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tonycries · 6 months

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Great With Kids? (You Can Have Mine) - C.K.

Synopsis. When your younger brother gets a new babysitter, only two questions linger on your mind: 1. How come your parents didn’t trust you in charge? 2. How dare the sexy babysitter be so perfect - it made you want some attention too.

Pairings. Choso Kamo x Reader

Content. MDNI, fem! reader, babysitter! Choso, male masturbation, voyeurism (from reader), Choso with nipple piercings and eyeliner hngh, unprotected, 69, choking, overstim, oral (male + female receiving), creampie, dirty talk, friends-to-lovers, Choso is down BAD and always has been, mentioned younger brother, swearing.

Word count. 9.0k

A/N. Gojo longfic next time because I miss my pretty blue-eyed princess.

Your younger brother’s new babysitter was hot.

With a capital h.

Scarily hot, in fact, that it made you wonder why the hell people stopped having babysitters past the age of 14.

Ah, Choso Kamo, the ever-elusive eldest son of the Itadori’s from next door. You still remember the first time you met him - well, mostly.

The world was rocking gently at exactly 12:34AM after a night out with your old high school friends. And so were you, stumbling tipsily into your driveway, soaking up the warm summer air.

Fumbling with the doorbell, you fully expected your parents to still be away on that extravagant couples’ cruise they’d won - one that probably cost more than your tuition.

Which also meant you expected the old lady from down the street to be babysitting tonight. Still wide awake and absolutely bursting at the seams to give you a detailed rundown about the neighborhood tea - who’s divorcing who, and her top suspects for who stole her prized garden gnome.

What you certainly did not expect was for that door to swing open and to find yourself face-to-face with the most ridiculously attractive man you’ve ever laid eyes on. Shirtless.

Dazed, your eyes involuntarily sweep his figure from head to toe - taking in every inch of those dark, sleep-mussed locks falling effortlessly around his slightly smudged eyeliner, all the way down to the chiseled- oh god, were those nipple piercings?

Alas, the universe isn’t on your side, and you don’t get to confirm, because suddenly the door slams right in your face, almost rattling off its hinges at the force. The sound echoes in your ears as you blink in disbelief at what the fuck that was. Was that real - was he real?

You double check the address you’ve known for years - just in case - because, hell, if you were dreaming then this was a damn good one. Taking a deep breath, you try to focus on something that won’t make your head spin before reaching for the door again.

But before your finger could even graze the doorbell, it cracks open once more. The same mysterious man towered before you, this time - you note, with a tinge of disappointment - wearing a snug t-shirt that still doesn’t do much to hide that godly physique.

“Not that m’complaining, but who’re you and why’re ya in my house?” you manage to slur out, voice betraying the shiver that runs down your spine at his intense gaze. He simply leans against the doorframe, arms crossed and expression unreadable.

“Choso,” he drawls lightly, eyes never leaving your face. Shit, even his voice was hot.

You nod slowly, mind racing as you blearily try to remember just where you’d heard that name before. Some family friend? Nah, you’d know him if that was the case. An actor? God, he sure had the looks.

Mercifully sensing your struggle, he clears his throat, snapping you out of your drunken reverie. “Not surprised you haven’t seen me around, sweetheart, but my parents live next door.” he offers, tone laced with amusement and something else you can’t place. “M’babysitting your brother for tonight.”

You almost don’t hear the second part of his explanation, because it hits you like a ton of bricks - oh shit, this was Choso? Choso either-a-hallucination-or-a-vampire Kamo?

In all your years of having the Itadoris as your neighbors, you’d only seen fleeting glimpses of their eldest son - a flash of black hair at the window, or a sculpted, tattooed arm waving off Yuji at the doorway. And, well, you didn’t know what exactly you’d anticipated. You just didn’t expect him to be so…hot. Or stand half-naked in front of you.

God, he made you more dizzy than the alcohol.

“Damn,” you mutter under your breath, more to yourself than anything. Yet Choso still hears, quirking an eyebrow, a ghost of a smile playing at the corners of his lips. “Everything alright there?” he hums, the hint of a tease in his tone. Smug bastard.

You nod your head, clutching onto the doorframe for support as you lean in closer. “Mhm, perfect.” Wait- was that a blush dusting his face? Damn, this dream just keeps getting better and better.

Liquid courage coursing through you, you bat your lashes, too tipsy to even attempt a wink, “Well, Choso, let me know if ya need any help babysitting, jus’ know I’m always down to-”

And then - perhaps to save you from the embarrassment of an awful pickup line - that’s when the universe decides to remind you of exactly how many kamikaze shots you’ve downed. The world lurches beneath you. Your hands scramble for something - anything - solid.

Ah, falling down really does feel good, especially when the ground is so warm, and soft. Smelling faintly of vanilla, with a hint of sunshine.

And then it’s all black.

To match his eyes.

---

The smell of vanilla still lingers in your mind as you slowly pry your eyes open, squinting against the harsh morning sunlight streaming in through your window. Groaning, you feel as though you’ve been run over by a truck. Five of them, in fact.

Trying to will away the pounding headache, you bury yourself deeper into the snug covers of…your bed…that you’ve been tucked into?

Oh shit. Sitting up with a gasp, you hastily try to rub away the sleep from your pointedly makeup-less eyes, remnants of last night now flooding back to you with a surge of embarrassment.

Choso. Shirtless. Babysitting. Shirtless. But most importantly - your awful display of drunken flirting. The man appears once in a blue moon and you hit on him? Perfect. Great. Wonderful.

And just as you’re entertaining the idea of convincing your parents to move neighborhoods, you realize with a jolt that he must’ve been the one that carried you up here and took care of you. Even after all of that.

With a sigh, you rub your temples, wincing as it throbs at the laughter carrying from downstairs - one of them so decidedly Choso. Deep voice ringing in your ears, you can almost feel the lingering traces of his strong arms holding you flush against his chest, or the warm hands gently wiping off your eye shadow.

And it seems Choso had a penchant for interrupting your barely-lucid thoughts, because the door creaks open, ripping through the heavy silence in your room. Heart in your throat, you startle as Choso carefully steps into your room, a soft smile playing on his lips.

“G’morning,” he says, voice so gentle that some small, strange part of you thinks you could listen to it forever. “Feeling any better?”

You offer him a sheepish grin, feeling a blush creep up your cheeks at the memory of your drunken antics. “Yeah, I think so. Thanks for... well, everything.”

Chuckling softly, his gaze softens as he steps closer, taking in your slightly-disheveled appearance. “It was the least I could do, sweetheart. Now, c’mon, your brother and I are making pancakes.”

You fidget nervously under his gaze, suddenly feeling self-conscious even as he turns to leave the room at your silence. Say it, you idiot. Say it.

“I’m sorry,” you blurt out, words tumbling out in a rush. “I didn’t mean to... y’know, act like a Victorian man seeing a woman’s ankles for the first time-”

“It’s al-”

“I swear I’ve seen ankles-”

A large hand cradling your cheek, his thick rings searingly cold against your chin as he tilts your chin up to meet his warm gaze - and those suspiciously red cheeks. “S’alright, sweetheart. I didn’t mind.”

And, well, if this was his way of shutting you up then by God was it effective. Because you didn’t trust yourself to speak even as Choso gives you an easy smile. Even as he withdraws his hand, the air thick with something you were too hungover to overthink about.

Not until he turns back to the door, flashing you a teasing smile, “Besides, it was kinda cute.”

And with that, Choso steps through the door with the audacity of someone that hadn’t uttered words that sent your mind reeling.

As the creak of the door echoes behind him, Choso’s warm touch still sears into your skin. Something hot and prickly pooling in your stomach. Only one thought rings clear in your hazy, still-hungover mind - one that makes your cheeks flare: this was going to be a very interesting summer.

You just didn’t realize how interesting it would be. Not until two weeks, four days, and sixteen hours after you first met Choso.

It starts out innocently enough, taking the early shift at your internship, volunteering to help with the chores - you find yourself subconsciously making excuses to be around him whenever he’s scheduled to babysit.

You’ve probably learned everything there is to know about the man by now - from the way he likes his eggs (sunny side up) to that time he accidentally dyed his brother’s hair neon pink while trying out a recipe for homemade hair dye.

Likewise, Choso happens to be the only one who knows that you were the one that accidentally caused that flood in your dorm that required five floors and two plumbers to resolve.

At this point, Choso’s at your house more often than not - where Choso is, there is you, and where you are, there is Choso. And your brother…and sometimes Yuji, but semantics.

“Semantics” are probably why you find yourself rushing home straight from your internship, ignoring every invitation for an after-work drink - to see your brother, of course. No other reason - definitely not because of the way Choso will inevitably be there too. Or because of the way his smile makes something strange coil in your stomach. Or-

Okay, maybe you speedwalked up your driveway faster than usual a little bit because of Choso. But as you’ve said - semantics.

Yet, sometimes you even think there’s a familiar flicker of something more in those dark eyes.

…

Nahhh.

Stepping into the yard, the air thick with the scent of freshly cut grass and the deafening sounds of splashing, a smile tugs at your lips at the awfully wholesome view that greets you.

Your brother and Yuji are locked in a fierce battle, water guns being brandished like the most seasoned warriors.

And Choso - towering over everyone else - was at the epicenter of the chaos, his laughter booming over the commotion. Shirtless. Again.

His bare, tattooed torso gleams in the light, muscles flexing with each movement as if sculpted by the gods themselves. Droplets of water glistening on his dark hair like diamonds in the fading light.

Traitorously, your cheeks burn as you step closer, desperately trying to rip your gaze from the milky abs peeking out and the tantalizing glint of metal winking so sinfully at you under the sun.

So he does have nipple piercings.

God, you have to get your mind out of the gutter.

As you approach, Choso’s grin widens, a playful sparkle dancing in his eyes. Without hesitation, he scoops up a large water balloon and takes aim, launching it with frightening accuracy in your direction.

The icy water hits you before the realization, and you squeal in surprise as the balloon connects right with your chest, seeping into your shirt. Glancing down with a startled laugh, you realize a moment too late that your once-pristine white shirt is now completely see-through.

Heat rushes to your cheeks, but the damage has been done. Smug bastard, you think, glancing up at Choso, slightly red-faced yet wearing a sly grin as he surveys the aftermath of his well-aimed shot.

“Shoulda just told me if you wanted a peak, you lecher. This shirt was expensive, y’know.” you call out, mock-glaring at the man that stood so infuriatingly beautifully in front of you.

Choso throws his head back in a laugh that makes something tingle all the way down from your toes to your burning cheeks. “Maybe you shoulda just kept your guard up, sweetheart,”

You scoff, “Maybe you should stop being a distraction then.”

His grin widens, reaching for another nearby water balloon, “S’not my fault you’re so easily distracted. No need to be a sore loser.”

“Oh, it’s on now.”

“Well, well, looks like we have a new contender in the water war,” Choso remarks mischievously to the kids, gesturing towards you. Yeah, really smug bastard.

Ah, what the hell. This shirt was on sale anyway.

---

Now, Choso knows you’re hot - always has.

Ever since that first day he moved in next door, when he stumbled upon you sunbathing in your backyard wearing that sinful bikini. And, well, after hours of moving boxes upon boxes of Yuji’s dumbbells, the mere sight of you was like the gates of heaven spread wide open for him.

But, especially now - all drenched and disheveled. Your shirt sticking to your curves like a second skin in all the ways that should be illegal - and also makes some strange part of him slightly jealous. Beaming smile directed right at him - shit, this might as well just be the final nail on his coffin. Death by you.

Amidst the chaos and confusion, you're a force to be reckoned with. Choso can barely tear his eyes off of you, breathless and victorious in pure adrenaline-fueled bravado, declaring “Beg for mercy and I’ll let you off easy, Choso.”

“Kinky, but absolutely not, sweetheart.”

Clutching a particularly large water balloon, raising your hand high high high - hurtling it straight at him with an unapologetic smirk, “Then, better run for your life.”

Oh? Maybe Choso was a masochi- what was that-

A flash of his favorite lacy pink, your poor buttons faltering at the sheer force of your throw. Choso doesn’t even feel the cold splash! square on his chest as he’s drenched icily from head to toe. Too transfixed.

Too focused on trying not to make it obvious he’s mentally calculating the chances of your shirt coming off altogether…

Eyes locked on the sliver of soft skin peeking out at him. Only registering you and the traitorous rush of heat flooding his cheeks - and his cock - as he averts his gaze, internally smacking himself for letting his thoughts wander into such dangerous territory.

Both thanking and cursing the gods above, Choso realizes with a pang that he’s not just screwed, he’s absolutely twisted, tangled, and tied up in knots.

So utterly screwed, in fact, that he probably needs to make a quick run to the bathroom now.

Like, right now.

Shit.

With a muttered excuse of a bathroom break, each step more urgent than the last, Choso can’t help but wonder if the water balloon incident was some sort of cosmic punishment for his wandering thoughts. Some divine intervention from his ancestors for being such a pussy around you all these years.

And as he slams that bathroom door closed, bunches his pants bunched underneath his heavy balls, and takes his throbbing cock in his hands, Choso thinks he might just see the gates of heaven - well, at least he’ll be able to give his ancestors a piece of his mind there.

With a groan, he leans against the closed door, eyes scrunching shut as he takes his swollen cock in his fist. Leaking hot precum and glistening in the dim bathroom light. He grips the base tightly, pulsing and achingly hard for you.

Cold rings searing against his skin, Choso wastes no time - wanting to get this over with and join you again more than anything - starting up a hasty, desperate pace up and down his length that makes his knees buckle. Tighter on the base, just teasing his furiously flushed tip. Pink. Pink to match your bra.

With you so sinfully soaked through, wearing that goddamn lacy bra out there, Choso wasn’t as strong a man to possibly get you out of his mind. He can’t help but imagine your sultry smile, how it would look wrapped around his cock.

Arm straining now, a shiver runs down his spine - all the way to his throbbing erection. “Shit.” he breathes, “J-jus’ like that, sweetheart.”

Head only filled with you, and your lips and you-

He milks his base tighter - would you take him all in one go? Look up at him with those beautiful, teary eyes as you choke around his cock?

One hand pulls in urgent, jerky little moves that have his hips bucking into his fist. The other reaches up muffle the fucked out moans leaving his swollen lips. God, it would take everything it had in him to not fuck up into your pretty lil’ mouth. Watch you cock-drunk and taking him so well.

Or maybe…

Eyes rolling to the back of his head, Choso fights back a groan as he reaches a hand up to teasingly thumb under his slit. Delicate beads of precum dripping onto the cold tile with a deafening drip! drip! drip! Smearing at the way he rubs maddening little circles under that one spot, grazing his sensitive veins.

Maybe you’d be a a fucking tease - run your tongue under his pulsing head so agonizingly slow. Knowing you, you’d probably pull away as soon as he bucks his hips into your mouth. Lips swollen and glossed prettily with his precum as you whisper, “Now now, baby. If you don’t act like a good boy then you won’t get to cum~”

“Sh-shit, hah-” Choso thinks he’s going insane, he can practically hear your hums as you kiss along his length, tongue darting out to trace his throbbing veins so obscenely. Flicking at his sensitive head. Eyes sparkling - ready to positively devour him.

All for him.

It’s too much.

“Ah- Ngh, fuck.” he moans hoarsely, letting out a low, fucked-out little call of your name. “More. Need m-more, sweetheart.”

Body shuddering violently, sweat dripping from his brow, Choso’s thighs quiver as he fucks his fist at an almost-animalistic pace. Chasing his release with reckless abandon.

Choso’s heart pounds wildly in his chest as he tries - and fails - to maintain control. Raspy whines of your name escape through the crevices of his fingers, cracking ever-so-slightly in a way he knows he’d be embarrassed about if he was in a better state of mind.

Giving up his futile attempt, long fingers snake down below to cradle his balls in a way he knows you’d do better. Tugging and pulling at a jerky rhythm that matches his hand.

Some tiny, practical part of his brain hopes - prays - that you won’t call off the water fight early and come up to check on him. He knows he should hurry up, he knows he’s fucked if you ever found out. Shit, he should bake you apology cookies tomorrow.

But fuck are so you perfect for him. Voice so pretty and eyes so warm as you turn your gaze to his undeserving self. He’d kill to see if you still look at him that way when - if - he absolutely ruins you.

Would you be able to take all of him? Would you pout adorably until he shoves his dick down your throat? Gagging as he hits the back of your throat over and over - oh how Choso would love to mess up your mascara. He’d fucking tattoo your lipstick stains on his dick if he could.

“Cum f’me, baby.” you’d mewl, and shit would he burn down this entire world to hear you call him that. “Mm, fill me up with your cum, wan’ taste you, baby-”

“Fuck,” he curses again, voice thick with need, and tight balls twitching so sensitively. “Fuck...fuck fuck fuck. M’gonna cum- shit- gonna cum, sweetheart.”

You - all see-through white shirts and lacy bras that drive him wild. Giggling with the audacity of someone who isn’t making him slowly lose his sanity. You with prettily lips painted white with his seed. Cum and saliva mixing into a lewd pool on the sterile tile as you suck the soul out of him.

You.

And then he’s cumming.

A raw, drawled-out keen of your name and he’s spilling into his fist. Thick, hot spurts of cum that paint his palms white in a way he wishes he could do to you. And behind his closed eyes all he sees is you - you you you-

You, dragging out his orgasm so torturously, lips decorated with his seed, dribbling down to your lacy pink bra, gushing so lewdly down your ready throat. You with your eyes dazed, lips swollen and quirking up into a fucked-out smile as he does so well for you - cumming, all for you.

You, with your wide eyes and disgust on your face as you realize just what he’d been doing on this suspiciously long “bathroom break”.

Shit.

Body still twitching with the shockwaves of probably one of the Top 5 orgasms of his life, Choso all but collapses against the bathroom door, panting heavily, utterly spent. For a moment, he lies there, wondering if this is what heaven truly felt like.

But as the euphoria of his high ebbs away into nothing but mere tingles, a slight wave of nausea crashes over him.

Sighing, Choso reaches for the paper towels, ready to clean up his mess. If only you were there to milk him dry then he wouldn’t have to-

…

God, he was definitely baking you apology cookies tomorrow.

Now, when it started drizzling shortly after Choso left, you took it upon yourself to usher the kids back home and hand over his t-shirt personally like the good samaritan you are - out of the goodness of your heart, of course.

Not for any reason whatsoever because you were hoping to get at least one more glimpse of those sinful nipple piercings up-close.

…

Okay, perhaps there was a slight ulterior motive involved.

Either way, what you’d expected was for a flash of silver as you handed over his drenched t-shirt. Or maybe that familiar easy smile to warm you up from the icy water.

Literally anything but to find yourself frozen outside the bathroom door, cunt dripping, and ears ringing with the muffled echoes of his pornographic groans.

At first, completely mortified, your fight or flight instinct had kicked in as you realized just what those rhythmic, fucked-out little grunts meant. Only for you to choose neither option - staying rooted to your spot with the utterance of one, simple, word - your name.

Confusion whirls in your mind almost as much as the throbbing in your cunt, knees weakening. Heart thumping louder and louder in your ears at each whine of your name. Shivers running down your spine - all the way to your wet cunt as it really sets in that this was Choso. And he was fucking his fist in your bathroom. To you.

And you didn’t mind?

In fact, you find yourself leaning against the door, thighs squeezing together - mere inches away from where you imagined him slumped against it. Soft strands sticking to his forehead, cock hot and heavy, aching for release. Ragged breathing as if caught off guard by the intensity of his own pleasure. Broken whispers of your name leaving him over and over-

Really, you know you should give him your privacy. But if the white-hot ropes of pleasure running up your spine are anything to go by then, well, is it really that bad?

You have half the mind to just reach down down down - just a little release. Almost jealous of Choso-

Click!

You’re sure you could rival Usain Bolt with the way you ran down those stairs. Cheeks flaring, his damp t-shirt still clutched tightly in your hand. Mind racing with only one thought - this little fuck wanted you just as badly as you wanted him.

---

You can barely remember what transpired after your little discovery. You couldn’t decide who looked more dazed - you or Yuji, who was being practically dragged out that front door as Choso exited hastily with vague mentions of baking and cookies

And in the ringing silence that followed after that front door slammed, you couldn’t help the smirk that found itself onto your face. This was going to be fun.

But if there’s anything you’ve learned about Choso - it’s that even after twenty-something years on planet Earth, that man can not take a hint.

You somewhat had an inkling after the fifth time you decided to sunbathe in just a skimpy bikini at exactly when you knew he’d be watching. Well, you might not have gotten any reaction other than an extremely flushed face at the window, but at least you knew he’d have more very fun bathroom breaks.

Hell, one time you even bought ice lollies for the whole house - but especially Choso. Making sure those dark eyes followed every lick and trail of it dripping down your fingers under the scorching summer sun. Ultimately resulting in nothing more but a heavy gulp and for his ice lolly to hit the grass faster than it could even begin to melt.

Ugh, should you get your brother to start another water fight? That went down well last time.

It’s only after another failed attempt at trying to get him alone and a few hours of deliberating whether you should ship your interrupting brother off on a cruise too that you realize you have to get out the big guns.

“The big guns” being stealthily organizing a sleepover for your brother at the Itadoris, then inviting Choso over for a movie night. Simple, right? And, well, if anyone asked, you could just say the movie just so happened to be rated R.

It wasn’t too hard to convince your brother that a sleepover with Yuji would be the best thing since sliced bread. The excitement in his voice palpable as he agreed, not suspecting a thing.

