years came an experience that was obvious in the way he fucked you. Hopper didn’t just lick your pussy; he made out with it, sloppy, filthy tongue-fucking you, smearing your slick, saturating his beard in the wet heat of you. He’d come up for air just long enough to breathe, before burying his face between your thighs again. Hopper smothered himself against your cunt, lapping long stripes up and down your slit, consuming you like a man taking his first meal in days…

Hopper was hung, and he knew how to use what Mother Nature had equipped him with. When you rode him, Hopper was always able to buck up into you without hurting you. He had a control over his body that few men you’d been with could claim. Being an exceptionally cocky, dirty bastard may have had something to do with Hopper’s confidence; but regardless, he’d obviously had a lot of practice fucking women.

You wondered sometimes how many women Hopper had been with. You vaguely recalled the rumors you’d heard whispered around town about Hopper’s reputation for pumping and dumping the women of Hawkins. But somehow, the rumors had failed to include the fact that Jim Hopper was a goddamn pro when it came to fucking.

The backseat of his police Blazer was cramped, but he fucked too well for you to mind the location. You would have let him have you anywhere, regardless of how uncomfortable, dirty, or inconvenient the place. Being folded up and pinned under the weight of Hopper’s body, his strong arms locking you in place, filled you with a sick sense of security. However toxic he was as a human being, Hopper’s ability to bring your body to rapture was unlike anything you’d ever experienced. The twisted arrangement between you and Hopper had quickly begun to feel more like a relationship.

Even when you were being intimate with Eddie and Steve, you found yourself longing for Hopper. The bed your boyfriends fucked you in was soft and warm, all silk sheets and fluffy pillows, lavender-scented candles arranged at the bedside. It used to be your sanctuary, your favorite place in the world.

But now, what turned you on more than silk sheets was the feeling of your ass being rut into the sweaty, polyester backseat of Hopper’s car. In exchange of the soft romance of lavender, you preferred the scent of Hopper’s aftershave and stale cigarettes, the musk of his sweat dripping from his chest to yours as he fucked you...

— Eddie squeezed his arm around you tighter, and it shook you from your thoughts of Hopper. “So tell me, baby,” Eddie pressed, a poorly-concealed suspicion in his voice. “Who do you know named Jim…?”

You tried to laugh it off, telling Eddie he must have misinterpreted the sounds you were making. “I was moaning a lot,” you teased, trying to distract him. Eddie stared at you for a moment, as if waiting for you to confess something. When he realized he wasn’t going to get anymore information out of you, Eddie offered you his hand to leave the bed. “Doesn’t matter, pretty girl,” he said with pleasant tone. “What d’you say we smoke a little, watch some TV, then head to bed?” Eddie pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead. When he pulled away, there was a sadness in his eyes that the artificial smile on his lips couldn’t hide.

“I’d like that,” you replied, taking Eddie’s hand. He glanced at the clock beside the bed. “It’s late,” Eddie observed. “Better get our fun in now; Steve’ll be home from work soon...”

Steve Harrington wasn’t a jealous man. Or perhaps more truthfully, he was jealous and simply refused to acknowledge it. The relationship you and Eddie had together irritated Steve, because it was a level of intimacy he himself had never been a part of.

Unlike Eddie, Steve was able to hold down a full time job. Being away from the apartment the three of you shared for eight hours a day meant that Eddie had access to you that Steve did not. Eddie’s current employment status was, officially, unemployed. Unofficially, Eddie was quite a successful local drug dealer. Steve normally would have had nothing to do with the kind of guy Eddie was…but you loved Eddie, for reasons Steve could only guess at.

Maybe you loved Eddie because he was gentle, soft in all the places Steve couldn’t be. If there was an emotional switch inside of himself that Steve could have flipped, to make him the kind of soft dominant that Eddie was, Steve would have flipped it in a heartbeat. All he wanted, was to be wanted exclusively by you.

Steve had grown up in a home where affection was scarce, and almost never expressed. Watching the shit show of a marriage his parents had, Steve decided early on that he never wanted to be tied down to any one person. He’d constructed walls around his heart to protect him from any relationship a woman could offer him beyond sex. Meeting you had been a life-altering experience for Steve. Because despite all the years he’d spent hardening his heart, you’d entered Steve’s life and demolished them instantly…

The problem was, Steve still had so much emotional baggage to rid himself of, before he could love you the way you deserved to be loved. He didn’t want to be the mature, stoic presence in your life forever; but it’s all he knew how to be. Steve wanted to romance you, to spend his family’s generous fortune on something that mattered for a change: on your happiness.

But the man you loved, whose arms you drifted to sleep in every night, was a drug-dealing freak. The complete opposite of Steve, who’d barely smoked a single joint in his life, let alone tried the harder drugs Eddie was fond of using and distributing...

Steve left work for the evening and was grateful to be heading home, for the chance to be near you again. He drove his BMW to the apartment complex, pulling to a stop in his usual space. Steve would have entered the building as usual, without pause, if he hadn’t noticed a police vehicle pulling out of the lot just as he pulled in. Steve was always a little wary around cops, not for himself really, but because he didn’t want you to get in trouble for your association with Eddie.

Steve watched the car pull away, noting the lettering on its sides. “Chief,” he read aloud, and his anxieties multiplied. A standard police vehicle wouldn’t have concerned Steve as much, but the Chief of Police had apparently been to your building. Maybe Steve was being paranoid, but he needed confirmation that you were alright.

He walked briskly up the two flights of stairs to your apartment, and unlocked the door in a hurry. “(Y/N)?” Steve called into the dark front room. “Ed?” He rounded the corner to the bedroom and found you and Eddie asleep, in each other’s arms as usual. Steve lingered in the doorway, leaning against it, his heart rate slowing to normal. Of course he was only being paranoid, again. Whatever business the Chief of Police had at your building, it clearly did not involve Eddie. For the moment, anyway.

Steve sighed in relief, setting his briefcase on the couch. He loosened his necktie and made his way to the kitchen for something small to eat. After finishing his quick meal and a couple of beers, Steve returned to the bedroom. He watched your body softly sleeping, hair splayed in pretty waves across your pillow.

Steve climbed into bed beside you, and pressed his lips to your forehead in a gentle kiss he knew you wouldn’t feel. “Sweet dreams, angel,” he whispered. Steve wrapped his arms around you and held you closer than usual, wishing he could give you this same tenderness when you were awake. But Steve knew he was too cowardly for that, too frightened of revealing his love for you.

He held you a little closer than all the nights before, curved his body securely around yours more snugly than usual; because finally, Steve realized, it’s how he should have been holding you all along…

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merakiui · 2 days

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MERAAA it’s phantom anon here (・ω・)ノ

lemme just tell you- i’ve been rereading your old works and they never. stop. hitting.

but RABU JADE??!?? OH BROTHER

*pulls up a chair and sits down unceremoniously*

he hasn’t left my mind ever since i’ve read it. he’s quite literally- a leech.

i’ve been thinking of how poor ol’ reader is gonna get out of the predicament they’re currently facing.

(which i will send another ask about cause oh my god the rot in my brain- it’s festering i tell ya)

i def think that jade had some kind of sick pleasure knowing that he was boiling fingers and the like while reader was right. there.

seconds away from checking the pot. inches away from the last remains of the restaurants last dine-&-dash victim

he could have you find out anytime he likes, ‘darling mind stirring the pot for me?’ ‘darling could you help drain the broth from the pot?’ ‘honey how would you like to help me prep for the day- there’s a bag in the freezer i need you to get’

i can see him biting his lip in some, perverse pleasure, as he watches reader scurry around the kitchen doing her thang. checking the pot right next to his. his breathe hitched when you’re about to unmask his… secret.

but with a little ‘whoops’ and a giggle of ‘wrong pot,’ jade’s heart beats a little faster, his teeth clamps a little harder, a bead of blood on his lip as he has to excuse himself.

i think he lays awake in bed some nights, holding reader tightly as he lets his mind wander. how would reader react? would you get nauseous? would you faint? would you yell at him: if so in despair or anger? would you try calling the cops? would you try calling floyd?- his arms get a little tighter at the thought of you in his twin’s arms.

would you try to convince him you didn’t see anything? would you flinch if he tried touching you.

all these scenarios racing through his head- would you help him?

ahhh maybe he gets so shy thinking about the two of you cooking… with love. yes you do it already but this is a different kind of intimacy 🙈

but i also don’t think he was ready for the day to actually come- much rather fantasize about your reactions. because they’re just that- fantasizes

after all, every couple has their secrets. and a bit of mystery always spices up things a bit 🙈

so jade seeing reader as stiff as a brick while in front of his pot had a different kind of thumping in his chest.

(imagine reader trying to distract him with the pregnancy test they tried slipping in the pot HHAHAXHAHA- don’t reader put it in a 2 sealed plastic baggys cause they have a 3 star standard to uphold!!)

YAY!!

ALSO I JDUT SAW ANGELS OF TOBET GOT POSTED SO LEMME JUST SCURRY OVER TO THERE😸😸

Phantom anon, hi hiii!! ⸜(｡ ˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝♡

Oh, RABU Jade...... he really does have all sorts of twisted fantasies. >_< you have no other choice but to continue loving him, for he's your darling husband. But the fingers in the pot and Jade's secret are second to the biggest news: your pregnancy!!! <3 aaaa Jade's just so happy. Maybe he promises not to harvest anymore special ingredients so it won't stress you and the baby out. But if you find yourself craving that yummy bone broth with its dubious ingredients, who is he to deny you?

You're definitely going to have to reevaluate your husband after discovering this hidden side. ^^;;; confiding in someone else is dangerous because you have no idea what he might do to them, especially if that person is Detective Ashengrotto. ;;;;; maybe Floyd might have some advice.... :)

AAAAAA OTL I just love RABU Jade!! He's so devious.

#twisted chit chat #phantom anon #i hope you will enjoy reading angels in tibet!!!! <3

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waterberry-strawmelon · 1 year

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I am once again asking people to stop making Dick Grayson a police officer in fics because he “wants to help save people.” You are not immune to Chuck Dixon’s copaganda.

#batfam #batfamily #batman #batman comics #dick grayson #nightwing #what kind of tags do those guys tend to scroll thru? like i dont want to be so annoying as to tag the entire fucking batfamily #but also like. i want this to actually REACH people.#and this is one of the few things that annoys me about batfam fics that isnt just a fanon problem #because people are trying to be accurate to canon #and like. on the one hand i get that! but on the other hand it's so fucking easy to just NOT make him a cop.#you dont have to be 100% accurate to canon. i mean hell! fic writers are almost NEVER 100% accurate to canon.#which makes it all the more telling that for all the things these writers DO change from canon in their fics #they still choose to make dick a cop.#which either means they just dont think about it and what that implies and why you just shouldnt portray cops in a good way! (in which case:#here's your friendly reminder to NOT DO THAT. if you didnt know before now you do.)#OR it means people are doing it on purpose because they agree with the argument that if someone wants to go into a profession where the goal #is to 'save people' then they should be a cop.#which is severe copaganda and fucking false. do not tote that argument around like it's a fucking fact. it's not and it's beyond dangerous #to say it is a fact.#if anyone else has tag recommendations (or thinks its worth it for me to be really annoying and tag all the batfam i can lmfao) please lmk!!#mine #just some thoughts #fandom #dc #dc comics #justice league #dc fandome #dc fanfiction #batfam fanfic

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luckystrike-x · 3 months

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#i swear to god i can't hear one more thing about the nuances of the american system #everytime i read about how dystopian the us is it makes me wanna bash my brain against a wall #i wish there was a way to blacklist these “educational” and “informative” posts about how unaccessible healthcare isanother cop is #getting away with murder insulin is not affordable despite only costing 1 simoleons to manufacture or whatever #or how you should still vote for biden or not vote for biden or maybe vote for biden but VOTE never STOP VOTINGcall your rep!!#i simply. can't. fucking. stand. it anymore #i got all this.....american knowledge in me i absolutely never sought it just got chugged down my throat daily #there is this tone like we're all in the know no need to specify whom certain news might possibly be concerning as if there was only #one country on this planet #i'm just here on this website getting splashed by these completely untargeted informations ceaselessly #idk maybe it's such a non problem i just need to curate my tumblr experience better and stop following so many usamericans #but rn i just reached the limit of what i can bare #i can't follow what is going on in palestine whilst still learning new shit about the usa and give it some kind of value #i will not shed a single tear for america literally one of the richest most soulless country #just fix yourself #or don't idc #from now on i'm unfollowing on sight if i see another post about some fucked up american thing it's bye i'm so done

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nenehyuuchiha · 5 months

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When you're feeling down, sad or Feeling Unmotivated, just remember,

At least you didn't born in U.S.A.

