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nexusnyx · 1 year

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miss sunshine

pre-outbreak Joel Miller x neighbor!reader [7.3k] summary: He's always been out of reach. A fantasy. Joel was too much of everything—too handsome, too friendly, too una-fucking-vailable for any of you. Too bad his kid adores you. (What a blessing.) Too bad she uses you as a scapegoat and lands him right on his door. One bottle of wine, and Joel shows you he might be closer than you thought. 📝 I wanted to try something different. Less hurt, less end-of-the-world bullshit. Let me know your thoughts. Reblogs and comments are much appreciated. ⚠️Smut. Minors, DNI. Explicit depictions of sex, oral (f and m receiving), riding, missionary, passionate neighbors sex, yay.

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ㅤㅤㅤㅤTexas, Summer of 2002.

When the bell rings, you think it's best to ignore it.

Living alone equals a lot of privileges, but the ability to go out alone and answer the door on a random Wednesday evening was not one of them. You're wearing compromising clothes and a robe, the bottle of wine you craved was finally open, and the last thing you wanted was to be murdered before enjoying it.

Then, you hear it. Your name, followed by, "It's Miller. Joel."

Fuck.

Well—this is exactly how many of your dreams started. Although this wouldn't go like them, for him, you'd open the door.

His eyes do little to hide the once-over when the door slides open.

They go down, then back up, and he seems to catch on to the fact that you saw it. Then, he shakes his head just a little, and says, "Is Sarah here?"

Well, well, well. You lean against the door. "Did she say she was?"

Joel pierces you with his Dad Look. "Yes." Obviously, it goes without saying.

What other reason would he have, right? Clearing your throat, you feel the anxiety bubbling underneath the surface. "Uhm. She isn't," you look apologetic as you say it. As if it's your fault his prepubescent daughter uses you as a scapegoat.

His sigh is enough to make you feel how tired he is. Overworked. Exhausted.

You try to understand what might've happened before he loses his mind, "What time d'you usually come back from work? Maybe she's at a friend's. She probably thought you'd be back later than this."

He finishes rubbing both palms all over his face, and he threads one hand through his hair. "I'm usually back at nine—well, I'm supposed to be back at nine. I'm usually home by ten." That checks out, then. "But—that doesn't explain why she lied to me."

"Any special occasions coming up soon?"

Joel frowns. "Uhm. My birthday's in a few days, but—"

"Ahhhh." It shuts his mouth, the way you exclaim it so clearly. "She's brainstorming, Joel."

"Brainstorming...?"

"A gift." No daughter had easy access to what made their fathers happy. You take pity on him. "C'mon—let me scare the little one."

You walk inside without waiting for his reply, knowing Joel will make his way in. "What d'you mean, scare her?"

The noise of his boots hitting the floor makes you happy.

You take the phone out of the wall and look at him. "She always keeps that cellular phone with her when she goes out?"

"Always," he nods.

"Perfect." You know it by heart already. As you dial, you feel Joel's eyes on your house. It's the first he's ever been inside, and it makes you hyperaware of every movement of his. "It's ringing," you inform him with a grin forming.

He looks confused. More tired than anything else, but it'll make sense in a second.

"Hey, miss Sunshine!" the nickname she gave you always brings a smile to your face.

Time to put on a show. Feigning panic in your voice, you yell-whisper on the phone, "S, love, would you mind telling me why on Earth is your pops—" you fake cover your end of the line to yell, "one minute!" then you're back at whispering again, "why is he parked outside my house right now? Is there something I should know?"

"Oh, shit! Shit, shit, shit, shit—"

You're glad he can't hear her end of it. "No time for panic. Explain."

"I am so sorry, Sunny! I thought he'd be back in like, two hours or something. Oh, god, can you please cover for me? I wrote a note saying I was at your place. Sleeping there. I was gonna call you before he came back home but Jenny and I—"

"You're at somebody named Jenny?" you repeat the information, looking at Joel with a question in your eyes, and when he nods, your heart soothes at knowing she's safe. "And you didn't think to mention your brilliant idea earlier?" going for the full effect again, you yell out, "One minute, Joel!"

At least she's fast in her rambles. "Yeah, yeah. My best friend. She's trying to help me come up with a surprise for him. I'm not there often and it's never on his birthday. I wanna make it special."

"Okay. Cool. Next time, fill me in as you make the plans."

"I will, I promise. Pinky promise. You think you can convince him I'm sleeping there?" the plea in her voice is adorable.

You chuckle. "I've got you, S." Joel sighs in relief in front of you. "Just one thing."

"Yeah?"

"Be back here tomorrow first thing in the morning. 7:30 sharp. I'm gonna invite your dad for breakfast, as punishment for your lack of planning, and you'll be the one making us the pancakes," before she can even answer, you go, "Toodles!" and hang up.

When you put your phone back at the base, you turn around with a proud smile.

Joel's looking at you funny. "You're good at that," he says.

"At what? Acting?" you laugh when nods. "I was a trouble child. I'm great at lying."

"Aren't those the same?"

"Eh. A thin line separates them." You can sense his awkwardness creeping up, so you do your best to think on the spot. "Is she one to escape?"

"Not really, no." He's shuffling on his feet, uncertain of what to do in your home. "She's never done this before."

"From what she told me, she's never around for your birthday."

"That's true."

"She wants to make a surprise for you," you inform. It puts that smile on his face that makes your knees a little weak. "And now she has to be back here at seven in the morning. All is well."

He laughs. "Yeah, I guess so."

He's gonna see himself out. You swallow all the nervousness that being in his presence creates and just... goes for it. "Is it hard? Having a kid?"

That relaxes some of the tension in his shoulders. He leans on the counter of your kitchen and shakes his head. "Not really. It's a lot of work, but it's not hard. It's rewarding."

I wish my mother felt the same. You smile at the truth in his words. "I can see it's hard work." He laughs again. "Well—I had just opened that before you rang the bell," you point at the Pinot on top of the counter. "Want a glass? Unless you tell me you're 'only beer' kind of guy, then I can't help ya."

Joel looks between you and the bottle a couple of times, then looks down at himself. "I'm uh—I'm all greasy and gross from work. You sure that's the company you want for wine?"

Rolling your eyes, you walk towards your glasses cabinets. "If I told you that you can go home and shower, you'd never come back."

"And that'd be a bad thing?"

"Sure it would. You're the only person in this entire street that hasn't interrogated me on my life so far, I feel left out. Offended, even," you add with a dramatic twist. Your robe flows around you, and you can't help but smile when you see his eyes following you.

It's the way he swallows visibly, almost audibly, that plants a seed of maybe inside your head. "I'm not usually one to pry."

You place both glasses on the counter. "Neither am I."

"I know. It's why I like ya," Joel says it with eyes on the glasses instead of you. "That and the way you talk to the plants."

Your hand on the corkscrew stops, and you want to slam your forehead against the wood. "Oh, god."

His laughter is so nice. "Nah, don't be embarrassed. 's why I gave you your nickname."

"Don't be embarrassed? That's mortifying, Joel. I thought no one—wait." Had you heard him right? "What d'you mean you gave me my nickname?"

Joel's head tilts, and he's definitely a charmer kind of guy. If you do have a chance, you might be fucked. "Your nickname."

"Miss Sunshine?" He nods. "I thought that was Sarah."

"No, Sarah used it first in front of you," he pulls one of the glasses closer to him. "I said it first."

Well... that made it just as special but in a different way. You pour the wine into both glasses. "Good to know. I was under the impression she was the creative genius in the household—I just. Quick question that I never asked her: Why?"

"'Cause every mornin' before I left for work you're there on that big window," he points at the glass window that's occupies ceiling to floor, the very reason you picked this house, "talking to your plants as if you're the sun itself waking them up. 's cute."

Cute. You hate how he has the ability to make you blush. What is this, fucking high school?

"That makes sense."

Joel wipes his palms on the side of his t-shirt and then looks up at you. "If I go home with the promise of comin' back, will you let me shower?"

Let me. You're thankful your arms are covered because you're unsure of what this man is capable of when he knows the effect he has on somebody.

"I'll let you," you answer.

Joel nods and his smile is so genuine that you wonder why you never tried before.

"'kay," he takes one sip of the wine, hums in approval, and then takes a deep breath. "'m gonna go. I'll be back to interrogate you."

"I'll leave the door open."

"No—Jesus bloody Christ, are you and Sarah mad? Lock the door, Sunshine." You like it so much when he's the one that says it. "I'm serious."

"Alright, jeez," you laugh.

It's less tense than you imagined as he puts his shoes back on and walks out of your door. Joel crosses the street with a little wave in your direction, and all you can think is—what on Earth am I gonna do to him?

When he's back, Joel smells so good it's intoxicating.

It makes your brain melt.

Minty and fresh. That's what his stuff smells like, and you know the idea of that scent's now painted on the walls of your brain.

He does that stupid little dad pose, widening both arms and lifting them up in a display of 'what do you think' before walking in.

It makes you want to push him against the wall, but you do your best at behaving.

For now.

"Brand new man?" you ask.

He points at his glass of wine, untouched since the moment he left. "Will be in a sec."

You wait for him to take a sip before extending him what you held in your hand before he arrived.

Joel eyed the cigarette and, thank fuck, there was none of the annoying judgment sometimes people carried. He stops his movement to sit on the stool and asks, "You smoke in here, or are we goin' outside?"

"There's a table there. Weather's nice. D'you mind?"

Joel grabs his glass, shaking his head. "Not at all, ma'am. Lead the way."

"Ma'am," you echo him, sounding disgusted. He laughs behind you, "Who am I, Mrs. Adler?"

Still laughing, Joel answers, "Nah. Too talkative for that."

You turn around with your mouth hanging open, trying very little to look offended. "I beg your pardon. We never spoke for longer than, what, five minutes?"

Joel shrugs his shoulders. His smile is as intoxicating as his presence. "I hear things."

"You hear things?" you ask, pushing open the door that leads outside.

"I do," he sips his wine, looking to the small terrace where your little table is. "My daughter's a gossiper, little Sunshine. I think y'should know that."

Little Sunshine. Goddamn this man.

"Should I be scared, here? I haven't even told her anything, but I feel like I should be."

"If you didn't tell her anythin', than why would you be?"

"Because!" you laugh, feeling just a little out of your depth with his smoothness. You expected more closeness from Joel. Less teasing, easy banter. "You're talking like someone who knows a lot, that's all."

"And I do," he says, sounding every bit as serious.

You sit down on one of the chairs — your chair, precisely — and watch as Joel walks around a little, taking in the environment. He adds, "Did ya know," pausing for a dramatic effect, he sips again, "that in all of three months, you became one of my daughters' favorite people?"

He pins you under his gaze.

You cross your legs, and watch happily as his gaze drops to the motion.

"Did I?" if you sip at his pace, you'll be throwing yourself on his lap in an embarrassing amount of time.

Joel nods behind his cup, touching one of the many plants that cover your backyard area from floor, to walls, to ceiling. "You did," he smiles, dropping the fake seriousness. "Are you ready to deal with the six months absence? 'Cause from personal experience," he points both hands at his chest, "you try convincing yourself you won't miss her all that much 'cause, y'know, it's "just" a girl, but—fuck," he spits the last word, smiling widening around the fact. "She's so cool to have around. You'll see. Your phone's bill's about to create life."

It grounds you.

The way Joel speaks of Sarah makes you feel comfortable sitting here, and any doubts you had are sucked by the green life around you and returned as oxygen.

Joel talks about anything, no reservations.

In his absence, you doubted whether this could be any different than most times.

Would Joel be like that—like any of those other guys?

He wasn't.

Joel, as much as you hated to admit it, was an exception.

Maybe these things were fated. Simple chemistry. Similar mindsets. Whatever it was—you had it every once in a blue moon.

Your expectations settings were long ago molded to expect the least, and it takes only half a bottle of wine for you to notice the need to rear it in.

He's so damn easy. Joel goes from one topic to another like he's interested. He answers your questions with full interest, sometimes going on tangent stories, and he's the one who keeps the glasses filled.

Attentive, you take note the second time that happens. Before any of the glasses got empty, he served you both.

He compliments your taste in music and sounds genuine about it.

The weird silences you most dreaded never happen—if he's not answering you, Joel asks things. Interesting things, unlike any other neighbor.

"Was it you who decorated your place inside? 'Cause, there are very specific things in there. And you seem like the type to know what you like."

Joel was very attentive.

He asked, "and is this what you like to do with your free time?" pointing at the books you put away when you both arrived, "Drink wine, read, talk to your plants?"

"I still can't believe you've seen me doing that."

He laughed at that. "It's a pretty big window, Sunshine. Jesus Christ—you don't lock the door, you don't know people can see through your gigantic-ass window—I'm genuinely starin' to get worried here."

"Okay, first of all, I do lock my door."

"Do you?"

"'Course. Most days."

"Oh my—"

"—and! Now that I was reminded of my window's size, I'll consider buying drapes. Long, white ones. That'd be cool."

It was easy.

Talking to Joel—sharing a table with him, a glass of wine—so easy.

He never looked uncomfortable. Even if he moved a lot, Joel looked good—so damn good you lost focus every now and then—, but good with himself.

In his skin.

That was intoxicating.

When he does more than just talk and asks things; it's almost too damn easy. Was time supposed to go this way?

The first bottle end, but it's too soon.