You just didn’t think it would be even easier to convince Choso to come over with a simple playful text of “Netflix no chill. Haha jk…unless?” But then again, when has Choso not surprised you?

And that night, as your brother eagerly headed off to Yuji’s place, you couldn’t help but feel a slight pang of guilt - but, hey, it was for a good cause, right?

It’s a win-win either way - your brother gets to spend the night with a friend and you get to be here, so achingly close to Choso on that couch. So close that you could feel the heat radiating off of him, stealing glances at his sharp profile as the conversation flows easily about the movie playing on screen.

Shifting ever-so-slightly closer, electricity crackling between you two was palpable. You smile in anticipation, after all - you weren’t lying about the movie being rated R.

Now, Choso certainly didn’t come over to your house tonight expecting a wholesome rerun of Cars 2. However, he also wasn’t expecting the blockbuster action movie to suddenly unfold into something so steamy.

Goddamn lecherous directors and their goddamn pervy movies.

Eyes firmly trained on the ground, instead of the actress currently fake-moaning dramatically onscreen, Choso tries to ignore the subtle shift of your hips or the way the temperature in the room has currently increased by about 10 degrees. Or the way your moans would sound a million times prettier in his ears.

Alas, Choso was not a strong man, and he especially tries to will away the blood rushing straight to his cock right now - but how could he? You were such a vision of temptation, so close and warm and close to him on the couch.

This was absolute torture.

“God, this is so painfully fake. Don’t you think so?” your voice rips through the deafening silence between you two, tone careful and balanced, startling Choso out of his little reverie.

His eyes flicker hastily to meet yours, and for a moment, he seems caught off guard by your sudden interruption. “Oh, yeah.” voice rough with a hint of nervousness. “I’ve seen better performances in middle school plays.”

You nod, the tension between you thickening as you lock eyes. “I mean, who even writes this stuff?” you continue, leaning in even closer to Choso, words positively dripping in sarcasm. “It’s like they’ve never actually had sex before.”

Choso lets out a shaky laugh, the sound strained as he shifts subtly in his seat - but not subtly enough. Because you catch the way he desperately tries to adjust his now-uncomfortably tight pants. Success.

“Yeah, exactly,” he clears his throat, ripping his gaze away from yours.

You study him for a moment under the dim lighting, noting the way his hands clench and unclench in his lap, the rapid rise and fall of his chest as he struggles to control his breathing. He was nervous. Nervous and horny - exactly where you wanted him.

A sudden rush of adrenaline courses through your veins, and you lean even closer to the man. Not even a hair’s breadth between you two - you relish in his strangled gasp as your tits press so enticingly against his arm.

“Choso, just a thought.” you hum casually, lips mere inches from his ear. “Wanna recreate the scene better?”

His breath hitches at your words, muscles rippling so deliciously beneath your touch. “Do you know what you’re saying?” he rumbles, lowly. Eyes darkened and unreadable.

You smile, heart pounding against your chest as your lips brush against his earlobe. “Absolutely.”

It was like something snapped.

Because then he’s kissing you. And you’re kissing him. Because goddammit you haven’t spent the last month sneaking glances at those pretty lips for nothing.

Movie completely forgotten, Choso is warm under your touch - all sculpted chest and urgent pulses as his lips kiss you dizzyingly. Groaning lowly as your arms wrap around his neck, pulling him impossibly closer.

He breathes you in with an infectious desperation that bleeds into his hands, wandering every inch of your skin - as if he didn’t have enough time. And he probably didn’t. Distantly, Choso thinks that no time in the world would be enough to absolutely fucking wreck you the way he wanted to.

Large, hurried hands grope your chest, squeezing so teasingly in a way that almost made you think he was trying to feel out what bra you were wearing - lacy pink. His favorite, of course.

You minx.

Urgently tugging the hem of your tight shirt over your arms, Choso tosses it god-knows-where. Mouth watering as he pulls away to greedily take in the heavenly view of your heaving chest - the same one he’s shamelessly fucked his fist to for too long.

God, you were perfect. With a soft, little oh! Choso leans down to leave hot, open-mouthed kisses on every bit of exposed skin he could reach. Nipping, and tugging lightly. Relishing in the way you whine for his lips again.

Threading a hand through his soft hair, you lightly pull him back to you. Breath fanning his face, lips ghosting over his own.

“Kiss me, you fool.”

And, well, Choso didn’t have to be asked twice. Molding his mouth against yours once more. Letting your lips part, you intertwine your tongue so sinfully with his. He tastes just like he looks - so intoxicatingly delicious.

With a breathy sigh, he lightly taps the curve of your ass. Hands lingering for far longer than necessary, kneading the flesh in a way that has your skin searing.

You get the signal. Urgently, you loop your legs around his waist. “Choso- bed.” you whisper, muffled in-between kisses. “Now.”

Shivers run down your spine at the way he chuckles darkly, “Honestly, sweetheart. I don’t even hah- know if we’ll make it there.” Mumbling against your lips, “Would you kill me if I take you right here right now?”

“I’ll kill you if you don’t fucking do something.” you hiss, words dripping in desperation. Ah, but Choso, ever the merciful man, shuts up whatever other retort on the tip of your tongue with his own. Kissing you with almost-bruising intensity as he gets up from his seat. Strong arms securely wrapped underneath you, holding you flush against his warm skin.

Choso doesn’t pull away even once as he hastily makes the route to your room. And honestly, with the speed at which your back hits the soft mattress, bouncing at the sheer force at which you two fell on top, you wouldn’t even be surprised if he teleported there.

Now safely in the confines of your room, you all but rip off Choso’s snug t-shirt. Those familiar obscene nipple piercings winking at you under the dim lighting in greeting.

“Always wanted to do this.” you murmur, surging forward as if on autopilot. Lips latching delicately onto the pretty pink nipples, tasting the cold metal on your tongue.

“Oh- oh, fuck. A-always knew you had a thing hah- f’my piercings, sweetheart.” Choso breathes out, letting you have your fun. His favorite bra now at the foot of your bed. Fingers deftly sneaking under your skirt, blood rushes straight to his cock as he feels the positively soaked state of your panties - if you could even call them that.

Sanity snapping, he immediately flings off your skirt. Throwing it somewhere across the room with no care or concern for where it ends up. All so he could look down at oh-

Oh god, if you had to describe Choso’s face as he takes in the sight before him - it would be absolutely losing his sanity. Your pussy dripping and clenching around nothing - all for him.

Strings of slick trail down your thighs as Choso hooks one, long finger under your slutty g-string, tugging impatiently.

You keen as the cold air hits your dripping cunt. Yet Choso’s eyes stay locked hungrily on the sticky fabric intertwined around his fingers “Guess you were expecting this, huh?” he murmurs, voice thick with desire.

Scoffing, you buck your hips up for something - anything. “I’ve been wanting to fuck you since that first night I hit on you, y’know,” you admit, the heady air of your room melting away any reservations you had previously.

And that seems to snap Choso out of his trance - eyes flickering over to you, darkened with something so carnal that it makes your cunt throb. “Oh yeah?” he mumbles, swiftly stuffing the g-string in his pocket before leaning down, hot breath hitting your ear. “Now, what was that pick-up line you were gonna say that night?”

You gasp in embarrassment, heat flooding to your cheeks at the memory. “Wha- that doesn’t matter. I was drunk and-”

Smack!

The delicious sting on your ass hits you before the realization that Choso smacked you. He smacked you. Even later do you realize that you like it - slick beading so obscenely at your sloppy hole.

“What was it, sweetheart?”

You shudder at the tone that leaves no room for argument. The words tumbling out of you as Choso caresses soothingly over the handprint on your ass. “I- it’s stupid. I was gonna say that I’m down to sit on your face, baby.”

“Thought so,” he grins, pulling away from the dizzying proximity. Shifting - well, more like manhandling - you to flip positions.

God, you could almost sink into his muscles as he lays back on your bed. Voice low and dangerous as he utters words that go straight to your dripping pussy, “Now, sit on m’face.”

And before you know it, you find yourself hastily straddling Choso’s pretty face. Hands snaking down his milky abs, lips kissing along his tattoos, catching purposefully on his sensitive nipples.

Warm breath fanning your quivering cunt, he reaches up to cup your ass, nudging your needy core to his mouth. Kneading. Groping.

Not stopping his ministrations even when your slick oozes slowly, torturously through your swollen folds and onto his awaiting tongue. A maddening drip! drip! drip! ringing in your ears above your thundering heartbeat.

Choso groans at the mouthwatering sight above him. You - spread so shamefully open for him and clenching around nothing.

“Luckily for you, sweetheart, wanted you to sit on m’face ever since I saw you.” sweet juices flowing down his throat, words muffled against your throbbing lips.

He barely even gets the words out before he’s surging forward. Licking a long, languid stripe up your heated folds. Again. And again. Faster at the pretty moans that spill from your lips.

Pushing his tongue in between your slit, past that first, tight ring of muscle. Bullying it deeper and deeper. Chin pressing against your throbbing clit, ravaged at each movement of his face.

He caresses your warm walls, relishing so filthily at the way you clamp down on him in surprise. “Hngh- oh shit, baby. Ah-”

Your sweet moans are music in his ears and shit - you called him “baby”. It’s as if every wet dream he’s ever had has come to life as Choso dips in and out at a ruthless pace. Pulling out to tease your dripping entrance, pushing past mercilessly into your plushy walls. In and out in and out in and out-

His cock strains so painfully against his pants at the way your sloppy hole sucks his tongue in so obscenely - almost as if it hurts to part. Tongue fucking you the way he wishes he could with his cock right now.

“Oh- Hah- Choso! Fuck, baby. S’good.” your body arches into his absolutely depraved tongue.

Desperate whines spilling incessantly from your mouth at the way he quirks his tongue up just right to graze that spot he knew would have you grinding down on him for more. “Ah! Right there - jus’ like that!”

As if he knew exactly how to drive you wild. Exactly how to break you. You almost don’t notice the mindless, shallow little thrusts of his hips into your open palm. Almost.

Eyes snapping open at the tremors, you reach a hand across his quivering thighs. All the way down towards the very obvious dark patch on his pants - right where his furiously hard tip was leaking thick, relentless precum that made your mouth water.

Oh, how you’d kill to taste him - see if the rest of him is as intoxicating as his mouth is.

So you do.

Choso was so pussy-drunk in-between your thighs that you think he barely notices the way you fumble with his belt. Shakily pulling those pants down just enough to glimpse the rock-hard erection that those boxers do nothing to hide.

“Shit,” you whisper, voice strained with need.

You always imagined Choso had a big cock - but this was ridiculous. Your pussy clenches in both nervousness and anticipation as you imagined the delicious stretch of him splitting you apart on it. Breaking you.

And that’s probably when Choso notices - you clamping down so filthily on his tongue.

“Oh?” he rasps, voice sending white-hot vibrations of pleasure right up your spine. “Didn’t think you were so desperate for my cock, sweetheart. Gon’ make me cum, hm?”

Now, you’ve always thought of yourself as a woman of action rather than empty words. Which is probably why you urgently pull down his boxers. Choso’s painfully hard erection springs out, hitting his lower abs.

You take a moment to admire the long, heavy cock in your hands - a deliciously pretty pink on top, furiously leaking glistening precum. Saliva pooling in your mouth - you shove it as far down your throat as you possibly could.

Oh, how many times in his life has Choso imagined this moment right here. In the shower, right before bed, right after waking up too. You’re really a dream come to life.

A startled, strangled moan of your name leaves Choso’s kiss-bitten lips as you take him all in one go. Only to pull back and spit once- twice on his throbbing cock. The steady stream of spit cool - followed so maddeningly by the warm heat of your mouth once more. You start up a torturous, filthy pace bobbing your head up and down on his cock.

He strains his head to catch a glimpse - even just one - of your nose pressed against his pelvis. Breathing in the heady scent at the tufts of hair at the bottom, already wet with precum and spit. His dirty girl.

Popping off with a lewd squelch, “Feels good, baby?”

“Feels perfect.”

But he wasn’t gonna fall far behind.

Immediately attaching his lips with yours once more, Choso dives nose-deep in your dripping cunt. Rolling your throbbing clit in between his lips. Flicking his tongue along the sensitive bud in a way that makes your head feel so light. He alternates between a slow, languid torture on your clit and fucking into you unforgivingly.

Your movements stutter as you teasingly lick at his sensitive slit. The salty flavor of his precum is probably your favorite taste now. That bastard.

Reaching down, you cup his heavy balls, massaging the tender flesh in harsh, hasty circles that match your mouth down his length - up and down up and down up and-

Muffled moans and lewd squelching filling the heated room. A rhythmic, sinful cadence that both of you were losing your sanity to. Movements more frantic now. Desperate to make the other cum. Desperate to be first.

Letting out soft, raw grunts, Choso fucks up his throbbing erection into your mouth. Your eyes water as his tip abuses the back of your throat. And it makes you wish you could see how messy he looked right now. All smudged eyeliner and slick-glossed lips.

Gagging around him, a mixture of drool and precum drips sinfully down the corner of your mouth as you increase your pace, pooling messily on his lower abs. Sloppy - so sloppy.

So it only made sense that your orgasms were the same.

Pleasure dizzyingly overwhelming, you gush around Choso’s mouth with a stifled squeal. Stars behind your eyes, vision blurring, mind blanking - the only things you register being the languid tongue lapping up at your sweet juices and the guttural groan of what sounds like your name as Choso shoots thick, hot spurts of his cum down your throat.

Throat burning as the salty taste fills your senses, you milk his cock for more more more- his dick pulsing and stuttering in your mouth. Cum staining the fresh sheets below - a problem for later.

Right now all you were focused on was riding out your high, grinding almost animalistically on Choso’s pretty face.

You’ve barely removed yourself from him with a lewd pop! before Choso’s wrestling you back onto the mattress. Two fingers squishing your cheeks into an embarrassing pout, cold rings digging into your skin. The other hand snaking in between your thighs to play with your still-twitching cunt.

“Didn’t say we were done yet, sweetheart.” he mutters. You weren’t done - no, far from it. Because fuck a refractory period - both of you were going to take all you could get.

And before you can think of anything else, Choso is leaning down, hand prying your lips apart for him into a brutal kiss. Teeth clashing, lips bruising. He forces his tongue down your throat. Tasting himself before you barely get a chance to taste him as well.

“Hah- fuck-” you flinch as he swears into your bruised lips. “So fuckin’ sweet. You taste so good sweetheart.” The sheer debauchery and ache of his cock too much for him.

Tasting him. Tasting you. Both a heady flavor that leaves you yearning for more.

You bite down on his bottom lip in retaliation, relishing in the drawn-out groan that rumbles into your mouth at this. The kiss is feral. It’s animalistic. It leaves you feeling so fucking dirty.

And you barely recognise the dazed, predatory glint in Choso’s eyes as he pulls away, his mind clearly miles away as he spits once. Twice. Three times on your face.

The wads of saliva and cum hit your face with a warm, wet jolt. You whine at the way it seeps into your skin, dripping down your cheeks so fucking obscenely. Pooling at the sheets below in a way that makes you feel sorry for whoever had a shift at the laundromat tomorrow.

“Now, what do we say, sweetheart?”

A fucked-out, delirious smile tugs at the corner of your lips as you realize - yeah, you wouldn��t have it any other way. “Thank you.”

Not even when Choso lets out a dark chuckle, throwing your legs over his sculpted shoulders and manhandling you so that you’re splayed out so shamefully for him. Dripping cunt spread for his greedy gaze and clenching around nothing - aching for him. Begging for him.

Not even when he lines up his still-rock hard cock at your entrance, tip - angry and red - weeping so desperately as he nudges at your sloppy hole. Dragging his head along your folds collecting every bead of slick, just grazing your pulsing clit. Every muscle in your body trembling and anticipating what was to come.

You mewl at the stretch as he presses in - deliciously painful, boderling insane, and exactly what you wanted right now. Splitting you apart on his throbbing cock.

And especially not when he bottoms out inside you in one, harsh thrust. Burying himself inside your sloppy walls till his twitching balls smack against your ass.

“Ah- hngh- oh fuckkk.” you keen in both pain and pleasure - broken, raw moans leaving you uncontrollably. But not for long, because suddenly Choso’s shoving two ringed fingers in your mouth, bullying their way inside till you’re gagging and moaning around them.

Pressing right at that spot on the back of your tongue that makes your eyes tear up so prettily. Hey, if he couldn’t see you choking on his cock properly, the least he could do is see you choking on his fingers, right?

“Now now, wouldn’t want anyone else to hear, hm? Our brother’s would get worried.” he chuckles. Pure, dark amusement in his eyes as he takes in your swollen lips, the teartracks down your cheeks, how utterly beautiful and debauched you look underneath him. So much better than any lust-hazed imagination of his.

And yet, even when you’re being gagged and split apart on his cock, you find it in yourself to be mouthy. Words muffled around his thick fingers as you raise a brow. “There’s no one else home, though?.”

The corners of Choso’s lips lift into a devilish grin, “The neighbors, sweetheart.”

His tone is teasing, but there’s an undercurrent of seriousness that sends a chill down your spine. He’s just joking, right? Right?

“Wha-”

And probably because he was losing his patience - and partly to shut you up - Choso begins to move.

Pushing past the resistance, beginning to fuck into you in shallow, uncontrollable movements of his hips. Just little motions to get him off, groaning at how sinfully tight you were - the way you were sucking him up so good.

Next time, Choso thinks, reaching down a hand to draw tight, little circles on your poor, abused clit - next time he’ll fuck you right. Hours upon hours of teasing you so you don’t know what it feels like when you’re empty without him.

But fuck does he think he could just about pass out right now.

There’s no going back now. Choso fucks you in a way that makes you feel so deliciously filthy. Plunging into your heated cunt with no restraint. Thrusts positively savage.

Pulling all the way back so that his leaking tip just barely kisses your sloppy entrance, slamming down down down, Choso fucks you at a merciless pace. Relishing the delicious stretch of your cunt as he thrusts into you with a desperation that surpasses the need for reason.

“Sh-shit, sweetheart. God, s’tight. better than I ever could’ve imagined.” he moans breathlessly, brows furrowing, eyes rolling to the back of his head, the feeling of you milking the absolute soul out of him just too much.

“Oh, yeah- wanted this for so long-”

You yelp every time he rams his cock into you, the smacking of his toned pelvis against your thighs stinging almost as deliciously as his tip kissing your cervix. The obscene slapping of skin on skin makes your cheeks burn - both pairs as his heavy balls smack against your ass each time he shoves his throbbing cock into you.

And because you can’t leave him alone, of course, you find your nails digging harshly into his muscled shoulders.

Pulling him impossibly closer. You want more. You need more.

Maybe you say those words out loud - you don’t even know anymore, too delirious and cock-drunk from Choso and your last orgasm and Choso - because his eyes widen ever-so-slightly, mouth falling open into a small oh. Your cunt twitches at the surprised, fucked-out little laugh that leaves him, “More? My sweetheart wants more?”

And, as you’ve come to learn with Choso - anything you want, you will get.

“Then fucking- take it.” he grunts lowly, each word punctuated by a harsh thrust of into your plush walls that sends both of you spiraling deeper and deeper into insanity.

And God does he make you take it. Every inch of him fills you, stretching you beyond your limits - both your cunt and your senses as he leans down to bury his head into your neck, hips moving so sloppily, hiking your leg further up his shoulder. The change in angle making you see stars.

Your hips buck up in tandem with his, uncontrollable little ah! ah! ah! leaving you at each thrust. You whimper in pleasure and overstimulation into the heady room, “Yes. Yes yes yes- wan’ cum. Need more. Need you-”

“Fuck- Hngh-” is all he manages to gasp out, pleasure overwhelming his sensitive cock. Choso’s balls twitch almost painfully as they keep smacking your ass. Brain still not keeping up with his body because shit, this is all he’s wanted for years, the least he could do is make you cum before him.

“Sh-shit, sweetheart.” he rasps into your heated skin, “So close- m’ so close.”

You all but sob at his words, “M’too- hngh- ah, m’gonna cum, baby.”

You didn’t expect the petname to be what breaks him, but then again you didn’t think there was anything more left to break. Because Choso groans gutturally, cock twitching inside you “Shit, you’re driving m’crazy, y’know that?”

“I know.” you mewl, voice breaking at the way he increases his frenzied pace on your clit. You could barely even call them circles, just filthy little movements to get you closer and closer to the edge. So close. You writhe beneath him, desperate for release.

And what you didn’t expect was for Choso to connect his sweaty forehead with yours. You take a second to admire just how beautiful he is - all smudged eyeliner, tousled hair, your release still shining on the lower half of his face, and yours. All yours. You could probably stare at the sight forever.

Choso’s hot breath fans your face as he moans breathlessly against your lips, words slurring together as he ruts into you mindlessly, “Always did, y’know?”

“I know.”

“No- y’don’t hah- understand, I- for so long fuck- I-”

“Choso, just kiss me.”

And then you’re kissing him. And he’s kissing you like you’re the most precious thing on Earth. A slow, tender little dance that doesn’t match the way he rams his cock inside you.

And then you’re cumming. Stars behind your eyes - or maybe those were tears - clamping down desperately on the harsh, jerky movements of his glistening cock that fuck you so sinfully like his little slut.

White-hot pleasure runs down your spine, or maybe that was Choso - painting your insides the prettiest white you’ve ever seen. Shooting thick, hot ropes of his seed into your waiting pussy. A creamy ring forming around his base as he spills his cum into your snug cunt as he moans against your lips.