#fuck the usa #meme #united states #for real imagine going to school wondering if you will get shot today #one time in my school there was a rumor about a kid saying that that day he was gonna shot everyone there #this was enough for the cops show up #also imagine living knowing that the random crack head can just buy a gun #“my father has a gun” unless your dad is a cop or a drug dealer you will never hear anyone saying that at school #what kind of crazy person really thinks having a gun at home with kids is a good idea #“bullying” my bullying was calling other kids son of bitch #not fucking flushing their head in the toilet #what kind of psychopath does that?!#my country sucks sometimes but in comparison this is paradise #“freedom” HA

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confused-wanderer · 11 months

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It would be hilarious if villains loved Nightwing and were terrified of Officer Dick Grayson.

Dick Grayson- who is used to open spaces and adrenaline- being stuck in a boring bleak office, surviving on shots of coffee and red bull with caffeine that would make Tim concerned.

The thugs soon realised that unlike most of the other cops - Dick was from Gotham.

No one fucks with Gothamites.

Villain *shooting at Dick with machine guns*

Dick *appearing from the shadows behind him*: Boo.

Villain: THIS IS A FIVE STOREY BUILDING HOW THE HELL DID YOU GET HERE

Thief *throwing a counting down bomb at Dick*

Dick: *catching and tossing the bomb at a safe distance before turning round and shooting it so it explodes mid air while running after thief*

Thief: .. what the actual fuck

Dick: Gee look at all that time you had! Shame you threw it away :D

Thief:

Dick: I’m from Gotham

Thief *realising they fucked up* : Please don’t steal my bones

Shooter: *sets elaborate booby traps throughout the houses in an active hostage situation*

Dick *using his training as robin and inhuman flexibility to surpass them with ease*: Ah been a while since I got to have a nice stretch thank you.

Shooter:

Dick:

Shooter:

Dick: .. Hi :)

Shooter: Are you Satan?

AND

In interrogation room

Murderer: I think I’ll take your eyes and add them to my collection

Dick *running on spite and caffeine that could give Superman a sugar rush* : Funny.. I was going to say the same thing to you

Murderer: .. what

Dick: I wouldn’t take your eyes though.. they look like the inspiration behind the whole Medusa’s “look at it and you turn to stone” thing-

Murderer: Hey! Take that back before I gut you

Dick *smile stretching wider without blinking* : oh? Or what? I know everything about you. Who says I can’t kill you and walk out with everyone being none the wiser? I know how to kill someone too..you aren’t special.

Murderer:

Murderer: I’m scared for my safety.

Because the thing is, Nightwing is who Dick really is. It’s who he can be free as, be himself as without red tapes and regulations. Where he can give as good as he gets, and he’s kind and empathetic. He gets to help the downtrodden and goes easy on most of them if they give up right away, not to mention the fact that he never causes permanent damage.

But officer Dick Grayson is a different story. He runs on sleepless nights and no self preservation. Seeing an officer with an uncanny skill set they’re scarily good at, not to mention the cheery attitude he always has scares the shit out of criminals. Cuz no way in hell is a smiling Gothamite not a deranged one. He chases crimes like a bloodhound, and isn’t afraid to make good on threats he makes to ensure they never hurt anyone again.

Bonus if the batfam doesn’t know about this.

Red hood: Shit I can’t believe we ended up in Bludhaven

Red Robin *tying up the corrupt politican* : Since this is a sensitive case, we need someone we can trust to make sure it is seen through.

Red hood: .. So we paying a visit to Officer Grayson?

Politician *screeching* : NO NO NO NO! PLEASE NOT HIM!! JUST KILL ME INSTEAD AND TAKE ALL MY MONEY I CANT DEAL WITH HIM!

Red hood: .. is he fucking serious?

Henchmen: Sir he is. And we agree. Please take our bones and kill us but don’t take us to Officer Grayson.

Red Robin: Wait what did he do?

Henchman 1: He asked boss if the hat was sentient.. and said that if it was would it make that hat the top and boss the bottom.

Henchman 2: Last time we met I tried to shoot him but suddenly my gun was blank and he raised his hand and let the ammo drop

Red Hood: Well even I could do that-

Henchman 2: They were my bullets. I had selected the colour personally.

Red robin *growing concerned*

Henchman 3: He sang a lullaby to a child when we were holding the station hostage, and replaced the people with my family members. He even sang their social security numbers!

Henchman 4: He’s the most dangerous of them all. I ain’t shitting ya when I say he’s as scary as the bat from Gotham.

*all nodding in agreement*

Red hood:

Red Robin:

Red hood: Nah that doesn’t sound like Dick

Red Robin: Agreed. Let’s go there Hood.

*villains’ sobbing intensifies*

#batman #dick grayson #jason todd #red hood #nightwing #tim drake #batfam #red robin #officer dick grayson #batfam headcanons #dick Grayson headcanons #dick grayson police officer

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jazjelspen · 3 months

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scarlet and silver lining

(alastor w/ daughter reader)

(fem reader/notproofread!/apologies for anything ooc still trying to get used to writing fics again lol/possible part 1 after the epilogue)

[Prologue]

You never truly got along with your 'father', not even in life until the passing of his mother.. your grandmother.

Technically she wasn't exactly your grandmother, and Alastor wasn't your father.. at least not by blood but by adoption papers. Poor Nana, she just wanted a little grandbaby running around the house before her days started getting counted down.

Alastor knowing that he didn't want to go through the trouble of finding a wife nor did he want to deal with the issues that came with that let alone the process to conceive a kid, with a heart full yet a hesitant hand he then signed your papers.. adopted you for the kind old woman at the age of six.

Orphaned by your parents sudden passing, you never truly found out why or how they died. Only thing you knew was that it was sudden, unprovoked, unasked for. They were healthy yet from what you could hear from the cops that took you from your empty home was that there was blood, lots of it.

With no family to take care of poor little you, you got thrown in an orphanage and stayed there hoping to be rescued and loved someday.

Till one day a man with a large smile and clean-cut clothes walked in with a gentle old lady, both talking to one of the adults in charge of the place. Eventually while touring the building they managed to find you hidden in a corner reading a picture book, reading about a baby deer finding his way in the world without his mother, this intrigued the lady and she started to speak to you.

No matter how much the man tried to get the lady to start moving to look at more options she was so stuck to you, your innocent and your little voice attempting to use big words entranced her poor heart and in that moment she just knew you had to be her granddaughter. After she said the word, the adult responsible led them to talk more and sign papers and the rest is history.

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That was all you were willing to think far into when it came to your past, not wanting to remember what once was before falling into Hell.

You died around the 1940s, you followed in your fathers footsteps and created your own radio show before you died and being the daughter of Alastor in life had it's perks when he was famous in your home of New Orleans.

Although, you kept your secret deep in the ground when it came to your connection to Alastor. No way in hell would anyone know he was your adoptive father, you knew it'd only make you an even bigger target.

Especially to Vox, your boss and the demon that owned your soul.

Also the man that hated your father with his guts, but of course he didn't need to know any of that.

Your contract with him allowed you to be on his show, have a segment of it, get the royalties from it and be under his protection and his roof, in exchange you do any job he asks you to do no matter how hard or long it gets.

God did you hate transitioning from radio to TV, you were never fond of those color video boxes.. they lacked personality and were shallow in the content they produced. but hey, you needed to survive in hell somehow so why not just throw your soul to this TV guy to stay safe from the exterminations and other ruthless sinners.

You died around the time when the Radio Demon was barley getting the word out and showing his true power, the day you recognized his voice and heard his name blasted everywhere was when you knew he was worser than you thought, you didn't think he was this much of a sadist in life.. he must've hid it incredibly well from you then.

And you hated him for that.

Hated him for killing innocents, his sadistic tendencies, his power, his smile, his singing and his lies. His lies that he was your kind ol' dad that would do nothing wrong.

God.

But here you were now in present time being forced to be at the Hazbin Hotel by Vox.

Your hand currently leaning over to knock on the door ready to knock. You'd be warned that Alastor was here, and were warn to be more careful with your words and actions considering how badly Sir Pencious messed up before. This time bringing no technology with you but your head, memory, and a few things to sleep a few nights at this establishment. You were told that you would get more royalties and more perks like even getting your own show to rule over completely if you succeeded in this mission.. and god did you need your own place and studio so that Valentino didn't bother you any longer.

Your lips parted to let out a shaky sigh, a sweat bead running down your forehead down to the side of your face.

'c'mon ____, keep it together will ya?..' your thoughts scolded at you,

Your free hand wiped it away before finally knocking on the door of the hotel, hands shaky and your practiced smile of years

The door opening and being met with the princess of hell, Charlie Morningstar.

You could've sworn you felt the red eyes of a certain radio demon stare at you full force behind the princess's back.

Charlie gasped, seemingly more than ever excited to see someone new.

Your lips parted and started to move, you thoughts racing as you could feel more people stare from behind the royal.

You knew you'd regret doing this mission, Alastor being involved in it should've kept you away..

but if there was a chance to either get a solution to fully get away from the V's or to benefit from them if you did all this right, then so be it.

"Hello.. you must be Charlie right.. My name is ______ and I heard you are redeeming sinners? Your highness, I believe in your cause.. please help me relieve myself of my sins."

Your hands went from holding your luggage to clasping together with a face full of worry and a need to get better. Even you were unsure if you meant what you said, but you just knew that you knew what you had to do no matter what.. you would benefit from this somehow.

"Please, let me redeem yourself in your Hazbin Hotel, Princess Morningstar."

(hello readers!! thank you so much for taking a look at this epilogue of a possible new pic series! I actually made this fanfic almost three years ago on quotev but I want to bring it to life in a different fashion and new writing, so I hope you can stick around till the end of this series!!)

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brainrotdotorg · 6 months

Text

here is my pitch for a mainstream movie trailer for disco elysium because i want you to suffer

Starts with complete darkness.

VO Ancient reptillian brain: “There is nothing… Only an ancient primordial blackness…”

“Radioactive” by imagine dragons starts playing

We see harry appear in this dark void, floating in slo-mo, camera slowly zooms into Harry’s face

VO Ancient Reptillian brain “Your consciousness ferments in it, no larger than a single grain of malt…”

Camera comes to rest on harry’s face, taking up the whole screen

VO Ancient Reptillian brain “No ex-wives are contained in it…”

Wham sound effect, music cuts out

Reaction shot of Harry opening his eyes. “Wait. Ex-wives?”

VO Limbic System: “Time to go to work in the shit factory!”

Sound of Kineema engine starting up that blends into the first lyric of the song

“I’m waking up to ash and dust” plays just as we see Harry open his eyes on the floor, Voice over plays as he looks around the trashed room confused

VO Harry: “Who am I? Why am I here?”

Clip of kim and harry shaking hands

Kim: “We’re detectives. We’re here to solve a murder.”

Harry: “I’m a police officer? I must be a superstar cop!”

“I’m breathing in the chemicals” inhale right as harry snorts some speed

Kim facepalms

Text in the disco elysium font on black screen:

HE’S LOOKING FOR ANSWERS

VO Joyce over a shot of the skyline: “Something is happening in this town, officer.”

VO Harry over numerous quick clips of him failing little things: kicking the mailbox, dropping the barbell, etc: “I’m an alcoholic. I’ve got a bunch of voices in my head. I don’t even know who I am! How do you expect me to solve a murder?”

VO Kim over him writing in his notebook: “I expect you to work, detective. It’s not easy; but thats the job.”

TO A MYSTERY:

Extremely fast montage of action or particularly striking moments synced up to a bunch of edited in bass thumps to the song– harry making the jump to get the coat, swinging to punch measurehead, visual calculus constructing a crime scene in glowing CGI effects, cuno shouting “fuckpig!” harry and kim dancing in the church, Harry reaching out his hand to the phasmid (who is out of frame), dolores dei turning away from the camera, culminating with kim lifting his gun in slow-mo to point at the mercenary

VO KIM: “Never fuck with Kim kitsuragi.”

Music slows and stops entirely

WHAT KIND OF COP IS HE?

Smash cut to a reaction shot of Harry looking in admiration. “How’d you get so cool, Kim?”

Reaction shot of Kim making a smug expression thats cut from a different scene.