You know it. He knows it—plays with it, in fact. Waves the empty bottle after pouring it for you and him in the air very lightly then places it on the floor.

Offering another one is almost a visceral reaction.

You don't have the same finesse he does, or at least, you think not, but if his smiles and closing proximity are anything to go by, he's enjoying himself as much as you are. "I dance around opening these a lot," you say pointing at the empty bottle. Pulling your legs closer to yourself despite the voice of your mother telling you that's a body language sign of insecurity—fuck insecurity. "Don't wanna be the wine lady on top of the plant one. But they're good. I like it."

"I only drink wine when my brother cooks," he offers.

The glass in your hands makes you feel safe enough to land this conversation where you want it. "Really? He cooks a lot?"

"More than me," Joel confesses with a shrug. "He likes to match the wine to the dish and that type o' stuff."

"I was taught how to be picky, but if I'm being honest—" you like the way Joel leans in closer when you pause it. You smile, "it's all just grapes tastin' really, really good." The sound of his damn laugh. This man's gotta have a flaw, you think. "As long as it's wine, I'm happy."

"I think that about a good beer after a day of work."

"We're all just trying to give ourselves little positive reinforcements for playing nice at doing our jobs, huh?"

Joel pauses at that. Lifts his eyebrows, then bursts out laughing. "Oh, wow—"

"Oh god", while it took you a lot of alcohol to get drunk, being open-mouthed about weird things came with the territory of feeling comfortable.

Joel made you comfortable, even if you were mortified at how amused he was.

When he's done laughing, he looks at you. "That's cute. You're the philosophical type."

"Isn't everybody who enjoys wine?"

"I don't know. I enjoy wine and I'm not one to go that far, I think."

"Hmm. Philosophizing can involve different topics. Lenses."

Joel wolf whistles. "Well, I think I'd need a couple more glasses to unlock that side of me."

"Not a problem," you get up, and resist the urge to wink at him. "I'll be back."

Your reflection in the kitchen mirrors is the confirmation of how fucked exactly you are.

It's more than just the color on your cheeks—it's the glassy screen over your eyes, making it shine like...

Well, very few times.

Fuck, you think.

Maybe that's why your palms are sweating.

He's more than you bargained for—Joel's looks were hard to move on from, but this?

Once in Rome...

Fuck it.

It's not as if either one of you was blinded to what a moonlight late-night conversation leads to.

The air outside could be felt.

When you're going back with the opened bottle, another pin drops in your mind.

He has the whole night free.

You don't break the bottle, but it's a close call.

Joel asks you the second you're back, "I have a depressing confession to make—I was tryin' to keep to it to myself, but honestly, it's all I taught about when you left."

You place the bottle in the middle of the table carefully and sit back down with your eyes on him.

He moved his chair closer again.

"Do share," you urge.

Joel looks around the yard—he seems to do it a lot when he's dipping his toes into personal places and says, "This is the first time in a—uh—I don't even know. A while. That I just... sat with another adult. Drank something nice. Talked about more than just—fucking politics, or whatever." Joel's eyes on you make you feel honored. You know he'd say that's a silly thought if you said it out loud. "It's really nice. And—the depressing part comes in now: I'm only here 'cause of my brother."

You tilted your hair. "You're here because... of Tommy?" you tried connecting those dots, but came up short.

Thankfully, Joel was here. With his smile, and his explanation.

"You see, before Sarah's mom and I decided she could spend some months here instead of just a few weekends, I was already... shutting in. His words, not mine," Joel picks up his glass for a sip, and you hang onto every word he says. "So when she came, he took me out one night. That little bar a few blocks from here—y'know Mr. O'Donovan's place?" when you shake your head, he waves a hand, "I'll take you someday—'s the only place around here that's worth a dime."

"I'll take your word for it." I hate bars. You'd go for him. With him.

"I think I know what beer you'd like," it comes off as a whisper, and you have to hide behind your glass again. "I only remember that talk because he made me promise. He's not one to ask for promises."

"What did he make you promise?"

"He was upset 'cause I kept turnin' him down every time he wanted to do his 'meet my friend and you'll be good friends' match-making shit, so he said, 'you promise that the next time someone invites you do somethin' you actually wanna do, you're not gonna turn 'em down? You'll actually fucking go, without makin' excuses to yourself'. And that sounded fair. So I promised."

You take note of the effort he's making.

The subtle 'this isn't just about what's about to happen'.

'I'll take you someday'.

'Next time someone invites you to do somethin' you actually wanna do'.

So more than just neighbors. You nod at that, smiling at him. "He seems like a good brother," you say. "Siblings can be a pain in the ass."

Joel stops his glass on the way to his lip to shake his head at you, "Oh, no no," he takes the sip first, and says, "one doesn't negate the other. He very much is a pain in my ass, trust me."

You laugh. "Older and younger?"

"Younger," he nods. "I had a lil' bit of peace here and there before he was born."

"Can't imagine you'd have it any other way nowadays."

He agrees with you.

When he doesn't, Joel scrunches his nose as he shakes his head.

He does silly faces. You wonder if he's aware of how unfair it is that he gets to look like that. Tender. Charming.

He proves your theory to be right with only half another bottle.

Put two or more adults plus a certain amount of alcohol in a closed environment, and sex will be on the table.

It makes you blush when you think... it could literally be on the table.

Joel pretends he doesn't see you growing hotter. He keeps his eyes on you as you take off the robe instead of looking at your arms. Listens to what you're saying without losing focus.

Only when you're done and asking him something in response that he looks.

It makes your throat dry when he does.

Joel has an unabashed, almost cocky tilt to his mannerisms.

You thought he'd be quieter than he is—more serious.

It's a welcomed contrast.

When sex is laid on the table, it comes because he brought up the joke you made at the beginning of the night about his lack of interest in your life, and decided to ask you things. Where you grew up. If you were always like this.

"Define 'like this'."

"Smart with the calculating glance, and sweet-talking."

"Is that me?"

"Sure is, Sunshine."

None of the questions that people usually ask.

It makes you bite your lip more than you wished—his manly, tall presence gets under your skin in ways that no previous partner managed to. Tucking your hair behind your ear, avoiding leading the conversation to the exact places you liked, giggling—those weren't things you did.

He pulled them from you.

When he does ask you the 'usual' questions, it lacks the malicious curiosity inflating others whenever they did.

Sex is laid on the table because Joel looks you in the eyes with that easiness in his shoulders and asks, "I'm not as private as you, though—all of my neighbors already know Tommy, and Sarah. You, on the other hand... the mysterious crime and horror novelist, who talks to her plants and moved from so, so far. I might not be the prying type, but I was curious about you long before my gremlin set her little claws on you. How come I never see anyone coming in or out of here? You tellin' me not one friend of yours followed you here to god-forsaken Texas?"

Your glass is almost empty, and you focus on the twirling of the red inside it to avert your mind from the way he's sitting. "The point of moving was getting away from them. All of them, as bad as that sounds," you cover your eyes with your free hand, and Joel's hand touches your forearm.

"Hey—it's fine. Don't feel bad. 'm happy you had the privilege of gettin' away. If you wanted to move away from all of it, I'm sure you had your reasons."

Looking between your fingers, you try appraising his face. "Really?"

"Really," he nods.

"Okay." You sit up straight. "And I do have people over, sometimes. You're just always at work."

"Yeah? You made friends already?"

"A few, yeah."

"Where?" he removes his hand from your forearm but drops it to your chair's armrest. The proximity is doing something to you. "I thought you worked from home."

"I do," you agree. "But I do other stuff. I'm not always here with my plants, Joel," you roll your eyes, smiling amusedly.

Joel laughs, "I wouldn't know. If I could work from home and stay with my tools and wood, I would."

"And I believe you," you nodded.

He bites on his smile before asking. "What other stuff d'you do?"

"I joined a book club," you reply, feeling all levels of boring.

From his look, he disagrees. "You got the patience for that?"

"Sure do," you nod again.

He nods, pouting in awe. "Nice," he says. "Are your book club friends givin' you the right impression of Texans?"

"I'm warming up to them," you smile.

Nodding, he asks, "Should I ask now the questions all my neighbors already know the answer to? 'Cause I am curious. Did you know Mr. Adler tried tellin' me what he 'discovered' about you? He tried looking blasé when he said that, but I'm sure he just wanted to gossip about the pretty girl who moved across from him."

"Ew, Joel," you laugh.

His eyes never leave you—you feel it even when you're not looking at him. He's laughing too. "What? It's true."

When you look back up at him, you wonder—when did you two get this close?

"You can ask," you say. "It's not that exciting, the answer. Actually, it's not exciting at all."

"Hmm, I'll be the judge of that," he sips his wine, and leaves the glass on the table. "You already know my backstory, so kill my curiosity now," he pierces with his eyes for a moment, "how on Earth is there no ring on this finger?" he points to your ring finger, then he leans in closer, and you can smell the wine in his breath; you want to kiss it until it's taste is gone, "and how is it that I never see anyone leaving here early in the mornings?"

Well. "No ring 'cause I didn't want one so far," you reply. To him, you give more honesty than anyone else who's asked. "And I have the luxury of living without it. I know many friends of mine who don't—and actually, that was part of..." don't go there. "Nevermind," you shake your head, pinning yourself to here.

"You just didn't want it?" he echos.

You nod, "Never did," there's no reason to lie to him. He smells so good—why would you lie to him? "Most men bore men, Joel."

"Wow," the smile that widens is a little baffled. A little dirty. "Should I be scared?"

At that, you burst out laughing. "Really?" You have no clocks outside, but the starry sky and the deep silence in the houses next to you are a good enough indicator. "It's been... a couple of hours, at least. We're one bottle and a half," you say, looking at your glasses shining on the table, "deep into conversation... and you wonder if you should be scared?"

Joel's still looking at you when you look back. His arm is around your chair, and your back touches it when you lean back against it. "I'll take that as a no."

"You are very far from boring."

"'m happy you think so," he smiles. He lets his eyes drop to your lips, without a care for the two palms of distance that separate your faces. It's meant to be blatant. Obvious. "Just another question..."

Here it comes, you thought. Why no kids? Why so alone? Do you feel lonely?

"Why me?" he asks.

It's nothing more than a breath.

You could ignore it. Give any answer, and close the gap. Instead, you give him honesty. "Honestly? I was so attracted to you, the second I saw you, that I was willing to even hear somethin' stupid coming out of your mouth if I could just—," do it, do it, do it. Seeing his eyes darken from up close is torture. You can feel the pulse of your heartbeat between your legs. "Now, if I were any smart, I'd be wishing for you to be bad at all the rest, because..."

This was amazing already.

Joel laughs, just a single, breathy laugh, and then does something you would never see it coming.

He pushes his chair back with the weight of his hips and drops to his knees.

The gasp you let out is enough to put the most insufferable smile on his face.

"Don't say that," he feigns hurt, as if he wasn't smiling with his eyes and lips. "It might've been a while, but I don't think I lost my touch just yet."

Joel's hands envelop your knees and slowly pull them apart. You feel like an open wire—aware of every breath your body takes and each minimum reaction to him.

You feel the wet pulse inside your panties when he kisses the skin of your inner thigh, right above your knee.

Joel smiles up at you, blinking his eyes.

Damn him, you think. His hands caress their way up your skin, and you wished you were naked already.

He seems like someone to enjoy the torture—when his hands reach the curve of your ass, they stop there, holding onto your waist.

"Have I?" he asks, kissing the other inner leg. You feel a hint of his tongue in the short kiss.

What could you say to that?

"You really haven't."

Feeling the hot breathing of his laughter on your inner thighs was not in your list for tonight.

"Do I get a kiss, then?"

He would never have to ask you twice.

Your legs wrap around his torso when you lean down to meet him for the kiss. Joel seems to love the position—he smiles at first, gripping you by the neck.

He takes his time to look at you before he dives in. A mental check-in. Maybe just admiring, just as you were from the second he kneeled.

His kiss comes from experience. A lot of fucking experience.

If you were weak in the knees before, you seal the notion that you're out of your depth there and then.

Joel kisses like no one's ever kissed you before—like he wants to explore, discover, conquer.

He licks his way inside of you with the first kiss.

His tongue isn't shy; he makes you adjust to his rhythm, to let go and open up, and when you, you're rewarded with it—he pulls up just an inch, just to whisper, "that's it," and then dives back in.

Joel wraps his arm around your shoulder and neck in a possessive manner. It's why he makes it so easy for you let him guide it—he's holding you, and you moan as you melt into him.

He wants to feel your body.

The more you press yourself against him, the more Joel grants you little sighs of his own pleasure.

He never pushes his hips against you. Never presses you towards him.

It makes you want to scream.

When he pulls away, Joel sighs happily. He presses his right thumb over your swollen bottom lip, and nodding, kneels on his heels again.

"Joel..."

Your face remains close to his, gravitating to where he does. He whispers, "Lift your hips up for me, Sunshine," wrapped around a smile.

You do as he says.

His hand takes off your shorts without your eyes ever leaving you, and when the item is on the floor, Joel releases the robe you foregone earlier tonight from your backrest to slide down where you sit.

To not make a mess, it says.

Your face is burning up, but not as much as the rest of you.

"Is this ok?" he asks.

He waits for your nod of approval before pulling you by your knees. "Good," he's strong enough to get you where he wants in one pull. Your hips are nearing the end of the chair and from this angle, Joel gets to look.