It’s messy. It’s sloppy. And as Choso fills you to the brim, hips still unforgiving, seed dribbling out of your dripping pussy at the way it was so overfilled - you think that it’s all you could ever want.

As his cock twitches finally, exhaustedly - and you distantly wonder how the fuck it isn’t seizing up - Choso collapses onto you, thoroughly fucked-out. Finally pulling out with an obscene squelch, you hiss lowly at the pool of cum that forms beneath you. Gushing out of you sinfully.

A weighty silence in the air as you both try to catch your breaths.

In the haze of your orgasm you realize that even after all that transpired, he still isn’t laying his full bodyweight on you.

Too afraid to break you.

To break whatever this tender little understanding in the air was.

And it makes some part of your heart clench so delightfully. Subconsciously, you thread a hand through his damp hair, breathing in that familiar smell of vanilla and sunshine - and the heady scent of something so Choso. It makes you intertwine your body so impossibly close with his, not knowing where one of you ends and the other starts.

“My parents are coming home tomorrow.” you start, casually.

“Mhm. But I’ll still be around here, sweetheart.” Choso rumbles into the crook of your neck. Kissing soothingly over the marks he’d made in the heat of the moment - some carnal little part of him proud of the way you looked like you were fucking thrown to a pack of wolves.

Words hiding a tense little fear beneath them as you probe further. Something prickly and scared rolling around in your stomach. “For babysitting?”

“Nope.”

Settling deeper into the covers, basking in the afterglow of him. You know you should get up and clean, but right now this was all you wanted. And maybe no other words were needed.

“God, am I glad your parents aren’t home.”

Except maybe those.

You chuckle as you pull back to stare into those deep, dark eyes. Cheeks flaring at the tender little warmth in them much more than they had when he was fucking you so sinfully. A devious idea coming to mind - because now that you got a taste, you were absolutely hooked.

Choso Kamo was absolutely intoxicating.

“Well, we still have time so how about-”

A distant click!

“Honey, we’re home~!”

Shit.

A/N. Fun fact this was originally supposed to be called Timeout! but it was giving too much me during beep test.

Plagiarism not authorized.

#choso x reader #choso smut #choso x you #jjk x reader #jjk smut #jjk x you #choso kamo x reader #choso kamo smut #choso kamo x you #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen smut #jujutsu kaisen x you #jjk #jjk fic #jujutsu kaisen #choso #tonywrites #choso kamo

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mortalityplays · 6 months

Text

You need more free art.

I quit my job yesterday. Well, actually I quit my job eight weeks ago, but they finally released me yesterday for good behaviour. Don't get me wrong, I love what I do - but I do it for the wrong reasons. Working for major charities, you learn very fast that 'I want to make the world a better place' is a phrase you use to ask people for money, not to give them things. I was an ass-backwards fit for that world.

You need more free art. I need more free art. Everyone has felt the shift in our media landscape over the last ten years, away from access and towards nickel-and-diming the human experience. That lack of access is making life and culture worse for all of us, across the board. Paywalled news sites leave us less informed, attacks on the Internet Archive leave us less capable of research. Algorithmic social feeds and streaming walled gardens trap us inside smaller and smaller demographic bubbles, where we are increasingly only likely to encounter ideas that have been curated for us by marketing departments. Hasty efforts to resist AI commodification have only led to more artists locking their work away and calling for even more onerous systems of copyright law. This is not good for us.

We all need more free art.

So what am I going to do about it?

This is a question I have been asking myself for years. It's easy to sit here feeilng frustrated and thinking 'boy I hope SOMEONE does SOMETHING'. It's harder to take action in a world where I still have rent to pay. But hard doesn't mean impossible. Sometimes hard just means time-consuming, frustrating and slow. And sometimes it's worth doing something time-consuming, frustrating and slow because...I want to make the world a better place.

I'm going to do this:

1. From April 1st, I am relaunching as a freelance writer and editor.

This is the one that will (hopefully) help to pay the bills. I am a very good and experienced editor. I've worked on hollywood movies, I'm a member of the Chartered Institute of Editors and Proofreaders, I have clients who have been coming to me exclusively for more than 10 years.

Alongside bigger contract jobs, I am going to refocus on offering my services to small-press creators at a reduced rate. That means you, graphic novelists. That means you, itch and amazon writers. I want to help you develop your work, the same way I help large organisations. You can learn more about what an editor even does and what kind of pricing you can expect here.

2. I'm also going to start giving shit away. Like, constantly.

Next week I'm going to launch a new free shop. If you're unfamiliar, a free shop, giveaway shop, swap shop, etc. is an anarchist tradition of setting up a storefront where anyone can take what they like for no cost. Offline, this often means second-hand clothes, tools, furniture, food etc. Online, I am going to be giving away digital art. Copyright-free, no strings attached. It will (eventually) feature everything from print-res posters to zines, poems, tattoo flash, t-shirt designs and anything else we come up with.

Yes, I said 'we' - while this is a curated collection, it will feature work from a variety of credited and anonymous artists and activists, all of whom have agreed to give their work away to the public domain. Some of it will be practical, some of it will be political, but a lot of it will be decorative or personal. This is, in part, a response to recent difficulty I had finding somewhere that would print a one-off joke poster for a friend that featured the word 'faggot'. Enough. No middlemen - no explaining ourselves. Just print our shit and enjoy it.

I'm very, very excited about this project. I'll have more to say about it closer to the launch, but you can expect it to go live on March 27th.

2.2 I forgot to mention the ACTUAL LAUNCH GIVEAWAY

To celebrate my launch, I am going to be giving away a ton of physical prints. When I went looking for my old stock to see if it was worth setting a new (paid) storefront up, I realised I had way more old work in storage than I thought. This will be announced in its own right on Monday, but this is why I've been hinting you should go follow my Patreon.

On April 1st, I will pick 8 random patrons (from across all tiers including non-paying followers!) and mail them a bundle of assorted prints and postcards. The prize pool includes A3 and A4 posters, packs of A6 postcards, and printed minicomics that I've previously sold for up to £12 each.

You don't have to be a paying subscriber to enter - this is strictly no-purchase necessary. It is purely and entirely a celebration of the concept of GIVING ART AWAY FOR FREE.

3. PORN, YOU PERVERTS

Because I still have to pay to stay alive, I am going to be subsidising all this free art with the introduction of Fuck You Fridays. Starting from March 29th, I will drop a new 18+ short story on the last Friday of every month, over on itch.io (yes I know my page is desolate right now, don't worry I'll get there).

The first edition, Go Fuck Yourself, is about, well - telling your boss where to stick it. Julia has had it with her millionaire man-child manager, and is just about ready to let him know what she really thinks. It's a short and steamy 5k words, with a gorgeous cover illustration by @taylor-titmouse, and you can pick it up for $3 starting from March 29th.

4. ANOTHER BIG SURPRISE

I'm keeping this one under wraps for now, but April 1st will also play host to one more (FREE) launch. If you've been following me for a long time, you might remember the other significance of this date (no not April Fool's day, though that is certainly thematically relevant to this entire effort). That's all I'll say right now. Watch this space.

tl;dr: I'm sick of paywalls and career ladders. I'm literally putting my money where my mouth is. More free art for everyone and I'm not kidding around!!!

#announcement #please reblog let's make this HAPPEN

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bunnys-kisses · 20 days

Note

Hiii I’d love to place an order! I’d like to order Angel food cake with a savory pastry and a side of iced tea and pina colada served by Lando💕

bakery menu

want to place an order? check out the menu! there's tons of things to choose from so please, hit me up! i'd love to hear from you! thank you, thank you! for this order! thank you lovely anon, i hope you enjoy it!

angel food cake ("if he fucks with me again, i'm finishing inside of you.") + savory pastry ("let your brother find out.") + ice tea (accidentally launching relationship) + pina colada (pregnancy)

cw: smut/pwp, verstappen!reader, pregnancy, phone calls, protective!max, cowgirl position

max didn't want you seeing any of the guys on the grid. it never sat right with him. he knew all of their dirty secrets and didn't need you getting involved with them.

but you and lando connected quite well, he was always sweet to you. he slowly grew to know you inside and out. you were perfect for him, it was just a shame that you had to keep your relationship private.

"this is silly." you shifted from one foot to another. you were currently in one of lando's t-shirts with a certain pair of underwear underneath, "where did you ever get this?"

lando was resting on his side with his head propped up by his fist, "the internet is a beautiful place, love." he beamed at you.

you'd barely call them panties, it was more like a strip of fabric held together by thin shoelaces. it was one step below a thong at that point. but it was neon green with your boyfriend's logo printed on the front.

you had refused to wear them to the dutch grand prix, but if he won, you'd wear them. you made the bed, now you must lie in it. you knew lando was still running off the high of the win, so you couldn't blame him. he beat your brother on his home turf, now he wanted to fuck his sister.

"do i have to wear these when i leave?" you asked.

he shrugged playfully, "sure. let your brother find out that way. if you leave them on the hotel room floor when he comes to pick you up... i can only imagine the look on his face." he knew that you had a habit of leaving things in hotel rooms. he had a decent collection of your make up that he had collected over your time together simply by taking home what you left behind.

it wouldn't be a stretch for your brother to find that thong, as embarrassing at it would be.

you crossed your arms and huffed, "couldn't i have gotten like a pair of boxers or even a bikini cut. this is shit that strippers wear." no offense to the hard working girls of that business, but that wasn't your line of work.

lando winked at you, "well, maybe you should put on a show for me."

you narrowed his eyes before you got on the bed with your boyfriend, "right, right." you ran your fingers through his hair and looked into his eyes, "you're a funny guy, norris." then went in for a kiss.

he got his arms around you and laid you out on the bed, his eyes raked your body. he admired your beauty and was eager to get the shirt off of you. which only left you in the thong.

"you know. if he fucks with me again, i'm finishing inside of you again." and watched you squirm under his grasp. oh, you were so beautiful. the prettiest thing ever put on his earth, and you were wearing his logo.

in all fairness you were going to be eventually be a norris, if his plan went well. he wanted you to be his wife. the pretty mrs. norris around the garage. all smiles and maybe a few babies.

a sick part of him liked the idea of taking max verstappen's sweet sister and putting a pretty ring on your finger. that he took the championship and his sister.

it pained him to take the thong off, but he wanted what was underneath. he wanted to see that slick pussy that he yearned for. he got the scrap of fabric off and gazed at your pussy before you took him by the shoulders and got him onto the bed.

he eyed your naked body as you straddled his waist, he helped you sink down on his cock. his expression changed as he felt himself nudge against the back of your pussy. almost took the breath out of him.

you breasts bounced with each thrust of your hips. he met his pace and held onto you. he eyed your beauty from the angle he was out. you looked painfully adorable. sweet little thing taking his big cock, letting it nudge up against the softest parts of you.

lando loved you, it was a infernal need, like the claws of hell gripped into him when he thought of you. he felt like a little devil when he got you into positions and rutted up against you. you were the ultimate prize, verstappen's little sister with the gentle eyes and sopping wet cunt. it was hot, that was all that lando wanted.

he'd never admit it to anyone (except maybe you), but if he had the choice between the championship and your sweet cunt for the rest of his days. he'd take you. there were a million prizes and trophies to win, but there was only one of you.

"lando." you gasped, your back arched a little as it hit just the right way. you felt tense as the pleasure lapped at your core. you were soaked and it felt hot all over.

"you're beautiful. you got all the beauty." he chuckled as he gripped onto your hips to meet your thrusts, "i can't believe you and max are siblings."

you whined, "lando. don't talk about my brother." your pussy sounded soaked from the movements you made. you were so wet for him and it made him shudder with want.

"sorry, sorry, baby girl." he said, "no more track talk, no more sibling talk." he leaned forward to kiss your chest as a promise as the two of your rutted against one another. the pair of you felt so good.

you moaned a 'thank you' as you placed your hands on either side of his chest to get a better angle to ride him. the feeling bloomed in the back of your head, it clouded your thoughts with that of hot, hot need. lust was a current in your system as you bounced on his cock.

"i love you."

"i love you too." you arched your back a little as you felt lando in your abdomen. a wave of lust went over you and made you run hot. your brother's rival was deep inside of you with little to no protection. it excited you.

but just as quickly as the pleasure rose in your body, it ran cold in a quick second.

your phone rang on the nightstand. while you ignored it, you caught the sight of the screen and saw that it was from your brother. you scrambled a little, with lando's cock still inside of him.

you felt ice in your stomach as you stopped for a moment. your breathing was heavy. it continued to ring.

"stay quiet." you said to lando before you answered the phone, "hey! max." you said, your voice was tight.

there was moment of silence with you still rolling your hips against lando's cock. letting it fill you. the bed squeaked a little and your breathing was heavy.

max sighed, "are you with lando?"

your breath got caught in your throat and you stopped your movements. you swallowed back the panic, "n..no. why would i be with lando.. i'm at my hotel!" you almost felt the air out of your lungs as lando's cock was painfully deep inside of you.

max said, painfully calm, "i know you are... don't lie." that was the thing about your older brother, he always knew when you lied. he could lie through his teeth, but you cracked under the pressure.

you felt lando's hands hold onto your hips. you said meekly, "surprise...."

your brother replied, "we'll talk about this after. i suggest you be more careful around the paddock, unless you people to talk... be safe. please. and tell lando to look at the driver's group chat."

you hung up the phone and put it down on the bed before lando moved you onto your hands and knees to plug his cock deep into you. he curved your back and rutted against you. you whined and tried to say something but lando spoke first.

"guess the cat has come out of the bag." the rush of it made him more excited as he rammed his cock into you. with a few more heavy thrusts, you came around his cock. and then with a few more, he finished inside of you. you came soon after as he rubbed his cock deep into you some more. the pressure made orgasm wash over you.

"lando."

"i've got you, baby girl. you look so good, all fucked out for me."

he loved the sight of you on your chest, hips up at the perfect angle to cream your sweet pussy. he slowed to a stop and pulled out, the base of his cock had a white ring around it from the mixture of your cum and his.

"what about max?"

"oh don't worry. i'll talk to him. gotta play nice with my future brother-in-law." lando said as he curled up further to you.

max didn't kill lando. he also wasn't happy. not only was lando dating you, he had also gotten you pregnant. he didn't even need to say anything and lando was already promising a ring and a life together. max was honestly a little impressed. seeing lando step up to the plate.

he could also see how affectionate lando was with you. how he was there for you every chance he got. he didn't throw you to the wayside because he got what he wanted. max only wanted the best for you.

"i'm fine, lando." you said as you pinched his cheeks, "go do you press stuff, i'll be here."

"alright, alright. but if you need anything you tell someone. i'm not having my wife getting lost or hurt out there." he tapped you on the forehead.

max chuckled into his fist and you glared at your brother.

but when you came to the paddock in mclaren orange near the end of the season, your brother was less impressed. you were with the mclaren driver, but you were still a verstappen.

"next time." max said, "you're wearing red bull, the idea of a verstappen in mclaren clothes isn't right. you're not married to him yet." some habits died hard.

maybe you should've thought this over better before you started dating your brother's rival. <3

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screaminglygay · 2 months

Text

Watermelon, sugar, high.

pairing: wanda maximoff x fem!reader

summary: you are not a big fan of collage parties, but maybe you´ll change your mind, when there´s an interesting person around.

warnings: stoner!wanda, weed consumption, alcohol consumption, swearing, bad flirting, making out while being high

word count: 2.6k

an: this fic is not meant to encourage people to use drugs!! i want to have a flirty chat with wanda and i also want her sweet lips on mine:)

"Hiii!" Your friend links hand with yours.

"Abolutely not." You shake your head.

"Come on! It will be fun." Your friend begs you to go with them to the usual Friday party.

"Drunk people grinding agaisnt eachother is not fun," you take look at them as you start heading out of the school.

"Oh my god! If you don´t want to grind on people, that´s fine, don´t do it," they roll their eyes at you, "but you have to come, please! Pretty please."

"I hate you." Now it´s your time to roll your eyes.

"You don´t, you love me and that´s why you´ll be ready at eight." You´re already done for today, so you take a nice walk back into your apartment.

It´s not like you hate parties, but you´re just socialy awkward and you don´t really see the point of drinking tons of alcohol, making out with a stranger and having a hangover the next day. Maybe you actually do hate parties.

With a resigned sigh, you settle on an outfit that feels comfortable yet still a bit stylish. Black on black. It's not perfect, but it will have to do. Glancing at the clock make you realize that your friend will be here soon to pick you up, expecting you to be ready. You take a deep breath, trying to calm the fluttering in your chest. Maybe it doesn't matter what you wear—maybe it's just about showing up and enjoying yourself.

Enjoying yourself in a house full of alcohol, drugs, drunk and horny people. How can you enjoy yourself there? Oh god.

Your friend arrives right on time, honking the horn playfully to announce her presence. You grab your phone, keys and wallet and rush to her car.

Buckling up, you can't shake the anxiety gripping you. "I really hate parties," you admit with a sigh, meeting her gaze as she starts the engine.

She glances at you, empathy softening her expression. "I know you do," she acknowledges gently, her voice laced with understanding. "But tonight's going to be great. Just relax, enjoy the fun, and embrace your youth."

"Embrace your youth?" You roll your eyes. "I just never feel like I fit in."

"Trust me, once we get there, you'll see that no one cares, everyone is just in their little head, like you are." She smiles at you.

You fidget with your shirt, still hesitant. "What if I don't know anyone?" you ask, nerves creeping back in.

She reaches over, squeezing your hand comfortingly. "I'll be right by your side," she assures you, her reassurance grounding you.

And that was a lie.

"I´ll be back in a second," your friend said - and that was like a 40 minutes ago.

You glance around awkwardly, attempting to look engaged while secretly wishing for your friend to reappear. People bustle past, engaged in their own conversations and laughter, oblivious to your internal struggle.

A burst of laughter erupts nearby, drawing your attention momentarily. You force a smile, trying to appear approachable, but no one even looks at your direction. The music pounds in your ears, a constant reminder of the pulsating atmosphere you're trying to navigate alone.

"You look like you need some company," you hear raspy voice behind you and then you see a face, pretty face. Tall girl with long brown hair in a black skirt that falls to mid-thigh, paired with a dark gray long-sleeve shirt that drapes softly against her silhouette, her outfit complemented by a delicate necklace that adds a special touch to it all.

After you basically checked her up and down, you slightly shake your head, "not really, no." You sip from your drink that tastes like shit, "my friend just went to the bathroom."

"Are they okay? I mean being in the bathroom for," she looks at her phone, "over 30 minutes is a long time."

"How do you know that?!" You tilt your head as she leans closer to you.

"I know a lot of things, malysh. I also know that you need company or you gonna pass out from all the stuff that it´s happening in here, follow me." She offers you her hand.

"I´m not gonna follow a stranger somewhere… away from the crowd."

"I´m Wanda, you are?"

"(Y/N)."

"Now we´re not strangers," She takes your hand in her soft one. Oh her hands are nice. A sly smile as she leads you outside, on the roof to be specific. Suddenly the world goes quiet - yes, you still hear the music, but this feels way nicer and you breathe some fresh air.

"Better, (Y/N)?" Wanda smiles at you.

You nod, "yeah, a lot actually," you smile back at her.

Wanda nods, she walks further away from you, sitting on the edge of the roof, "this is my favorite spot."

"Oh, so this is your house?" You look around once more, then you go and join her.

Wanda nods, pulling a small bag with… weed. You look back at her.

"Shouldn't you be downstairs, enjoying your own party?" Your gaze drops to her hands, each adorned with unique silver rings that catch the light as she expertly crushes the dried herb in her grinder. With practiced finesse, she meticulously spreads the cannabis along the length of the rolling paper, ensuring an even distribution.

"My brother is enjoying that for the both of us," her fingers, nimble and fold the paper around the herb, creating a tight cylinder.

Once satisfied with the shape, she licks the edge of the paper, sealing it with a practiced flick of her tongue. And from her pocket she pulls out a black lighter. After few seconds the scent of cannabis permeates the air, blending with the distant bass thump of music from downstairs. She puts her lighter back into her pocket.

"So not a party person?" Your eyes are concentratates on her lips, she´s really beautiful.

Wanda exhales, her eyes scanning the horizon. "Parties can be… overwhelming," she admits. "I prefer quieter moments like this, where I can think and breathe."

You nod in agreement, "it's nice up here," you offer, glancing at her with a small smile. "Peaceful."

"Yeah," Wanda murmurs, a faint smile playing on her lips. "I come here a lot, away from the noise of the world."

As you both settle into a comfortable silence, you can´t help but glance at her time to time. The more you look at her, the more you find her beuatiful.

Wanda notices the way you´re basically staring at her, "would you like some?"

"Oh no, no, I- uh never had… that." You point to her blunt between her pretty fingers.

"Never?" Her smirk widens.

You shake your head at her question, "never."

"Wanna try it?" She take one more puff of the joint.

"I-" You want to try it. "I´m not sure." You manage to say.

Wanda smiles and nods, "Okay, no preasure here."

"No, I want to try it, I… I don´t know why I said I´m not sure…" your eyes went from Wanda to her fingers and then back up at her.

"Looks like you need to relax a bit." Your hand reaches for the blunt, but Wanda moves away, her fingers gracefully taking hold of it. Her touch is delicate yet firm as she brings the blunt to your lips, guiding it with a steady hand.

"Open, but don't inhale into your lungs," she instructs softly, her voice a soothing.