Beat drop

THIS SUMMER IS GOING TO BE

Montage of different characters clipped saying the word “disco”

DISCO ELYSIUM

Wham shot, music cuts out. Harry leaned over a countertop about to lick the rum stain. Kim clears his throat.

Harry’s eyes dart to look up at kim. Shot of kim raising the eyebrow.

Slowly, slowly, he moves to lick the stain.

VO Electrochemistry: Aww, yeah.

Kim, sighing and shaking his head: “We’re all doomed.”

RATED PG-13

#disco elysium #this was inspired by that one mario movie post #anyway ive had this in my drafts for awhile #its time to release it

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munson-blurbs · 7 months

Text

Escaped Convict!Eddie Munson x Innocent!Reader

Summary: a peaceful morning of reading and coffee is interrupted when you stumble upon convicted murderer and prison escapee Eddie Munson, and your kindness towards him does not go unrewarded.

Warnings: smut (18+ only, minors DNI!), unprotected p in v (wrap it up), oral (f! receiving), fingering, corruption kink, 'sir' kink, spitting, biting, mention of blood, mention of assault/murder

WC: 2.6k

A/N: in this fic, "innocent" refers to some sexual inexperience. Eddie and Reader are both in their mid-20s and neither are portrayed as childlike.

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At first, you don’t think anything of the slight rustling noise coming from the trees. It’s been a windy morning, the leaves swaying in the breeze since you’d first sat down at your favorite picnic bench, book in one hand and travel mug full of coffee in the other.

Now, you’re several chapters in, coffee long gone, the air warming as the sun reaches its peak in the sky. It’s almost time for you to head back home and get some lunch, and you begrudgingly tuck a bookmark into your tattered copy of To Kill a Mockingbird.

You hear the noise again; this time, it’s not accompanied with a gust of wind, and it draws your attention to an overgrown shrub in the near distance. Curiosity gets the best of you as you peer over it, but nothing could have prepared you for what you find.

One hand shoots out from behind the bush, yanking your wrist and pulling you down. Your jean-clad knees scrape against the cold ground, grass stains seeping into the fabric. A terrified squeal remains trapped in your throat, but you’ve gone completely silent in horror. Before you can process what’s happening, you feel a palm against your mouth.

“Don’t move,” a voice growls, low and slow against the shell of your ear. You keep your eyes staring straight ahead, unwilling to make contact with your captor. “You work with the cops? Hmm?” When you shake your head, his grip loosens slightly. Maybe it’s also because he can feel you trembling within his grasp, not even contemplating fighting back. “If I let you go, you promise you won’t tell a soul?”

You nod against his hand, taking a gasping breath when he hesitantly breaks contact, still unsure about trusting you. You try to scramble to your feet, but your body betrays you; every bone is gelatinous. Falling back with a pathetic whine, the adrenaline fades and the emotions it had been staving off comes flooding in. Tears fall from your eyes, hot as they slide down your cheeks in heaving sobs. The man swears under his breath, evidently distressed that you’ll give away his hiding spot with your crying.

“‘M sorry, ‘m sorry,” you apologize weakly, wiping at your face haphazardly and trying once again to stand. You’re successful this time, but before you can run away, you get a glimpse of him.

He’s absolutely filthy; a mixture of blood and dirt covers his hands and bare feet. A formerly starch-white undershirt is caked in the same grime, bright orange jumpsuit tied around his waist. His hair is matted in several places, though you can see a semblance of curls amongst the knots. And the expression on his face is not one of anger or violence, but of fear. The same fear that wraps around you like a boa constrictor, squeezing and choking until there’s nothing left to feel.

It’s his eyes, the deep brown windows to his soul, that give away his identity. And though his current get-up is a stark contrast from the ill-fitted suit he’d worn to his televised court appearances, you know who he is.

Eddie Munson: murderer, prisoner, and now, escapee.

Your own eyes widen, and you take a staggering step back. You’d seen on the news that he’d broken out of Indiana State prison three days ago, but you’d never imagined that you would be the one to find him.

“What the fuck are you waiting for?” he snarls, snapping you from your stupor. “Just go!” He scoffs disbelievingly, not understanding why you haven’t taken off bolting back through the forest.

To be honest, you’re also unsure why you remain in place. You’d followed Eddie’s case since the moment it had first broken: a man leaving a bar in the strange hours that are past the night but not quite morning, plans of trekking home derailed by the sound of a woman’s frantic scream. Without thinking, Eddie ran towards it, fingers digging into a man’s throat to pull him off of her. He could have stopped there, the jury argued; he should have stopped there, but he didn’t. His fist connected with the offender’s cheek, delivering one punch after the other until his own fists were battered and bloodied.

Eddie might have been hailed a hero if the perpetrator hadn’t been Jason Carver: All-American basketball player, a senator’s son, and most importantly, a man whose family had access to the best lawyers money could buy. The court overlooked Eddie’s act of courage in favor of the murder he’d committed and sentenced him to twenty years behind bars.

Was he innocent? Technically, no. But he also wasn’t the cold-blooded killer the media portrayed him to be.

You extend your hand, wincing at the way it shakes in front of you. “Let me help you, Eddie.” He flinches at his name, pulling back from you. “I…I can hide you, if you want.”

“Wh…what?” There’s no way he heard you correctly. You, the young woman in the soft sweater and frightened but kind eyes, just willingly offered to harbor a fugitive? “I’m not gonna hurt you,” he says gently, pinning his hopes on you recognizing his authenticity, “you don’t have to do anything for me.”

“I know.” You keep your hand out, biting your lower lip with so much force that you could draw blood. “I want to.”

With a plethora of reservations, he accepts your proposal as you discreetly lead him to your car. You naively expect him to sit next to you, but he opts to lay down in the backseat where nosy drivers are less likely to spot him. He pulls his knees to his chest, hugging them tight to shrink himself even further.

“If we get caught,” he whispers as you turn the key in the ignition, “tell them I made you do this, okay? Promise me.”

“Y-Yes. I promise.”

At your apartment, you point Eddie in the direction of the shower while you start on lunch. There isn’t much to choose from, but you crack open a can of Campbell’s tomato soup and make three grilled cheese sandwiches: two for him, one for you. You pour the soup into two bowls just as you hear the water turn off.

“Um, Sweetheart?” The nickname sets off a flurry of butterflies in your abdomen. “Do you have anything for me to wear?” He steps out of the bathroom, just a towel slung low on his waist. Droplets fall from his hair down his chest, blurring the lines of his tattoos. A dusting of brown hair trails from his navel and disappears below the towel. “I could put my own stuff back on, I guess, if you don’t.”

You will yourself to look away from the living, breathing artwork standing before you. “Y-Yeah, give me a sec.” Your arm grazes his torso as you walk past him towards your room, goosebumps appearing on your skin, and not just from the cooling water. Digging through your drawers, you manage to find a pair of sweatpants and an old t-shirt that your ex-boyfriend had left behind, never bothering to return to collect it. “Here,” you say; he doesn’t question why you have men’s clothes at the ready, just takes them gratefully and pads back into the bathroom to change.

You’re left breathless again when he walks out again, fully clothed. His biceps strain against the cotton material, filling it out better than your ex ever could. And his lack of underwear is evident, the outline just visible through his sweats.

He’s gorgeous.

Eddie devours the food like it’s a delicacy, rather than canned soup and some Kraft slices on Wonder Bread. Perhaps, after years in prison and an undisclosed amount of days on the run, it is. He brushes the crumbs from his hands into his empty bowl and leans back with a small stretch. “Thank you,” he mumbles with a small smile, leaning over to take your own used utensils. “I’ll wash these. ‘S the least I can do.”

You nod, not wanting to protest and risk making him feel like he’s a burden. “How long can you stay?” you ask softly, nervously picking at your fingernails. “I mean, you’re welcome to stay as long as you need, but I know you probably shouldn’t stick around in one place for long…” You feel silly saying it, like you have any idea of what the protocol is for running away from prison.

“Not long,” Eddie admits, wiping the sponge over a spoon before rinsing it and placing it in the dishrack. “Probably should head back out as soon as it gets dark again. But, really, I can’t thank you enough. The warm shower, the food, the clean clothes…just wish I could repay you somehow.”

You don’t miss the way his eyes flick across your body, soaking in the sight of you. The ache between your legs pulses now, desperate for him to fill the space. You’ve only ever slept with people you’ve been in relationships with; certainly never with escaped convicts who you’d found hiding in the woods.

“What…what did you have in mind?” Your voice is small, barely above a whisper as you stand up and walk towards him.

“Don’t…don’t do this,” he hisses, raking his fingers through his hair. “Please. It’s been fuckin’ forever, I can’t…” He bites the inside of his cheek and shakes his head. “I haven’t touched someone like I want to touch you in so fucking long, sweet girl.”

“You want to touch me?” You’re shocked at his candor, the way he readily confesses his needs. “W-Where?”

Eddie exhales, gliding his forefinger down your cheek. “Everywhere. I can’t get enough of you. Pretty little bookworm just begging to be corrupted, yeah?”

“Mhm,” you squeak, letting your palm fall to his bicep.

“Need to hear you say it,” Eddie urges, for your sake and his. His breath tickles below your ear. “Say it for me, sweet girl.”

“Corrupt me, Eddie.”

His hands are on you in an instant, pinning you against the countertop. Your lips find each other with the force of magnets, a clashing of teeth and tongues more fervent than you’ve ever experienced. He hoists you on top of it, tugging on your jeans and panties until they’re on the ground.

“‘M gonna taste you. See if you’re as sweet as you look,” he murmurs, crouching so he’s got a perfect view of your glistening folds. Broad arms wrap around your thighs to pull you close and he dives in, nose nudging your clit as his tongue broaches your hole. Your toes instinctively curl, back arching as he feeds off of your pleasure and gradually quickens his pace. One thick finger slides inside you, making you moan. “Goddamn, even your sounds are sweet.” He continues licking and sucking, adding another finger as you get wetter. “‘M sorry, I wanna keep eating you out, but I gotta…” His lips latch onto one nipple, giving it the tiniest bite that draws a whimper from you.

You’re surprised to find that you’re enjoying the pinch of pain, lacing your fingers through his curls and holding his face to your chest. You allow your senses to be overwhelmed, drowning them in the sensation of his mouth on your upper body and his fingers within you.

You rock yourself into him, desperately chasing the release that he’s inching you towards. It allows him even deeper, impossibly so, and you tighten around him.

Eddie lets go of your breast, focusing all of his attention on your pussy. His fingers plunge in and out as he looks deep into your eyes, not daring to break any contact. “Thassit, sweet girl,” he says in a cross between a hiss and a coo, “come f’me.”

And you do, relinquishing whatever semblance of control you’d tried to hold on to. You soak his fingers with a cry of his name. There’s no mistaking the proud grin that sweeps over his face, knowing that he was the one bringing you this pleasure. “You’re ready for my cock now, aren’t you?” He laughs when you nod, helping you off of the countertop. He tugs his pants down, exposing his hard length. He’s big, already leaking pre-cum, and you’re salivating at the anticipation of him stretching you delectably. “Bend over for me, honey. You’re gonna take it from behind today.”

“Yes, sir.” You turn around, bracing your forearms on the Formica while he delivers a harsh slap to your ass.

“Fuck, say that again.”

“Yes, sir. Whatever you want, sir.”

He groans, throwing his head back as he runs his tip along your folds. “Such a good girl, knowing her place. Gonna take whatever I give you, s’fucking good for me.” He pushes inside you, little by little until he bottoms out. “So warm, so wet, holy shit.” Calloused palms grip your hips as he thrusts into you. “Take it, sweet girl. Mmm, jus’ like that.” Each snap of his hips is punctuated with a wanton groan. “I’ve barely fucked you and you’re already cock drunk. No one ever fucked you this good, huh?”

“N-No, never. Only you, Eddie.”

You feel your chin being pulled so your head faces sideways, his thumb ghosting over your kiss-swollen lips. “Open wide, pretty little thing.” You do as he orders, his saliva coating your tongue as he spits into your mouth. “Mine,” he declares possessively, eyes widening as you swallow what he’s given you without even being asked.

He pushes down on your back, your breasts pressed against the counter while he thrusts faster and faster, no longer concerned about holding back. “‘M gonna come on your ass.” He squeezes there, turning himself on further just having your supple skin in his grasp.

And because you know how wild it drives him, you consent with a, “yes, sir.”