He eyes the underwear as if it's personally offending him.

"I like the color," he says. He traces a finger across the baby blue lace and looks up at you. "Suits ya," he says. That's when he hooks a finger on the fabric, pulling it to the side. "I dreamt about this."

That gets to you.

Joel's fingers are thorough—able. He uses his knuckles to spread the lips apart, uncaring about the whines you let out above him, still holding on to the shame of being the only one exposed.

It lasts until he places two knuckles on each side of your clit, stimulating it with back-and-forth movements.

You were right about the torture.

He enjoys it.

Joel waits for your clit to be hard between his fingers before he puts his mouth to it.

You can only cling onto his hair.

I dreamt about this, too.

"Fuck—I dreamt about this too," you confess.

His moan vibrating against the core of your pussy makes you clench.

Joel's only starting.

He takes his time in finding the rhythm you most feel pleasure on your clit. He never bites, never nibbles, and doesn't go softly, like other men.

He eats.

Joel's mouth is stuck to you—the way he laps and slurps and sucks on your hardened nub only makes your volume go from whines and pleas of his name to moans in very little time.

That's when he dips his tongue inside. When he uses it as muscle and proves to you why the idea of oral is so good for men.

Because it's good.

Joel gives no indicator that he wants to stop at any time, and it turns you into something that blossoms.

At some point between him almost making you cum just by sucking on your clit and fucking his tongue in and out of you, your legs made their way to his shoulders, and his hands have secured themselves groping your ass.

He pulls back for air, once.

His fingers enter you instead, two at once.

"So wet already," he says. You only hear it, until, "look at me," he asks.

As if his thick, long fingers dripping into places inside of you weren't enough, you get to look at him.

His face glistening on your back porch is something that burns behind your eyelids the second you see it. You feel incoherent, needy, and exposed in more than one way.

Joel looks like he could eat you like this.

"Joel—please. Please," you're begging, but for what, you're not sure.

"Cum for me first. I'll give you whatever you want later, just," he pumps his fingers inside of you, keeping a steady and strong pace, and then says, "You look so good like this, Jesus fuckin' Christ."

Profanities.

That's what he says before getting his mouth back on you—his tongue sucking and vibrating against your clit.

It's too much. Too fucking much, and, "Joel, Joel—"

He pulls back just to say it, "That's it, doin' so good, Sunshine—" and that's when you lose it. The coaxing. It's so earnest. Sounds so pleased, dipping in honey as if it's him who's feeling this good.

"'m gonna cum Joel, fuck me, just like that—"

"Like this? Hm? Show me. Cum on my mouth."

All it takes is for him to put it back on you. Joel knows how to push himself inside—knows how to explore the hot and tight confines of your cunt, because he coos a first orgasm out of you with the right pace only.

No strength. No speed. Just sucking, and curling right against your spot.

Your vision whites out.

The time you take to come back to yourself, he keeps playing with your pussy and the mess he made in it, seeming as satisfied with the result as you are. Somewhere in white land.

What a little death.

After that, it's more a mess and clashes of teeth and desires than you knew you were even capable of.

He pulls you in for a kiss, and you pull him inside the house.

The idea is to make it to your room, but you never make it past the living room.

When you press him against a wall to finish taking off his clothes, seeing him only in briefs makes gravity pull you in.

Nothing but black briefs.

You have to drop to your knees.

Joel curses under his breath and tries his best at keeping his posture, but you're with a mind entirely clouded by raw need.

To him, you want to do only your best.

You're addicted to the way he mutters, "atta girl," every time you discover something that brings him pleasure. It sounds so fucking dirty.

"That's it. Atta fuckin' girl, god."

With him, you use tricks your friends once told you that are buried in the back of your mind. You hold the part of his cock your mouth can't cover and move it in sync with your lips. You make it wet, make sloppy, make it whatever he leads it to be.

Joel hisses and moans louder when you find the special places hidden—the sensitive skin between his balls that leads up, you lick it from start to finish and are rewarded with a full-body shudder.

He shows you what strong body means.

"Where's your room?" he pulls you by the arms, and you somehow end up jumping on him. Exactly what you wanted.

"I'm not makin' that far," you tell him with a grin.

He has his thumb on your lips again—he seems to like your mouth.

"Didn't think you'd want my bare ass on your couch."

"That is exactly where I want your bare ass right now," you tell him.

He's good at following requests, just as he is at giving them.

Joel sits with you already straddling his lap, and bless his gentleman's heart, he says, "I left my pants outside—wait," he curses under his breath with your hips circling his shaft. Letting it slide between your pussy lips. "Fuckin' hell."

"Fuckin' hell indeed," you sigh. "Wait here."

You run outside for it, only because you're not on the pill. Maybe you'll start taking it. Maybe you shouldn't think that far.

Joel's waiting for you alright—he has his hand at the base of his cock, sitting on your couch like a modern-day Adonis.

A sluttier Adonis. Sexier, too.

"Stop starin' and c'mere," he demands;

And who are you to say no to that?

Joel does you the favor of putting it on as you make yourself comfortable on his lap again, taking all of your out of the way. He looks like he wants to eat you alive piece by piece, and you love it.

"Lemme know if you want me to take over," he tells you.

"Yes, sir," you whisper in a taunting manner.

Joel rests his forehead against yours when you line himself up with you, and it's a reward of your stupid, gigantic-ass window letting in the light from outside that allows you to see the pleasure on his face as you sink around him, burying him to the hilt.

His digits press so hard on your sides they'll brise.

You'll be bruised tomorrow morning.

Fingerprints on your hips, beard burns on your inner legs, palm shapes across your ass.

When you start moving, none of you say a word about how it feels.

It's criminal.

Only curses and your names are allowed in the thin space separating your wet bodies.

The thin layer of sweat makes you two glide on each other, and the drag of him inside of you is almost too good for words.

You're scared of the ones that'd make their way out, anyway.

So you let out what you can. You call for him, and he calls back. Joel slaps your ass, both sides of it, and urges you on to take him as you want it.

"Fuckin' christ, I'm never gonna—fuck—never gonna sleep again."

There it is. Being pussy-drunk makes him loose-lipped.

Your own are aching with how hard you bite on them.

Joel lets the reigns remain on your hands as you stay on top. He lets you ride him painfully slow, and faster, just because it feels good. He lets you climb all the way up only to slam back down, praising you through the fog in your brain.

"Does it feel good, Sunshine? Mm? My cock feels that good for you?"

You're sure it'll all come back to haunt you once your brain can be coherent.

He takes charge when you start begging him, and for what, you're unsure of. It's a mixture of please and his name, which Joel takes as his permission slip.

He flips you onto your back, hooks one of your legs on the middle of his back, and fucks you both into another orgasm.

It should be concerning the way he does it—like he's familiar with your body and your cues. He just follows your pace and moans until you're clawing at his back, and when his name comes out over and over again, he coaxes it again. Coos at you, holding your face in one hand. "You're gonna cum for me, aren't ya? Do it. I'll cum for you when I feel you shakin' around my cock, Sunshine. Cum for me."

It comes so hard you almost faint; blackout.

Joel takes care of you afterward.

Of course he does.

Even with the weakest legs and the minimum sense of reality around you, he manages. Joel leads you upstairs, tells you he's collected your clothes, and even lays down when you ask him.

"Just for a while," you ask.

He lays in front of you in bed, and pulls your arms around him. "I'm puttin' an alarm."

Little spoon. "You gotta be back here in the morning anyway."

"I know," he kisses your wrist. "Can't wait."

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aemondsbabe · 2 months

Text

Give Me an O!

summary: billy walks in on you in a bit of a compromising situation, and you finally go after what you want

pairing: billy hargrove x cheerleader!reader

warnings: mature/explicit, 18+ (minors dni!), no use of y/n, afab reader, reader is very flexible, minor injury it's fine, piv sex, unprotected sex oopsy daisy, public sex technically, hand over mouth, fingering, breast/nipple play if you blink, dirty talk, reader's hair is long enough that she can have a ponytail but no other physical descriptors are used, billy is a himbo, steve harrington cameo

word count: 5k

a/n: finally getting around to a request from @sweetshifter! thank you for the idea bby & i hope ya enjoy! also, my first time writing for stranger things! yay! images in the header are for aesthetic purposes only!

likes, comments, & reblogs are very appreciated but never required!

gif creds to @unwanted-animal

🖤 my masterlist

🌟add yourself to my taglist to be notified when i post new fics!

“You sure you don’t want me to stay with you?” Your best friend asks as she slings her gym bag over her shoulder, “I don’t mind staying a couple minutes.”

“Nah,” you shrug, still panting a little from practice as you lean to the side with a little sigh, stretching down toward your leg, “You go on, I’ll catch you tomorrow.”

“Alright, cool,” she chirps, glossy lips flicking up into that sincere, beaming smile that had become her signature, “Bye!” She calls over her shoulder as she turns, white tennis shoes thumping against the shiny wooden floor as your name echoes around the gym.

“Bye, Chrissy!” You reply with a smile, glancing up as the heavy metal doors at the side of the room click closed, leaving you alone for the time being.

With a tired huff, you check your watch, one that matched Chrissy’s exactly – gold with a baby pink face. You’d gotten them at the mall last summer, a joint birthday present.

4:34pm.

A sigh leaves your lips as you lunge forward, hands planted firmly on your hips as you try to ignore the slight burn in your thigh. So, that’s… like, forty-five minutes until basketball practice starts, you think, eyes pointed up at the white metal ceiling as you do mental math, trying to figure out exactly how long you’ll have to work on your stretches.

Deciding to give yourself a few more minutes before calling it a day, you breathe out steadily through your pursed lips as you switch sides and lunge forward again, savoring the light burn in your calf. After a fifteen second count, you move onto your hands and knees, needing to stretch out your back.

You hum softly under your breath, one hand planted firmly against the blue tumbling mat beneath you as the other reaches back and grabs onto one of your ankles, your limbs forming a graceful arch above you. A small grunt leaves you as you pull your leg up as high as you can, before dropping it down and reaching back with your other hand to do the other side. Mid-pose, you swear you hear one of the gym doors click open, the one out to the hallway with the locker rooms and various storage closets judging by the direction, but you’re so focused on holding your pose, you honestly can’t be sure.

Huffing, you decide to just ignore it – Probably just the janitor or something, you think, keeping your eyes focused, once again, on the white metal ceiling as you roll over onto your back.

Breathing steadily, you let your eyes slip closed as you press both legs together before slowly lifting them up, using your hands and elbows to support your back as you lift onto your shoulders. Wincing slightly at the twinge of pain from your left one, you work through it, trying to keep your breath steady. As your green and gold cheer skirt pools at your waist, you silently pray that if it is a janitor, that it’s at least not the creepy one.

Slowly but surely, you work both legs up and over your head until the tips of your white sneakers press into the mat, your arms planted firmly onto the floor for support.

One Mississippi, two Mississippi, three Mississippi, you count silently, breathing a little shakily as you focus on balancing… and on ignoring your shoulder.

Suddenly, a loud wolf-whistle cuts through the silence of the gym, punctuated by a few slow claps and the heavy footsteps of someone walking across the wooden gym floor.

“Aah!” You squeak as you topple to the side, concentration thoroughly broken. Huffing, you prop yourself up on one elbow as your head snaps up, eyes already narrowed into an irritated glare. Upon seeing who it is, you can’t help but sneer.

“Can I help you, Hargrove?” You sigh, exasperated, rolling your eyes as you angle both legs out in a side split, determined to get through your stretches even with the added annoyance of Billy’s presence.

“Just admiring the view, princess,” he drawls, blue eyes trailing up the length of each of your spread legs in a way that makes your cheeks flush, “You’re real good at that, aren’t you?” He questions, plump lips quirked up into that signature, flirtatious smirk.

“Good at what?” You ask, brows furrowing as you bend over to the left, easily grasping the toe of your tennis shoe as the muscles in your legs stretch into a taut, familiar ache.

He chuckles at that, hands on his hips as he studies you, the spicy, woodsy smell of his cologne filling the space around you. He cocks his head to the side, pearly white teeth flashing every few seconds as he chews a piece of gum.

“Stretching,” he all but purrs, golden curls blowing slightly from the large fans that hum loudly on the ceiling. His tongue darts out to wet his lips as he ogles at you, watching carefully as you bend to the right, “I bet it’d be really easy to just fold you up like a pretzel, huh, sweets?”

With a sigh, you finally let yourself relax for a moment and tilt your head up to look at the boy as you lean back on your hands, your ponytail swishing across your shoulder blades as you do.

“In your dreams, Billy,” you murmur, trying to keep the expression on your face plaid, wholly uninterested, which is easier said than done.

You don’t like Billy, and you’re very quick to correct anyone who says you do, even if it is just friendly teasing. But, well, there’s something about him that just draws people into his orbit – charisma combined with a certain mystique. You knew from talking to the girls in the locker room that he was a lady’s man, and a player, but from how they all talked about him, there appeared to be something more there, some hidden layer that no one had been able to crack yet. He’s different from the other boys in Hawkins, no small town charm to hide behind.

Plus, come on, he’s gorgeous. You might not be Billy’s biggest fan but you have eyes.

“Damn right, in my dreams,” he murmurs, pulling you from your thoughts as he draws out every syllable of your name in a low, husky tone, familiar smirk playing at his lips like always.

Cocking your head, you narrow your eyes as you peer up at him, “Aren’t you going out with Amber now?”