You follow her guidance, parting your lips as the tip of the blunt touches them. The smoke tickles your throat as you tentatively draw it in, but despite your efforts to follow Wanda's instructions, the unfamiliar sensation overwhelms you. The harshness of the smoke makes you cough.

"Oh god-" it feels like your insides are on fire.

"It´s okay," her other hand falls on your knee and softly rubs it up and down to sooth you, "let it all out."

After few deep breaths and few tears from your eyes, you finally speak, "that was… horrible."

Wanda chuckles, "the first time is always bad, unless you´re eating edibles."

"Can I try it again?" Your eyes meet Wanda´s ones, "please?" You add.

She smiles at your politeness and nods, bringing her hand back to your mouth, as you inhale a bit, you cough again. Her hand never left your knee, slowly running up and down to sooth you again.

"I don´t know what I though-" another absoutely horrible inhale, making you cought even more than the first try.

"It's okay," she reassures you, her voice calm and steady. "It takes time to get used to it. Just take it slow."

You nod, taking comfort in her words and the steadying touch of her hand. With each attempt, you feel a bit more at ease. Despite the coughing and the burning sensation in your throat, there's a strange comfort in sharing this moment with Wanda, her presence grounding you amidst the new experience.

"You're doing great," Wanda encourages, her smile warm and genuine. "It gets easier, I promise. And I think that for the first time, few puffs will be just enough for you." She chuckles.

Her encouragement fuels your determination, and you take another small puff, this time managing to hold it in for a moment before exhaling. The smoke swirls around you, mingling with the cool night air.

"See? Getting better already," Wanda praises, her hand still gently caressing your knee. The warmth of her touch feels so good.

You hum. "What's supposed to happen after smoking weed?" you ask, curiosity mingling with uncertainty.

Wanda smiles, her eyes sparkling with amusement. "Well, it varies from person to person, but usually, you start to feel more relaxed, maybe a bit giggly or nostalgic. It's different for everyone."

You nod, processing her words as the minutes tick by. Slowly, a warm, tingling sensation spreads through your body. Your mind begins to feel lighter, the edges of your thoughts softening into a pleasant haze. The world around you seems to take on a softer, more vibrant hue.

After some minutes of silence, Wanda notices the look on your face. "How are you feeling?"

You take a moment to consider, a small smile creeping onto your lips. "I feel… good. Warm. Like everything's a little more… interesting," you say.

Wanda's smile widens, and she nods in understanding. "That's the idea. It's all about letting go and enjoying the moment."

As you sit there, the conversation flows effortlessly. You talk about everything and nothing—your favorite books, funny memories from childhood, and even some old cartoons you used to watch as a kid. Wanda listens intently, her laughter ringing out occasionally, filling the rooftop with a joyful sound.

At one point, you find yourself marveling at the stars above, their brilliance more vivid than ever. "Do you think there's life out there?" you ask, your voice dreamy and reflective.

Wanda tilts her head, considering the question. "I think the universe is too vast for us to be the only ones. It's kind of comforting, in a way, to think we're part of something much bigger."

You nod, feeling a profound sense of connection to the universe and to Wanda next you.

"You're really good at this," you say suddenly, looking at her with wide, appreciative eyes.

Wanda chuckles softly. "At what?"

"At making me feel… like it's okay to just be," you reply, your voice sincere.

Wanda's expression softens, and she reaches out to gently squeeze you thigh. "Happy to be at your service," she says simply.

You find yourself staring at Wanda, unable to tear your eyes away from her. The way her lips curve into a gentle smile, the way her eyes twinkle with a mixture of amusement and understanding—it's all captivating. The world around you blurs, leaving just the two of you in sharp focus.

Wow… why didn´t you come to the party before? It´s just so… fascinating.

Wanda notices your intense gaze and smiles knowingly. "You're adorable when you're high, you know that?" she says, her voice low and teasing.

You blush, but you can't look away. "Am I?" you murmur, feeling a warmth spread through your chest that has nothing to do with the weed.

Wanda leans in a bit closer, her eyes locked onto yours. "Absolutely. You have this… innocent charm. It's really endearing."

You giggle nervously, feeling your cheeks heat up. "You're not so bad yourself."

Wanda's grin widens. "Oh? What do you like about me?" she asks, her tone playful and flirty.

You bite your lip, feeling a surge of boldness. "You´re beautiful. So beautiful that I want to kiss you."

Wanda's eyes darken with interest, and she leans in closer, her lips just a breath away from yours. "Well, who am I to deny a request like that?" she whispers.

Before you can respond, Wanda's lips brush against yours, soft and tentative. The kiss is gentle at first, a sweet exploration. Your heart races, and you find yourself leaning into her, deepening the kiss. Wanda's hand slides up to cup your cheek, her thumb brushing softly against your skin.

As you kiss, Wanda's other hand rests on your thig. "You taste sweet," she murmurs, her voice husky.

"And you taste like… heaven," you reply, feeling a little dazed but incredibly happy.

Wanda laugh at your words, finding it absolutely adorable how high you are, her eyes sparkling. "Heaven, huh? I like that."

The weed might be helping, but you truly feel like you´re in "heaven", you nodd.

"I think I'd prefer us both to be sober for the rest," she whispers, her eyes looking into yours. "How about we continue this on a proper date?"

You nod, your heart fluttering with excitement. "I'd like that," you reply, your voice barely above a whisper.

Wanda's smile widens, and she presses a quick, soft kiss to your forehead. "It's a date, then," she says, her tone filled with promise. There is a comfort silence, until she speaks again. "So, I guess I should ask for your phone number," she says, a playful smile tugging at her lips.

You giggle, feeling a flutter of excitement in your chest. "Yeah, that would be a good idea," you reply, reaching into your pocket for your phone. Your hands are a bit shaky, but you manage to unlock it and hand it over to Wanda.

She types in her number, then hands your phone back to you. "There you go," she says, her smile warm and genuine. "Now we can plan our date."

You grin, calling her so she has your number as well. "I can't wait."

Just then, you hear your friend's voice calling your name from below. "(Y/N)! Are you up there?" she shouts, her tone a mix of concern and impatience.

You sigh, glancing at Wanda. "Looks like my friend is looking for me."

Wanda nods, her expression understanding. "Looks like we have to say our goodbyes," for the first time you can see Wanda´s smile dissapearing. "But tonight was fun. I'm really glad we met."

"Me too," you say, standing up and brushing off your clothes. As you move toward the door, your friend appears, her face a mix of relief and exasperation.

"There you are! I've been looking everywhere for you," she says, crossing her arms. "It's late. We should get going."

"Here I am." You smile proudly.

"Goodnight, Wanda," you say softly.

Wanda smiles, her eyes warm and full of promise. "Goodnight. I'll text you soon," she winks.

As you and your friend walks back down, even at your state you can feel them staring, "we should party more often, it´s fun. Very fun." You mumble looking at her.

They look at you with suprise. "What made you change your mind? Your new friend?"

"Just the vibe is great and you know… it´s all about the vibes. And mostly pretty girls. Pretty girl." You smile to yourself thinking about Wanda again.

Your friend looks at you and it finally clicks, "oh my god, are you high?"

Thank you for reading, I had so much fun writing this hehe:)

#adele writes #wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff x fem!reader #wanda maximoff x you #wanda maximoff x y/n #wanda maximoff fluff #stoner!wanda #marvel fanfiction #marvel fanfic

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dxxdhood · 4 months

Text

take care

pairing: jason todd x gn!reader

summary: when you have a bad day at work, jason knows just the way to help you unwind.

tags: smut (18+), dom!jason todd, sub!reader, fingering, teasing, dirty talk, massages

wc: 2.1k

No matter what you try to tell yourself, you can’t stop crying. Ever since you woke up this morning, it feels like life has been throwing you the worst possible things to deal with– people being casually rude to you, your boss expecting unreasonable amounts of work done. After finally falling into bed, you completely lose it, sobbing so hard your body starts shivering.

Jason won’t be back for another couple of hours at least, and usually that’s enough time for you to unwind from work, but today you can’t stomach the thought of doing anything. Instead, you slip into sleep while the tears are still fresh on your face.

There’s a warm pat on your shoulder, and for a second, the bliss of sleep follows you from your nap into reality. But all too soon, you remember the day you’ve had and the tenseness from earlier sinks back into you.

“Hey,” Jason whispers, his hand still resting on your shoulder. “You alright?”

“Yeah– I’m,” You shake your head, stumbling across the half of the blanket that’s made it on the floor as you walk to the bathroom. “I’m just really tired. I’m going to shower, I forgot to earlier.”

You catch Jason’s concerned look from the corner of your eye, but you try not to stress about how you’re worrying him. As soon as the door closes behind you, you grip the bathroom counter and look at your reflection.

You’re so exhausted you look sick, but you don’t want to bother Jason with your own worries right now. When he’s not on patrol, he’s always researching more ways he can stop crime and minimize conflict. Really, he doesn’t have a ton of time of his own to relax, so you really shouldn’t burden him with your feelings.

After a half-hearted shower, you toss on a T-shirt and shorts before walking towards the living room. Jason’s lounging on the couch, and he waves you over to watch a movie– Pride & Prejudice 2005.

“Oh? What’s the occasion?” You say, trying for cheerful.

“Just thought we could use something familiar,” He says, placing a blanket on top of you before wrapping his arm around your shoulder.

“I’m still going to need you to explain half of what’s going on, I can’t keep up with all the characters.”

“That’s why we’re watching it,” He kisses your cheek. “I just tricked you into listening to me ramble about my favorite book.”

You giggle, and for a second you almost feel light enough to enjoy the moment. You can’t shake the feeling that you’re forgetting something, though, and when it hits you, you nearly kick the blanket off of you.

“Shit! I didn’t make anything for dinner!”

“Hey, hey,” Jason moves his hand to rub the back of your neck. “It’s okay, I got something going in the oven.”

You settle back into your place on the couch, but you feel terrible. It was your turn to make dinner today since you got off your shift first. You can’t believe you let yourself fall asleep instead! Jason doesn’t seem bothered in the slightest, he just cuddles into your side further as you both watch the camera pan around Elizabeth Bennett.

Suddenly, it hits you. You know how to make up for worrying him and forgetting about dinner. At first, you subtly try and bring your hand under the blanket, feeling around until you find his thigh. When you make contact, Jason gives you a look, trying to gauge whether or not it was intentional. You give him a cheeky smile as you continue.

Jason settles into the couch, just laying back and allowing you to do what you want, still figuring out why you’re suddenly in the mood. You run your nails against the inside of his thigh, lightly at first before digging in just a little, knowing he likes it a little rough.

You finally palm him through his shorts and he lets out a small gasp. His shoulders seem to fall back and you swear you can see some of the tension Jason always carries around leaving him. Carefully, you wrap your hand around his cock, and you lazily stroke him through the fabric as he exhales through his nose. You’re about to crawl under the blanket to take off his shorts when Jason grabs you by the shoulder and pulls you up to face him.

“Alright, that’s enough of that.”

“Huh? Don’t you want me to,” you gesture to his lap instead of letting your words trip you up. “I mean, I just started now, so I should really–”

“What are you talking about?” Jason shakes his head, his fluffy hair shifts with him.

“Look, I–” You massage your forehead, trying to work through some of your anxiety. “I was going to do something for you, Jason, so just let me–”

Jason slides his hand from your shoulder across your arm until he’s supporting your hand, bringing it in so he can kiss your knuckles.

“You’re always doing stuff for me,” He whispers. “Let me return the favor.”

The speed at which you break eye contact and begin fiddling with the blanket speaks volumes to Jason. You gulp as he lowers your hand, careful not to overstep. You know that if you say the word, the two of you can stop and go back to watching the movie in front of you. But still, no matter how much residual stress keeps bothering you, you want to know what Jason has in mind for you.

“Yes,” you say.

“What?” Jason leans in, not having heard you the first time.

“Yeah–” you try to fight against your own embarrassment at accepting the invitation. “I’d like you to… take care of me.”

For a moment, the two of you sit in silence before Jason bursts into giggles. You have the sense to feel offended, but he quickly wraps his arms around you and rests his head on your shoulder.

“God, lighten up, will you? You sound so serious, it’s not that big a deal.”

Immediately you fail at keeping a straight face, and although you really don’t want to give him the win, you end up letting out a snort.

“Alright, come on,” He taps your back. “Lay on your stomach.”

“What’re you doing?” You ask, even though you’re already maneuvering into position, tossing the blanket off the couch in the process.

“Just trust me, okay? Relax, I’ve got you.”

Jason’s hands are warm when they reach your back. You take in a small inhale, not quite sure what you were expecting. He moves his hands softly at first, just stroking the skin of your back and shoulders to get you accustomed to the feeling. As soon as you start getting comfortable, he starts applying the slightest bit of pressure, kneading at your shoulder muscles.

A sound escapes you that you’re not proud of, and though you’re certain Jason is smirking, you refuse to turn around and see it. Sighing into the couch cushions, you close your eyes and let yourself fade into the feeling. Jason moves downward, massaging your back in slow motions, carefully running his knuckle down the small of your back. It’s incredible, more than, but it doesn’t feel like nearly enough.

“You can press harder, you know.”

He huffs, “See, I was thinking that, but if I hurt you right now I don’t think I’d be able to forgive myself.”

Jason has a talent for saying things like that, things that make you melt no matter what’s running through your head. To his credit, he tries, kneading out all the knots across your back, but still with lighter pressure than you would’ve given to yourself.

“Is that alright?” He asks. “You want me to keep going?”

You hum, already starting to sink into the feeling. Jason continues, hands roaming all across your back. Your eyes start to close and you can feel yourself slipping into sleep before a hand starts to move down your body, gently feeling up your ass.

“Okay?” Jason says.

“Okay–” and as soon as you respond, he kneads the sore muscles in your upper thighs and ass, and although it causes a part of you to completely melt into the cushions, a part of you feels like you’ve just had a fire lit within you.

“Jason,” you start. “If you keep going, I might… uh–”

“No, you can say it,” he whispers as he leans in, covering your body with his own so you can feel his breath across your cheek. “Tell me what I do to you.”

“Shit–” you bury your head into the couch, but Jason carefully sets hand on your head and helps you make eye contact with him.

“Talk to me,” his voice drops low. “I can’t give you what you want if you don’t tell me.”

He places a hand on top of one of yours resting in front of you. You flip your hand over and interlock your fingers with his. A barely audible exhale escapes from Jason as he gives your hand a squeeze.

“I want you to finger me.”

He’s smirking as he kisses your cheek, his lips trailing lower to your jawline before you even have time to register his movements. It’s like a switch has flipped in him, like he’s finally allowing himself to let loose for your sake. Like all he ever wants is to make you feel good if only you’ll allow him to.

The hand not holding yours moves from your ass to your inner thigh, softly rubbing circles only centimeters away from your slit. He catches you closing your eyes again, getting lost in the comfort around you and he gives your upper thigh a pinch.

You give a small shout, and Jason uses the opening to slot two fingers in your mouth. He doesn’t even need to give the command, you’re already sucking him on instinct. Always efficient, Jason unclasps your hands to reach for the lube in the side table drawer while you’re distracted. He pulls his fingers from your mouth with a pop.

“Are you ready, baby?”

“Because I can keep going if you’re not ready–” he pretends, as if he didn’t have a perfect view of your signal.

You nod, but your head is still mostly shoved against the surface of the couch.

“Jason! Fucking go!”

He snickers as lubes his fingers before gently working one in. How typical, even when he’s being nice, he still can’t help but be a tease. His pace is slow but thorough, working himself all the way into your heat before sliding out, only to rush back whenever you seem to get used to the sensation.

Already being relaxed from the massage must be getting to you, because as soon as you stretch to accommodate his second finger, your breathing starts to quicken. He speeds up slightly, moving to kiss the spot between your jaw and neck, nibbling a small mark despite knowing it’s in the perfect spot to be seen.

He finally starts hitting the spot inside of you where he’s needed, and you almost yelp in relief.

“Faster,” you sigh, and gratefully, Jason listens. He quickens his pace, hitting inside of you with accuracy, and leaning on top of you now to better the angle. You can feel the planes of his chest against your back, and the warmth radiating off of him causes your face to heat up.

“Ah–” you start, and Jason is able to get it out before you can.

“You’re close?”

This time when you nod your head, he accepts your answer and continues the same speed and intensity. He uses his other hand to grip you by the shoulder and force your head up so he can hear your gasps. Jason moves his head close to your ear again, and you can hear the smile in his voice when he whispers, “Come for me.”

You groan, naturally wanting to bury your cries into the cushions, but Jason’s grip stops you. The casual show of his strength has you thrusting back towards his fingers, and he dutifully works you through your orgasm until you’re finished.

He flips you so you don’t end up falling asleep with your airflow cut off, and under his observant gaze you finally stop trying to cover yourself up. You flash your teeth, and Jason rubs the curve of your cheek with his thumb before slipping off the couch to get a towel to clean up.

#dc comics #gn reader #smut #dc smut #dc #jason todd x gn!reader #jason todd smut #jason todd x you #jason todd #dom!jason todd #sub reader #red hood #red hood x gn!reader #red hood x reader #red hood smut #jason todd x reader

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rinniessance · 10 months

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BETWEEN A ROCK AND A HARD PLACE ༊*·˚ - leon kennedy x fem!reader x satoru gojo

leon kennedy has been announced mia after 24 hours of no contact. high brass doesn't care that you only came back from a mission a day prior, injured no less. when you're dispatched to spain, the last thing you expect is to get a special kind of rescue mission.

this is my entry for @rinhaler's gaming collab - MASTERLIST 🎮

꒰ warnings: nsfw - mdni .ᐟ.ᐟ resident evil au. kind of following the plot of resident evil 4. aphrodysiac sex, unprotected sex, pet names (it's my staple <3), oral sex (f receiving), slight dacraphyllia, squirting, two dicks in one hole, cream pie. forgive me if i forgot any tags ໒꒰ྀིっ˕ -｡꒱ྀི১ // word count: 5.8k ꒱ ꒰ notes: we love pure self-indulgence in this house .ᐟ.ᐟ tagging @mymegumi and @lilacliliess because they support my delusions about fucking two blue eyed men:3 ꒱

it’s been uneasy 24 hours in the D.O.S headquarters – ever since leon kennedy stopped responding to any attempts at communication, he’s been announced MIA this morning. given the sensitive mission of retrieving president’s daughter, the urgency to dispatch someone for another rescue is being pushed by the high brass, sending everyone on a search to find an agent capable enough of handling the job. as it turns out, out of dozens of people working in this forsaken organization, you’re the only one qualified.

“are you shitting me, hunnigan? i just came back from the mission last night. did you not see the stabbing wound?” for dramatic effect, you raise your t-shirt, showing freshly bandaged area where the deep cut resides. coming into the work this morning, the most stressful part of your day was expected to be the tons of paperwork you would’ve had to go through – yet as soon as you stepped into your office, you were greeted by leon’s handler, bearing the news from your superiors.

“sorry, you know it’s not up to me. whatever the president says goes.”

“are there literally no one else in this entire building who can be ordered to go instead?”

slumping over your desk, you put your head on top of your folded arms – it takes everything in you not to scream. your own mission was already problematic enough: bioweapon developers have become exceptional in making new B.O.Ws deadlier and deadlier, and knowing leon’s resume, there is a very high chance he was sent to deal with the worst of it.

“you’re one of the few partners kennedy has had while working for D.O.S. you know how he operates; it makes sense they are sending you.”

you know there is no point in arguing – if it’s been decided by the president, you have no choice but to go. it doesn’t mean, however, you can’t be irritated by the whole situation.

“do i at least get paid overtime?” you sign with exasperation, sulking deeper into your chair, hearing hunnigan let out a breathy chuckle.

“maybe if you bring golden boy’s ass back in one piece.”

“great. can i at least go home and make sure i didn’t leave the kettle on or something.”

“you’re not getting out of it, agent,” she says with a smile, and you can only groan. leon will be paying for all your meals for the next 6 months. “the helicopter is already waiting, actually, so you better gear your ass up and head to the helipad.”

“more amazing news.”

hunnigan only pats you on the shoulder – nothing she can say will make this situation suck any less – and leaves the room, letting you wallow in your misery.

“can you just fucking die already?” you yell in pure annoyance, trying to shoot the same person for the third time (you aren’t sure you can call these things human anymore). when the creature finally goes down, hopefully once and for all this time, the view in front of you is grotesque: hideous tentacle sprang out of the poor man’s head when you shot him between the eyes; it keeps moving, taunting you to waste more of your ammo. still holding onto your gun, you cautiously approach the body, slightly poking it with your boot – it doesn’t stir anymore. a sigh of relief escapes your lungs.