Eddie pulls out just in time, his hot spend spilling out of him and onto your flesh. You wish you could see the way he’s adorned you, but you’ll have to settle for the feeling of him dripping down your curves. He stands behind you, panting heavily, holding his softening cock in one hand.

“God fuckin’ damn, sweet girl,” he mutters, reaching over you to grab a paper towel. It’s scratchy as he cleans you up, then takes another and wipes the residual cum from his tip. “You really are perfect.”

You face him and gingerly kiss his lips, probably too intimate for the utter filth you’d just engaged in. Still, he returns it, hands roaming your body with intent but no real destination.

“Mind if we get some rest?” he asks, poorly stifling a yawn. “You, uh, kinda wore me out just now.”

You lead him to your bedroom, both of you climbing under the covers wordlessly, heads barely hitting the pillow before you’re each sound asleep.

When you wake up hours later, you’re alone in the dark. At first, you wonder if it’s all been a dream, but when you click on your bedside lamp, there’s a handwritten note hastily scrawled on some scrap paper:

My sweet girl,

I had to go and didn’t want to wake you. I knew that if I did, you’d convince me to stay longer, and I can’t put you in any more danger than I already have.

I hope that fate will allow us to meet again, maybe if I’m ever truly a free man. ’ll be thinking of you until then.

Yours,

Eddie

P.S. burn this note and flush the ashes after reading

You do as he asked, heart sinking as the flames swallow his words. Maybe he’s written the same ones to dozens of different lovers, or maybe you’re the only recipient. It doesn’t matter anymore. All that fills your memory is the way he felt inside you earlier today.

You will it to live there forever.

#eddie munson #stranger things #stranger things fanfic #eddie stranger things #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson fanfic #fanfic #eddie x you #eddie x reader #eddie munson smut #eddie munson stranger things #smut

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luveline · 6 months

Note

Girl pls pls write stripper reader and Spencer where she thinks he would never date her bc she’s a stripper and just a sprinkle of angst with lots of comforting fluff and Spencer reassuring

thank u for requesting! ♡ fem, 1.5k

cw mentioned past domestic/workplace abuse, unhealthy eating habits

Someone broke into my apartment. 9:14AM

Spencer reads the message under the table but forgoes discretion when he registers what it says and who it's from. He excuses himself from the round table, something he isn't even sure he's allowed to do, and hurries out onto the landing.

You answer on the second dial. "Hey, did you see my text?" you ask.

"Are you okay?" He squeezes his phone.

"I'm not sure. I'm fine, but my lock is busted and the door won't stay shut."

"Where are you?"

If you're surprised that he's steamrolling, you don't show it. Spencer leaves work to meet you at the coffee shop you've chosen for refuge, your eyes tired, a small bag of your most important possessions hanging on a slumped shoulder. He hugs you straight away.

"I'm fine," you say into his neck.

He hugs you tighter. "That's good," he says, feeling useless, fingers stroking little paths into your shoulders. He pictured the worst from your text, and seeing you in person is the only true mitigator. You'll talk down bruises and black eyes —you have in the past.

He pulls the story from you as you walk back to his apartment, shoulder to shoulder in the cold street. "It was open when I got home, the door, but I did what you asked me to."

"You didn't go in?" he confirms proudly.

"Not at first."

"You really won't call the police?"

"I texted you."

Spencer takes the strap of your bag from you and throws it over his own. "I'm not that kind of cop. I'm not really a cop at all."

"No, you're a fed, which is worse. The girls at work told me to stay away from you." You wipe under your eyes sluggishly. Sleep clings to you like a shadow trailing behind you, ever-present.

He puts his hand behind your back, worried you'll fall up the steps to his apartment building. "They think I'll what, extort you?"

You shake your head, something sad in the slow side to side. "Girls like me have no business around guys like you."

"You probably get too much business from guys like me."

You laugh, but you both know it's not what you meant. Spencers noticed it more and more lately, nothing so obvious until now, this dead set belief you hold that he's one type of person and you're another. He gets that your work isn't what you wanted for yourself when you were growing up. He knows it isn't easy, even on your 'good' nights. It takes a toll to be seen as you are, nothing left private. But you've always said you liked stripping as much as anyone should like their job. "It's a job," you'd said, having barely known him, tired and hungry, curled up on his couch with nowhere else to go. "Only the luckiest get to really enjoy work. S'why it's called work."

He'd hoped, perhaps in a self-absorbed way, that having more support might make you feel better about yourself; he wanted his friendship to give you some confidence, basically. Before you met Spencer there was no one else you could depend on. It's why you stayed working for a man who broke your wrist until Spencer weaselled his way into your life and made you a bed in his living room for the time it took to get you out. His credentials helped, of course, but you survived it because you're resilient. You're awesome. You've done everything you can with what you have and you don't think it's enough.

You and Spencer take the elevator to his floor, and for the twenty seconds it takes to get there, you let your cheek rest on his shoulder. He's just about to drop his head on top of yours when the doors open, and the slice of quiet you'd both savoured slips like sand between his fingers.

"I can go back and get some of your stuff," he offers, guiding you the short walk to his door. He passes you the key rather than struggle with the lock himself.

Your hand shakes as you push down the handle. "There's nothing worth going back for."

"Don't say that, you have all your clothes there, your couch. You have things. I'll take my car."

"You hate driving."

"I'd hate someone robbing you even more."

"Robbing me again," you correct, holding the door for him.

You didn't have anything worth the trouble, it seems. You keep your savings in a locked box hidden in the bathroom that they couldn't find, and though your apartment is clean and bigger than the one you lived in before Spencer met you, it's mostly empty. You don't have a TV, you're not a collector. They took the radio off of the refrigerator, your microwave oven, and a box of cosmetic jewellery worth chapel change.

"But it's your stuff. You deserve to have stuff." Spencer drops your bag gently and his with less care by the door.

"It's only until the locksmith can come tomorrow," you say with a yawn. "Let the junkies lavish in my stuff for the next twenty hours."

"That's not a problem for you?"

"I don't have the luxury of that being a problem for me, Spence. What am I supposed to do? The locksmith can't come–"

"There are a hundred locksmiths."

"Not that I can afford." You shrug out of your jacket. "Spence, listen to me. It's okay. I can't ask you to do that, anyways. You've done more than enough for me already," you say, sitting on the couch. You perch for a moment like you're trying to be polite until fatigue overtakes you, and you sink into the cushions with a relieved sigh.

Spencer crosses the space between you and kneels by your feet to untie your shoelaces.

"Don't do that," you mumble, hand over your mouth as a second yawn in as many minutes catches you.

"Why not?" He slips your shoes off, letting his hand rest on your ankle. "Wanna watch that weird cooking show–"

"Why aren't you at work?"

He climbs onto the couch next to you, unafraid to sit shoulder to shoulder. "You were having an emergency."

You rub your face with both hand. "I knew I shouldn't have called you. You can't just leave work because of me, Spencer, what if you get in trouble?"

"Someone I care about needed my help, and Hotch understands that." Spencer puts on his big boy pants with a wince. "Do you get that?"

"I don't really… I don't…" You falter. "We're never going to work. You'll never…"

"I'll never what?" he asks insistently, voice lilting up with a little incredulity. He can't help it.

You refuse to answer, turning your face from his.

Spencer knows what you're going to say. He's bad with girls but he's good at recognising human emotion; he sees the same insecurity in himself as he does in you. He knows the feeling.

You're not right, is the thing.

Spencer would kiss you if he thought that would change your mind. But tired as you are, angry with yourself, defeated, he knows it's not a good idea. He takes your hand instead, sewing your fingers together with a deliberate slowness. He brings his other hand to them and strokes the back of your index finger with his thumb, careful not to disrupt your press on nails. He knows they have a tendency to come off with too much pressure, and you're always losing your glue.

"If they really need me to go, they'll call me. But I'm staying here." His thumb moves down to your knuckle. You have little calluses and cuts and bruises everywhere from dancing. He's seen the contusions that line your thighs on a semi permanent basis. "When was the last time you had something to eat?"

"Spencer," you murmur.

"Let me take care of you, please," he says, hand curling around your wrist with extreme gentleness. "You need to eat. You need to sleep. Let me worry about everything else for once, I want to."

You still don't look at him, but you sink down an inch at a time until your cheek is on his shoulder again, like it had been in the elevator. Hesitant, you wrap your arm around his stomach.

"I'm so stupid," you say.

He wonders if that's a placeholder for what you really want to say. You think so little of yourself sometimes, but it's like you've told him before. Not everyone has the luxury of enjoying their job.

"You're amazing." Spencer feels like he's on fire everywhere that your skin touches him. Is he saying the right things? "You are. You're the only person who doesn't see that."

"The only person here, maybe."

"You should always be here, then. With me. That way I can remind you."

You sound more like yourself when you answer, though tiredness lines every word, "Thank you, Spencer. I don't deserve you."

"Yes, you do."

Spencer rubs your hand until you fall asleep, and then he buys you a new toaster oven on his phone, and an industrial security lock. He doesn't know what it'll take to convince you that you deserve him, you deserve better, but he's gonna try.

He presses his cheek to your temple and focuses on the softness of your skin where it touches his.

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid oneshot #spencer reid scenario #spencer reid drabble #spencer reid fic #spencer reid fanfiction #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds #criminal minds fic #criminal minds x reader

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queen-of-the-avengers · 6 months

Text

Not Allowed

Pairing: Cop!Bucky Barnes x Receptionist!Reader

Word Count: ~2.1k

Warnings: bad date angst, jealous bucky

Summary: You and Bucky always flirt with each other while at work but it never goes anywhere like you'd hope. You accept a date with another man, causing Bucky to be jealous. He's a cop who is jealous. Nothing will go wrong, right?

Squares Filled: kink: pet names (2021) for @buckybarnesbingo

Author’s Note: any and all comments are appreciated <3

You walk through the double doors with a smile on your face because today is another day. You’re alive and that’s the best kind of day. You work for the local police department as their receptionist. You’re the first thing people see when they come in so you have to be on your best behavior.

You set your things down on your desk and quickly get settled in. Besides the Captain, you’re the first one in the building. Every officer that comes in, you greet them with a smile as you log into your computer.

“Hey, sweetheart,” Officer Wilson says when he comes in. He always calls you that since he's often told you how he thinks of you like a little sister. “How was your weekend?”

“Too short,” you chuckle. “Did Sarah get into that college?”

“Yeah, she got the acceptance letter yesterday.”

“Oh, I’m so happy for her!” you grin.

“Yeah, I’ll tell her to give you a call.”

Sam taps your desk twice and leaves to go to his own. A few more officers come in until the one you’ve been waiting for walks in confidently. Your heart starts to race because you have a huge crush on him. He kind of knows it but doesn't outright call you out on it.

“There she is,” Bucky smiles and leans on your desk.

“Officer Barnes, it’s good to see you.”

“Doll, you know you can call me Bucky.”

He knows exactly what those pet names do to you. After a night of drinking together, you let it slip that your kink is pet names, and doll happened to be your favorite. Like him, you won’t call him out on it.

“I know. How was your weekend?”

“Better if you were there with me,” he flirts.

“Oh, Bucky,” you chuckle nervously. “You don’t mean that.”

“Yeah, I do. I was wishing, ‘Man, don’t I wish Y/N was here with me? I guess I have to drink alone’.”

“You know what alcohol does to me.”

“Yeah, I do,” he smirks. “You look cute today. That dress compliments you.”

“A compliment. I might swoon,” you joke even though your cheeks are hot.

“As long as it’s in my arms, I don’t care.”

“Don’t you have a job to get to, Officer Barnes?”

“Yeah, but I’d rather stay here and talk to you.”

“You might get fired.”

“It’s worth it,” he winks. “Here’s your coffee.”

He sets your favorite coffee order next to your keyboard and walks away. That’s the extent of your relationship with Bucky. You two flirt constantly but nothing ever comes of it. It’s comfortable. Why leave something when you’re comfortable being there? Do you wish you were something more? Of course. Do you think he’s going to man up and take it to that next level? Not unless something threatening happened like him realizing if he doesn’t do it soon, he’d lose you.

Some of what your work includes is printing off documents for the other officers, inputting things into evidence before they get shipped off there, and sorting through the files regarding the people they have locked up in the holding cells or interrogation rooms. You already have a list of things to print out and file, but you look for Bucky’s name first.

After printing off what he needs, you get up and personally hand this to him. There is a mailbox for the officers that you’re supposed to put in, but you like visiting his desk. He has a picture of you and him printed out and placed next to his computer that you look at every time you visit.