“Wouldn’t exactly call it going out…,” he answers as he bends down on one knee to retie the laces of his shoe, shooting you a little wink as he does so.

“Does Amber know that?”

He pauses at that, a little huff of laughter bubbling up from his chest as he fixes you with a grin that is much too self-satisfied for your liking. “Now, princess,” he starts slowly, blue eyes narrowing at you playfully as he rests a forearm across his knee, “Why do you care so much about what I’m doing with Amber?”

“She’s my friend, Billy,” you say, sitting up a little more, the chill from the AC units making the hairs at the nape of your neck stand on end.

“So, it’s definitely not because you’re, I dunno, jealous or anything?”

“No!” You cringe inwardly as you say it, too quick and too defensive and just what the blue eyed boy had been hoping for, judging by the smug grin plastered on his face.

This is how it’s been between the two of you for months now, ever since his stupid Camaro had rumbled into the school’s parking lot way back in August. Since then, it’s been a whirlwind of teasing jokes, sitting through History class after History class as you feel those blue eyes practically boring a hole in the back of your head, and somehow mustering up the willpower to dodge his advances.

In the nearly three months since his arrival, Billy had managed to charm his way through at least a handful of girls, maybe more depending on which rumors you listen to, but you are determined not to fall for it, not to be just another notch on his bedpost.

Which would be a lot easier if he’d leave you the hell alone.

Flustered, you pull your knees up, tucking your chin over top of them as your arms wrap around your calves, silently rolling your eyes as Billy drops to the blue tumbling mat, rolling onto his back with a satisfied sigh, making it clear to you that he was here to stay.

“Why’re you here so early, anyway?” You question, glancing at your watch once more, “Basketball practice isn’t for, like, another half hour.”

“Had to drop my stupid step-sister off at some trash arcade,” he grunts, annoyed, “Didn’t wanna waste the gas to go all the way home, plus…,” he pauses, tilting his head to the side to slyly grin at you once more, “I figured I might get here early enough to catch the end of cheer practice.”

“Creep,” you scoff, much more playfully than you’d intended to.

The two of you fall into a, surprisingly, comfortable beat of silence. You let your eyes trail over Billy as his own droop shut, one arm propped behind his head as he lazes on the gym mat, jaw clenching every so often as he works the gum in his mouth. You start at his feet, taking in the faded black canvas material of his Converse before you let your eyes roam up his long, tanned, muscular legs. Finally, you reach the familiar dark green shade of his school-branded shorts and your eyes wander up the expanse of his stomach and chest, covered by the grey t-shirt he wears, the familiar eyes of Hawkins High’s tiger mascot staring blankly into your own.

You nearly gasp as your eyes trail up to his face again, only to find his steely eyes already looking at you, a knowing smirk etched into his face as you feel the apples of your cheeks flush.

“It’s rude to stare, princess,” Billy drawls, catching you red handed.

“And it’s not rude to perv on me stretching?”

“Never said it wasn’t,” he shrugs with a little chuckle, sitting up and resting one forearm on a bent knee. You merely roll your eyes as he studies you for a second, the blush on your cheeks deepening enough that you can feel the slight tingle of blood rushing under the surface.

“Whatever,” you sigh, shaking your head as you stretch your legs out in front of you again. You stretch forward again, letting out a breath as you grab at your ankles and try to ignore the way Billy sits up, propping his forearm up on a bent knee.

“Could you, like, put your legs behind your head and all that?”

“Probably,” you say with a little eye roll.

“Will you?”

“Not for you!”

The two of you carry on like that for a moment longer — you working through various stretches and familiar yoga poses as Billy seems overly curious about each one, questioning if you can twist into all kinds of poses.

“Can you do a handstand and do the splits?” He questions, grinning when you groan in frustration, eyes trailing up your long legs to the bottom of your short cheer skirt.

With a huff, you stand with one hand on your hip, the other pinching at the bridge of your nose as Billy’s incessant questions throw you off the silent count in your head again.

“Did you want something or are you just trying fuck me over?”

“Mmm, close, princess,” the blond teases, earning another glare from you. Playfully, he holds his hands up in surrender, “You’re single, aren’t you?” He asks, smirking triumphantly at the way you balk.

“I’m not talking about this with you, Hargrove.”

His smirk widens when you don’t deny it, blue eyes darkening as they travel over the length of your body once more. “Look, all I’m saying is that the guys talk in the locker room and… well, I can’t help but notice that your pretty name just doesn’t come up.”

“Maybe I have better things to do than put out for you assholes,” you smirk, quickly stretching out your problem shoulder before kneeling back on the tumbling mat, meaning to finish up with a couple quick pushups.

Undeterred, Billy merely matches your smirk with one of his own, watching as you kneel next to him. “Just come with me to Harrington’s Halloween party next weekend, sweetness,” he offers, his voice a low rumble, “Come on, a couple hours, some drinks. Hell, I’ll even dress up with you, whatever you want.”

“Hmm,” you hum, taking a second to tighten your ponytail as you shoot him a playful little smile, “Whatever I want, huh?”

“Name it,” he says lowly, watching appreciatively as you get on all fours.

“Okay, how about…,” you stall, drawing out your words as you extend your legs behind you, grunting softly as your shoulder zings with pain once more, “Willie and Indiana Jo– Ah!” You cut yourself off, exclaiming in pain as you land with a small thud on the mat, wincing.

“Whoa, hey,” Billy says softly, scrambling onto his knees, brows furrowed as he gingerly helps you roll over onto your back, “You okay?”

You nod, glancing away with a little embarrassed huff as you rub at your shoulder. “Yeah, it’s nothing. I just probably sprained it earlier during practice or something.”

“Lemme take a look at it,” he says, offering a hand to help you up.

Not expecting such chivalrous behavior from Hargrove of all people, you only nod dumbly and let him pull you up off the mat, chest heaving.

“Here,” he murmurs, gently nudging at your arm until you turn your back to him. You can hear the tumbling mat crinkle as he steps closer to you, the warmth from his chest practically radiating through his t-shirt as the spicy musk of his cologne seems to envelope you once again.

“You better not be using this as an excuse to feel me up,” you warn, albeit playfully, pulling your ponytail over the opposite shoulder.

“In your dreams,” he teases, goosebumps peppering your skin from the low way he says your name and from the gentle brush of his fingers over the back of your arm as they trail their way up to your shoulder.

He’s silent for a moment, carefully pressing warm, slightly rough fingers against your skin, watching until you wince just slightly when he pokes at your shoulder blade. “That’s where it hurts?”

“Mhm,” you nod, lips parting ever so slightly as he kneads around the area. You can practically feel him smirking when you sigh a moment later, his fingers working perfectly over the sore muscle as his other hand anchors itself at your hip, “You’re… actually, like, really good at this,” you murmur with a little laugh, needing to find some way to break the silence.

“My mom is – was, she was a masseuse, back when we lived in Cali,” Billy explains, leaning in closer, his lips all but brushing against your ear as he speaks softly, like he’s telling you some deep, dark secret, “I might’ve looked at one or two of her books.”

“Really?” You ask, brows furrowing as you turn your head to look at him over your shoulder.

“Sue me, I was thirteen and they had nudes in ‘em,” he chuckles, biting into his bottom lip when your breathy laugh morphs into a moan when he presses just right against your shoulder. The fingers of his other hand tighten on your hip as he pulls you back against him, his lips just barely grazing over the crook of your neck, “But I still picked up a thing or two.”

“Clearly,” you breathe, brows tugging together as you tilt your head to the side, an open invitation. The blond doesn’t need any more convincing and you let your eyes flutter shut as his lips descend upon your neck, pressing hot kisses against the sensitive skin.

The rise and fall of your chest grows shallow as the two of you seem to lose yourselves; you gasp as the hand on your hip trails down over your thigh, until Billy can drag the tips of his fingers beneath the white and gold hem of your pleated skirt just as the hand on your shoulder begins slowly moving around your ribs, to your front. Despite the AC units humming away, you can’t help but feel flush as he presses himself against you, already half-hard against the small of your back.

With a gasp, you jerk away from him at the sound of a door opening and closing in the hallway, muffled voices and laughter filtering in through the closed doors of the gym.

“Dammit,” Billy mumbles behind you as he quickly glances at the clock hanging above one of the exits, sighing disappointedly when he sees the time – fifteen minutes until practice.

Deciding to finally give in to the wants you’ve been harboring for months, you grab one of his hands and playfully bite your lip, nodding to one of the sets of gym doors, “Follow me.”

Smirking, he follows behind you as you quickly make your way to the doors, both of you pausing for a second to make sure the coast is clear before you bolt down the hallway. A second later, you’re pushing Billy through a door into a random classroom.

“This is the old Health room,” you explain, gasping as he turns and presses you against the old door, the metal of it cool against your back as you quickly scan over the empty room, dim other than the early evening light spilling in through the thin slats of the blinds, “No one ever comes in here.”

“Uh huh, fascinating,” he nods, turning his head to spit his gum into a small trash can by the door, before eagerly pressing his lips to yours. He smirks into the kiss as you mewl, his lips parting to quickly swallow the sweet sounds you make.

Always one to give as good as you get, your lips move against his just as fervently, both of your hands trailing up underneath his t-shirt as you rub over his stomach, muscles taut under your touch. His tongue slips into your mouth in the same second he presses against you, his thin gym shorts doing nothing to conceal the hardness of his length as it presses against your lower stomach.

You arch into his touch as his hands cup your breasts through your uniform, a low growl rumbling through his chest as you rake your nails over his chest and down his stomach. Boldly, you reach down and palm at his cock, savoring the surprised grunt he lets out before you quickly nudge your hand down the front of his shorts and into his boxers.

“Shit,” he breathes, one hand still kneading at your breast as the other skates back up your thigh, his forehead resting against yours. Biting your lip, you watch through hooded eyes as you experimentally stroke over his cock, marveling at how hard he already is, like velvet over steel.

Just as you feel him twitch in your grasp, the blond pulls away from you with a teasing grin and presses one last kiss against your lips before tapping the back of your thighs, urging you to jump.

“Fuck, there you go,” Billy rasps, fingers digging into the curve of your ass as you clamber up into his arms, your shoulder only barely smarting as you wrap your arms around his neck. “I gotcha,” his muscular biceps flex as he quickly walks a few feet from the door and deposits on you on top of the, thankfully barren, teacher’s desk pushed haphazardly into the corner.

“Billy,” you sigh, the sound being practically pushed from your lungs as he presses himself back between your thighs, cheer skirt rumbled around your waist as he all but folds you in half – your hands cling to his shirt desperately, one leg wrapped securely around his hip as the other ends up slung nearly over his shoulder.

“Yeah, princess?” He taunts with a wolfish grin, smirking at the way the muscles of your thigh twitch as his fingers move toward your pussy, hardly hidden beneath your boyshorts. You all but levitate off the desk as two of his fingers swipe over your slit, the apples of your cheeks flushing when he chuckles triumphantly, the thin cotton doing nothing to hide how wet you are. “Finally gonna give me what I want?”

You can feel your ponytail bobbing wildly at the crown of your head when you nod, a whiny moan blooming from your lips when he moves his fingers in tight circles against your clit, the flimsy material of your underwear quickly dampening against his touch.

“Yeah, yeah, Billy,” your hands tremble as you pull at his t-shirt, desperate for what you’ve been wanting for so long, “C’mon, please!”

“Easy, tiger,” he laughs, tongue running over his bottom lip as he easily tugs his shirt over his head, your own hands scrambling to push down your boyshorts. Taking mercy on you yet again, he helps you, eagerly tugging the white cotton down your legs. He damn near tears them in two as he pushes your underwear over one sneaker, letting them dangle from your ankle.

“Holy shit,” he breathes, crowding against you again as you lean back on the desk, propped up on your elbows. You stare up at him, lips parted, as he all but folds you in half, warm hands pressing against the backs of your thighs, “Fucking leaking and I’ve barely touched you.”

“Oh!” You hiss, trying your hardest to keep your voice down, head thudding back against the desk as Billy quickly tugs his shorts down, just enough to get his cock out, and teasingly runs it through your folds, “Billy, oh my God, just do it!” You all but beg, teeth biting into your bottom lip at the wet sounds of him moving against you, deafeningly loud in the otherwise quiet room.

Were you anywhere else, Billy would have absolutely no qualms about teasing you to within an inch of your life – payback for playing cat and mouse with him for almost three months straight. Lucky for you, he’s just as nervous at the thought of getting caught with his pants down as you are, shuddering to think what Neil would do if he got expelled over this.

With a barely contained growl, he pushes into you, his cock sliding easily to the hilt with how wet you are. Your back arches off the desk as he slides home, stretching you beautifully as he fills you completely.

“Oh – oh my God,” you breathe as he stills, giving you a few seconds to adjust. Your hands scramble over the smooth top of the desk before you grab onto his wrists as his hands hook behind your knees.

“Fuck, you’re so tight,” he groans – the way he grumbles your name makes your walls clench around his length, punching another grunt from his chest as he starts shallowly thrusting against you, grinding his hips against yours.

The two of you dissolve into a flurry of breathy mewls and sighs, each of you desperately trying to keep quiet as the muffled sounds of skin against skin and the dull creaking of the desk fill the room. Your eyelids flutter as you watch Billy above you, golden curls bouncing with each of his thrusts as a light sheen of sweat covers his tanned chest.