“just what the fuck is going on here,” you quietly mumble to yourself, looting any useful items nearby.

you arrived in spain this morning. surprisingly, leon made it easy enough to retrace his steps – he stopped by the local law enforcement which in turned let you know two of their men also went missing after they escorted kennedy to the area of interest. no one volunteered to come with you once you acquired the location of the small village somewhere north of here – apparently people have been going missing in the mountains for a while now – which was fine by you. everything you needed was the car you could use, and you were on your merry way.

in your 5 year long career as a government agent, the kind working in anti-bioweapon divisions, you’ve seen a multitude of… monsters, for lack of a better word. nothing could’ve prepared you for what you’ve witnessed when you arrived at your destination though: villagers turned into something sinister, creatures with no will of their own. you noticed it right away: their bulging veins pulsing with black viscous liquid, eyes shadowed with madness. what a surprise it was that when you finally started shooting them (hey, they started it), mandible-like limbs, shape closer to tentacles, with eyes growing out of them, erupted from their dead bodies, as if a swarm of crazy cultists wasn’t already enough.

you quickly glance at the still convulsing body on the ground, parasitic tendrils clinging onto their last living seconds; just looking at it makes you want to vomit. the smell of puss, heavy in the air, doesn’t help your desire to empty the insides of your stomach. you do not know what causes them to mutate, and you make a note to avoid any unknown substances – you also log a mental check not to get bitten by one of them (just in case).

after escaping a village, getting access to this stupid castle trying to find stupid stupid leon kennedy (you’re sure that what s. in leon s. kennedy stands for), you overheard some of the cultists talking about two prisoners on the basement level. leon and ashley? the goal now is to figure out how to get to the basement (and why does it always have to be the basement).

with careful precision, you finish analyzing the room you found yourself in – it’s a storage space of some kind, and nothing about it is particularly helpful to you. letting out a deep sigh, you sit down to re-collect your thoughts. wandering around this castle with no purpose will only stall you further – and time is something you do not have luxury of wasting.

just as you were about to get up from the chair, you knee bumps into something underneath the table. bingo. you quickly try to search for a keyhole or a puzzle piece to fit in to open the hidden compartment. but the gods are smiling down on you today – it only takes a simple click of a lock for the secret drawer to unlatch. before opening it, you stand to the side (the gunshot wound would mean deaths of all parties you’re trying to get out of here), and slowly push it forward with the knife.

“no way.”

the gods are smiling down on you– inside the drawer you don’t find a loaded shotgun, a poisonous smoke or anything else aimed at taking you out. instead, you find yourself looking at the map. something akin to relief makes your hands tremble as you unfold the treasured piece of paper, looking at the building blueprints, as fresh as if this was drawn yesterday.

tracing the way down to the basement level, you try to decide the easiest and shortest way. some of the rooms might require a key, deducting it’d be smarter to stick to the main rooms which are less likely to be locked. shoving the map back into your side bag, you reload the gun and slowly leave the room, looking for any signs of being followed. making sure the coast is clear, you start your way down.

leon, you better be still fucking alive.

leon wakes up from another torturous nap. he doesn’t know how long it’s been: could be 2 days, could be a week. to keep his sanity, he keeps trying to count the meals they bring them, figuring out the passage of time. why is salazar even feeding them? they’d worth more to him dead.

“good morning, sunshine.”

leon groans as soon as he hears the voice coming from his side. he doesn’t need to turn his head to know that satoru gojo is, despite the circumstances they found themselves in, still smiling.

“god, do you ever stop talking? they should starve you,” leon sighs heavily, and leans against the wall. his arms hurt – they have been cuffed to the ceiling this whole time, and the constant chatting from his unwanted companion makes this situation ten times worse.

“oh, common, don’t you have faith in your government? or you’re not important enough to rescue?”

“i might not be but the girl definitely is.”

it seems to shut satoru up, even if for a moment. his comments did make leon wonder if the headquarters organized the search party yet – more time they spent here means more time for the cult leaders to complete whatever it is they want with ashley. him and satoru have been infected with las plagas parasite too, their time is running short.

sighing deeply, gojo also slumps against the wall. both men can feel… whatever they were infected with moving inside their bodies, crawling their way into their brains. satoru is not sure what makes him and leon so special, but no signs of any infection have been visible yet. he wonders if it is a waiting game now: waiting for the moment they start losing their minds. what a sight that would be.

just as he was going to make another comment about their current predicament, both agents hear gunshots coming from the hallway, just outside the prison cells. blood curling screaming follows, rippling through the air, the unknown person emptying their clip into the guards until the room is engulfed in the oppressive silence.

to leon’s great surprise, and a great relief he must admit, it’s not a crazed guard running through the doors this time around – instead, two locked-up agents are met by your face. you hold your gun out, hand outstretched in front of you, ready to shoot the last remnants of the infected. it’s only when your gaze meets leon’s and you don’t identify any immediate danger, the gun is lowered, and you are rushing towards the cell.

“holy shit, it’s nice to see a familiar face,” leon cannot help but smile at the sight of you standing outside the cell bars, trying to break the lock.

“you won’t believe but the feeling is mutual. one too many mutated cultists, and even i started missing your ugly mug,” you throw back, returning his smile. your eyes move to gojo. “who’s that?”

“his partner.”

“no one.”

two men say that in unison, exchanging a heated glance afterwards.

“okaaaay,” you drawl out, “i don’t really care, you can bicker later. what we need to do it we need to get the fuck outta here like right now.”

you rush to uncuff the men with the keys you stole form the guards you shot earlier, and wait until they are able to push themselves on their feet.

“i am satoru gojo,” mysterious blond introduces himself properly, and extends his arm. you shake his hand and mumble your name back. you don’t know why but he makes you nervous.

“okay, all formalities for later. both of us are infected with that new plaga parasite, we need to extract it immediately,” leon interrupts the intense staring contest you entered with satoru, making you snap your attention back to him.

“well, then you’re in luck. i passed something that looked like a laboratory on the way here. it’s not too far either, only one floor up.”

“okay, great, no time to waste.”

kennedy steps out the room first, you and gojo following close behind. you’re on full alert – it doesn’t matter that you just took half of the castle down, somehow, new infected keep popping out like bunnies out of woodwork. it doesn’t take long the three of you to reach the desired destination, lab laying just behind the door straight off the stairs.

you cautiously look inside – no one seems to be here. after entering the room, you stand on guard while satoru and leon are looking for anything that might look like the cure. it seems that gods are smiling once again on you today because leon is able to find the last two vials of the vaccine sample. you have never seen him grinning so widely – it would’ve been almost heartwarming if not for the grim circumstances all of you ended up in.

before they can inject themselves with the medicine, the door swings opened and you’re thrown into the shelf, located on the opposite side of the entrance. multiple bottles with unknown substances fall on top of you, one of them breaking and infusing the air with a white powder. before you realize what happened, you inhale the mysterious concoction, immediately bursting into a coughing fit.

“fuck, are you okay?” leon yells your name somewhere from the side, and you try to wave him off. gojo is distracting whoever rammed through the doors, shooting the gun you presented him back in the prison cell. it takes exactly three more headshots for the mutated cultist to drop dead, and you’re pushing yourself off the ground and back on your feet. satoru is eyeing you suspiciously – you’re too busy brushing off your clothes and getting your breathing in order to notice.

“common, jab yourselves with the vaccine and let’s go, we have no time to lose,” you say with coarse voice. leon is also looking at you with worry but decides not to mention anything. both men inject themselves with the medicine, hoping and praying it’ll work, before rushing out of the doors and back on track to find ashley.

running through the corridors of the castle, you can feel yourself getting weaker – there is a sheer layer of sweat covering your spine, goosebumps are dancing on your skin, and a very familiar heat is pooling between your legs. your head feels heavy, you’re barely able to string two coherent thoughts together so you resort to slowly trailing after two men who haven’t stopped arguing about the next course of action.

“i don’t care what you came here for, satoru. i have my rescue mission that still needs to be completed,” leon sighs heavily as he pushes through the heavy doors into the next room.

“sure,” the other blond man quickly agrees, “but don’t you think you government would say ‘thank you’ if you helped securing the source of this outbreak?” gojo questions as he follows leon through the doors. you want to weigh your opinion in but before you can open your mouth, as you cross the threshold of the room, you trip on your own feets and send yourself flying towards the floor. the loud bang makes both men turn their attention back to you.

“god, are you okay?” leon’s by your side in mere seconds, supporting you by the elbow so you can get up. the waves of his body heat wash over you, and you want nothing more but to curl into his body and kiss the spot underneath his jaw. has he always been so handsome? you’re so concentrated looking at leon, you don’t notice satoru standing near you now. he touches your forehead, and it takes all of your willpower not to moan. fuck, his cold hands feel so nice on your feverish skin.

“shit, she’s burning up.”

“you think it’s because of whatever substance she inhaled back in the lab?”

“i don’t know, everything’s possible.”

two agents move you to sit on the table in the corner of the room – they can clearly see how foggy your eyes are, a layer of milky mist dancing across your vision – and leon’s fingers find your pulse point. this time, you are not fast enough to stifle the low whine that escapes your lips. at any other time, you’d be dying of embarrassment but now your body is begging for release, and you’re ready to do anything to get it. anything to soothe the ache building up in your throbbing clit.

“’m so hot…” you mumble as you start taking off tactical t-shirt, baring your sports bra to the two men in the room. “and it really hurts.”

satoru and leon look at each other before they look at you – kennedy will have to work with you in the future so he’s really trying not to look at your perky nipple, shape visible through the fabric, unlike gojo, who’s taking in your current condition with almost sick satisfaction.

“where does it hurt?” satoru asks before leon is able to butt in. as if wanting to confirm his suspicion, you take his hand and guide it to your sex, cupping it.

“here.”

leon is not even able to react before gojo is lunging forward and capturing your lips in a bruising kiss, making your head bang slightly against the wall. you let yourself moan into his mouth, satoru greedily claiming all the sounds to himself. it’s not nearly enough to pacify your accelerated heartbeat, but it’s still making you shudder. you’re spreading your legs to accommodate gojo’s tall frame – but before he is able to move any closer, he is thrown back by leon; loss of his warmth makes you whine.

“what the fuck do you think you’re doing?” kennedy hisses through his teeth, moving away from you and towards gojo.

“what does it look like? don’t pretend like you don’t know this is exactly what she needs right now,” satoru spits back. you think they continue arguing but their voices are being drowned out by the ringing in your ears. heat spreading through you sets everything on fire, and your pants join your t-shirt somewhere on the floor in your desperate attempt to relieve yourself of this scorching feeling. your partner notices it and sharply turns to face you.

“what the hell are you doi-” before leon can finish his sentence, you wrap you legs around him and press your body into his.

“leon, please…” you sob, hot tears pooling in the corners of your eyes, beads of salty water wetting your eyelashes and blurring your vision. hearing your pathetic plea, voice thick with lust and desire, looking at your tears-stained face, mouth slightly agape, and watching your lips, red and messy from satoru’s kiss, glistening in the moonlight – everything about you now screams ruin me and leon is not a strong enough man to resist it.

“what are you asking me to do, sweetheart?” he whispers against your lips in a teasing tone. his switch is almost jarring but you don’t have the brain capacity to mull over his sudden mood change. he moves his hand between your legs now, touching your pussy through your panties. leon’s fleeting touch is sending shivers down your spine, and you culr yourself into him more, whining and panting against his mouth. “jesus, she’s so fucking wet already.”

“i told you, didn’t i? she needs someone to stuff her full of cum,” satoru’s dirty talk comes somewhere from the side. too distracted by leon’s deep blue eyes, gojo’s touch makes you tremble in surprise and turn your head towards him. looking at his face, you’re met by baby blues – it felt like being thrown from the ocean into the endless skies. you think men with blue eyes will be the death of you.

gojo leans down to capture your lips again, re-exploring the sacred geometry of your kiss, while leon is planting wet kisses along your jawline. you mewl in euphoric pleasure, their touches soothing to your burning skin, and you’re completely giving yourself away to the bliss rolling over you in waves. leon’s digits are teasing your clit through the fabric of your panties, and your hips instinctively buck into his hand, making him chuckle into your neck.

“she’s dripping, gojo. i bet she can take both of us unprepped,” leon says to the other agent, still busy with sucking on your lips, invading your mouth with his tongue. at his words, you shiver under men’s bodies, tingling sensation rushing through you.

“i want you in my lap, pretty girl,” satoru whispers against your lips, and you jump off into leon’s arms so the other man can sit on the table first. you move to climb on top of gojo, legs on either side of his thighs, ready to ride him, but your partner’s strong arm stops you from turning around.

“nah-ah, let him hold you spread open for me, i want to taste you first,” leon breathes against your ear, teasing the sensitive spot, making you quiver in his hold. you turn yourself towards gojo and see him grinning as he beckons you with two fingers to come closer. when you end up in his arms, he spins you around, his chest to your back, and makes you sit between his legs on the table, opening you up.

satoru’s masterful fingers unclasp your bra with ease while leon makes a quick work of your panties, shoving them into his pocket, unbeknownst to you. who knows how your relationship will work out after this – he needs something to remember this moment by. you are now sprawled completely naked for the two men’s hungry gazes: your cheeks are flushed, mouth shaped into a perfect “o”, short breaths escaping your lungs – you are truly a sight to behold. gojo wastes no time in cupping your breasts with his hands, trailing his lips on the side of your neck, sucking in hickeys as part of his claim.

kennedy gets on his knees in front of you, looking up into your eyes. gojo’s fingers are playing with your hardened nipple, making your hips buck upwards – right into leon’s mouth. his first languid swipe of the tongue comes just as satoru pinches your sensitive nubs, and you cannot help the pornographic moan escaping your lips.

“jesus, doll, who knew you’d sound so pretty,” it’s gojo’s voice against the shell of your ear, making you shudder. one of his hands keeps massaging your boob, twisting the nipple between his digits, while his other hand goes all the way down and spreads your folds for leon’s easy access. he hums in appreciation, and starts flicking his tongue up and down, drawing tight circles on your clit, sucking on it when he feels your legs tighten around his head.

agent’s movements make you squirm in satoru’s hold, dropping your head against his shoulder as leon continues eating you out. you’re absolutely incoherent now – your fever never dropped so your muscles are aching, toes curling in anticipation of the long awaited release, as you continue moaning through quick breaths.

“finger her.”

leon follows gojo’s command immediately, shoving his middle digit inside, while still lapping at your pussy. your walls clench against him almost instinctively, intrusion sudden but not unwelcome – he groans feeling the embracing heat of your cunt.

“fuck, she’s so fucking tight.”

gojo keeps your legs spread, you trying to close them around leon’s head as he keeps up his assault with his tongue. he’s nibbling on your clit, putting extra pressure with the tip of his tongue, licking it back and forth in quick succession, before flatting it to lick between your sticky folds, all the way down to the drooling hole. leon adds a second finger now, setting up a merciless pace – he is curling his digits in a heavenly way, able to hit the soft, spongy spot inside that makes you see stars and your pussy throb; you gasp loudly.

“i wish we had a phone to record this. you look so divine.”

you clench at gojo’s words, making leon groan. he’s now playing with your tits, rolling your nipple, tugging at them to add the painful sensation to the lit-up nerves. your desperate moans are bouncing among the walls, and gojo decides he wants to hear the squelching sounds of your pussy around leon’s fingers and his tongue’s wet sounds as he sloppily eats you out so he shuts you up with a kiss.

you feel your tummy begins tensing up as two men continue their ministrations: it’s satoru’s hot mouth on yours and his hands squeezing your tits, fingers playing with erect nipples; it’s leon’s tongue lapping at your pussy, precise circles on your clit and his digits scissoring you at a perfect speed, hitting the nerve bundle that rushes to send you over the end. your legs start shaking and you grab onto satoru’s arm around you to ground yourself.

“nnggh-…” you whimper into gojo’s mouth, and he finally lets you catch a breath. “’m so close,” you sob again, “’m gonna cum.”

“yeah, you want to cream all over agent kennedy’s face?” satoru taunts you from behind. “that’s so unprofessional,” he makes a tsk sound with his mouth and squeezes your cheeks to look at him.

“we’re feeling generous today, i think,” he quickly throws a glance down at leon, who only smirks as his tongue keeps licking and sucking at your clit. satoru looks you straight in the eyes as he slowly drawls his next words, “you may cum.”

the orgasm washed over you in glorious waves, rattling your entire existence. you’re scrunching your eyebrows, mouth agape with a sinful moan, as your thighs clasp around leon’s head. you’re quivering in gojo’s hold, his hands forcing your hips down, pressing them more against kennedy’s face. the latter doesn’t stop his onslaught, lips suctioning around the throbbing pearl, fingers still curled at earth-shattering angle. you try to move away but neither man lets you.

“uh-uh, where are you trying to run away? let him drink everything.”

and everything does leon kennedy drink – agent is lapping at your juices like a kitten at a fresh bowl of milk, now substituting his digits with his tongue as he keeps fucking in and out of your needy cunt. ministrations don’t stop, not even when your moans turn into little sobs as your body starts feeling overstimulated. your puffy clit is now ruined from satoru’s finger pads playing with it.

both men can feel your form shaking almost violently, gojo’s gathering your falling tears with his tongue. leon’s finally pulling his face away from your sex, standing up to look at your ruined state.

“god, i only ate her out and she already looks fucked out,” he chuckles to the other blond man, and moves to stand between your legs.

“let me taste her,” before you can react, gojo’s grabbing leon by the back of his head and capturing his lips in a heated kiss. trapped between a rock and a hard place, you can do nothing but observe the most passionate display of carnage you’ve ever witnessed – they were slobbering over each other’s faces, and it made your pussy clench around nothing. god, you can’t wait to fuck them both.

“she’s sweet, just how i like them,” satoru smirks against leon’s lips, turning his attention back to you immediately. “common, princess, you’re going to have to ride me if you want both of us.”

you’re quickly climbing on the table, straddling him. kennedy situates himself right behind you, warmth radiating off him like in suffocating waves. you’re trying to unbuckle satoru’s jeans to free his heavy cock, still trapped in confines of his boxer briefs, but leon smacks your ass, sending you forward into gojo’s embrace. it stings, the outline of his hand already forming a bruise, and you’d be mad if you pussy lips didn’t flutter at the slap.

“you’re taking too long, sweetheart,” you hear satoru, both men undoing their belts and zippers before you can, pulling out their leaking cocks. from your position you could only see satoru’s hard dick as he stroked himself near your aching hole, but what you’ve seen was enough to make you almost scared – gojo’s dick was long and blessed with a perfect curve, just upwards, one thick vein running prominently from the bottom of his shaft ending just before his mushroom head. you’re sure leon’s looked just as pretty.

“you haven’t said a word. you wanna ask nicely for what you want?” you hear leon behind you as he’s pushing you forward again, right into satoru’s chest, and teasing your waiting cunt with his thick tip – the mixture of his spit, your slick and his precum is dripping down satoru’s cock from where he’s positioned just underneath you, and the messiness of it all makes leon groan.

“please, i want your cocks inside me… please,” you sob out again, vocal cords heavy with tears.

“i think this will be our reward for saving us, how about that, huh?” there is a teasing tilt in satoru’s voice, and you grab at his shoulders, mewling like a needy animal in heat.

“yes, yes, anything,” you’re blabbering with teary voice, making men hard at the mere image of you: a capable agent reduced to a cock-drunk slut, an image that makes their cocks twitch.

leon grabs gojo’s member, giving it a couple strokes, surprising the white-haired man but hearing no complaints. his thumb is playing with the drooling slit of his tip, beads of pre-cum decorating the entrance to his flushed dick, and kennedy can’t help but smirk at how blissed out satoru looks. he’s guiding his heavy and red cock inside you, while his other hand rests on your waist. gojo’s forcing your hips down while bucking his up, and he fills you up in one long thrust.

“ah!” you cry out, biting your lip to the blood, metallic taste in your mouth almost overwhelming on top of the mix of pain and pleasure burning through your body. you’re whimpering into satoru’s mouth, while his hand is running soothing circles on your back.

“here you go, such a good fucking girl. taking me in so well, huh? all it took is one thrust, so perfect,” he’s blabbering against your skin as he starts sinking in and out of your sloppy hole. looking down, you can see the bulge in your tummy, and it makes you purr – you not only feel him splitting you in two, you are able to witness it. his reddened tip is meeting your cervix in a bruising kiss, and god, he’s making you fell so good.

you’re so lost in the rapturous sensation of gojo’s huge cock pushing against your gummy walls, you don’t notice leon’s presence behind you – he is grabbing your hips with one hand while his other is jerking his dick, prepping himself to enter you. his tip is near your whole when you finally realize what’s he’s trying to do.

“no! no, it’s too mu- ah!” he doesn’t let you finish before he start pushing himself inside, sliding alongside satoru’s heavy member, making the man grunt.

“fuck, feels so tight and warm,” you hear behind you as kennedy sets a punishing pace, sheathing himself into your abused hole. they are stretching you out to heavens, leon looking at your gaping cunt with pride. it’s fluttering and clenching around their huge cocks, your walls spasming in pleasure as their lengths are grinding against your soft spots. you can hear your pussy queefing, and the filthy sounds of skin slapping against skin add to the dirty symphony.

“ngg, ngg- feels so, so goo-” you’re unable to finish your sentence as they keep bouncing you on their cocks, manhandling your body however they seem fit. you’ve never felt so full – both men keep drilling into you, like you’re no more than their little personal toy to play with. satoru grabs you by the back of your neck, biting at your lips, sloppily making out with you, while leon grabs your hair, forcing you back on his dick.

you can feel both cocks twitching inside you, approaching climax evident by their shallow breathing, moans hitching at every thrust of the hips. your walls are tightening around their cocks, and men’s whimpering and groaning is sinful to listen to, yet they are determined to make you climax first.

“common, gorgeous, cum around our cocks,” gojo hoaxes from underneath you. leon pushes your hips even closer into satoru’s body, your clit now grinding against his pubic bone, and it’s making you teeter on the edge of your bliss.

your bladder feels pressure you’ve never experienced before as gojo’s cock pressing against it from a perfect angle. leon is digging his fingers into the plush skin of your ass, rutting in and out of you, pushing against your back walls. all of your nerves are on fire, exploding fireworks in your brain, sending all your pleasure receptors into the overdrive. as your second orgasm washes over you, you’re left trembling in the men’s arms, leon’s chest against your back, your sweaty tits against satoru’s broad front.