“Here are the papers you asked for,” you smile.

“Thanks, doll,” he grins and grabs them from you, intentionally brushing his fingers against yours.

You go back to your desk to finish your work, and you come across two people who need stuff put into evidence. One of them sent it over a couple of hours ago, and the other one is from Bucky. You immediately click on his name to get what he needs first before looking at the other one.

“Now that is bullshit,” you hear from behind you.

You jump and turn to see Sam standing there with a half-smile on his face.

“What are you doing? You scared me!”

“I sent you evidence hours ago and Bucky sent you it just now, and he’s the one you pick first?”

“I--”

You don’t have any words for that.

“When are you two gonna fuck?”

“Sam Wilson!” you gasp.

“What? It’s a valid question. I should ask him that.”

“Don’t you dare!”

“I’m rooting for you two no matter how painful the slow burn is,” he chuckles and walks away.

It takes half an hour to get the idea of you and Bucky fucking for you to do your job right. Once you’re in the groove of things, the door opens and an attractive man walks in.

“Can I help you?” you ask with a smile.

“Yeah, I’m here for my brother. He’s in lock up.”

“Okay, what’s his name and date of birth?”

“James Farley. 04/05/1986.”

“Your name?”

“Brandon Farley.”

“Okay, I see your brother here. It looks like--”

“I’m sorry, but I have to tell you how beautiful you are.”

“Oh, thank you,” you blush.

“Are you seeing anyone?”

“No, but--”

“Great. Can I take you out?”

“You can see how this is inappropriate, right?”

“Yeah, but you like it,” he grins. “So, can I take you out?”

There’s a certain charm about him that you find endearing maybe because he reminds you of Bucky. Being put on the spot like that is enough to make you freeze up, so you say the one thing that won’t cause conflict.

“Yes.”

“Here’s my number.”

He grabs your hand and writes his number on it so that it won’t come off with one scrub.

“I have sticky notes!”

“This is better. Now you won’t lose it.”

“Go take a seat. Someone will be with you shortly to bring you to your brother.”

“Thanks,” he winks and walks to the waiting room.

You’re about to get up and wash off the number when you notice Bucky standing in the doorway that leads into the precinct.

“Did I hear that right?”

“What?”

“You have a date?”

“Yeah, he asked me out,” you stutter. Bucky looks pissed as if you just told him you killed someone. “Why do you look angry?”

“Nothing. No reason.”

Bucky walks off angrily leaving you confused. He avoids you like the plague for the rest of the day. He isn’t at his desk when you drop off paperwork, and he’s not there to walk you to your car when you get off. He’s supposed to get off an hour before you do, but he stays after not on the clock to make sure you get to your car safely.

This time, he didn’t.

The next day, Bucky is already at work when you arrive. There is no coffee on your desk, either, and you’re feeling guilty for accepting a date with someone else. Is that why he’s acting this way? Sam walks in drinking an energy drink when you stop him.

“Hey, what’s going on with Bucky?”

“You’re kidding, right?”

“No, what did I do?”

“You accepted a date from someone else.”

You knew it. Why is he bigging out?

“So?”

“Have you not been here for the past two years? You two flirt like crazy.”

“No, he’s just being friendly.”

“You won’t get it until you do,” Sam shakes his head and walks off.

The date with Brandon comes sooner than you hoped. He picks you up in a fancy car and takes you to a fancy restaurant that you could never afford. He smooth-talks the hostess to get him a table by the window so he can have a view while he eats. The waitress brings by a drinks menu but he already orders what you two are going to drink.

“Trust me, you’re going to love this,” he winks at you.

“Okay,” you say and fiddle with your fingers underneath the table. “You know what I do for work. What do you do for work?”

You shouldn’t have asked him that.

“I work in the telecommunications sector. You know that big building in the city? That’s mine. It’s funny. I got all my parents’ money when they died and instead of using that money for myself, I decided to invest in a small company that turned out to give me millions.” You open your mouth to speak but he continues talking. “Can you imagine that? This small company that wasn’t going to go anywhere if it weren't for me. I’m like their hero. They eventually sold their part to me, and I’ve been thriving ever since.”

Once he got to talking about his job, he hasn’t shut up about it since. He’s very arrogant and rude but that doesn’t seem to stop him. As soon as the drinks come, you greedily take yours and down it without caring what it is.

“Whoa, doll, calm down. I don’t need to haul you to the car at the end of the night. You should pace yourself.”

No one can call me that but Bucky. Oh, Bucky. You shouldn’t have said yes to this man. He only asked you out to hear himself talk. You want this date to end so you pretend to be interested in what he has to say. Even when the date is over and he’s driving you home, he won’t shut up. His voice mixed with alcohol is starting to make your head throb.

About halfway to your house, you see red and blue lights behind you.

This better not be him, you think to yourself. Brandon pulls the car over obediently and waits for the officer to approach him. You look through the mirror to see the outline of the officer and recognize it immediately. He better not. I swear to God… Instead of walking to the driver’s side door, Bucky walks over to your door and leans down so only you can see him.

“Step out of the vehicle, please.”

“No.”

Bucky takes a deep breath to calm himself down. He leans in so close that you can smell his delicious cologne. That makes your head spin.

“I’ll repeat myself. Step out of the car.”

“Or what? You’re gonna drag me out?”

“Don’t tempt me, doll,” he says so only you can hear it.

“Is there a problem, Officer?” Brandon asks.

“Yes. You have a busted taillight.”

“Fuck! You’ve got to be joking, sir.”

“No, sir, I’m not.”

“Shit. Officer, I can promise you I keep this car in the utmost pristine condition.”

“Not today, buddy. That’s a ticket.”

Bucky takes out his pad and writes Brandon a hefty ticket for a broken taillight you’re not sure is even broken.

“Fuck!” Brandon turns to you without guilt on his face. “Look, do you mind if I drop you off right here? Your house is only down the road. You can get there from here, right?”

Your mouth drops open in shock.

“Don’t worry, I’ll take her home,” Bucky offers.

“Thank you. I’ll call you.”

You don’t say anything as you get out of the car. Bucky walks you to the passenger side of his cruiser. You look at the taillights of Brandon’s car and notice they’re both working properly.

“What the fuck, Bucky?” you yell when he gets in the driver’s seat. “His taillights are broken! You can’t just do that. That’s illegal!”

“He’ll fight against it, and I’ll drop the charges,” he shrugs.

“You’re un-fucking-believable. We were actually having a good time,” you lie.

“No, you weren't,” he laughs.

“How do you know that?”

“It’s written all over your face. Your eyes don’t have the usual light.” Bucky pulls onto the road and heads in the direction of your house. “I don’t know why you would accept the date in the first place.”

“Because at least he had the fucking balls to ask me.”

That puts the entire car ride into a tense silence. He doesn’t say anything for the rest of the ride home. He pulls up to your place but instead of letting you get out first, he gets out and walks over to your side of the car. He opens the door but doesn't let you leave the car. He leans into the car, grabs your chin, and kisses you. You’re shocked but you won’t pull away from him. Both your lips move in harmony against one another, and he slides his tongue into your mouth to show you he means business.

“You’re not allowed to see other men.”

“Why not?” you ask, breathlessly.

“Because you’re mine now and I’m not gonna let you go.” This brings a smile to your face. He lets you get out, and when you pass by him, he taps your ass lightly. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Doll.”

Yes, you will.

Follow my library blog @aqueenslibrary where I reblog all my stories, so you can put notifications on there without the extra stuff :)

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fan fic #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes fiction #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes angst #marvel #marvel fanfiction #marvel fic #marvel fan fiction #marvel fanfic #marvel fan fic #mcu #marvel fluff #mcu fanfiction #marvel fiction

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sluts4matt · 1 month

Note

y/n cops an attitude with Chris while they argue so chris bends her over the table and fucks it out of her by overstimulating her? idk. just an idea.

ATTITUDE ADJUSTMENT

pairing: rough!dom chris x latina!reader

summary: chris had been a bit jealous of yours and matt's relationship lately, the two of you seeming closer than before. this irritates you however, and you're not afraid to voice it.

warnings: SMUT, pet names, slight praising if you squint, degradation, spanking, hair pulling, slight dumbification (sorry not sorry)

word count: 1207

author's note: boys being jealous of another guy and fucking you so good as a reminder that you're only theirs will never NOT be attractive to me. (if you saw this poll this was originally called attitude problem 🤪)

"are you serious right now?" you ask walking into the kitchen. chris is sitting on a stool by the counter, a can of pepsi in front of him while he scrolls through his phone.

chris looks up at you, a neutral look in his eyes. "what?" he mumbles as if he didn't hear you.

"are you seriously jealous of my friendship with matt?" you ask, annoyance rising in your tone. he scoffs, "when did i ever say this?" he asks.

you walk closer to him, crossing your arms. "you don't need to say it for me to see how fucking obvious it is," you groan, "i mean shit, kids your fucking brother and the only thing i hear anymore when i'm around is snide remarks and comments that don't actually need to be said."

the look on chris' face irritates you even more, "its the fucking passive aggressiveness towards him for absolutely no reason."

"he's not the one dating you," chris snaps, "he shouldn't have your twenty-four-fucking-seven attention," he states, "but guess what? he fucking does," his voice growing louder.

"and you wanna know why?" he asks rhetorically, standing up, towering over you. "because he's the perfect gentleman. he's fucking nice to you, and kind to you, and does all this stupid little shit that he knows you fucking like."

you kept your mouth shut, craning your neck to look up at him. "if you like him so fucking much," he states, "why don't you go fuck him instead?"

he was trying to piss you off, and it was working. you felt yourself get annoyed. "maybe i will since my actual boyfriends being a little bitch," you snap.

it took a minute for chris to respond, the look in his eyes showing anger. he was pissed, and you didn't know whether to feel satisfied or afraid.

he leans closer to you, and your back presses against the table, the corner digging into your skin. you didn't move, staring back at him with a similar glare.

"you wanna run that by me again, sweetheart?" he asks, his hands going to the edge of the counter, trapping you between his arms.

"maybe i will since my actual boyfriend being a little bitch," you repeat. the look on his face darkens and before you knew it, he flipped you around, bending you over the table. his hand lands down on your ass, hard. a whine escaping your lips at the sensation.

"is that a fucking attitude i'm hearing?" he growls, leaning down to your ear, "because if so, i think it's time someone gives you an attitude adjustment."

you whimper, feeling his crotch press against your ass. his fingers grip your hair, yanking your head back, "you know, maybe i should call matt in here, since you love him so fucking much."

you didn't respond, feeling his other hand slip underneath your skirt, pulling your panties aside. he was pissed, and the way his fingers rubbed at your cunt were proof of that.

"chris-" you start, only for him to cut you off. "shut up," he growls, unbuckling his belt. you felt his hard cock pressing against your pussy, "if i'm not getting my girl, no one else is," he states, the tip of his cock teasing your hole. "'specially not fucking matt," he growled.

he slams into you without warning, and you scream, not expecting it. "fuck!" you yell, feeling him immediately start to pound into you. the sound of skin hitting skin filling the room.

"yeah, i forgot to tell you, baby," he grunts, one of his hands holding your hips, while the other gripped your hair, "i'm gonna make you forget everyone's name but mine."

you felt tears pool in your eyes, his fingers tugging at your hair, and the feeling of his cock repeatedly ramming into your tight cunt making you cry out in pleasure. "who's your fucking boyfriend, huh?" he asks, the hand holding your hip moving to your ass, landing a harsh slap. "you," you pant, "it's you, chris," you cry, your orgasm nearing.

"damn fucking right," he grunts, his cock thrusting into you with reckless abandon, "and what's matt?" he asks, spanking your ass again. "n-nothing," you stutter.

"that's fucking right, baby," he states, his hand letting go of your hair and slipping between the table and your body, rubbing at your clit. "shit," you curse, a sob escaping your lips, "i-i'm close," you whine.

"then cum slut," he states, the coil in your stomach snapping as your release takes over. "oh, fuck!" you scream, chris' thrusts never slowing.

"we're not fucking done, sweetheart," he states, continuing to slam his hips against yours. "fuck, chris, its s-sensitive," you whine. "shoulda thought about that before saying you'd fuck matt," he grunts, grabbing at your wrist with his large hand, holding them in place behind your back.

your eyes roll to the back of your head, his cock slamming into your g-spot over and over again. the sound of skin against skin, and your moans filled the room. "fuck, fuck," you moan, "please, chris, please," you beg, not sure what you're asking for.

his hips slam into you with a newfound aggression, chasing his own high. "i'm close," he groans, his hand making your hair a makeshift pony tail, just to yank back, your back colliding with his chest. "look at you," he cooed condescendingly, he placed sloppy kisses against your shoulder blade.