Grunting lowly, he presses harder against the backs of your thighs, practically pressing your kneecaps against the desk below you, blue eyes sparkling as you easily follow his movements. With the small change in angles, the head of his cock thrusts perfectly against that sensitive spot within you, and he grins triumphantly as you tremble beneath him.

“That the spot, princess?” He questions, smirking when you nod your head with a little broken squeak, “Fuck, I can’t wait to get you in a bed – bet you can bend in all kinds of pretty ways, huh?”

“Y-Yeah, yeah, Billy,” you agree, willing to agree to just about anything as long as he keeps moving. You can hardly contain the moans spilling from your lips as he works you higher and higher, the adrenaline from the possibility of getting caught as well as the rush of finally having him making you rush toward your end faster than you normally would.

Breathing heavily as your pussy clenches at his cock, he lets go of one of your thighs and shoves your shirt up, unceremoniously taking your bra with it. You bite at the back of one hand as he teases at your breasts, using one hand to pinch and pull at one nipple before moving to the other as he stares down at you with half-lidded eyes, brows furrowed in concentration.

“O-Oh, my – fuck, I’m –” You moan brokenly, squirming beneath him as you feel yourself nearing the edge, teeth biting desperately into your bottom lip as you claw at his forearm and waist.

Cockily licking over his lips, Billy leans forward as he grinds against you, his hips putting pressure on your clit as he covers your mouth with one hand, propping himself up against the desk with an elbow as his other still grasps at the back of your knee.

You squeeze him tightly as the tail end of his happy trail rubs deliciously over you, giving you just enough stimulation to throw you over the edge.

“Yeah, princess,” he encourages, grunting with nearly every thrust into you as he feels you clenching around him, pushing him further and further toward his own edge as he clenches his jaw, determined to hang on as long as possible.

After only a few more thrusts, he quickly pulls out with a small groan. “Fuck, fuck,” he pants, chest heaving as he strokes his cock, painting your lower belly with stripes of his release.

Both of you still for a moment, breathing heavily as you each come down. Half expecting Billy to simply get dressed again and leave, you’re surprised when he softly kisses you, more relaxed this time, as his warm breath fans over your cheek. Dazedly, you kiss him back, your lips moving together unhurriedly as you card your fingers through the sweat-damp curls at the nape of his neck.

After a moment, you part and your lips quirk up into a shy smile as he moves back half a step, giving you enough room to sit up.

“Oh, uh,” you breathe, looking down when you feel his cum cooling against your skin. Glancing around the room, you pout a little when you don’t see any tissues or paper towels, “There’s paper towels in the locker room?” You offer, looking over at Billy, watching as he quickly tugs his shorts back into place.

“I got it,” he says with a small smirk and before you have time to question what he means, he quickly tugs your underwear off your ankle and uses them to wipe at your skin, grinning meanly when you look up at him with wide eyes.

“Jackass!” You exclaim, laughing softly despite yourself, “That’s the only pair I have with me!”

“Nothing wrong with going commando, sweetness,” he says with a wink, chuckling when you wrinkle your nose at the thought while you pull your bra and shirt back into place, “Come back to my place and I’ll was ‘em for you, my parents don’t get back until late, anyway.”

“You just want a round two,” you laugh, hopping off the desk and straightening out your skirt the best you can before running your hands over your hair, trying to smooth out your ponytail.

“Told you I was gonna fold you up all pretty,” Billy smirks, crowding against you yet again once he tugs his shirt back on and lightly grasping at your jaw, “Something tells me you won’t have a problem with that either.”

“That’s presumptuous, don’t you think?”

“Sure, yeah, I dunno what that means, princess,” he says, grinning when you laugh, your hands pressed against his chest as he quickly tucks your boyshorts into the waistband of his shorts, “Just come back to my place, hm?”

“What about basketball practice? Jason hates when people ditch.”

“You really think I give a shit about what Carver wants?” Billy laughs, taking one of your hands in his as he makes his way toward the door.

“Okay, okay, fine,” you finally agree, rolling your eyes playfully as you let him pull you out into the hall.

“And come with me to the Halloween party?”

“You have quite a list of demands, Hargrove.”

“Hey,” he says with a little shrug, glancing at you as you walk side by side toward the locker rooms, “That’s what you get for teasing me.”

You merely giggle as the two of you round a corner, nearly freezing and nervously glancing over at Billy when you come across Steve, chest heaving as he leans over a water fountain.

Standing straight, he wipes at his lips with the back of his hand, narrowing his eyes at Billy, watching as he quickly scoops up his duffle bag from where he’d tossed it down earlier in the hallway. “Dude, why’re you leaving? You’re almost, like, half an hour late for practice.”

“Yeah, well, tell Carver something came up,” the blond boy huffs dismissively before taking your hand once more. You shoot a bashful smile at Steve, blushing as you and Billy walk toward the doors out to the parking lot.

Behind you, Steve takes a minute to connect the dots, brows furrowing as he plants his hands on his hips. After a second, his eyes widen and he shakes his head.

“Come on, at school?” He calls down the hallway, shaking his head as you and Billy laugh, “Fucking animals, man.”

gen tags: @helloworldiamnotarobot @drakonflames @marysucks-blog @watercolorskyy @valeskafics @iamaegontargaryenwife0 @aemshaircare @1997babyyyy @lovellies @little-moonbeam-666 @blackswxnn @wickedfrsgrl @echos-muses @imawhorecrux @avidreader73 @marvelescape @rae-11 @ms-morningstarr @chaotic-fangirl-blog @grsveeth0m @twglitching @hb8301 @delulumhaggy @burntliquorlips @fan-goddess @cl-0-vr @kittendoll05 @beautbuck @eponaartemisa @trshngyn @brettlovessuckingcocks @alerisc @moonriseoverkyoto @wolfdressedinlace @do-double-g @kennafild @cruelworldlana @mheraxes @eternallyvenus @chaotic-fangirl-blog @simp-hub-bro @badxbabyyy @venchi-cremino

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#my writing #billy hargrove #billy hargrove x reader #billy hargrove fanfiction #billy hargrove fanfic #billy hargrove fic #billy hargrove smut #stranger things #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things fanfic #stranger things fic #stranger things smut #dacre montgomery #fanfiction #fanfic #fic #smut

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dollfacefantasy · 5 months

Text

Down for the Count

pairing: leon kennedy x fem!reader

summary: while spending time with leon, you want to play fight. but having you in such a compromising position is obviously going to lead to something more.

cw: nsfw (18+), smut, p in v, daddy kink, size kink, praise/degradation

word count: 5.3k

a/n: yay a- a- another one. thank you so so much to @sleepyluxe and @explorevenus for inspiration and ideas on this one when i was struggling. both of them are so smart and wonderful and i love them so much. i hope everyone enjoys <3

tags: @sleepyluxe @kaitkatme @tosuckmyweenis @pupthepokemonenthusiast @bizzarethirst @death-paint @petitecolibri @iron-toxinz @wildest-dreams-at-midnight

Small drops of rain fall outside and splatter onto your windows. You and Leon are lying in bed, limbs intertwined and bodies pressed against one another. The bedroom was dim from the overcast weather and felt perfect for the lazy day you were having.

Leon rubs your back while taking deep, even breaths. You can hear his heartbeat in the position you're in with your head on his chest. You were happy to see him so relaxed. It wasn’t everyday that the two of you could spend time together like this.

His large palm trailing up and down your skin in soothing repetitive strokes has you melting against his side, feeling so at peace and attached to him. You instinctively lean into his touch for more. You nuzzle his chest and drag your cheek against his pectoral muscle.

He chuckles at your little display and tightens his arm around you. He’s still caressing your back as he plants a gentle kiss on your forehead.

Your eyes flutter shut momentarily. For a second, you just take in the soft sounds of rain outside and the feeling of his strong body wrapped around you between the soft blankets. It felt almost like a dream, like you and him had created your own little world for just the two of you.

Everything felt so relaxing right now, but at the same time, it all was building a need inside you. Whenever Leon got this soft with you, it just made you crave him more. You couldn’t get enough. Even though you were as close as physically possible, you still wanted closer.

In an attempt to satiate your desire, you reach over and grab his free hand. You lace your fingers with his, feeling that extra bit of intimacy you longed for.

While holding his hand, it’s impossible to not notice the size difference between you two. His hand engulfs yours completely, almost looking as if he’s made on a different scale. You bring his hand closer and stretch out your fingers against his to look at the disparity before locking your hands together again.

“Your hands are so small, sweetheart,” he notes, seeing what you were thinking about.

You respond with a shy smile and gently nudge his thigh with your knee. “Or your hands are really big.”

“No, baby, look at you,” he says with his own smile spreading on his face.

He pulls your hand up and examines the size. He smirks as he loops his thumb and index finger around your wrist to show how they could touch.

“My little doll,” he coos and kisses the crown of your head. He absentmindedly plays with your fingers like he’s studying the different ways they could bend and stretch with his own.

The sweet names he called you, the loving tone of his voice, the constant physical contact. All of it only served to intensify the yearning you felt. You really just could not get enough of him, and it made you feel restless.

You hook one of your legs around one of his and pull slightly. He doesn’t react, so you continue, adding your other leg. You playfully squirm your legs with his to push and pull them. He drops your hand on his chest and looks down at you with a knowing smile. You nudge your head against his bicep as a way of signaling what you want.

“What are you doing?” he asks and brushes some of your hair out of your face.

“Nothing…” you say in a coy tone as you continue your movements.

He shakes his head, picks you up by the waist, and places you on top of him so that you’re straddling his abs. He smiles up at you, looking so cute in only his shirt and your panties. He already knew what you wanted, having played this game with you many times before.

“Try again, pretty girl. Use your words,” he says. His fingertips coast over your hips, causing chills to run through your skin.

“I wanna play,” you say, running your hands over his chest as you look down at him.

“You do, huh?” he says as his eyebrows raise. He squeezes your hips and a short laugh escapes his throat. He knew the mood you were getting into. “Well, what do you wanna play?”

“I wanna wrestle,” you say with a devious smile.

“Oh, do you now?” he says. He shakes his head and exaggeratedly sighs, “You never learn, babydoll. You know how this is gonna end.”

You whimper playfully and stick your bottom lip out into a teasing pout. Your hands grab Leon’s own and try to pull them off your waist. He tightens his grip and smiles to see you already struggling to match his strength at something so simple. Blood rushes to his cock as you squirm a little on top of him.

“See? We haven’t even started, and you’re already whining. Do you just want Daddy to let you win? Is that it?” he says and grabs your hands, pinning them to your hips.

“No…” you say, feeling heat flash in your belly. It was harder to be a tease when he slipped into this role. He could read you so well and drive you wild so easily. You wriggle in his grasp a little more, purposefully pushing your clothed cunt down on his stomach in search of some friction.

He looks up at you with a cocky glint in his eyes. He could see the effect one simple word had on you. He lifts you again, but this time, flips you over, pinning you down on your back with him on top of you. He holds your wrists down to the mattress and has his knees planted on either side of you. He leans down and trails some soft kisses on your neck before raising his head again to look down at you.

“You’re no fair,” you whine as you try to escape his grasp. Your legs try and fail to snake out from under him while you yank your arms, attempting to free yourself.

“C’mon, sweetheart. Just surrender, and then we can get to what you really want,” he says.

“I just wanna play. I’m not perverted like you,” you respond.

“Oh, really? You’re telling me if I slide my hand in those panties, that cute cunt isn’t gonna be all wet and sticky for me,” he says. He moves your wrists up above your head so he can keep them down with one of his hands now. His now free hand moves down to your lower body, lightly petting your center over the thin fabric of your underwear.

Heat floods your cheeks. His tone was dropping lower, becoming more seductive. You shake your head and struggle more. You maneuver your hips to try and get his hand off you. In truth, this game revved you up like not much else could but part of the fun was acting like it didn’t. He understood that just as well as you did though.

“You’re cheating,” you whimper with a gasp as he presses down on your underwear and slots his fingers between the folds of flesh. You bite your lip as his digits brush over your clit.

“Oh, it seems like someone’s not so innocent,” he laughs, feeling your damp arousal through the cloth.

“Leon,” you whine. You put more effort into your struggling now. It still didn’t make any difference, “Stop cheating.”

He squeezes your wrists and brings the hand that was toying with your pussy up to your face. He holds your jaw and directs you to look straight at him.

“Maybe I’ll listen if you ask properly and stop throwing a fit like a brat,” he says and kisses your nose.

“Daddy…” you correct yourself and speak with more composure, “I wanna wrestle. Please.”

“There we go. That’s better,” he coos as his fingers rub your jawline. Two soft kisses land on each one of your cheeks before he gets off of you. A smug smile graces his face as he takes one of your hands and gives you a firm pull to your knees.

“Ok, you know how to start. Not that it will make any difference,” he says with a mocking smile as he gets into position.

The two of you are kneeling across from each other on the bed. Your stance mirrors his, legs spread for balance like he taught you. You put up your arms and grasp his hands to begin. You thread your fingers between his and try to get his arms to bend so you can take the advantage.

It’s clear to both of you that he could get you in a hold right here without really trying, but like a wolf batting a bunny around before making the killing strike, he gives you a moment to think this time will be the one you can finally win.