“that’s a good girl, look at how cock-drunk you are,” you can hear them chuckle between themselves, not slowing down for a second. leon can see the white creamy ring enveloping the base of his cock in a soft embrace – it’s making him lose last of his slipping composure as he starts thrusting extra hard, thus speeding gojo up.

you bounce like a rag doll on top of gojo, having no semblance of control, being completely used by two agents. the pressure in your bladder comes back, and you throw your head back – your body continues quivering uncontrollably as you start sobbing again, tears drawing salty rivers on your cheeks, result of your body riding into stimulation. before you know it, something warm and so fucking wet starts gushing out of you. you want to look down, but men react first by groaning, voice impossibly thick with lust and awe.

“fuck, baby, didn’t expect you to squirt this much. so fucking filthy, i bet you waited to do this the whole time,” gojo grunts from underneath you, and you can only purr in response. it only takes couple more thrusts before leon and satoru synchronize their orgasms, shooting the ribbons of cum inside your womb, painting it pearly white, fucking it in warm and cozy. the squelching sounds ricocheting among the walls are nothing but sinful, and your cheeks flush red from the realization of what just transpired.

as both men pull out of your abused, stretched out hole, the combined mixture of all the fluids trickle down your thighs, making you groan in disgust. now that aphrodisiac has been fucked out from your system, you can’t even bring yourself to look them in the eyes. you hurry to pick up your clothes, but your legs give out underneath you – you’d end up flat on your ass, if not for leon who caught you mid fall.

tension in the air is palpable, electricity dancing on your skin is able to set everything on fire again. you’re ready to break the silence when satoru speaks first.

“you know, kennedy, next time you want to touch my cock, you don’t need to bring a woman between us.”

he leaves the room before either of you are able to force a reaction, and you wish you’d left both of them for dead instead.

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polyamorousmood · 3 months

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Polyamory Merch from Small Artists for Pride Month

@foxflightstudios makes many queer pride pins, including this kick-ass polyam one! Etsy this pin specifically

@lawofcollage makes these neat pride collages! Merch available through the threadless shop and here's OG flag & new flag designs

IfsAndsOrButtons on etsy has the OG flag, the edited flag, & the new flag for polyamory! yay! A variety of other queer flags, pins, & buttons. Portion of sales goes to charity. Too much to link indv., so all poly shit

@polycraftory has a small shop of queer shirts on their etsy including this poly meme shirt!

@soluscheese has a ton of simple, elegant pride designs, including lots of polyamory ones in all sorts of products on their redbubble (poly shapes) ("and")

These gorgeous stone bracelets from ToadintheSun on etsy immediately strike me as something nice enough to wear to work, etc, and subtle enough not to out you! Other flag designs too!

@who-tf-even-am-i made some poly merch based on my suggestions! Available on t-shirts, hoodies, pillows, phone cases, and way too many more for separate links, so check out it all on teepublic

Look at this adorable little frog sticker from @sofftpunk! This is the only poly one I could find, but there's lots of other queer stuff at their shop,featuring a lot of identities I don't often see!

Honorable mentions:

@prideful-things-shop has plans to make poly stuff, but its still in the works! They're a poly creator with other killer🔪 (this is a joke cause they have horror-themed pins) pride designs currently available on etsy

@frogboi2023 is a small artist doing commission work at (honestly too) cheap prices. As such, there aren't any pre-made poly designs to showcase, but they reached out to say they'll do custom poly work, incl. traditional/digital art, jewelry, plushies, bookmarks, & keychains!

@@aesethewitch is doing pride themed readings on their Ko-fi. A follower confirmed they're willing/able to do poly romance readings!

Bonus! queer but not poly shit:

@izzi-illustrates has a variety of pride pins, stickers on etsy

@tflohr is a non-binary artist making weird & wonderful stuff available on redbubble

Abprallen on etsy has a variey of pastel queer merch

Queer, spooky pins, patches, & stickers available at grrrlspells' etsy

LucknLavenderStudios is an etsy shop with queer stickers & prints

@lyrabracelets is selling beaded pride bracelets on etsy

Kyri45 on redbubble does cute pride designs for a LOT of identities

#does tumblr still bury posts with links? Better rb this one to be safe!! Please. I'm serious please I want people to know there's merch 4 us #poly merch #polyamory merch #small artists #queer merch #happy pride 🌈#polyamory shirts #polyamory accessories #polyamory stickers #polyamory buttons #polyamory bracelets #polyamory jewelry #polyamory gifts #polyamorousmood original post

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supernovafics · 1 year

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𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐑𝐃 𝐒𝐓𝐑𝐄𝐄𝐓

"i'll be there for you" universe masterlist

pairing: bestfriend!roommate!steve harrington x fem!reader

word count: 1.8k words

warnings: explicit language, a lil bit of angst w/ a wholesome ending<3

summary: in which you and steve take a late-night trip to your favorite diner

general note: everything in this universe/series can be read as standalone oneshots but to understand the full “lore” it would prob be best to read the other stuff too<333

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

Fall 1985

It was four long hours of your life that you’d never get back. But, you were glad that all of the work that you had to force yourself to do all night was finally over.

It was somehow always in moments like these— where you procrastinated until the last possible second to do something that had been assigned weeks ago— that you sincerely wanted to drop out of college; and you’d barely even been there three months. But you also knew that you definitely could not do that because of your parents.

So, instead of even pondering that thought too much, you pushed through and forced yourself to start and finish a project for your Psychology class that involved a shit ton of writing and research. It was a project that now made your head pound heavily in your skull from focusing on that one tedious thing for hours upon hours.

With a loud sigh, you closed the books you had open and then stood up from your desk. A part of you wanted to immediately flop onto your bed and fall asleep, but then there was the other part that wanted to do something else entirely. And then suddenly the thought of the diner that was only ten minutes away and had amazing milkshakes became the only thing on your mind.

You switched out of the wrinkly old t-shirt you had on and put on a different oversized one that was less wrinkled, and then slipped on a pair of sweatpants. Steve was sleeping right then, you were pretty certain of it, but you still wanted to give him the opportunity to partake in this impulsive late-night decision you were making. So, when you exited your room, you headed toward his and walked in.

You refrained from turning on the light because you didn’t want to startle him awake, and instead simply sat down on the edge of his bed and lightly poked his back before whispering, “Hey.”

He only shifted a little bit and didn’t turn to face you. “Hm?”

“I just finished my stupid fucking midterm project for Psych and I’m going to the diner because I’m in dire need of a strawberry milkshake. You wanna come?”

“It’s one in the morning,” He mumbled, still barely moving and you weren’t entirely sure how he was actually able to be so accurate with what time it was.

You took his response as his way of saying no without actually saying it. And honestly, you weren’t too surprised by that answer because it was then that you remembered that his shift at Family Video earlier had been longer, and apparently more annoying, than usual. So, you decided not to try and further convince him to come to the diner with you.

“Okay, I’ll be back in an hour,” You said as you got up from his bed. “I’ll bring you back onion rings and your own milkshake. You can have it for breakfast when you wake up.”

“I’ll come,” Steve said before you left the room. He finally shifted around and sat up so that he was facing you. “The onion rings will suck in the morning.”

“Very true,” You nodded and then smiled as he got up and found a random hoodie to put on. “I’m sorry for waking you up, but I’m glad you’re joining me on this little adventure.”

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

You drove Steve’s car, because you liked driving it more than your own, and he slept the entire ten-minute ride to the diner formally known as “Third Street.” The name had always been somewhat amusing to you because the small place was actually on a street called Cliffview.

It was empty aside from one man sitting at the counter with a coffee mug in his hand and a woman occupying a booth, reading a book with a soda and a plate of fries in front of her. You briefly wondered what their stories were, what brought them to a diner at nearly one-thirty in the morning.

You and Steve took your usual seats at the booth that you always sat at, and even though Robin and Eddie weren’t there at that moment, you two still decided to sit on the same side of the booth; it felt like second nature to do so. There was probably never a moment where you and Steve didn’t sit on the same side of any booth.

Since there was barely anyone in the diner right then, your orders were quickly taken by your waitress Cheryl, and they came out much faster too— a strawberry milkshake for you, a vanilla one for Steve, and a plate of onion rings for you two to share.

You took a long sip of your drink and internally sighed in contentment because somehow that milkshake made all the work you’d done and the fact that you were keeping yourself awake to come here even though you were exhausted completely worth it.

The two of you ate and drank your milkshakes in comfortable silence for a little while before Steve scooched down a bit in the seat and leaned his head on your shoulder.

“I actually am really sorry for waking you up,” You told him. “I forgot how long your shift was today, and I know you’re so fucking tired right now.”

“The onion rings and milkshake make it okay,” He mumbled, and you couldn’t see him, but you had the strongest feeling that his eyes were closed. “Tell me about your project.”

You reached for your drink, taking a sip from it before responding. “Hearing about that will definitely put you to sleep.”

Steve hummed. “Maybe I wanna hear a bedtime story.”

You laughed a bit. “Okay, well in that case, definitely not because I don’t wanna get dirty looks from the other people in here when you start loudly snoring.”

“I don’t snore.”

“Mhm, yeah, of course, you don’t,” You said, the sarcasm completely evident in your tone, and he poked your side which made you laugh again.

You placed your hands in the pocket of the hoodie he was wearing because they were cold from you holding your glass. “Okay, this has nothing to do with that dumb project… But, um, how mad do you think my parents would be if I dropped out of school?”

Steve’s answer came immediately. “They would blame me somehow and kill me.”

“That would quite literally never happen,” You said with a shake of your head. “My parents love you too much to be mad at you for longer than even an hour.”

“Okay, yeah, maybe that’s true. So, instead, they’d actually kill you, and then that would suck more for me than you because I’d have to live without you.”

“I think I’ll take that as a compliment,” You said with a small laugh before grabbing an onion ring.

“But, anyway, you’re not quitting school, so this hypothetical situation doesn’t matter,” Steve told you and then lifted his head off of your shoulder so that he could take a quick sip of his milkshake. “You were barely able to convince them that you didn’t want to go to the University of Chicago. I think they’re still somewhat in mourning over that.”

Probably from the moment you became old enough to even think about college, your parents were pushing the idea of the University of Chicago onto you. Both of them had gone so it felt like the obvious choice for you to “follow in their footsteps;” well, the obvious choice mainly in their eyes. And for a while, you were okay with going in that direction because it felt like an easy option, and you were way too fucking smart not to get in, and when January rolled around you found out that you did.

But then the thought of leaving Indiana, leaving your friends, leaving Steve, became something that no longer felt “okay” to you. And then there was the fact that you were still completely unsure what you even wanted to do, so it felt dumb to you to go to a school that was really good and really expensive without a solid “plan” for your future.

However, your parents were way too persistent and strong-willed to let you give it up that easily. So the compromise that was ultimately settled upon was that you’d do the two years of community college here at the one close by and then you’d transfer to the University of Chicago and finish your last two years there.

At first, the thought of that felt fine to you, but now it felt like something that you weren’t sure if you actually wanted to do anymore, even though it was still basically two years away.

“Sometimes it just feels like a waste of time,” You said with a small sigh. “I still haven’t found that thing yet. My thing. What I wanna do.”

“You’ll find it.”

“Maybe it would be a good thing if I did quit, though. I could work at Family Video with you and Robin. Wouldn’t that be fun?”

“Yeah, it would be,” Steve nodded. “But, you don’t really wanna do that.”

You started picking at the now half-eaten plate of onion rings that sat between you two. “Technically, that’s true. But, that’s only because I don’t know what I wanna do at all.”

“I think you just gotta give it some time. You’re way too smart not to be in college right now. One day you’ll walk into some class and it will all just suddenly click into place for you,” He told you, and he sounded so certain and sure.

Somehow his encouraging words always managed to placate your thoughts; the type of existential thoughts that would usually only happen in the middle of the night. And you were glad that you had Steve to pull you back up before you spiraled harder.

You let his words sit for a second before you slipped out of the booth and went over to the counter, smiling at Cheryl as you paid the bill. When you went back, settling in your spot next to Steve, he slung an arm around your shoulders.

“If you did actually quit school, I’d fully take the blame and let your parents kill me,” He told you.

You knew that you weren’t going to do it; you’d never be able to muster up the courage to pull the trigger. Therefore, you would instead just continue to live in this awkward phase that felt weird at times and hope that it would eventually work itself out.

However, it was still nice to hear Steve’s words right then.

“Thank you,” You responded, smiling at him and then mimicking his words from earlier. “But if you did that, then I would be the one suffering more because I’d have to live without you.”

He nodded thoughtfully at that. “Okay, new plan then. We just let them murder both of us.”

You laughed a bit as you pushed yourself even closer to him, putting your hands into his hoodie pocket once again. “Deal.”

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

let me know ur thoughts<333

(requests are open for stuff you wanna see in the universe/series!🫶🏾)

#steve harrington x reader #steve harrington fic #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington smut #steve harrington x you #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington x fem!reader #stranger things fluff #steve harrington series #steve harrington headcanon #steve harrington imagines #steve harrington x reader smut #steve harrington angst #steve harrington thoughts #stranger things fic #stranger things series

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etfrin · 1 year

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The demon I cling too

Ghostface&Virgin!Ethan Landry x female!Reader

Summary - he had killed them off one by one in the warehouse. You weren't supposed to be there that night, you certainly weren't supposed to flirt with him while he was covered in blood and trying to get rid of evidence. He should have killed you instead he takes you to his dorm.

Warning - NSFW (P in V sex, mentions of blood and murder, virgin Ethan just murdered like a shit ton of people and he still has no idea how to have sex, unprotected sex, creampie, loss of virginity, first times, riding)

You were just another student attending the university Ethan was enrolled in. You weren't supposed at the warehouse that night, the smell of blood in the air and annoying screams echoing in the warehouse.

You just wanted a walk. And the warehouse looked cool. It was cool enough to have murders happening too with you as the sole witness.

And now here you are. In the dorm of the infamous killer, Ghostface. Also known as Ethan Landry.

"Wow," you mutter, sitting on the couch. Ethan was kind enough to give you a glass of water. You sip it without a thought. "I... did you just bring me here as an alibi?" You asked, not sure if your pathetic attempt at flirting in the warehouse worked.

He raised his eyebrows, he sat down in front of you. "It was more of a..." his eyes flicker to your body, making you feel hot under that heavy lustful gaze. He didn't bother finishing the sentence. Too lost in eye fucking you instead.

"What do you think you'll enjoy more," You asked, "Fucking me or the killing you just finished?" Ethan's gaze snaps back at you. His face flushed in a pretty red. Prettier than blood or roses. You let out a grin as he simply gaped at you.

You stand up from your seat to straddle him. Fisting the clean t-shirt he was wearing to pull him closer to you. Your lips are mere inches apart.

"What are you..." you begin to tease him, "a virgin?" "Yeah," he replies, his hands now resting on your hips. You felt surprised, killer or not, he was handsome.

You didn't let it show though instead, you pressed your lips to his chapped ones. The sloppy kiss turns you on just as much as one with finesse would.

The kiss turned even more messy with time. Ethan picks you up with ease. The fact he lifted you so easily made your arousal pool. Your panties getting wet. He places you on his bed with him on top.

"Can I?" He asked, his eyes blown wide with desire. You nod. Both of you undress quickly. His body had some bruises from earlier. You frown at the sight.

You pushed him down on the bed, making sure every purple and red bruise was being kissed by you until you reach below his hips and near his cock. The tip of it was a pretty red, the slit of it letting out some pre.

Your eyes flicker at him. He was such a mess of heavy breaths and parted lips with drool on the corner. You lick the pre of his slit and relish at his reaction. His hips thrusting the air, his fingers curled up in the sheets and his eyes closed shut at the feeling. Cute, you think.

You get on top of him, lining up his dick onto your cunt. "Look at me," you whispered. You couldn't help but enjoy that a murderer was such a big mess just by you. He flutters his eyes open. He moans at the sight. If you were to move down, he would go in.

"Please, please," he whispers. You smirk, "Please what?" "Sweetheart, please, fuck, rid- ride me, please," he whines.

Deciding to have mercy on him, you slowly go down on him. Inch by inch, your pussy squeezing on his dick with each movement. He presses his palm on his lips muffling his groan of pleasure when his cock was fully inside you throbbing and leaking.

A part of you expected him to cum immediately, but he didn't. You begin to move your hips slowly at first. Trying to get used to his length. His tip pressed against your spot no matter what. And it felt so damn good.

His free hand goes to your hip and squeezes it. As if trying to encourage you to ride him, as if he could take it without cumming like a teenager.

"I want to hear you," you said, "I'll ride you like a proper slut if you let me hear your pretty sounds, Ethan."

You could feel the twitch of his dick in your cunt by your words. He removes the palm. He lets out a whimper, "Please."

"Please, please," he whines, his hips rutting in, making you gasp and see white. "Fuck," you moan, his hand now holding your hips, keeping you firmly in place. He pounded into you, groaning with each thrust. You were used like you were just a fleshlight for this man. You loved it.

You loved how sloppy yet deep the thrusts were. How much he was leaking inside and how wet he made you. He changed the position so now you were below him. He held your hands above your head as he kept thrusting in.

You moan as his pace gets even sloppier but still just as deep. His tip grazed your G-spot repeatedly. You squeeze his hands as your walls clenched around his cock.

"Fuck, fuck," you curse, "fu-" Your walls begin to clench down harder on his cock. He lets out a choked moan, his head falling onto your shoulder. He begins to cum as soon as you do. He fucks his cum into you as both of you ride out your highs.

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imdead770 · 9 months

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The Outsiders x Reader fluff - Steve Randle

Authors Note - I think this man gets slept on way too much. I don't know his character too well, but enjoy.

Steve Randle -

▪︎ Let's start with the basics

▪︎ He has the guts to ask you out, yeah, but his ego is too fucking big to allow that

▪︎ He spent weeks trying to figure out how to ask you out

▪︎ Eventually landed on the classic "take them out as friends but we all know it's not as friends" date

▪︎ Asked you to go to some diner with him

▪︎ Literally said "It's a date", completely forgetting his plan

▪︎ Still worked though, win-win.

▪︎ Wore his basic jean vest, but he put on a cleaner t-shirt and his best pair of jeans

▪︎ Looked in the mirror for a bit either hyping himself up or admiring himself 💀

▪︎ Actually showered for once

▪︎ When he saw you he nearly passed out

▪︎ Here he was in a jean vest and you looked ready to be on the cover of vogue

▪︎ You both just talked the whole time

▪︎ He was way too hyped up to be nervous, so it was actually laid back and fun

▪︎ Really shitty jokes

▪︎ You both shared a milkshake, probably shared chocolate cake too

▪︎ Whenever you went back home and you kissed him on the cheek he almost ate dirt again

▪︎ Told the whole gang about it

" We shared a shake Soda, that ain't somethin' just anyone does "

" It's been two hours, Steve.. "

" Ya shoulda seen 'em! I mean- "

▪︎ Once you two started seeing each other more often, you sort of just stayed as best friends but added some perks

▪︎ Really shit inside jokes and really comfortable around each other + kissing and touching

▪︎ Whenever he finally worked up the guts to kiss you he almost broke your nose

▪︎ You were both laughing too hard to actually kiss

▪︎ Whenever you finally shut up it was a really good kiss though

▪︎ You know how Johnny moved down on Dal's leaderboard?

▪︎ On Steve's ranks he moved down cars and chocolate cake for you

▪︎ That's saying something

▪︎ Not a lot of pet names, some basic ones though

▪︎ Baby, babe, darlin'

▪︎ Probably some sweetheart scattered in there if he feels like it

▪︎ Spends an ass ton of time with you

▪︎ I feel like quality time would be one of his love languages?? I don't really know, I just think it fits him

▪︎ Whenever the gang has their own shit and he's done at DX he just hangs out with you

▪︎ Considers anything and everything a date.

▪︎ HIS TATTOO??

▪︎ You getting bored so you start tracing the outline of his tattoo, not even realizing how many butterflies you're giving him

▪︎ If you get cold he offers you his vest, completely forgetting its a fucking vest

" God it's cold.. "

" Ya' want my jacket? "

" .. that's not a jacket- "

" It's real' warm, I swear! "

▪︎ Doesn't do shit but you wear it to make him happy

▪︎ Always has his arm either around your shoulders or on your thigh

▪︎ I think he's actually pretty affectionate?

▪︎ Not in public, gotta be tuff, but in private he'll just hold you

▪︎ No reason, he just likes holding you

▪︎ Let's you touch the swirls in his hair or run your fingers through the longer pieces in the back

▪︎ Practically melts everytime you do so

▪︎ Always tells you stories about DX

" So I was tryna fix an engine when a possum just flew outta' nowhere! I swear, it was like it was sent from God or somethin'. Hada' get a rabies shot that day. "

▪︎ Suprisingly good with hair?? Not just good at it, he's obsessed with playing with your hair.

▪︎ You could be in the middle of an equation an he'll be twirling your hair around his fingers or braiding it.

▪︎ Either really quick kisses or deep makeout sessions, no in-between

▪︎ Always smells like gasoline and some weird cologne

▪︎ The thing is he doesn't wear cologne?