"getting fucked so good by the little bitch boyfriend, hm?" he asks, his cock still slamming into your dripping cunt, "you just love when i treat you like a fucking whore, don't you, sweetheart?" he asks.

you were unable to form any coherent thoughts, his thrusts hitting deep within you, the overstimulation making your body go limp. you let out a series of babbles and cries, begging for him.

"i'm cumming," he states, his voice low and gravely, his teeth sinking into your shoulder. you could feel his cock pulsate inside of you, the feeling of his warm release coating your walls triggering yours.

you could feel him pulse, your walls clenching around him, milking him for all his worth. your head rolls back onto his shoulder, your breath coming out in heavy pants.

"did i hurt you?" he asks softly, his hands rubbing soothing circles on your hips, and back. you hum, "a little," you squeak out, "but it was nice," you reassure him, and you could feel him kiss the shell of your ear.

"i didn't scare you did i?" he asks, and you could tell he was concerned.

"no," you state, "not at all," you add, and his hands go turn you around, lifting you onto the marble counters. "i'm sorry, i didn't mean to hurt you," he states, his lips ghosting over your bruised neck, from the previous nights.

"i know," you state, smiling up at him. "did it work though?" he asks, his finger tracing your bottom lip, "forgot about matt?" he questions.

you smile, wrapping your arms around his neck, "wasn't a thought in my head anyways," you whisper, your nose nudging his.

"good," he smiles, "i'd hate to have to do it again," he adds, pecking your lips.

tag list:

@hysteria-things @tillies33ssss @soimightlikeoldmen69 @sturniolossss @freshsturns @lily-strnlo @etvar12 @iloveurgf @sstvrnioloo @junnniiieee07 @sturnioloa @chrryclouds @sturniolho @mayhem-72

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missbunnybunny · 10 months

Text

❣💌[ I'm stravin' , Darlin' ]💌❣

Tw: non-con, dubcon, yandere, stalking, Somnophilia, Drugging, breeding, cockwarming.

A/n: this is my first detailed smut. It was going well at the start until I took a wrong turn and fell off a cliff. Possessive music got influence. I don't know what I wrote, am going to hell, his more delusional; than me. smh. ENJOY!

Note: this is a y/n x pretty yandere, female-bodied reader. Based on the songs Eat Your Young by Hozier and An Unhealthy Obsession by Blake Robinson, helped write this song. pet names such as Darlin, Love, and good girl. If I forgot something plz tell me.

╔═.✧ 🖤 ✧.═══════════╗ ▶︎ 𝕾𝖍𝖊’𝖘 𝖘𝖔 𝖉𝖊𝖛𝖎𝖓𝖊 𝖙𝖍𝖆𝖙 𝖎 𝖘𝖙𝖆𝖗𝖛𝖊 𝖋𝖔𝖗 𝖒𝖔𝖗𝖊. ╚═══════════.✧ 🖤 ✧.═╝ Part 2 ↥

You were exhausted. Who could blame you for being tired? You enjoyed your job as the owner of a small coffee shop, but you were drained and your staff adored you. When they had an emergency, you were incredibly nice to them and understanding. You didn't inquire, you just told them not to worry because you trusted them and they trusted you.

You didn't hesitate to assist your staff when an aggressive customer screamed and yelled at them. You listened to all sides of the story and kept your eyes on the cameras. When they realized they didn't have a foothold, you politely requested them to go. But if they weren't kind enough to go, you merely called the cops. You would never let them get away with it; you had patience, but not that much.

So, after the day was done, you secured your doors and walked upstairs to your house. You double-checked that all the doors and windows were secured and that the security system was turned on and operational. Taking a soothing bubble bath, dressing, and preparing for some much-needed rest. Closing your eyes and basking in the warm embrace of sleep. Your eyes slowly opened, and you attempted to move your fingers, but they wouldn't budge. You had been under a lot of stress recently due to overwork, and sleep paralysis was now typical for you.

You could hear your door opening and the floors squeaking. The ebony form of a guy appeared. He was tall, and the broadness of his shoulders suggested that he worked out. As you felt the bed drop at your feet, he sat at the end of it. His hand began to go up and down your leg gently. Coming to a halt at your thigh. He hummed to himself while pinching your inner thigh.

You uttered a grunt. He came to a halt and gazed up at you. As he peered down at your face, his face slowly entered the frame. "Oh, how pretty," he said, lovingly cupping your face. "I don't think I could hold myself back." His breath lightly fanning your face, he murmured. He kissed you, and you let out a frightened moan and screwed your eyes shut. He took advantage of the situation by inserting his tongue inside your mouth. While squeezing your inner thigh, he hummed to himself. His hand creeps up and beneath your shirt from your thigh. He pulled your nipple and squeezed your breast. He linked his mouth to yours with a thin string of saliva. He licked his lower lip. "You taste amazing," he replied with a smile.

He kissed your lips once more, and you felt him get out of bed. You sprang awake and took a glance around. Your clothing was in good condition and not flung around. You raced to your restroom and looked in the mirror; there were no handprints anywhere on you. You rushed to your front door, terrified, and examined your alarm system; nothing was amiss. You were befuddled, and your thinking was jumbled. You summarized it up to well: an odd wet dream, stress, and being punted up may all lead to unusual nightmares, especially when combined with sleep paralysis.

You sipped your favorite comfort drink, rubbed your temples, and took a few deep breaths. Exhale a sigh of relief as you feel your tension wash away. You put on your business attire and prepare to open your shop. The business opens at 8 a.m., so you were there by 6:30, and by 7 a.m., staff began to arrive. Everyone was having a fantastic time in the shop, which was filled with laughter and music. When the clock struck eight, you laughed, "It's eight, you know what to do. Hit it!" Everyone queued up got into place, and you opened the store. Customers arrived quickly after that.

When a well-dressed man entered and approached the counter, your staff was busy. As you finished serving one of your usual clients, you noticed him and called, "I'll be with you in a minute." "Thank you, hun." The kind old lady stated. You smiled at her and walked over to the counter to assist the man. "I'm sorry, did I keep you waiting too long?" you said as you set up the ordering machine. "No, not at all." He informed you in hushed tones, he was attractive, you had to admit it. His voice seemed strangely familiar to you, but you couldn't place it. But you shrugged it off and smiled as you asked him what he needed.

"A coffee with a cake," he answered politely. "Ah, what cake would you like sir, we have many options." you beam up at him, giving him a tiny smile. "Oh, what would you recommend, my dear?" he asks, quietly tapping the counter. "Would red velvet cake be acceptable?" "It's one of my favorites," you inquired. He nodded, and you concluded his order with a small 'mm'. " Would that be all, sir?" "If so, this is your total," you say, pointing to the sum on the side of the register. " Yes." He responded and paid.

As soon as the order appears on the screen, one of your staff takes it while you assist with the other tasks and clients. Since the front of the store was fully filled, the man was directed to the back. He could see the counter and you from where he was seated. The manager patted you on the shoulder and smiled at you as they spoke to you. You chuckle and smile as you remove your apron. "I'm taking a break, everyone," you say. 'Okay, ma'am,' they respond. You step away from the counter and take a seat on one of the unoccupied stools close to his table. While on the phone with someone, you smile and giggle.

He can't stop staring at you. It was fortunate that he instructed his assistant to investigate you. He even postponed a lunch date with the daughter of a well-known corporation. He didn't mind because he could tell she was attempting to catch his attention. He couldn't care less about how much her clothing cost or how it 'accidentally' revealed her chest. He'd rather be here, staring at your face and grin. It was a coincidence that he first spotted you; one of his clients requested to meet at this cafe since they genuinely enjoyed your coffee and sweets. He couldn't get your face out of his mind and thoughts after that.

Your phone call had finished, and you turned to meet his gaze. You froze as you studied his face. He saw the fact and grinned. You realized he hadn't touched his cake and sighed in despair. "Do you not like the cake, Sir?" You questioned him quietly, your gaze fixed on the plate. "Oh, no, it's not like that. "I was saving the cake for last because it was so delicious." He let you know quietly. "Oh, okay," you said as you stood up and turned around. "Would you like to join me?" he offered, and you graciously accepted his invitation.

You spoke till your break ended. He became a regular client after that and frequently asked about your favorite treats to try. It had been months since then, yet you still felt tired whenever you saw him. He was the final customer in the shop on one such occasion. You sent your employees early, not wanting to keep them waiting so they didn't miss their bus or train. "It's closing time, Mister Blackwell; you should go home," you said. "I told you to call me James, Darling." He told you firmly. " However, I agree. Wouldn't want anything to happen to you." While drinking his drink, he informed you.

"Would you mind joining me before I leave?" He remarked this while pointing to the seat next to him. you exclaimed, "You are extremely persistent." You shook your head and set your favorite drink on the table. turning around and laying a little slice of cake next to your drink. You had no idea what he had placed into your drink by the time you sat next to him. He grinned as you took a sip of your drink, seeing your expression shift.

He watched as your eyes gradually closed and you collapsed on the table, spilling your cup on the floor. "What…did you do?" You questioned him carefully, feeling yourself nodding off. "Don't worry, my love, I'll take care of you." As you eventually slid away, you heard him declare. You wake up with him twirling his tongue at your clit, then cat licking your entrance, going back and up to your clit, before his tongue went into your pussy, tasting every inch of it. You eventually let out a whimper as the knot in your gut finally split and you filled his mouth with your cum. "You're awake, I hope you don't mind," he whipped his mouth with his palm. "I was dying to taste you." He stated. His gaze moved up and down your body, forming an image of you in his mind. You attempted to speak, but all you got was a broken wail. Your eyes adjusted to the darkness, and you were entirely bare to him. Your eyes began to water, and silent tears streamed down your cheeks. " Why are you crying, Darlin?" He stated this as he licked your tears away before giving you a ravenous kiss, His tongue quickly claiming your mouth.

He released your lips as he stated, "It will take a while until you can move again, but don't worry, I'll make you feel good." He gently graded your hand before bringing it to the bulge on his pants. "This is what you did to me." He talked as he stroked your palm up and down his bulge, letting out a groan as he began to accelerate. He stared down at you, hungry, and proceeded to remove his outfit. He was now entirely exposed for you to see. " Oh, very lovely. I'm curious how you'll look after I slit you in half on my dick." He murmured this as he sank his thick fingers into your pussy, causing your back to arch. When he noticed your body jerked up and your jaw fell open, he smiled even more.

He discovered your sweet spot! He curled his fingers in the same place over and over. You felt that familiar tight knot in your gut emerges, prompting you to tighten your walls around his fingers. "That's it, cum on my fingers like the good girl you are," he said. Your walls flutter subconsciously at his words, "Oh, you like being called a good girl?" he questioned, advancing faster. Your moans and whimpers sounded like music to his ears. He was itching to sink his dick into you. You came undone under him with one more stroke, cumming on his fingers and hand. He took his hand away and brought it up to his mouth, licking your juices. "You taste divine." He exhaled.

He positioned himself at your entrance, tapping his dick on your assaulted lips. He graded your legs and pushed them on your chest in a typical mating press position, and you could plainly see his pink tip and how enormous he was. Once he got you the way he wanted you, you felt the swelling tip of his cock press against your tight entrance and buckle his hip. He bottoms out in one push, his pelvis colliding with your entrance. He took your breath away since he was so large. And, as he claimed, he was splitting you in half with his dick. "Don't pass out on me, Darlin," he remarked, softly patting your cheek with his palm." The fun is just getting started," he remarked as he kissed you on the lips. Allowing you to get used to his size before proceeding. You were so tight! And you are his and his alone.

His cock began to slide in and out of your tight pussy, as if you were nothing more than a fleshlight at his disposal. "Y/n I'm going to make you only mine," your desperate cries mixed with groans as you sought to stop him. The sound of skin smacking against skin got louder as he thrust harder and harder. Your muscles were absolutely spasming, and your eyes could hardly fixate or focus on his sweat-splattered face above you.

So this was how it felt to be with a man like him, putting you precisely where you should have always been. BELOW HIM, you were groaning, saliva flowing from the corners of your lips, and your eyes rolled up every time his cock brushed your cervix and his pelvic bone stroked against your swollen clit. Your eyes met his and he kissed you passionately; the longer the two of you kissed, the more his hips appeared to press into yours. The headboard of the bed was crashing fiercely into the wall, adding yet another obscene sound to the symphony.