He just can’t get enough of you. The cute way your face scrunches as you focus on getting his wrists to bend, your sweet and quiet grunts, the way your pretty leg extends out behind you to gain more leverage. And most of all, the size difference between the two of you that was even more apparent now. God, it drove him up the wall.

This is why he couldn’t cut these moments short and win right away. If this was a real fight, he could shatter every bone in your hand without a second thought. Have you down and himself moved onto the next target without straining his smallest muscle. But he would never do that to you. His darling girl, his perfect baby. Never.

He never ever used his full strength while playing with you. In the beginning, he’d been concerned about putting his hands on you at all. Every small whine or whimper had him fawning over you, immediately checking if you were alright. Once you two had been together for a while and done this dance a few times, he relished those soft noises, each one stoking the flames of desire within him.

Now, he advances your little game as you still struggle to gain any control over him. He twists your wrists and inverts your hands to make you vulnerable. One of those soft cries leaves your mouth, and his lips curls upwards further in triumph.

He bends your wrist in a certain way and is able to spin you around, bringing you backwards and holding you flush against his chest. He locks his arms over yours and leans down to press some kisses to the crook of your neck.

“What do you do now, pretty baby?” he asks in a husky whisper.

You crack a smile of your own now as you remember what to do. You become dead weight, sliding down and flaring your elbows. You manage to push his thick arms off of you and escape his hold. You flip around as you fall forward and land face up on the mattress.

This was possibly Leon’s favorite part of this game. The moments where you could use tricks he’d taught you. In the beginning of your relationship when you’d just started this kind of thing, you were so eager to learn, and he found it so endearing.

You’d asked him to teach you some of his ‘secret agent moves,’ and of course, you were interested in roundhouse kicks and suplexes. He’d laughed when you said that, having trouble imagining you being able to lift anyone over your head, let alone suplex them. But he was thrilled to teach you some basic self defense. The way you focused and responded to each direction with a brief ‘mhm.’ The sight of your eyes lighting up when you got something right. Both had him falling for you hard.

In this moment, after you successfully broke free of him, your eyes do what they always do. They dart to connect with his, searching for his approval, the reassurance that you did it right, that you did it just the way he taught you to. He meets your hopeful gaze with a short laugh and a nod.

“That’s right, sweetheart. Proud of you,” he says. He takes in his favorite view, the way you glow as you bask in his praise, before lunging forward and pouncing on you. “But that doesn’t mean this is over.”

A startled squeal erupts from you at the sudden movement. You frantically flail your limbs as he tries to grab them. If he could get your wrists pinned down here, it was over for you. Luckily, you hook your heel at his hip and kick, giving yourself an opportunity to dart out from under him.

You fling your body across the bed, attempting to crawl away and get to the ground to get some solid footing. But before you can make it, a large hand wraps around your ankle and drags you back. You claw at the blankets that are bunching up beneath you, but it’s no use.

“Where do you think you’re off to, little love?” he teases.

The game is over now. At least, that’s what you were thinking. Leon strays from his usual strategy of getting on top of you here. Instead, he pulls you up and puts you in a headlock. His bicep wraps around your neck and holds you to his side.

“What do you do here, precious?” he asks.

This one’s a bit harder to get out of. Your natural inclination is to try and push him off by the waist. However, he’s way too strong for that to work. Your own head would probably pop off before you could slip out of his tight grip.

You rack your brain for the correct answer, but it’s kind of hard to think when the bulging muscles of his bicep are against your cheek. Finally, you figure it out and dig your fingers deep into the point on his wrist that causes his hand to spasm and loosen up the hold.

You slip out of the headlock and lunge across the bed, but he’s too quick. He’s on top of you in no time, caging you against the mattress from his position hovering above your back. You roll over underneath him to look up at his face.

“Nice try, but you should’ve gone for the leg, honey,” he says and gives you a few gentle, patronizing pats on your cheek.

“No, you were kneeling, and that move only works on the ankle,” you say.

His eyebrows raise and it’s hard to mask the pride in his eyes. He can feel his heart swelling in his chest. “That’s right, baby. Smart girl,” he says and leans down to peck your nose before returning to his position so he can give you that smug look, “But you still lose.”

“No fair. If you’d taught me how to suplex people then I could’ve won,” you huff.

“No, you couldn’t have,” he laughs.

“Uh, yeah I could have,” you say.

“Nope. One, you could not lift me, don’t kid yourself. And two, that’s not how a suplex works. You weren’t in the right position,” he says with a smirk.

“Whatever,” you concede, rolling your eyes.

He chuckles and lifts one of his arms to stroke some hair from your face. As his fingers coast over your skin like it’s the most delicate surface on earth, you take advantage of his less stable position. You lock your fists together and bat your forearms into his side, causing his other arm to buckle and him to fall to the side of you. You shoot up and start to rush to the edge of the bed for the second time, but again, he’s too fast.

His fingers dig into the flesh of your thighs. His thumbs press into the sensitive area behind your knees. He yanks you back and pins you face down. He’s straddling your lower back with his hands on your arms and his feet hooked over your legs. His weight was firm on you this time. No room to roll around or dart to freedom. You still wriggle and squirm between his thighs in defiance.

“What’s wrong, baby? Not ready to cry ‘mercy’ just yet?” he mocks.

“You’re no fun. You never let me win,” you whimper, trying to flail your limbs for a potential escape.

“I don’t think you’d even know what to do if I let you win,” he says with a cruel laugh that has your panties dampening with more arousal, “You’d probably have to ask Daddy what to do wouldn’t you? Needing me to teach you what to do then too.”

You whine as your cheeks heat up.

“You know it’s true, baby girl,” he whispers, leaning down to speak directly into your ear. His breath fanning over you had chills breaking out across your skin.

But you still didn’t want to give in. You writhe more beneath him and try to thrash around the best you can. You attempt to push yourself up with your arms, but that doesn’t work. Not only were they held down, but when he saw you doing that, he twisted your wrist and had them pinned to your back with ease.

You buck harder, trying anything you can to get some type of chance. But all the struggling was a little tiring. Your muscles were starting to plead with you for a break, aching and cramping. He lowers his hips to press more of his weight on you. The combination of your dwindling energy and his increased efforts to keep you in place didn’t leave you with much optimism.

Your attempts get weaker, but your noises of protest get louder. You whimper and whine, occasionally throwing in a strained cry of “Daddy” to try and gain some sympathy. Like every other time you’ve done this though, the only thing your pleas do is get the blood rushing to Leon’s dick. You can feel it getting hard against your ass. You can feel the thick outline of it through his pants, and at this point, your panties are uncomfortable because of how wet you are. You shift your hips, pushing the roundness of your ass against the stiff length of his cock.

“Look at you,” he purrs, leaning down and rolling his hips into the fat of your ass, “This is nothing for me, baby. You’re gonna tire yourself out while I haven’t even broken a sweat. I could do this all night long, sweetheart.”

His hands release your arms, figuring you're done with fighting. He slides his own beneath your shirt. The rough skin of his palms drags along the smooth expanse of your back. His fingers ghost along your sides. He even reaches around to feel what he can of your tits while you're pinned down like this.

“Such a silly girl, thinking she ever had a shot at winning,” he breathes and presses some kisses from behind your ear down to the nape of your neck.

“I did,” you whimper, “You cheated.” Your eyes flutter as you try not to go dizzy from this alone. His lips just felt so good against your neck, and his voice felt even better to your ear.

“Aw, ok baby, you had a chance to win. Sure you did,” he coos condescendingly. He pulls your shirt up and over your head, tossing it off the bed and leaning down to press kisses all over your shoulders and upper back.

“I did. You set me at a disadvantage from the beginning cause you were trying to distract me,” you say, squirming a little more.

He quickly put a stop to that with a firm grip on your shoulders. “Mhm, I’m sure, princess. Daddy’s just so unfair, isn’t he?”

“Mhm,” you pout.

Leon chuckles at your stubbornness. He presses a kiss to your cheek and nuzzles your temple as he inches towards the main event. His hands knead your ass, giving it a gentle pat. Then, his fingers hook around the elastic of your panties and tug those down.

He can’t stop the arrogant look on his face when he sees your cunt glistening for him. Two of his fingers delve between your thighs with an exploratory touch. They stroke up and down your pussy, feeling the gathering slick and grazing your clit.

“Oh, baby. You’re making such a mess,” he chides playfully , “Daddy will make it better. Don’t worry, sweet girl.”

You grunt in pleasure at the touches. You rock your hips as much as you can in this position, but he pulls his fingers away. Whining in frustration again, you turn your head to shoot him a look. You see him trying to get his sweats off while still holding you down.

The slight struggle makes you giggle. He tries to maintain his stern facade, but it’s difficult to suppress the love pooling in his eyes when he hears that happy noise burst from your lips. That was why he played these games with you after all. Instead of just getting down to it and doing what he wanted, he always went the extra mile to see that smile. To make his baby happy. He gives your face a gentle shove and finishes up what he’s doing.

“Oh shut up. If you weren’t such a little brat, this would be a lot quicker,” he grunts.

That only makes you laugh more. He rolls his eyes and smiles now that you’re looking away. He manages to get his clothing and your underwear off while maintaining a good hold on you. Your time being a smartass is over as soon as you feel the warm, solid length of his cock hit your ass.

You bite your lip at the feeling of him lightly rubbing it on you. Your whole body heats up, nearly feeling the sensation that’s about to overtake you.

Leon knows exactly what’s running through your head right now, and it only serves to boost his ego. The clear power he held over you activated some primal desire in the deepest recesses of his heart.

“What’s that? Don’t hear you laughing now, babydoll,” he says.

You drop your face against the mattress, hiding your shy, lustful expression. You whine in protest from a mix of frustration and desperation at him making you wait. You start to squirm again. You pull at the mattress to try and gain some distance. You try to wriggle enough to shake him off. He isn’t put off at all by your little fit at all, only tightening his grip and pressing you harder into the mattress. He grins, leaning down, lips brushing the shell of your ear as he speaks.

“God, sweetheart. Every time, I wonder if it will fit. I mean, I know it will, I’ve got that hole trained to take my cock perfectly. But just look at you. It doesn’t seem like it should work. You’re just so small, baby. I feel like I’ll break you in half sometimes,” he breathes.

After he finishes speaking, you go to reply, but you feel a shift in his position. You close your mouth, choosing to focus on the chance to play some more, but you quickly realize why one of his arms had moved. It was only to reach down and guide his cock as he bullies it inside of you.

“This is how you like it though, huh?” he asks through a clenched jaw as he pushes in until he’s bottoming out, “No room inside you for anything else but my fat cock. No thinking unless it’s about how much you love Daddy, right? Yeah, my baby, that’s how you like it.”

And just like that, you’re over playing. Any idea of riling him up by resisting is gone. You were getting what you really wanted after all. He was stretching you out and filling you up so perfectly. His body was all over yours, the sensual contact between the both of you, warm skin against warm skin.

Normally, he’d give you time to adjust, cooing praises at you and kissing your face as your cunt sucked all of him in. But he wasn’t in the mood to be patient with you right now.

He buries his face in your neck and keeps his arms firm in their place that has you boxed in. You’re whining and whimpering as his cock nudges spots of bliss inside you. His hips roll into the plush of your ass, trying to get as deep as possible.

“Oh, I know my pretty girl loves to lose. Especially when this is what you get. I spoil you, babydoll,” he teases, “But you’re always so brave going against Daddy, giving it all you have. So much fight in you, but the loss in the end is clearly your favorite part.”

“No…” you barely get out, still trying to be difficult. Even though you were done playing, you couldn’t just admit defeat. Your eyes were fluttering and your body trembled with the ecstasy of being full.

“Oh, it’s not?” he mocks you, “You wouldn’t lie to Daddy, would you? Cause that would break my heart, honey. My good girl wouldn’t do that, right?”

All you can do is whine as his cock keeps pumping in and out of you. You weakly shake your head that you wouldn’t do that, you wouldn’t be a bad girl and lie. He knew exactly which chords to play to get you like this.

“That’s what I thought. I know this is what you really want when you act like you wanna play, babydoll. You just want to feel how helpless you really are. How Daddy can hold you down and fuck you full of cum in any position he chooses. You just have to take it, and you love that,” he coos and kisses your cheek.

His arms close in around you. He brings them up and wraps them around your neck. Your chin rests on the crook of his elbow. He ruts into your pussy with slow and even but deep thrusts, grunting in your ear with each movement. He’s so all consuming, you don’t think you’re physically capable of a response at the moment. But it works out because he just keeps talking.

“You could just ask, but that’s no fun. You need me to show you what you want, how you want it. Isn’t that right? Cause what Daddy wants is what you want,” he says before nipping at your earlobe.

Pathetic sounds of pleasure tumble from your mouth as he speaks. You squeeze around his cock in pulses as the words hit your ears. You drool a little, not really noticing since your mind is clouded with euphoria.

He notices though. He swipes the saliva off your chin with his fingers before sticking them in your mouth. He laughs as your soft lips close around the digits obediently and suck on them without a second thought.

“Aw, my sweet baby. Poor thing. So fucked out. There’s no fight left in you anymore, is there baby girl? No, there isn’t,” he croons.

You whimper in defiance but keep sucking regardless. He smirks and decides to tease while still working his hips against you over and over. He slides his fingers back out of your mouth and rests them on your chin, making you feel them so close to your mouth, covered in your spit, but just out of your reach.

“Stop,” you whimper, “Just give ‘em.”