▪︎ You and the gang have played guessing games trying to figure out where the cheap cologne smell is coming from

▪︎ He's basically a sweeter Dallas

▪︎ Like he's tough and acts tough but he'll hold you in public he doesn't really care

▪︎ He's a dumbass but he's sweet

▪︎ 👍

#the outsiders #the outsiders headcanons #dallas winston #sodapop curtis #johnny cade #ponyboy curtis #steve randle #two bit mathews #darry curtis #the outsiders x reader #steve x reader #steve randle x reader #the outsiders steve

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shelikesorchids-archive · 11 months

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CADENCE: Part Two

Pairing: Matt Murdock x F!Audio Erotica Creator Reader

Summary: Matt encounters you in the wild when he needs some coffee.

Warnings: Inappropriate boners, male masturbation, Matt getting flustered. MATT IN GREY SWEATPANTS. This might be the most tame chapter, but it's still spicy.

Word Count: 1.6k

Author's Note: Kind of a short filler installment, but it does move the story forward. Also, I just wanted to make Matt bust a nut in the middle of a coffee shop.

The next morning Matt awoke to the sound of his phone screaming “FOGGY FOGGY FOGGY” at him before his alarm went off. He threw the covers off his body, and groaned as he rolled over to answer his phone.

“What’s up, Fog?” he asked with a yawn.

“Just calling to check and see how you’re feeling. Also, just wanted to let you know you can have the day off today in case you are still feeling bad. Karen and I are going on a little field trip upstate to do some research for the Morrison case.”

“Okay, sounds good, buddy. I’ll just do some work from home today.”

“Let me know if you need anything. And try not to work too hard, Matty. You sound like shit.”

“Thanks for that, Fog. I’ll see you and Karen later.”

Matt hung up the phone and hoisted himself out of bed so he could trudge to his kitchen to get coffee. After rummaging around his cabinets, he realized that he ran out of coffee yesterday morning, and forgot to put in a grocery order so he could get more. Sighing in defeat, he went back to his bedroom to throw on a t-shirt, hoodie, and shoes so he could walk to his favorite coffee shop for his morning caffeine fix. He thought about calling Foggy back to ask him to bring him some coffee, but he didn’t want to interrupt his trip with Karen. The coffee shop would suffice, and maybe getting some fresh air would help him shake the cobwebs off.

—---------------------------------------------

Your colleague that worked the register during the morning rush called in sick, so you were relegated to filling in for them. It wasn’t your favorite, because you really weren’t much of a people person, but it had to be done. Things finally started to slow down after the initial morning rush, so you were about to take your break, until you saw a rather handsome blind man make his way into the coffee shop. You had seen him here a few times before, but you never interacted with him because you were usually busy making drinks behind the bar. Even though you desperately needed a break, you were feeling generous, so you decided to take his order before going to break. Besides, you had a bit of a hunch that his order wasn’t going to be too complicated.

“Good morning! What can I get started for you?”

Matt opened his mouth to give you his coffee order, but the words got stuck in his throat as you spoke. There was something familiar about the tone of your voice, but he couldn’t place it right away. He knew he had heard your voice somewhere, and it wasn’t his trips to your coffee shop.

“You okay, sir?” you asked, cutting through his inner monologue.

“Yeah, yeah. I’m fine, sorry. Just need some caffeine,” Matt laughed.

“Well, you’ve come to the right place for that! What can I get started for you?”

There was that tone in your voice again. He tilted his head to the side like a confused dog as he tried to place exactly where he knew your voice from.

“Uh, just a grande drip coffee, please.”

“Sure thing! Can I get a name for that?”

“Matt, my name is Matt.”

“Okay, Matt,” you crooned as you wrote his name on a cup with a Sharpie. “One drip coffee coming right up. Would you like room for cream?”

The room suddenly got smaller, and it hit him like a ton of bricks where he knew your voice from. It was your voice that he had been getting off to for the past few weeks, and you just happened to work at his favorite coffee shop in Hell’s Kitchen. He sucked in a deep breath as he grabbed onto the counter for leverage, desperately trying to keep his composure, but then you spoke again.

“Are you sure you’re okay, Matt?”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine. Sorry, but could you excuse me for just a moment? Also where’s your restroom?” he stammered out.

“Just behind you and to the right,” you answered.

“Thanks, uh, be right back.”

You furrowed your brows together in confusion as you watched him tap his cane against the floor and make a beeline for the bathroom. You set his coffee cup to the side, and decided to wait for him to come out of the bathroom to pour his coffee so it wouldn’t be cold.

Meanwhile, Matt slammed and locked the door behind him once he was in the bathroom. He leaned against the back of the door and started palming over the bulge in his sweatpants. This can not be happening, he thought to himself. There was no way he was getting an erection while wearing gray sweatpants in the middle of a coffee shop. He stepped to the sink and turned on the cold water to splash his face, but it was to no avail. There was only one thing that was going to quell the dull ache between his legs.

Before he could talk himself out of it, he slid his boxers and sweatpants down just far enough for his cock to spring out, and he slowly started stroking it. He thought about your audio that he listened to last night, and that got him right where he needed to be. The more he thought about your honeyed voice, the faster he pumped his cock in his hand. He was now fully erect and bucking his hips into his hand, chasing the release he so desperately needed. If him fucking his pillow to your voice was depraved, him masturbating in the bathroom while you waited to pour him a cup of coffee was downright perverted.

“Oh, fuck,” he breathed out as he smacked his free hand on the wall for leverage. He kept thinking about your voice as he got closer.

“You’re such a dirty boy, Matt. The people out there might be able to hear you, better keep quiet so they don’t know you’re in here fucking your own hand.”

“I know baby, I’m so bad. Just…..need to c-come and I’ll be fine.”

“Will you be fine? Or should I show you what else I can do with my mouth, hmmm?”

“Oh, oh, fuckfuckfuckFUCK!”

Imagining what your mouth would feel like on his cock, he came in his hand with gritted teeth. He was breathless and still holding onto the wall, and he realized he never turned the sink off from splashing his face. Thank God for that, he thought, because maybe the running muffled the sound of his grunts and moans as he jacked off thinking about your voice. He grabbed a wad of paper towels to wipe the cum from his hand, then he pulled his pants back up and washed his hands. He took a few deep breaths before splashing his face off again, then he left the bathroom to go get his coffee.

You were sitting on your favorite couch in the back of the shop when you saw him come out of the bathroom looking flustered. He was clearly shaken up, but you hopped up from your seat to go get him a fresh coffee, hoping that would help with whatever was going on with him.

“Hey, Matt!” you called out to him, and he immediately perked up. “I’ve got your coffee at the bar here, wanted to make sure it was fresh for you.”

He approached the bar, hoping that he didn’t look too disheveled, and he felt around the counter for his cup of coffee.

“It’s right here,” you said softly as you touched his hand, putting the cup of hot coffee into his.

Electricity coursed through his body at the contact. Your hand was so soft, just as silky as your voice, and he had to keep himself from grabbing your hand and pulling you across the counter.

“Thanks so much, and sorry about that. Anyway, how much do I owe you for the coffee?”

“Oh, this one’s on the house! I hope you don’t mind me saying so, but you kinda look like you’re having a rough morning, so hopefully this helps,” you said with a sweet smile.

“No, this has actually been a great morning,” he thought to himself.

“Thank you so much. I’ll get you back next time, I’m in here quite a bit,” he replied as he took a sip from the cup of coffee.

“Well, hopefully I see you around again soon. Have a great day, Matt.”

“Thanks, I’ll try.”

You went back to your spot on the couch in the back of the shop, and Matt made his way towards the door. Little did Matt know, you were taking your break as an opportunity to put the finishing touches on your latest post and put it up on your page.

—-----------------------------------------------------------

Matt finally made it back to his apartment with his caffeine fix in hand, and he decided to open up his laptop and try to get some work done. As soon as his computer came to life, it dinged with a notification, and it was letting him know you had posted a new audio. Since he was alone in his apartment, he opened it right away, and he was completely taken aback by what he heard.

“I’m afraid I’m guilty, but is there anything I can do to lessen my sentence? I heard you’re a really good lawyer.”

Matt laughed as he felt his cock twitch, and he reached his hands down his pants to pleasure himself for the second time this morning.

“I’m sure we can work something out, sweetheart. Tell me what you need.”

“I can’t offer you money, but I can offer you pleasure. Would that be okay? I’m just so scared.”

“Don’t be afraid, baby. I’ll take good care of you.”

#mandy writes #matt murdock #daredevil #matt murdock x reader #matt murdock x you #matt murdock smut #matt murdock fanfic

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shootingstarwritings · 1 year

Text

"Hey bro, how does a crew battle work...?"

Hey, it's me again! The name's James. Last time we checked up like this, I hopped my roommate's body so he'd get better at fighting games. His name's Korrin, but he prefers Kor.

I gotta admit, these powers were a pretty sweet deal. He suddenly had a brand new genre to enjoy and I got to play with his body every once in a while. Seemed like a win-win, right?

Well, we got caught up talking just a bit too much shit during one of the weeklies. Think I ended up messing with my roommate's personality a bit too much while I was jerking off as him. He was far cockier than before I started taking over.

"Yeah, that's right. $500 crew battle," said Kor, flexing his muscles through the tight t-shirt I had mind-fucked him into preferring to wear. "Me and James could beat the shit outta everyone in this venue. Easy."

I wrapped an arm around his shoulder, saying, "Chill the hell out before you spend all our rent money," through clenched teeth. In response, he leaned over and gave me a deep kiss before talking more shit.

We didn't have to play everyone in the venue, but now we were stuck in a 4v4 crew battle; and Kor had successfully pissed off just about everyone who was a regular. We had two weeks to find two other guys to fill out our team or we'd be going hungry for the next month.

The ride home was quiet, although Kor didn’t seem to mind. He stared straight ahead, one hand on the steering wheel while another was on my thigh. Occasionally, he would squeeze while smiling at me. The way his eyes lit up whenever we were together dazzled me. I couldn’t stay mad at him, especially when it was my fault he was the way he was.

"Aww, don’tcha worry," said Kor as he massaged my shoulders, another trait I had bestowed him. My bed was a bit small for the two of us, and Kor had often wondered out loud if we could fit a queen sized bed in my room. “I’m sure we’ll find some guys. Even if they’re dead weight, you and me can wipe the floor with everyone there.” Before I could say anything, he leaned over and kiss my neck. I shivered, toes curling as he greedily licked one of my more sensitive spots.

After I let out a few… unbecoming moans, Kor pulled away and tittered. “Love making you cry out like that,” he said in a sensual tone. “Well, good night. Gotta get to the gym early tomorrow.”

As the door to his room shut close, I stared up at the ceiling and sighed. I had a few other friends that liked games, but they had no interested in fighting games like me. Of course, that had never stopped me before…

Two weeks should be enough time to make two pros, right?

The first guy on my list was Jason. He was a buddy of mine that I met in college. Smart, kind, and eager to show off the gains he'd made at the gym. "I spent three years to get this bod," he had bragged to me, showing off his toned and sweaty torso. Even so, he still enjoyed playing games, particularly RPGs. He was always throwing one my way or another--with tons of fan translations and cryptic guides as well.

I'd have to play one of them to completion one of these days to thank him for the service he was about to provide.

The night after Kor made his bet, I made my move. I locked my door and focused on flying. My body slowly lost its weight, density, and then mass in general. Skin peeled away and disappeared into dust, waiting for the chance to reform once my mission was complete. Organs twisted into neat little knots that blinked out of existence. My bones ground up against each other before vanishing.

It was only during those few precious moments that my soul was free. I sailed through the sky, unable to feel the wind on my face yet elated all the same. The moon was so close to my fingertips that it felt unfair that I couldn't grasp it. However, I knew exactly what I could grip instead.

I phased through Jason's apartment with little issue and found himself soon afterward. He was playing a battle simulator without a shirt on. "It's about a 73% to one-hit KO," he muttered to himself as he clicked through an innumerable amount of tabs. I knew for a fact some of them were months old and untouched for just as long.

Probably another habit I’d have to kick, but it was hard to focus on that when I kept focusing on that tight body he had. I would’ve licked my lips of I had any in that form. Not wanting to waste any more time, I hopped into him.

“Hnng…! Ahhh…hah…!” Jason let out a moan, tongue sticking out involuntarily as a shiver of pleasure ran all throughout his body. “Wh-what the fuck—is happening—“ Jason moaned as he turned around and began to hump his seat cushions. “AH! NRGH AAAAAHHHH!” Any words Jason would’ve tried to cry out were soon overpowered by panicked pants of pleasure. His hands, which would’ve normally reached for his phone to call for help, could only play with his chest and sensitive nipples.

My will overpowered his own, but Jason didn’t seem to mind. He kicked off his shoes, socked toes curling up in pleasure, and rubbed his trembling body all over the coach. “I-I…! K-Keep go—OOAHH—Keep going!” He said, panting and laughing the whole time. His back arched once more as he let out a strangled scream while his erect cock spewed semen all over his shorts. Jason, mind drowning in a hurricane of euphoria curtesy of me, collapsed covered in a sweaty, semen-covered mess.

Eventually, I opened my new eyes and felt my chiseled body. “Mmm, oh Jason. Let’s get your hand-eye coordination to my level.” As I began to strip so I could play in the nude, I saw angry DMs from Jason’s opponent.

Smirking, I walked over to the laptop and messaged him back. “Sorry bro, too busy playing games and fucking bussy to play with a pussy like you. GG you win, loser.”

I laughed as I got another stream of profanities from Jason’s old opponent, but I didn’t care. I was covered in sweat, smelling like a real man, while I was playing my favorite game.

Once Jason was done and truly mind-fucked, I had one more person I needed to visit.

#male possession #male body possession #ghost possession #spirit possession #astral projection possession

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bunnys-kisses · 1 month

Note

Love love LOVE your writing ❤️. Can I please place a "picky" order?

Profiteroles with Hard lemonade & Cider on the side with Max Verstappen?

(hold the bun in oven if it's not too much. pregnancy is my least favorite trope) 😅🙏🏻

bakery menu

want to submit your own order? then check out the menu!! there are tons of items that are hopefully to your liking! as for this anon, thank you for the order! don't worry about being 'picky', i'd rather you like the fic than not, haha. but you did pick some nice prompts for your order! so enjoy!

profiteroles ("come away with me. for a week, together. anywhere you want, we'll go.") + hard lemonade (possessive behaviour) + cider (body worship) served by max verstappen (formula one)!!

cw: smut/pwp, needy!max, possessive behaviour, body worship, uni student!reader, doggy style, praise

you could've gone all summer break just sleeping. to be curled up next to your lover, max verstappen, and sleeping. occasionally getting up for food or a shower, but staying in the confines of the apartment he lived in.

currently you were living in england to finish your studies in university, which made it hard to see the world class formula one driver. even when he was in england for silverstone, it was hard to fit into one another's schedule.

so for months since the beginning of the season you two lived most of your relationship through discord. so away from school and away from racing, you wanted to just sleep in your lover's arms.

max had other plans.

you woke up to the feeling of max's lips on your skin, his hands on your soft thighs. you groaned and opened your eyes. you made a small noise when you felt his tight grip on you.

"max." you said softly, "can't wait for breakfast."

he kissed at your neck, "no, i can't. i need you." his hand slipped between your legs and rubbed against your pussy. you were both naked from the night before when max spent what felt like hours fingering you before he eventually slipped into you.

even now, he still couldn't get enough. he wanted you deeply, like a piece of lead in his chest. the months apart have made him a little possessive over you, jealous of the other students that you mingled with at your school.

he sighed, "i need you, really badly. i want myself all over you. inside and out." he had already kept that promise with the amount of hickies on your chest and the verstappen logo t-shirts in your suitcase.

he was acting as if your name wasn't on his wikipedia page and his photos weren't plastered all over your instagram. literally over dinner last night, you took photos together before he had you face down in his soft mattress.

you knew that your birth control was working over time this trip, for when max got too lost into the rhythm of his thrusts to pull out. he continued to rub against your slit and you moaned a little bit in response.

he chuckled and kissed at your neck with such love, he rubbed his cock up against your behind and buried his nose back into your neck. he started to really focus in on your clit as he made you squirm a little but against him.

"you feel so good." he said softly, "my pretty little treasure. do you know how much i love you. i thought about you every day on the track, can't you take a semester off and see me race every weekend."

you squirmed a little, feeling the heat bloom in your face, "max, fuck."

he rubbed up against your further, almost pushing you under his weight. his fingers grazed across his clit and you moaned a little louder into the covers.

you moaned, "please."

"i'm worried you forget all about me at university." he said, "all those men you could meet, makes me a little worried."

you swallowed, "i could never, max. shit. i love you too much." you squirmed a little harder but as he pressed more weight onto you, you could do little about it. you were stuck under him, and were moved around by his hands.

he got onto his knees behind you and pushed your further into the soft pillows. his cock twitched as he rubbed up against you. he loved the sight of you, the softness of your thighs, the curve of your back. the roundness of your ass and the sweetness of your cunt.

not to mention your beautiful eyes that draw him in, your lips that made him want to go in for hot kisses. you were a complete package.

"i love you." he said. he couldn't stand the idea of losing you. not that you were going anywhere fast, but sometimes the space between you two left anxiety clawing in his gut.

but, now, being so close to you. calmed the anxiety in his head as he pushed into you. feeling his cock slip into your sweet hole. he sighed through his tense jaw as he started to move against you.

you whimpered and clutched onto the covers. you arched your back and felt your heart race in your chest as you held onto tightly. to have your ass in the air and max's cock deep inside of your pussy.

"you feel amazing. i've thought about this cunt every fucking day we were apart." he groaned as he found a comfortable pace. he could feel the heat down his back as he moved against you.

"shit, max. i thought about you every day. it's hard to focus on classes when you're getting flirty texts from your boyfriend." you giggled a little before a moan left your lips.

he smiled a little bit, the thought that he was on your mind all the time. that he had nestled between those ears of yours while you two were so far apart. he hunched over you further, really working his cock inside of you.

you in turn sounded delightful under him, his perfect girl. his treasure. you panted, "yeah, everyone talks about their stupid boyfriends and all i can think about is you on the track, winning, for us." you moaned a little louder.

he groaned, he loved the sound of that. the sound of you, the love you carried for him. it was an intense feeling in his gut as he continued to push his cock into you. he heard you pant and whine as the sounds of sex filled the room. he could feel every noise in the pit of his stomach with each thrust.

"i love you. i need you." he panted as he moved against you, "always and forever. you're my angel, my treasure." he shuddered.

you panted heavily the more you two moved against one another. you gasped and moaned into the covers the more he rocked into you. his thrusts quickened and you felt hot all over.

"i love you." he said again

you whined, "i love you too, max. so fuckin' much." you arched your back a little further the more the pleasure went through your system.

"mine." he groaned.

you panted, "shit. max. god." you felt his cock in the deepest parts of you and it flooded your brain with want. you came around his cock quickly, your hips moved a little bit as you chased your orgasm. you wiped your face up against the covers, trying to get rid of the sweat on your brow.

he gave a few more heavy thrusts before he pulled out and finished all over your back. marking your soft skin. you whined and arched your back a little at the lingering pleasure. his pace staggered before it slowed to a stop. he shakily exhaled and dropped down beside you.

he pulled you into a tight grasp and laid down onto the bed. he panted heavily as he curled up around you. he said between heavy pants, "come away with me. for a week, together. anywhere you want, we'll go."

"anywhere?" you asked as you linked your fingers with his.

he nodded against your head and felt relaxed, "yes, anywhere. i just want to be with you. i missed you." he kissed at your face and held onto you. he adored you, he loved every inch of you.

you held onto his bicep and kissed him on the lips softly. you rubbed your thighs together. you smiled at him, "alright. you and me, anywhere. spend the rest of the break hidden away from everyone."

he nodded, "yeah, exactly." he smiled at you. he kissed you once more. the jealousy in his gut seemed to fade for now. he kept you nestled in his arms.

anywhere you'd go, he'd follow. his favourite person on the planet. <3

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moonstruckme · 1 year

Note

Hiii! Maybe you can write something with reader having like 20 plants in her dorm. Like a plant mom!

Thanks for requesting :)

Eddie Munson x fem!reader ♡ 979 words

“This isn’t gonna work,” you scold, nudging the spout of your watering can carefully between leaves to the center of the pot. “I gave you the prime sun spot, and you’re still gonna wilt on me? That’s just ungrateful, Phin.”

There’s a knock on the door, and do a once-over of your room before going to meet Eddie at the door. He’d let you know he’d be coming by to pick up the flannel he’d lent you the other night (you’re disappointed you don’t get to keep it, though you haven’t let him know that), but he hasn’t been in your dorm before; you always wait outside when he’s supposed to be picking you up. Thankfully, you’d remembered to put away the folded laundry on your bed, and your space is looking decently tidy.

“Hey.” Your grin is already in place as you open the door, your dopamine centers responding to Eddie’s presence the same as they respond to the aroma of cookies in the oven or your favorite song coming on the radio.

“Hey, you.” Eddie’s smiling too, peering around you to see into your room. “Who’re you talking to?”

“No one.” You open the door all the way to show him, and Eddie’s eyes go wide enough to show white all the way around his irises. “Just Phin.”

“You…you have a fucking jungle in here.” Eddie’s gawping, seeming unable to focus on any one plant as his gaze skims your room. You suppose it probably would look like a bit much if you weren’t used to it. You’ve got greenery lining your windowsill, pots taking up half your desk, vines drooping down from your shelves. You’ve had to put a few on the floor too, since the only other surfaces in the room don’t get enough sun. All in all, it’s a lot of green in not a ton of space. Eddie seems at a loss for words, but then his eyebrows twitch towards each other and he blinks. “Wait, who’s Phin?”