You could feel his dick pounding against your walls; it was clear he was nearing his climax, which was going to totally fill you up to the point of leaking, and then fuck a baby into your womb. As he furiously pounded into you, his hands came to your waist and had a tight grasp on you. You felt James base expand and get even bigger only seconds before his hot sperm was spurting into your womb and the veins surrounding his dick were pulsating against your walls, making you gasp for the nth time. The sensation of being totally filled was so intense that you almost ended up cumming again.

He lay down next to you, panting and allowing you to collect your breath. As your body was extremely sore, he began spooning you from behind his cock, still inside you. "Sleep, Love, you must be tired," he kissed your neck. I'll prepare something for you in the morning." You were exhausted, and your half-lined eyelids eventually closed as you slept off. James grabbed up his phone and called over your sleeping figure. The phone rang till someone answered, "Ray?" "Did you do what I asked?" he inquired calmly. "Yes, I made sure to delete the footage of you breaking into the home months ago, as well as the alarm system," Ray stated gently. "Perfect" James smiled, hanging up the call as he fell asleep next to you.

After so long of only admiring you from afar and secretly stroking you as you slept, he was overjoyed to finally hold you in his arms. Don't worry, you can have a better life because He will take excellent care of you. "It'll take some getting used to, but we'll make it work." were his final thoughts as he fell asleep affectionately sound asleep with you in his arms.

Am gonna dig a hole and hide. bye....👩🏽‍🦯

Update there’s a new hole to hide now 🕳️ 👩🏽‍🦯

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wilwheaton · 1 year

Note

favorite goncharov character

Goncharov! Holy shit I haven't thought about Goncharov in YEARS!

I remember seeing it at the Vista theatre downtown in ... I want to say 1983? It was either 82 and I was 10, or 83 and I was 11. Now that I think about it, it must have been Spring of 83. I remember that Kimmy Mendini was my babysitter, and she drove my friend Ahmed and me all the way downtown to see Goncharov. She would have been at least 16, but I feel like she was a little older. I remember that she LOVED movies and just never stopped talking about European cinema.

Ha! I can still her her sort of roll "Cinema" out of her mouth. Movies were for the masses to watch, while sophisticated adults experienced Cinema. I'm just realizing now that she absolutely pronounced it with a capital C. She was like "you are so lucky to see a clean print of Goncharov!"

I had no idea what a clean print was, but I understood it was important and impressive.

She had read about this screening in the LA Weekly, which I didn't know at the time was TREMENDOUSLY subversive in our suburban part of Los Angeles County, and we were going to an old theatre in maybe not the greatest part of town, but Kimmy had been watching me since I was in second grade and was like my big sister. I knew we'd be safe with her.

That old theatre (which is now a fucking swap meet) was just so beautiful inside. 100 foot ceilings, box seats, gold paint and murals. It felt like a place you went to experience Cinema, but, like ... it had absolutely seen better days. I remember that I felt kind of bad for the place, a little embarrassed, like when I got a good grade and accidentally made eye contact with a friend who got a D.

Okay. This clearly hit a memory artery, and I appreciate you staying with me this far, when we finally get to the fireworks factory. We're walking up to the box office, and she tells Ahmed and me that we have to wait on the sidewalk, because *technically* it's rated R, and she's not our legal guardian, but what does this guy making two bucks an hour know about art anyway?

So we wait. She buys the tickets, and then we all walk in as casually as we can.

I remember how scared I was that we were going to get caught and they'd call the cops (that's how it worked in my anxiety-ridden brain), but literally nobody cared. The theatre wasn't even half full, and everyone there was a dude at least as old as my parents.

You know the story, so I don't have to recount all of it, but I can at this very moment remember how shocked I was when Bruno was shot. This was the first time, ever, I had felt an emotional connection to a character. I didn't cry when Bambi's mother was shot, I didn't cry when ET died, I didn't cry E V E R.

But when Bruno died? I didn't make a sound. I just silently wept. Tears just poured down my face and I wanted to roll back time, rewrite the movie, and get him out of that room.

I obviously understand now, all these years later why I connected to him and why his story meant and means so much to me, but at the time I had no idea. I just thought the actors were that good.

I can't believe that guy who played him died so young. I think he was like 40? I remember thinking that was old. Now I know different.

When the movie was over, Kimmy asked us how we liked it. Ahmed was obsessed with the photography (he grew up to be an illustrator), and I obviously had my Bruno Moment.

We got Thrifty ice cream on the way home and listened to Donna Summer in her Datsun.

I haven't thought about Goncharov or Cinema or Kimmy in FOREVER. Leave it to Tumblr to boost my nostalgia check to a natural 20.

tl;dr: Bruno. I know he's supposed to be that character we all hate, and there are so many valid reasons for that. But when I was 12 ... well, I was a different person.

Oh! And now that I know what a "clean print" is, having seen so many "dirty prints" in revival houses before they all turned into swap meets or churches (hey, two places where people sell you stuff and take your money!), I retroactively appreciate it in a way that would make Kimmy happy.

Thanks for the trip into the crumbling mall that is my childhood memories. I haven't been here in awhile and it was nice to visit.

#Goncharov (1973)#goncharov #bruno #yes bruno #unreality

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cherienymphe · 11 months

Text

Basic Training IX (Peter Parker x Reader)

Warnings: NON-CON, DUB-CON, MURDER, violence, kidnapping, captivity, public sex, degradation, forced pregnancy, forced marriage, stockholm syndrome, ptsd, housewife kink, cop!Peter

➥ banner by @vase-of-lilies | divider by @whimsicalrogers

➥ series masterlist

summary: A pit stop during a road trip ends tragically when a small town cop sets his sights on you. You’re the newest addition in a long standing fucked up family tradition.

You stood by the window, watching Peter in the yard as he talked to Clint and Tony. Of all the husbands here, you interacted with Clint the least. He didn’t strike you as mean or strict as Steve but then again, how were you to know? It didn’t matter how nice any of these men seemed, none of them were right in the head to be doing any of this. Laura seemed happy enough, but again… So did Margaret, and you knew firsthand how cruel Steve could be.

…and Tony was a whole other misogynistic can of worms. You thought Steve was bad, and still did, but somehow you hadn’t thought that any other husband could be almost as bad as him. It only served to remind you that not only did you know nothing about these men, but no matter how much better you might’ve thought any of them were than Steve, at the end of the day, they were right here with him doing the same things he was.

Peter seemed to get along well with all of the husbands here, and you found yourself briefly wondering how they all even knew each other. You’d had the passing wonder before, but never long enough to really consider the answer. He was so at ease with every single one, including Steve, and it once again forced you to consider the kind of man he was to do so.

After your unexpected blowup—or tantrum—Peter didn’t leave your side much these days, and you hated how much you didn’t want him to. You were self-aware enough to realize just how much you were starting to need Peter, but you couldn’t bring yourself to stop needing him. You needed him to keep the nightmares at bay, to reassure you that you wouldn’t screw anything up in the kitchen, to give you the courage to answer any question Steve wanted to throw your way at dinner.

You realized what was happening, but you couldn’t stop it.

You were starting to feel helpless without him around, feeling lost and lonely. You couldn’t go outside, not yet anyway, and anytime Peter did, you’d forlornly stare after him, wondering when you’d be able to.

“When Steve feels you’re ready,” the brunette told you hours later.

Your feelings about that must’ve been displayed on your face because Peter neared you just as you started to turn away.

“He just wants to be sure that you won’t…”

He trailed off as he took your face into his hands, but the unspoken words were as clear as day. Why did it even matter if you’d try and run or not? One of them would catch you, anyway, and besides. The thought of getting caught and getting thrown back into the basement was enough to make you shudder.

“It’s not like I’d actually get away,” you mumbled, hating the truth in that statement.

Peter’s thumbs brushed over your skin as he drank you in, a slight frown between his brows.

“You might,” he murmured. “…and I’d hate that.”

You studied him with a frown of your own.

“You don’t understand how much I’ve grown to care about you,” he said. “If I lost you, I’d be devastated.”

You didn’t know how to feel about that statement, wanting to argue that you weren’t even his to care about. Peter would never have come to care about you in any form if he hadn’t kidnapped you. It was sick, really, but as he looked at you, you could only feel confusion filling you at his declaration. You couldn’t find the logic in that. All you did was scream and cry and walk around thus place like a frazzled chicken with her head cut off.

Why would Peter miss you?

“You would…?”

Peter blinked at you like you’d just said something crazy, tilting his head ever so slightly.

“Of course, I would,” he breathed. “I don’t think I could even try to find someone else. I chose you, and I chose right.”

You looked down, gaze finding the floor as he sighed.

“You know what all the other women are expected to do. You’ve met Margaret’s daughter and Laura’s son,” he continued. “That’s important, not something to be taken lightly, and you’re who I chose. You’re who I want to have a family with. I would lose it if I lost you.”

Peter’s words were overwhelming you in more ways than one, and you took a step back from him, walking around him and sitting on the bed. The thought of what your future entailed made your breathing short, but was it insane to say that talking about this with just you and Peter made it…easier? You could feel him near you, and you swallowed when his hand met your shoulder.

“Don’t think of it so badly,” he softly told you. “It doesn’t have to be that way.”

His other hand touched your chin, fingers gently pressing into your skin as he turned and tilted your head up, forcing you to look at him. His brown eyes were warm, almost pleading as he gave you a soft smile.

“I will make you so happy. You’ll be so happy with me.”

You turned your head away at that, blinking back tears as you thought of your friends. Your chest still ached painfully when you thought of them and everything surrounding their deaths. Never mind how disrespectful it felt to their memories to find some contentment in your situation, but you couldn’t stomach the thought of living in harmony with the same people who’d put them in their graves.

It was horrifying.

As if he’d read your mind, Peter spoke.

“Your friends didn’t hesitate to try and protect you,” he slowly said. “They died for you…so, don’t you think they’d hate to see you suffering…?”

Your stomach twisted at that, and you hurriedly stood. You walked away from Peter, but despite his lack of movement, his voice still followed you.

“They would want you to be happy…some kind of way.”

Peter didn’t know your friends, so it wasn’t his place to even say that. Even still, while he wasn’t wrong, they’d be horrified to see you succumb to this. It would break MJ’s heart to see you so beaten down that you’d take the same hand that might as well had put them in the ground. They wouldn’t want this for you, and yet, it seemed inevitable.

You heard Peter move closer, and you tensed when his hand met your arm. You wouldn’t look at him, but you could feel him leaning in, deeply inhaling the scent of you. His chest grazed your back, and when he leaned around to brush his lips over your cheek, you didn’t protest.

“I won’t rush you,” he quietly said. “It’s just something to think about.”

His nose grazed your neck, and he gently sighed.

“I want you to be happy here. That’s all I want…”

When Peter stepped away, you still kept your gaze on the floor, only blinking when he shut the door behind him on his way out.

It was days later when you were eating dinner with everyone else and couldn’t help but feel like something was…off. You weren’t one of the ones to help with dinner that night, and so from the moment you sat down, something just didn’t feel quite right. The atmosphere felt tense in a way you hadn’t felt before, and for once, Steve wasn’t the source.

In fact, the blond man seemed to be in a good mood. It wasn’t up to you to say if that was rare or not, but at least in your presence it seemed to be. Truthfully, you couldn’t exactly pinpoint why dinner felt weird. As far as you could tell, nothing seemed out of the ordinary.

Steve had complimented Pepper and Jane on the food, they’d thanked him in unison, and everyone had drifted into hushed conversation as they always did. Peter kept touching your arm here and there, something Steve certainly noticed if the way you’d accidentally catch his eye was anything to go by. It was only when you looked over, catching Natasha’s gaze, did you pause.

It was hard to pinpoint the look in her eyes to be honest. Her entire visage was unreadable, and the longer she held your gaze, the more you frowned. You had started to wonder if you’d done something to offend the redhead when her façade cracked…ever so slightly. If you hadn’t been studying her so hard, you would’ve missed it, but for half a second, no more than a moment, her entire face had crumbled.

If you’d blinked, you would’ve missed it, that’s how fast it had happened.

In a split second, her entire face had smoothed out to the unreadable perfection it had been before. You watched as she continued eating, finally breaking her stare, and you frowned. You glanced around to see if anyone else had noticed, namely Steve, but you seemed to be the only one who had. It had confused you, something that lasted for days until Jane had been the one to finally tell you.