“That’s not how good girls ask for what they want, is it? You know better than that,” he whispers.

Your fists tighten around the blankets below you and you squirm a little. “You’re so mean to me,” you complain before a desperate whimper bubbles from your mouth again.

“Oh, I know. Daddy’s so mean, isn’t he? So mean to you,” he mocks.

You whine again in a mix of pleasure from his cock buried inside you and annoyance as he continues teasing. You begin to speak, but as you do, he shoves his fingers back into the warm, wet embrace of your mouth.

“Hush, stop complaining,” he says and continues thrusting, his body sliding on yours with the motions, “You’re getting exactly what you want.”

Your eyes roll back, and your response slips back down your throat. You suckle on his fingers again, some more saliva dripping from your lips as he pushes them flat on your tongue. Low moans emanate from you around his fingers. The cocky look is permanently displayed on his face now.

“‘Daddy I wanna wrestle!’” he mocks you with a chuckle, “No no no, all my sweet girl wants is for me to pin her down and stuff her full of my cock till she’s just a little mess for me. Drooling with no thoughts in that cute little head. Those pretty eyes, totally empty, just locked on Daddy. My needy baby.”

You just nod at this point, giving up on any form of difficulty or resistance. Your eyes begin to water as his fingers probe deeper into your mouth. Thinking becomes more of an abstract concept as he hammers into you, driving you closer to the finish line. Muffled expletives and calls of “Daddy” sound around his fingers.

He was feeling the rush too as he got closer to his own high. His arm that was still around your neck tightens its hold on you. His head is right next to yours. You hear his breath in your ear becoming more ragged as his thrusts grow more erratic.

“Fuck, babydoll,” he grunts, “Perfect pussy’s gonna make me cum.”

“Uh huh,” is all you’re able to mutter with your mouth full.

He nuzzles his face into your hair and removes his fingers from your mouth to just hold onto you as he fucks into you with increased focus. He plants light kisses on the side of your head while low moans rise out of him. His hips sputter as the coils of release contract within him.

“Are you ready for it, sweet girl?” he groans, “Daddy’s gonna fill you up just how you like. All for you, pretty baby.”

“Mhm, thank you Daddy,” you whimper, leaning your head into his as your body spasms with the imminence of your release.

“My good fuckin’ girl,” he grunts before sharply exhaling and moaning against your shoulder.

His hips rock against yours as you both reach your peaks. Your body convulses beneath him as you cum, euphoria flowing through your body in waves. Choked moans come from you while he growls against your skin. He continues his deep strokes, flooding you with his hot, thick cum. Your eyes flutter closed as you feel the craving inside you satiated.

Leon stays inside you for a few moments longer as you both come down from the high. His chest puffs out against your back as he catches his breath. Soon enough though, he rolls off of you. The air feels cool against your back now that he’s finally off of you.

You take a moment to catch your breath yourself and look over at him. He brushes some hair out of his face and stretches a little. You crawl over to him and curl up against his side, nuzzling into his chest. He strokes your hair and gives you a soft kiss. His thumb runs across your jaw as he looks into your eyes lovingly.

“Satisfied, sweetheart?” he asks with his cocky smile.

“Mhm,” you hum and snuggle against his chest, lying how you were before this had begun. You adjust the position of your head to get comfy with a cute smile on your face. “You didn’t really win though.”

“Oh, is that so?” he asks. He tilts your face up and guides you to look up at him.

“Well, in real wrestling you have to pin the person on their back. Their shoulders have to be down, y’know?” you say.

“That is true,” he says and rolls on top of you, looking at you with a loving smirk, “So I guess you’re ready for round two?”

#leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy smut #leon kennedy x y/n #leon kennedy x you #resident evil imagines #resident evil x reader #leon kennedy imagine #resident evil smut #smut

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firehousewithaview · 2 years

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Was going to do whumptober this year but uhhhhh turns out my muse (mental state?) Won't allow that, so I'll probably be doing my own version that I can frantically put together while I'm at work tomorrow

#personal ish #im doing my best #but writing is hard #and trying to write whump was really not good for me #so im going to make a personal compromise #yay self care

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sasssydaddy123 · 2 years

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So far, working for a fast fashion company has made me even more against fast fashion. Go figure

#i got my discount card today and i was like oh yay 😐#even with a discount i cant afford this shit #fast fashion quality for luxury prices try to figure that one out #dont get me started on the ethicality of this fuckin company #i hate having to compromise my morals in order to make a living #but so it goes in the late capitalism game i guess #ramblings #work shit #fast fashion

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hollandorks · 4 months

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haven

battinson! bruce wayne x f! reader

chapter fourteen

Summary: After the sudden deaths of her mother and grandmother, y/n is forced to return home to Gotham…and to the man who broke her heart three years ago. Back in Bruce Wayne’s inescapable orbit, she vows to get to the bottom of her former best friend’s new cold personality. But Bruce’s secrets aren’t what she’s expecting.

a/n: I'm back to posting semi-regularly, yay! Not sure when the next chapter will be finished because of the holidays but hopefully it'll be within the next week or so! This one is a little on the shorter side, but the next several will be longer I think! (Since I haven't actually written them--but I have plans and they're lengthy.)

Series Masterlist

word count: 2k

“Oh man,” Martinez groaned as his eyes flicked from Alfred, to her, to the picture, and back again. He gulped audibly. Next to him, Blake the security guard was white as a sheet. “Gordon’s gonna kill me.”

“Gordon’s gonna kill me,” Martinez said for the twentieth time as y/n poured him a cup of coffee to replace the one that was currently still on the foyer floor. “I was supposed to be the one paying attention. I was the one he trusted.” Which, he informed her after maybe the fourth “Gordon’s gonna kill me,” that meant he was Gordon’s most trusted on her security team. He was one who was secretly supposed to make sure no one else was compromised.

“Martinez,” y/n said for the nineteenth time. “No he isn’t. You were doing your job. You already said you didn’t leave, or fall asleep, or take a call. In fact, you did your job so well you ignored my offer of coffee.” She held out the new mug.

Martinez was still nervously mangling the hat of his uniform. He was completely ignoring her reassurances. He went still after a second, then turned eyes that were twice as frightened to her. “Man, Mr. Wayne’s gonna be so mad too, isn’t he? This is his house.”

Y/n narrowed her eyes. “I’ll handle Bruce. And besides–Alfred’s more in charge than he is, and he already agreed it wasn’t your fault.” Alfred had met Gordon downstairs a few minutes earlier. The elevator and entire lobby had been turned into a crime scene. Martinez and y/n were waiting to give their statements.

Easing Martinez’s fears was much easier than facing her own. It was easy to focus on him and nothing else. Because in the short half hour since she’d first found the picture, each bit of new information was worse than the last. No one on the security detail had been harmed, bribed, or had even moved. The security cameras had been turned off for only ten minutes. Which all meant that someone had enough access to Wayne Tower and its security to get past everything extra that had been set up.

They wanted her to know that they could get to her.

And they were drawing it out. Instead of grabbing her, they were making her wait. Making her scared.

Y/n focused again on the nervous cop in front of her, who was still bemoaning the fact that everyone was going to be mad at him.

“If you don’t stop, I’m going to be mad at you,” she snapped. There was a headache blooming between her eyes.

Martinez quieted, looking like a kicked puppy with a mustache. “Jesus, I’m so sorry, y/n. If I can make it up to you at all–”

“Just drink your coffee, okay? No one blames you.” Y/n took a sip of her coffee. Her hands were still shaking, and some of the liquid spilled over as she set the cup back down. Damn, she was wasting a lot of coffee in one night.

She startled when a warm hand landed atop hers. She looked up and met Martinez’s soft gaze. He didn’t say anything else, but his presence was enough to steady her.

“I’m so glad they didn’t shoot you,” she said after a moment.

They shared a grin. “Hell, me too.”

An awareness prickled along y/n’s spine.

She looked up, and there was Bruce.

His hair was stuck to his forehead and his shirt was on inside out. Her stomach swooped. There really only seemed to be one possibility from those two clues, plus the fact that he hadn’t been home.

Jealousy and shame spread like hot oil through her stomach.

Bruce looked…angry. His eyes were twin blue flames where they stayed locked on Martinez’s hand atop hers.

Martinez scrambled to his feet as if the king of fucking England had just walked in. More coffee spilled as he bumped the table. Y/n half expected him to bow for Bruce. She rolled her eyes.

“Mr. Wayne! I’m so sorry, I swear I was paying attention, I–”

Bruce’s eyes went cold. “And you are?”

“Officer Martinez, we actually met back–”

Y/n’s eyes narrowed. It was her turn to jump to her feet. “What the fuck is wrong with you?” she said to Bruce.

Martinez flinched. Bruce calmly glanced her way then went back to glaring at Martinez.

“When the security of my home has been compromised due to incompetence–” Bruce said, still calm despite the obvious fury in his eyes.

Y/n cut him off. “Oh shut up. Stop talking to him like that. It wasn’t his fault!”

Bruce’s eyes flashed. “Well, it was certainly someone’s.”

“Maybe it was yours, then.” The words rose within her on a tide of anger. God, her life had been threatened again, and he had the nerve to come home from fucking his girlfriend and act like a dick to her friend? “I mean, you’ve been letting the rest of the tower go to shit for years, makes sense that maybe security is a little lax. Especially if you don’t even give enough of a shit to ever be here.”

They were almost toe to toe now, both breathing heavily. From the corner of her eye, she saw Martinez freeze in place, mouth open in shock.

“I give too much of a shit, y/n. If your little boyfriend hadn’t been distracted–”

Oh, y/n thought. Bruce thought Martinez was her boyfriend. And okay, maybe it looked like that, but Martinez actually had a great girlfriend who was in a group chat with them where they all sent memes to each other. She and Martinez wanted to set up a double date with her cousin and y/n.

The realization made the anger ebb, but then she was pissed off all over again.

“What gives you the right to act like this?” she spat at Bruce. He was so much taller than her that her neck was starting to ache from glaring up at him. “After what you did, after what you said, you’re acting like you have any right to one, be involved in my personal life at all or two, be jealous!”

Bruce flinched. Just like the first time it had happened two days ago, it didn’t feel as good as she thought it would.

“Um,” Martinez said in the echoing silence. “We’re actually just friends and I–I’m going to go give my statement now?”

Y/n barely noticed him leaving.

She was so sick of being so afraid, so heartbroken, so…everything.

“You’re going to apologize to him whether he’s just my friend or not,” she said, poking Bruce in the chest. He winced and tried to mask it by looking away. “I already told you, Bruce. I lost you three years ago. Stop acting like that didn’t fucking happen, because it did.”

Bruce’s hands were clenched into fists at his sides. Now he wasn’t looking her in the eye at all. “I didn’t mean–”

“Oh, shut the fuck up, yes you did.” But the words were bereft of the anger that had been present only moments before. She took a deep breath and a step backwards. “I’m just–sick of pretending things are the same, okay? I know you want to go all protective-best-friend thinking Martinez is my boyfriend or that he put me in danger but–I can’t just–Things aren’t–” Suddenly words were failing her. “It’s just not the same, okay?”

She watched as Bruce softened, too. “Y/n, I’m sorry, I–”

“Why did Martinez just run out of here like a bomb went off?” Gordon’s voice cut across whatever Bruce had been about to say.

“Mommy and Daddy were fighting,” y/n said drily, her defense mechanism of humor kicking in. Bruce made a choking noise. “Find anything useful? Like maybe Frank Gallo?”

She could almost hear Gordon’s teeth grinding from across the room. “No.”

“Bruce,” Alfred said from behind Gordon. “We have some things to discuss.”

Bruce gave her one last glance before following Alfred out.

Alone with Gordon now, y/n sank into her chair with a long sigh. She stared at the little coffee spills as if they had personally offended her. “If I spill any more coffee tonight I might kill someone.”

“Now that would be a sight. Looked like you were about to do Mr. Wayne in already.” Gordon chuckled and took the seat across from her. He flipped open a small notebook.

“I’m still not opposed to smothering him in his sleep,” she muttered. “Arrest me if you have to.”

“How about I get your statement instead?”

It didn’t take long. She was basically a pro at giving statements to the police at this point. When she was done, she said, “I’m so…tired of giving statements to the police.”

Gordon regarded her with sharp eyes that didn’t miss anything. “We’re doing everything we can, y/n,” he said softly.

“I know, I know. It’s just–getting shot at was scary and all, but this is my home.” Her voice cracked. She ducked her head and fiddled with her coffee mug so Gordon wouldn’t see the tears in her eyes. “They’re telling me they can get to me here, too. Where I’m supposed to be safe.”

“I understand completely. We’ll get him. We’ll get them. I have a feeling he might show up on our doorstep sooner rather than later, with something bat-shaped pinned to him and a couple of black eyes and broken bones.” Gordon smirked. Y/n frowned as she realized she hadn’t seen Batman at all. Had he been downstairs? Maybe Bruce hadn’t wanted him to come upstairs. Her frown deepened. “Now, you’re going to have to help me convince Officer Martinez not to sleep in the elevator tonight. Or right outside your door. He’s pretty upset.”

“I’m surprised he still wants to hang around, considering how much of a dick Bruce was,” y/n said under her breath. “But I’ll do my best.”

Martinez took a lot of convincing, but eventually relented and went home to his girlfriend. He made y/n put a chair under her bedroom door handle first, though.

Bruce hadn’t reappeared by the time y/n went to bed.

She laid down, the words of their argument–or whatever the hell that had been–replaying on a loop. Being around him made her feelings go haywire. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d been so angry at him. The heartbreak of three years ago had taken over her life and she had to admit that the anger felt…almost good. Cathartic. But it also made her feel out of control. She didn’t feel like herself. Being mad at Bruce went against years of instincts. She was used to defending him, or him defending her, to being on the same team together.

She was still wide awake as dawn broke over the sky hours later.

Another thought kept turning over and over in her mind. Frank Gallo–or someone he had hired–had gotten into her home. Her very, very secure home.

She had been afraid before, but it was nothing like this. Her safe haven had been…sullied. They knew who she was, where she lived, and had basically said right to her face that not even Bruce Wayne’s money and power could keep her safe.

Added all together, y/n’s mind simply would not shut off in order for her to sleep.

It occurred to her again that she hadn’t seen Batman at all–had Gordon updated him on what happened? Because he had been in that photo, too. He had kept her alive, which she was certain had pissed off the Gallos. Was he a target? Maybe the picture of them together was a threat to both of them, but only given to her since they knew where she lived.

When she rolled over, her eyes caught on all of her research piled on the opposite side of the bed. Her eyes snagged on those three words: white knight syndrome.

She bet she had her answer about any possible feelings he might have. Even if he had shown up, he hadn’t tried to contact her, to see her, nothing. He was probably sick of having to keep her alive. He was probably leaving it up to Gordon and the police department now.

Despite everyone who was trying hard to keep her alive, y/n felt utterly alone.

taglist: IF YOUR USERNAME HAS CHANGED LET ME KNOW!!!!!!

@ktficworld @grunge-n-roses5 @anon-cat-posts @projectdreamwalker @warsaur @lachillona02 @crazyunsexycool @doetic @alexiris @that-girl-named-alex @harry-bowie-mercury @vaniasagitaa @widows-writings @missing-loki @exactlyelegantwizard @miriamnox @mavenmoon @eclipsedplanet @spencerrxids @giulia2372 @katara-is-a-goddess-changemymind @janezat @incorrectmarvelquotesss @spiritdetectivel @i-have-no-life-charlie @ilovemybabes @curseyouperrytheplatypus @lightsinmycity @yondiii @spideybv28 @fictionalmansl4t

#bruce wayne x reader #battinson x reader #the batman 2022 #battinson #the batman #batman x reader #the batman x reader #bruce wayne #robert pattinson

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galescafe · 2 months

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virtual physiology lecture recording / bio notes and comedy to relax

15 FEBRUARY 2024 | 54/100 DAYS OF PRODUCTIVITY

i think i am once again getting sick (yay compromised immune system), so i slept in quite a bit; got up in time to eat breakfast, get ready, and listen to the new tmagp episode before my noon class

sociology tutorial! did mini group presentations on the readings for the week, which was fine, but i do dislike forced small group work with people i don't really know

went back home for a bit after that, watched the recording of the physiology lecture i missed this morning

went to my capstone course! felt very half-asleep, which was also the vibe i was getting from everyone else in the room, but we talked about the readings and how our research is going, and i got my participation points in

went to ballet rehearsal, got some movement and some sweating in

thursdays are usually my "no work" nights when i can just relax guilt-free and not do homework for one night, which is good for my mental health; i unfortunately have entirely too much to do this weekend, so i'm half-heartedly getting some stuff while watching comedy specials online, mantra for the night is that anything that gets done tonight is more than i was expecting

friendly reminder that wearing a mask is an act of love!!

#studyblr #100 days of productivity #100 dop #study aesthetic #studyspo #uni #college #study motivation #sorry guys this turned into such a yappy post #galestudies

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rockermazy · 2 months

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Yay - I get to share my love for tidbit Hazbin lore while sharing knowledge that makes me look like a millennial boomer XD ahem... Alastor, our favorite overlord, for all intents and purposes, is a fucking elemental. His abilities are absolutely terrifying from a scientific standpoint. Okay, so remember how during the "Stayed Gone" number, Vox starts glitching out and "loses his signal" - and then the Pride ring subsequently has a blackout? That is entirely Alastor's (or whatever the fuck is benefactoring him) doing. Radio can do that. No horseshoe magnet required. IRL stuff. Despite being digital enough to render a bluescreen when compromised, Vox may still have older hardware from his former days as a rabbit-eared, thick cathode-ray tube.

And Alastor is our radio demon. Keep this in mind. IRL, once upon a time, during the 1940s - before digital television - there was no "Channel 1". That's because in the US, a very long time ago, both radio and TV shared the band that we call "Channel One":

"Until 1948, Land Mobile Radio and television broadcasters shared the same frequencies, which caused interference. This shared allocation was eventually found to be unworkable, so the FCC reallocated the Channel 1 frequencies for public safety and land mobile use and assigned TV channels 2–13 exclusively to broadcasters. Aside from the shared frequency issue, this part of the VHF band was (and to some extent still is) prone to higher levels of radio-frequency interference (RFI) than even Channel 2 (System M)." (https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Channel_1_(North_American_TV))

Then for a short stint, Channel One was exclusively reserved for radio:

Channel 1 was allocated at 44–50 MHz between 1937 and 1940. Visual and aural carrier frequencies within the channel fluctuated with changes in overall TV broadcast standards prior to the establishment of permanent standards by the National Television Systems Committee. In 1940, the FCC reassigned 42–50 MHz to the FM broadcast band. Television's channel 1 frequency range was moved to 50–56 MHz. Experimental television stations in New York, Chicago, and Los Angeles were affected. (https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Channel_1_(North_American_TV))

Every local TV channel and radio station has a frequency range on the electromagnetic spectrum. For those who still listen to radio on non-internet-reliant radios devices, those funny little numbers next to a station's name are a ballpark number for the frequency the station broadcasts in the Hertz unit. A Hertz (Hz) is one wave per second. A KiloHertz (KHz) is 1,000 waves per second. A GigaHertz (GHz) is 1 billion waves per second. Modern AM radio stations are 535-1605 kHz Modern FM radio stations are 88-108 MHz TV VHF Channels 2 thru 13 are 54-216 MHz TV UHF Channels 14 thru 36 are 470-608 MHz And no, that's not a discrepancy between VHF and FM radio: the frequencies designated for FM radio are nestled right in there with TV ones. FM radio is between Channels 6 and 7.

(chart from http://hyperphysics.phy-astr.gsu.edu/hbase/Audio/radio.html) Even today, radio and TV are slightly shuffled in there in regards to designated frequencies. That implies that depending on Alastor's band of preference, Vox could theoretically hear Alastor's broadcasts of screaming victims without an actual radio nearby. This would be especially true if Vox still has some of his older hardware. In fact, in older televisions where a knob is used to change channels, much of the static you'd hear in-between channels is actually background radiation from deep space - along with any interference from man-made sources. No wonder Vox is obsessed with Alastor. Alastor can torment him in an in-between realm-channel like Freddy Kruger.

Yet, if radio signals were only a Vox problem, why did nearly every light and electronic device go out in the Pride except the emergency lights at the Heaven embassy?

It might depend on how we define the word "radio". Is it radio, as in "those radio stations we can listen to without the internet"? Maybe radio, as in any frequency utilized in modern communications, including TV and Radio? Or is it radio, as in "almost any signal on the electromagnetic spectrum with a frequency lower than friggin' heat?" People, below is an over-simplified chart of the electromagnetic spectrum and usages.

When radio is defined as a specific part of the electromagnetic spectrum, it is literally any frequency below infrared. *** Cellphone service and WiFi use radio signals within this range. Most cellular services are between 600 MHz and 39 GHz WiFi routers are about 2.4-5 GHz (6 GHz in newer models) That's where the "G" in "4G" and "5G" come from - the "G" stands for "Gigahertz" Radio, local television, cellphone service, WiFi, and basically any point in the internet that isn't linked by a landline - these are all safely within the part of the electromagnetic spectrum that the scientists would call "radio". If Hell's technology mirrors the real world, all electronic devices need radio frequencies in order to communicate. The VVV's empire is truly fucked, should Alastor so choose. The only plot hole I'm seeing in this explanation is why all the lights went out. These devices don't run on radio - they communicate using it. My best-educated guess is that the on/off switch for Hell's power grid is on an open network and at least part of it wireless. Or maybe Alastor's radio attack work like general EMP and just breaks stuff. I'm not an expert on these sorts of things. I politely ask that someone in the comments, please enlighten me U.U ------------------------------------- Also, when taking screenshots, I realized that Cannibal Town and the Heaven Embassy were the only places with lights on during the blackout.

is that...?

Cannibal Town?

If this is, in fact, Cannibal Town, then my only guess is that the Cannibals are so hipster, that most of them light their homes and businesses with candlelight and leviathan whale oil. Neither of which rely on wifi. Only some of their region's light was lost in the blackout. They might use some electricity, but they don't rely on it. This suggests that Alastors friendship with Rosie might be less of an organic friendship and more like a strategically slick alliance. Rosie's territory is one part of Pride that Alastor can't completely shut down (other than the Embassy). But, who knows?

Alastor's derision of modern tech now seems to have more merit than just being "hipster" or avoiding a digital footprint (which I used head-canon). Alastor can literally just shut that crap down. This might also suggest why Alastor is homies with Zestial - another old-timey prick.

Alastor makes alliances with demons he can't easily overpower with his abilities. This might look self-contradictory considering Alastor felt comfortable teasing Lucifer - until you realize Alastor did so only after he knew angels could be killed. (And yes, I know what I wrote about Alastor a couple of notes back with the "popsicle" evaluation. I don't consider flip-flopping a moral issue if done so by epiphany. That one stays, because it's funny XD ) ----------------------- Another theory! Ok, so this theory isn't entirely my own-own, I'm just building off of it based on what I've said (mostly Roo stuff). So, IRL scientists decided to take an image of the observable universe in the microwave range. Microwave energy is in the upper ends of radio, but just below infrared in frequency. What they found was cosmic background radiation - a lot of energy which isn't coming from the stars themselves.

(Image source: https://www.space.com/33892-cosmic-microwave-background.html) Some scientists theorize this is because this particular energy is left over from the formation of the universe. So about Roo:

In the first non-pilot episode, The Story of Hell as read by Charlie, states that the angels of pure light "worshipped good and shielded all from evil." During this line, imagery of two faces are shown before the angels: one face of light and another face of twisted red and black.

Subsequent lines and imagery in the episode suggest that this "evil" existed before Lucifer fell or Eve allowed this evil to enter the world - even before the Earth was created. Some Tumblrs who have been in this fandom longer than I have will know of Roo, a character that appears in VivziePop's older works. Some of Roo's monikers include "The Root of All Evil" and the "Tree of Knowledge". I'm wondering if in the Hellaverse, cosmic background radiation of the universe is a manifestation of Roo when she isn't bound to a tree. Did Alastor bite the apple the second third time for mankind? XD

------------------------------------------------- While researching for this paper, I learned that microwave ovens and 2G cell phones operate within the same frequencies at around 2 GHz. Apparently, the only reason the cell phone doesn't cook your brain is because the wattage is too low. I dunno what that means. I'm not a scientist. But now, Alastors singing lines in S1E8 have me thinking: "The constraints of my deal surely have a back door Once I figure out how to unclip my wings, guess who will be pulling all the strings" Knowing what Alastor's abilities are capable of, this has me wondering whether Alastor is being empowered by one cosmic entity, while being chained by someone else entirely. Someone might have gone out of their way to get Alastor into a contract, if only to keep him from cooking the universe for his viewing pleasure... on a glass plate.

Cooking souls in microwaves would require that they be at least partially made of water, however. Buuuut... I guess if there are working ACs in Hell, I really shouldn't read too much into it XD -------------

Do you think the mad scientists from Helluva Boss ever chat over coffee about the abilities of the overlords based on casual observation? Then one time, Alastor's name comes up... ...and after four minutes, they're both just like "Nope"?

{END} *** Note: Googling "Electromagnetic Spectrum charts" will yield different results. Some charts will have different designations frequencies lower than radio, like Extremely Low Frequencies (ELF). I do not know whether this difference is a reflection of a newer categorization, or if most charts online are made for laymen such as myself. Most charts I saw years ago only designated "radio" as "everything below microwave". I want to assume that the "only radio below microwave" categorization went into the writer's designing of Alastor's character simply because it is more common while making for a more interesting power scaling.

______________ Disclaimer: I am composed of chauffeur knowledge. I know nearly nothing about communication science little about radiation stuff. I just took an astronomy elective once, so I sorta knew where to look. I have no idea what the fuck I'm talking about. I know that I confused frequency and wavelength somewhere. Please, #sciencesideoftumblr feel free to correct me. ----------------- TLDR: Most tech IRL use radio waves to communicate. That Includes TVs, WiFi and cell phones. Radio Demon can make the Pride Ring go kaploowee just looking at it funny.

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel theory #hazbin hotel alastor #hazbin hotel vox #hazbin hotel vvv #hazbin hotel vees #science #science side of tumblr #please help me #i'm absolutly sure i mixed up frequency and wavelength somewhere #I'm not a communications expert #i flunked chemistry in high school and i can't write my name in cursive #chauffeur knowledge #hazbin hotel rosie #hazbin hotel lucifer #hazbin hotel zestial #hazbin hotel roo

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