The pretty brunette looked unsure at first, deeply staring into the potted plant she was tending to. She’d stopped what she was doing, and you didn’t miss the way her hands trembled a little. She glanced over her shoulder, and you knew why, following her lead. Peter had taken it upon himself to be near you, knowing how much better it made you feel, and while he wasn’t just outside the door to the greenhouse, his close proximity made her nervous.

“If Peter hears…he won’t say anything…”

You didn’t know why you were taking up for him, but it was the truth. There were a million things you’d done and said that he could’ve—should have—told Steve and didn’t. Peter protected you from Steve’s ire more times than you could count. You trusted him, and you wanted Jane to know that she could too.

She softly sighed, struggling to meet your eye.

“Nat… You said something the other week that worried her. It…it made her a little concerned…”

You frowned, unable to follow as you wracked your brain.

“She asked Bucky about how you got here…and why we needed to be so understanding with you…?”

You blinked in realization, shoulders drooping as you felt your face fall. Oh. You didn’t know how to feel that you were right in your assumptions that Natasha hadn’t known. None of them did, it seemed, and when your eyes met Jane’s again, her own glistened with tears.

“You weren’t alone when they took you,” she slowly said, voice strained.

It came out more like a question, almost like she didn’t want to believe it. You didn’t move for a moment, pulling your lip between your teeth before finally shaking your head. Jane sharply inhaled at your confirmation, and she looked away. Your own gaze landed on the floor, and you hated how much your skin grew cold at the mention of your friends.

“We didn’t know,” she breathed. “…and you were there when they…?”

She trailed off, unable to say it, and you felt your own eyes burn.

You could feel her gaze on you, wanting confirmation for what she already knew. Only, you couldn’t give it to her, staring at the floor as your vision grew blurry. The plants and walls around you grew fainter and fainter, and slowly but surely, you weren’t in the greenhouse anymore. You felt your lips tremble, and you faintly heard Jane calling your name.

Your hands were no longer dirty with soil and grime but instead blood. All you could see was Wanda being shot with a swiftness and efficiency that shocked you. You could hear MJ screaming at you to run, her hand tight on yours, and you hadn’t realized that you’d started crying until you felt familiar hands on your arms.

“I shouldn’t… I shouldn’t have said anything…”

You thought she was talking to you, but Peter’s soft voice in your ear told you otherwise. He was rubbing his hands up and down your arms, soothing words leaving him as he tried to calm you down.

“You’re okay,” he cooed, helping you stand to your feet.

The plant in your hand had long fell, the plot cracking slightly as the sound of it meeting the ground reached your ears. Peter pulled you into him, arms tight around you as you pressed your face into his shoulder. Through the haze and overwhelming emotions that threatened to drown you at the memory of your friends’ murders, you could hear Peter’s voice.

Only, unlike with you, it was hard, tone cold and almost venomous in nature.

“You know better, Jane.”

Peter tightly held you as he guided upstairs, and you hated the thought of him talking to Jane like that just because you were a broken mess. The mere mention of your friends or the mere sight of blood shouldn’t send you spiraling. Deep in the back of your mind, you knew that your reaction was reasonable, understandable, but you couldn’t help but feel like a burden and inconvenience to everyone.

“You shouldn’t…you shouldn’t talk to Jane like that,” you sobbed once you were in your room.

You hated the thought of her getting trouble.

“She knows better,” Peter told you, kneeling in front of you as he sat you down on the bed. “They all know to be careful with what they say around you.”

You shook your head, pressing your hands to your face.

“…but none of them knew why! You didn’t tell them? You didn’t tell them what they did to my friends?”

You felt hysterical, and truthfully, you didn’t know what triggered it. Maybe it was the fact that now that everyone knew the full circumstances of how you’d been taken you now felt more comfortable to openly grieve? Maybe it was the way Jane had looked at you? The horror and concern on her face had never been on Peter’s or any of the others. Maybe it had something to do with someone other than you finally having an appropriate reaction to what had happened to your friends.

Or maybe it was just as simple as you were a nutcase.

“It wasn’t any of their business,” Peter told you, pushing your hands away and taking your face into his own. “…and this is exactly why because they shouldn’t be bringing this up with you.”

Peter almost sounded angry—almost looked angry—and you shook your head.

“It’s my fault,” you tearfully pleaded with him. “Jane didn’t do anything wrong.”

You had forgotten all about your almost slip up in the kitchen with Natasha that day. It was you who had wrongfully assumed that she knew, and it was only natural of her to be curious and concerned. After all, just because you felt distanced from the other wives, it didn’t mean they felt that way. They’d all built such close relationships with one another, and how could they not in this environment? They were all victims of their circumstances, and you were no different.

Of course, they would care about you just as much.

Peter stood with a sigh, hands on the back of your head as you cried into his stomach. He played with your hair, stroking you and speaking.

“My pretty girl…always worried about someone else,” he murmured.

You reached up, wrapping your arms around his waist. The feel of his hands soothed you, and you held him tighter, wishing that he could be your friends somehow, holding them and saving them from the horror that met them.

You sat on the stairs with your hands in your lap. A few times a week, Peter and the others would meet in the den and go over work-related things. Sometimes household stuff would come up in conversation too. At least, that was what Jane had relayed to you. It was usually during that weird period in the evening after supper and when the wives were looking after the children.

You’d been deemed too unstable to be around the children for prolonged periods of time. You supposed you didn’t fully disagree with that assessment, but you didn’t think you’d ever hurt a child. You couldn’t even bring yourself to hurt yourself no matter how much peace the decision would probably bring you in the long run.

This was a time where you’d find yourself in your room, skin damp and fresh after a bath. You’d already be in bed by the time Peter returned, but tonight seemed to be a night in which everything was taking longer than usual. You didn’t know if it was about work or something to do with the household, but you’d gotten tired of waiting for Peter. You were growing tired, and it was hard to sleep without him.

That’s how you found yourself sitting halfway down the stairs, head drooping and leaning against the wall. Their low voices carried from the den, but only faintly. It wasn’t like you could make anything out, and even if you could, it wouldn’t make any difference to you. It was becoming difficult to stay awake, head falling every now and then. Your body was protesting, telling you that you needed to go to sleep, but you knew that without Peter, you’d be restless and awake within ten minutes.

Somewhere along the way, you must’ve lost the fight because the sound of a light chuckle reached your ears. The voice was somewhat familiar, and you’d started peeling your eyes open just as they spoke.

“Peter, I think you’ve lost something…”

Thor’s voice was light and teasing, and you were relieved that he didn’t seem upset to find you nodding off here. You were blinking sleep away when Peter responded, something unintelligible, and Thor lightly laughed again, arms folded over his chest.

“No, I’m positive she belongs to you,” the blond told him.

You were straightening up just as Peter rounded the corner, and he blinked as his gaze met your tired one. The confusion disappeared from his eyes as he approached you, gaze softening.

“What are you still doing up?” he wondered, touching your face.

“I was waiting for you,” you told him. “You’re normally back by now.”

The brunette didn’t respond right away, tilting his head to the side with a small smile.

“Yeah, I know,” he told you. “Bucky’s being a pain in the ass, but I’ll be up in a little bit.”

You were about to protest when a familiar blond appeared behind Peter, and you felt yourself shrinking in on yourself. Unlike Thor, this blond didn’t look the happiest at the sight of you, and you swallowed.

“She’s not supposed to be here,” Steve said. “What if she overhears something she shouldn’t?”

Peter defended you before you could defend yourself.

“I doubt she heard anything, Steve,” Peter threw over his shoulder. “…and even if she did, what would she do?”

“Even still, she doesn’t have the same privileges the others do. She should be in bed.”

He was talking to Peter, but the blond was looking at you as he said this, blue eyes cold. Your heart sank at the reminder of the lack of faith he had in you, but despite the finality in his tone, you didn’t move. Instead, you looked at Peter, wondering what he wanted you to do, and the brunette took your hand, helping you stand. There was a gleam in his eye that you couldn’t place, and the corner of his mouth quirked up just a tad.

“Go on up,” he gently told you. “I’ll be there in just a little bit.”

You hesitated, gaze lingering on him as you were half turned. Peter smiled at you, the expression reassuring.

“I promise.”

With a small sigh, you did as he said, fighting to hold in a yawn. You could feel his gaze on you, and you glanced at him one more time, your gaze passing over Steve and Thor, before finally turning the corner. You were grateful that Peter was being truthful, the bedroom door opening not even seven minutes later.

You were on the verge of sleep when he joined you, taking your hand and kissing it as he slid into bed beside you. You drowsily blinked as he whispered something that sounded a lot like an apology. You didn’t really care though, finally relaxing, all of the tension leaving you. You were so weighed down with fatigue that you didn’t even care when Peter threaded his fingers through yours.

They were still like that in the morning, and you’d forgotten whatever you were going to say when Peter told you that he had a surprise for you. It was quite early, too early for any of the others to be up and started on breakfast. The excited gleam in his eye had you faltering, nervousness flowing through you before allowing Peter to coax you out of bed.

“Come on,” he urged, pulling you along down the stairs.

Your heart was in your stomach, unable to come up with what was in store for you. Peter’s hand was tight on yours when he made it to the backdoor, turning the knob and letting the nice fresh air in. You didn’t need a mirror to know that there was evident longing in your gaze. Aside from the greenhouse, you hadn’t felt true fresh air in months, and you didn’t really understand what was happening until Peter tugged on your hand.

“What…?” you quietly murmured, eyes wide and unsure as you looked at him.

Peter ran his eyes over you, a small unreadable smile on his lips as he lightly pulled on your arm.

“Come on…”

You looked between his eyes, lips parting before your gaze rested on the outside behind him.

“I…can…?”

You trailed off, and Peter nodded, and you felt your heart skip a beat as you took a step towards him. Slowly, but surely, Peter led you outside, and you almost cried when your bare feet touched the grass. Your eyes burned, and you blinked back tears as you looked around. Peter’s hand was still on yours as you took it all in, and your first thought was that the window didn’t do it justice.

The land that the house sat on was so much bigger than you had ever thought. Under different circumstances, you would’ve been able to admire it wholeheartedly. However, as it were, all you could think about was how the land just seemed to go on and on forever. Peter pulled you through the yard, and you looked around in awe.

You had never noticed that the house wasn’t far from an incline, and down at the bottom of it was a decent sized pond, and beyond it…nothing but trees. It had rained the night before, and your eyes took in the dew on the grass and the light fog that seemed to descend just at your ankles. The sun was just barely peeking over the horizon, and you felt distracted by it.

You hadn’t realized just how much you’d missed fresh air and the grass and just being outside until you’d gone months without it. You kept walking and drinking it all in. You almost hated how beautiful everything was, and you glanced over to your right at a clothesline near the house. Just on the other side of it, you could see the garden you were always hearing about. You noticed a toy or two in the yard, and you hated to think that if you stumbled upon this property randomly one day, you’d think it was a normal home just like any other.

“Can I come outside later too?”

Peter didn’t respond right away, but when he did, you were shocked at how far away he sounded.

“Of course.”

You looked over your shoulder, and you realized with a start that he was pretty far away. At least, further than you’d thought he was. So distracted by it all, you hadn’t even noticed him letting go of your hand. Or had you let go of his? Either way, he was much closer to the house than you were, and you blinked at him.

“After breakfast, we can come back out here. Maybe you can help out in the garden too…”

He lifted his hand towards you with a smile.

“Come on,” he softly urged you.

You looked at his outstretched hand, brows drawing together just a tad. You looked back towards the pond and the trees…you looked back towards freedom, and you felt your stomach twist. Peter was so far away…but you didn’t doubt that he’d catch you in no time. The thought of reverting back to square one was enough to make you shudder in fear, recalling that day you’d seen Steve punishing Margaret by that very tree just over there.

The next time Peter called after you, he said your name, and his tone had lost some of it’s gentleness. It was sterner now, voice dropping some, and when you looked at him, his smile had fallen just a tad. His brown eyes still held some of their warmth, but there was something in them, a warning that had you tensing.

“Come on, pretty girl…”

Your shoulders drooped, and with one last glance at the trees, you slowly returned to him. Peter’s hand grasped yours, and his smile returned to it’s full luster. Peter pulled you into his side before leaning in and pressing a kiss to your temple. You got the feeling that you’d just passed some kind of test, and you couldn’t tell if that was good or bad. There was a pep in his step unlike before, and despite the fact that you’d clearly done something very right…

…you couldn’t help but feel very wrong.

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