“Phineas,” you explain, gently touching the leaf of your baby pothos. You’d propagated him from a giant one you’ve had for years, but he’s struggling a bit as he roots in his new soil.

Eddie’s looking at you like you’re a marvel now too. “They have names? You talk to them?”

“Of course they have names. And talking is supposed to help them grow.” You soften your voice just slightly, throwing a cautious look at Dorothy over on your shelf. “Though I sometimes wonder if some of them are more introverted than others. Some of my spider plants don’t seem to appreciate it.”

Eddie grins in that familiar toothy way that makes you wonder if he’s going to tease you, but his voice is warm and sweet as honeyed tea when he says, “Well shit, sweetheart, I didn’t know I was coming over to meet so many of your friends. I would’ve dressed better.”

You laugh, gesturing for him to follow as you go sit on your bed. “I wouldn’t worry about it, I don’t think they can even tell us apart. Which is a shame, because I devote so much care to them and they wouldn’t know me from Adam, but oh well.” You let your gaze skim over Eddie as he gets comfy beside you, laying down on his side and propping one head on his hand. He’s got on another flannel, under which is a Black Sabbath t-shirt. His jeans are faded, with a stain that looks suspiciously like chocolate just above the knee, and his hair is taking well to the lack of humidity in the chilly season, curls bouncy and defined. “You look nice anyway, so.”

Little lines spread like cartoonish rays of sunshine from the outer corners of Eddie’s eyes. “Daww, thanks, sweet thing. Sure you’re not just buttering me up so you can keep my shirt?”

You look to where you’ve left it, washed and folded primly on your desk. “I’m not,” you promise wistfully, “but…if that would work on you, I can start.”

Eddie takes your hand and begins tracing the lines of your palm absentmindedly. “You can have it. I mostly just wanted to see you. And I got to meet the roommates, so double bonus.” Your heart swells like a hot air balloon, big and warm and buoyant in your chest. Eddie turns your hand over, stroking gently at the skin below your knuckle. “What happened here?”

You lean over to see, laying down next to him with your shoulder pressed against his bicep as he runs his thumb over a tiny cut on your middle finger. “Oh, that was Willie.” You nod towards the cactus on the edge of your desk. “He scraped me while I was moving him to a bigger pot.”

Eddie glares in the cactus’ direction. “Little fucker,” he grumbles, kissing your finger lightly. “You can’t let these guys push you around, babe. You’re too good, you’ll take care of them no matter what. I think I’m gonna have to start coming around more to lay down the law.”

You don’t think of your plants as nearly so villainous as Eddie paints them, but you’re not going to argue against his being in your room more often. You tilt your head until it hits his shoulder. “If you think so,” you say noncommittally.

“I do,” he confirms, turning your hand back over and bringing it to lay on his chest, both of his clasped over it protectively. “You’re my best girl, you know? I can’t let you be bullied by a bunch of leafy assholes.”

“They’re generally nice to me.” You smile against his shoulder, and Eddie’s kiss is a gentle pressure on the top of your head.

“For now, sweetheart, but they’ve got you surrounded. Think I’d better stick around for a while, just to keep an eye on things.”

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x self insert #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fic #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson scenario #eddie munson drabble #eddie munson oneshot #stranger things #stranger things 4 #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things fandom

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halfmoth-halfman · 2 years

Text

iii. no proof except my silver tongue

Pairing: Mob Boss!Price x F!Reader Word Count: 8.3k Warnings: blood, alcohol, brief nudity, guns Disclaimer: I do not own modern warfare or any of the modern warfare characters. A/N: i ended up rewriting this part because i thought it was too long, but it ended up being longer than before so enjoy the hefty chapter! prev | next

“You know, it’s just dawned on me that you’ve never actually been to the club.”

You look up from the vase you’re polishing, tilting your head at Kyle, who sits across the table from you. He had been working on some kind of financial report when he joined you, but now he’s leaned back in the plush chair, arms folded across his chest as he stares at you. You blink back at him, trying not to let your eyes dip down to where he’s left the top two buttons of his crisp, deep purple shirt undone.

“I'm…literally in the club right now?”

Kyle rolls his eyes, a small smile playing on his lips.

“Not what I meant,” he scoffs. “You’ve never been here while we’re open.”

“You’ve just noticed that?” you ask, raising a brow at him. He gives a half-shrug, glancing back down at the pile of papers in front of him.

“You’ve been here for nearly three months…” he says, quickly glancing back up at you. It’s your turn to shrug, using that as your answer before you return to polishing the vase.

“There’s no cover charge for employees if that’s what you're worried about.” His voice is quiet, but you easily catch his words in the club's silence.

You stop mid-polish, setting the vase aside to clasp your hands together on the table. You meet Kyle’s eyes with a steady gaze.

“You think I can’t afford to get into your club?” You keep your voice light, but the accusation is there, and Kyle picks up on it instantly—you’d be surprised if he didn’t.

“I’ve seen that hunk of junk you call a car,” he laughs, all tease and no malice. You scoff, grabbing the closest serviette and tossing it at him. He catches it easily—one-handed and without flinching—neatly folding it and setting it aside. He turns back to you, still waiting for an answer.

“I’m not big on clubs,” you sigh, sliding your hands off the table to settle them in your lap.

“If I remember correctly, you came here to sing in a club?”

Your fingers loosen, allowing your thumb to pick at the edges of your nails.

“That’s work, not recreation.”

“Semantics.”

Your thumb catches on your pinky nail, digging in and tearing painfully into the bed of your finger. You roll your eyes, ignoring the sharp sting on your finger and Kyle’s quiet chuckles.

“There a reason you want me here so bad?” you ask, pulling your jacket sleeves down over your hands and folding them atop the table. You press your pinkie into the denim, letting the coarse fabric soak up the few droplets of blood.

“You missed out on the New Years party—”

“Not a fan of fireworks.”

“—And you’ve been here long enough. Most people would jump at the opportunity to get in for free.”

You have a feeling this is something Kyle’s stubbornly set on, and you’re going to have a hard time talking your way out.

“Isn’t there some kind of fancy dress code?” you try, looking down at your simple outfit; it's the same t-shirt and jean jacket combination you've worn almost every day—you hadn’t thought to pack your whole wardrobe when you started this little adventure. “If you’ve seen my hunk of junk car, you should know I don’t really have anything that nice.”

Not anymore.

Kyle scoffs, an easy and surprisingly sympathetic smile on his face. “Don’t worry about it. You can hang out at the bar with Alex, and if anyone gives you shit about it, just let me know.”

“I don’t—”

“And if it really bothers you, you can take one of Farah’s outfits from backstage. There’s a ton of them, dresses and suits; I’m sure you’ll be able to find something that fits.”

A moment of silence as you stare each other down. Kyle’s convincingly charming smile against your blank stare. You know he won’t accept no for an answer as you try to mentally sort through excuses to find one that might work.

All you can come up with is, “Who’s Farah?”

“Guess you’ll have to show up tonight and find out,” he smirks.

Walked right into that one.

You sigh, long and dramatic, putting your hands up in surrender. “Fine, I’ll come see what all the fuss is about.”

“Great!” You can't find it in you to regret the decision when you see how Kyle beams at you, clapping his hands together. He hurriedly gathers his spread of papers, standing from the table. “Club opens at eight. You can come in through the back; I’ll let Rudy know.”

He takes off, heading straight for the back office.

“Wha- hey! Is that why you came and sat with me?” you call out, turning in the chair to yell at his back.

“See you tonight, Canary!” he laughs, disappearing behind the doors.

You don’t borrow one of Farah’s outfits, instead switching out your denim jacket for the only other piece of outerwear you’d packed: a long, black sweater that still carries the faint scent of your mother’s favorite perfume. You switch boots, choosing your cleaner and less worn pair—still solid black and probably not formal enough for where you’re going—and try to put a little more effort into styling your hair than your typical ten-minute morning routine.

The bathroom mirror in your motel room is permanently foggy; your reflection is still visible, but just blurry enough to be frustrating. You do your best, using the always-too-cold sink water to wash your face and smooth down any stray strands of hair. It takes some time, and you’re finally presentable enough to leave the room thirty-four minutes after eight.

You’ve never been to this side of town at night.

The road to the club is packed, cars filling spaces on both sides of the street, some parked and some dropping people off. It’s almost an hour after opening, yet there are people everywhere. A long line spills out of the club into the crowds walking by. Blurs of silk, sparkle and too-much money pass by you, the masses already belligerently drunk and ready to party.

It takes some effort to get to the back lot in your car, avoiding cars and pedestrians alike. You can see a few stragglers in the alleyway: a bald man smoking by the dumpsters, two men talking quietly near the entrance, and a couple doing something they probably shouldn’t in the back corner.

You keep your eyes forward, parking your car and tucking your duffel bag as far under the backseat as possible before you get out. You lock your car, double and triple-checking that it worked, before hurrying to the back entrance.

You pull on the door, only to find it…locked?

When the hell did they start locking doors?

You knock, knuckles wrapping against the metal in a quick rhythm. You give it a minute, then two, then five, before you knock again.

Still nothing.

You groan, clenching your hand into a fist to bang on the door. You step back to wait for an answer, glancing around at your surroundings. The two at the entrance have joined the smoking man, all watching you as they exchange laughs. They’re dressed in all black covered by long coats covered in impeccable hand-stitched designs that you recognize; you’ve had a few of those bespoke coats yourself. Their smug grins verge on leering, setting you on high alert as you spin back around to the door.

You shuffle the keys in your hand to grip them like a small knife and pound on the door one more time, debating if you should try the front or just get back in your car and head home.

You hear the men laugh again, louder this time. Chancing a glance over your shoulder, you see the bald man toss his cigarette, stomping it out with a polished shoe. His eyes never leave you, even as he leans slightly to speak to the men beside him.

He takes a step forward.

Your hand tightens around your keys.

The door swings open behind you, a blast of hot air and a cacophony of delicious smells following suit.

“You’re late,” Rudy sighs as you turn to him. Tiny beads of sweat gather on his brow, threatening to slip down his handsome face onto his crisp, white uniform.

“Traffic was a nightmare,” you mutter, peeking back to the alley to find all three men gone and walking away. You let out a small breath of relief, your grip loosening on your makeshift shiv, turning back to Rudy with a smile. “So, you gonna let me in?”

He steps aside, and you hurry past him into the busy kitchen. You can barely hear the music over all the sizzling, clanking, and yelling in Spanish. A solid hand sets itself on your upper back as Rudy guides you through the kitchen's chaos and to the doors of the main room.

“Gaz is taking care of something, but Alex left a seat open for you.” Is all he says before someone yells, and he rushes off.

You’re immediately hit with the thrum of the music’s bass as you open the doors to the main room. It rattles through your chest, settling somewhere at the base of your spine. The curtains to the booths are all open, small groups of patrons laughing and talking over buckets of ice and wine bottles. You offer a polite smile to those who look your way as you head to the bar.

You don’t bother looking for a seat; your attention is immediately pulled to the scene before you.

You suddenly understand the longing and envy in your father’s voice when he told you tales of the infamous 141.

The room is covered in a soft haze of smoke, the normally blinding house lights dimmed to a sultry glow. The place is completely packed. The tables are full, older patrons decorated in subtle wealth enjoying rich food and richer wine. Groups of suits hang around the game tables, sharing drinks and letting their hands wander along the scantily clad women hanging on their arms. The dance floor is full, a colorful hurricane of expensive fabrics and laughter. A few smaller groups, mostly giggly couples, make their way up the steps to the second floor.

And at the center of it all, standing on the stage beneath a bright spotlight and singing into a microphone, is a woman with long, black hair dressed in form-fitting red satin. Her voice is lovely—soft and deep but upbeat—matching the fast-paced music perfectly.

There’s a slight pang in your chest—images of overpriced champagne bottles, hours spent in hair and makeup, throngs of black suits and blacker hearts staring up at you as you croon into your own microphone flashing through your head.

Stop it.

You shake the images from your mind, pulling your attention away from the siren on stage and ignoring the ache in your shoulder. Your eyes wander the crowd, spotting Soap serving a table with a dazzling smile and a few too many of his shirt buttons undone. Valeria sits at a poker table, cards in hand and a pile of chips bigger than any of her opponents. A few feet away, Ghost’s figure towers above the crowd as he stands unnervingly still with his hands clasped tightly in front of him. Next to him, speaking to a small group of men and women huddled around a pool table, is Mr. Price.

A deep blue shirt stretched tight over his chest with the sleeves rolled up and the top buttons left open, you can see the rise and fall of his chest as he laughs at something said at the table. Black, form-fitting slacks cover the expanse of his legs, held up by a belt with a silver buckle that matches his silver Rolex. He leans against the table at the hip, lit cigar in one hand and a half-full glass of whiskey in the other.

It should be illegal to look so good, you think, heat slowly flooding your face as you let your eyes rove over your boss.

“Enjoying the show?” You try not to jump, shrugging away from the sudden hand that shoves at your shoulder. You whip around to meet Alex’s beaming face and pray he can’t see the red in your cheeks.

“She’s amazing. Who is she?” you ask as Alex leads you further down the bar to an empty barstool.

“That’s Farah, Gaz’s sister,” he answers as you sit down. His voice catches on Farah’s name, and you think you see a flash of pride in that wide smile of his. “What’re you having?”

“Water,” you smile. The pride is quickly replaced with disappointment as Alex stares down at you. You hold his gaze long enough for a few other patrons to start getting impatient before you relent with a defeated sigh. “Fine, I’ll spice it up.”

“Ha, I knew—”

“A water with lemon, please.”

Alex turns away with a huff, tending to the other people at the bar. You turn around on the stool, content to people-watch from your spot. Alex slides you your water, a small lemon wedge on the rim, followed by a shot glass filled with what smells like flavored vodka. He sends you a wink, leaving before you can send the drink back.

After three more of Farah’s songs, you spot Kyle coming down the steps and weaving his way toward the bar. He glances over the guests until he spots you. You wave at him, and he smiles wide. As he approaches, the person next to you stands, shaking hands with Kyle before heading to the dance floor. Kyle takes the now empty seat, excitement plain on his face.

“I was wondering if you’d actually show up!” he laughs.

“I did! And now you can do me a favor!” you laugh back. Kyle raises a curious brow as you glance over to make sure Alex’s attention is elsewhere. You turn back, handing the shot to Kyle. “Drink this for me.”

“What is it?”

“Vodka, probably? Just drink it before he comes over here!”

He downs it with ease, setting the glass back on the bar. There’s a small pause before the alcohol hits him, and Kyle sputters.

“Not vodka,” he coughs.

“Glad I didn’t drink it, then,” you mutter, sliding your glass of water in front of him. He chugs the rest of your water, taking a bite out of the lemon for good measure.

Once his throat is soothed, his eyes flick to the club before he looks at you with a smirk made of nothing but pure mischief.

“I think you owe me for that one.”

“Fair enough. Name your price.”

Kyle stands from the barstool, stepping in front of you and holding out his hand. You look up at him, confused.

“How would you like a dance?”

You glance over to the dancefloor, then back to Kyle. You hadn’t come here intending to do much aside from hanging out with Alex, but the place doesn’t seem that bad. The gang appears to have a tight handle on things, not a single person upset or out of place. You don’t see the harm in having a little fun.

And you’d never gotten to enjoy your time at—

Fuck it, why not?

“Just don’t get mad if I step on your toes,” you laugh, giving Kyle a quick wink as you set your hand in his and follow him down to the dancefloor. He doesn’t wait, using his grasp on your hand to spin you into the crowd. You bump into a few people, but no one seems to mind; a woman in an almost too-short purple dress with a draping diamond necklace smiles at you as you collide with her, pulling you into another spin that sends you back to Kyle.

You don’t know how long you dance for, but it’s long enough for your feet to ache. Still, you keep dancing. You don’t remember how long it’s been since you’ve had real fun—how long it’s been since you were allowed to.

It helps that Kyle’s a good dancer, though his attention is split between you and Purple Dress, who seems determined to get him to herself. You can tell he’s as interested in her as she is him; his eyes wander back to her every time he rejoins you for another dance.

You’re ready to come up with an excuse to bow out and let them spend the rest of the night together when Kyle catches sight of something over your shoulder. He smiles down at you, grabbing your hand to spin you. You follow along, letting Kyle guide you until you collide with a solid chest and a set of hands clasp around your waist to steady you.

You look up to apologize, but the words freeze in your throat as you’re met with the smell of mahogany and expensive whiskey. Your eyes travel up the body in front of you to meet the sharp blue gaze of your boss. He looks down at you with amusement, hands squeezing your hips before he looks up at Kyle.

“Mind if I cut in?”

“Not at all,” Kyle laughs, immediately turning his attention to Purple Dress.

“Oh no, I don’t mind either. Thanks for asking.” The sass isn’t intentional, but you can feel the heat radiating from his hands into your hips, traveling up your sides and straight to your face. You feel the overwhelming urge to run, to return to the bar and drown yourself in lemon water and maybe a few of Alex’s mystery shots.

“We don’t have to dance—” Mr. Price assures you, beginning to step away, hands slowly starting to slide from your hips.

“No!” You step forward on instinct, chasing after his warmth. He raises a brow, mouth widening into a smirk that has your blush crawling down to your neck. “I mean—it’s fine. I’m fine. You’re fine—but not like that. Well, yes, like that, but that’s not what I meant. I—”

He sinks his teeth into his bottom lip to fight back his smirk, but you can see the way his shoulders shake with laughter.

Get yourself together.

“You’re my boss, and I don’t know what to do in this situation,” you say, trying not to let the embarrassment get to you. All you want is for a giant hole to open in the ground and swallow you, but that’s not likely to happen anytime soon.

“Relax, dove. You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to.”

It is sinful, the way he speaks with that deep accent.

“I…I think I want a drink.” Preferably enough hard liquor to make you forget this moment.

“Then we’ll go get you a drink.” Mr. Price turns over his shoulder to where Ghost stands, completely still among the flowing crowd of dancers. Had he been there the whole time? You hadn’t seen him, and he’s a hard man to miss.

“Go make sure everything’s ready in my office,” Mr. Price says, quieter than he had been with you. Ghost nods, giving the dancefloor a once over before melting into the crowd with an ease that’s surprising for someone of his height. One of Mr. Price’s hands leaves your waist, the other sliding around to settle on the small of your back as he guides you toward the bar.

He leads you to the bar, keeping anyone from bumping into you. It’s almost gentlemanly, and if you weren’t so nervous, you might’ve read a little more into that.

There’s only one empty stool, and Mr. Price steps aside to let you take it. You sit down with a soft thanks, his hand lingering on your back until you’ve gotten comfortable.

“Alex!” Alex whirls around at the other end of the bar, making his way over with a wide grin.

“Hey, boss!”

“Whatever the lady wants. On the house.”

“Aye, aye, Captain.” Alex gives a two-finger salute, shooting you a wink before returning to work. You stare at his retreating back, a new, minor wave of anxiety crashing into you.

If this is on the house, does that mean you were supposed to pay for your water earlier?

Mr. Price glances down at his watch, shifting his gaze toward his office, then back to you. He sets a large hand on your shoulder, giving a gentle squeeze—nothing like the bone-crushing handshake from when you first met. “I have to check on some things, but you should have a few drinks. Enjoy yourself, Plover; you’re not on the clock.”

“Yes, sir,” you nod. You let the name slide, not trusting yourself to correct him properly until you can collect yourself and get a grip.

“And stop calling me sir,” he laughs. “Price is fine.”

He sure is.

“Sure thing,” you smile. His hand slides from your shoulder. Had his fingers lingered, or was that your imagination? He looks down the bar to catch Alex’s eyes and gives a single, sharp nod.

“If you need anything, Alex will take care of it,” Mr. Price—no, just Price—smiles down at you. Another nod, this time at you, and you nod back before he takes his leave, heading toward his office.

You wait until he’s out of sight to turn to the bar, dropping your head into your hands.

What the hell’s wrong with me?

You don’t know what it is about that man that drives you crazy, but you’ll have to learn to reel that in real quick.

“Rough night?”

You peek through your fingers to see someone taking the seat to your left, their gaze focused entirely on you. You sit up, letting your hands fall into your lap as you turn to face the stranger.

You’d expected another patron, maybe another co-worker you hadn’t met yet.

You weren’t expecting the bald man from the alley.

He’s sort of handsome now that you see him close up. Dark brows, darker eyes framed by thick lashes, and a beard freckled with gray. You can see the appeal, but he isn’t your type.

Your type is currently checking on some things in his office.

“Not rough, just…new,” you explain with a friendly smile. He returns your smile, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes.

Something about him seems familiar, and the sense of déjà vu that creeps up your spine sets you on edge.

“First time here?”

“You could say that.”

“You don’t seem to be enjoying yourself. Most people spend the first night trying to get as wildly drunk as possible.“ There’s a thin veil of disgust over that second sentence, the mild irritation sparkling behind his eyes as he gestures toward the crowd.

He smiles at you, but his eyes keep flicking behind you. You don’t know what, or who, is behind you, but it’s something he doesn’t seem to like.

“A bit presumptuous for someone you’ve only just met, don’t you think?” you ask, with a slight tilt of your head. The man chuckles, eyes traveling up and down your form.

He extends his hand, a collection of gold bands decorating his fingers, “Hassan Zyani.”

In an instant, you’re back to being stuffed in a tight dress, pouring drinks for your father and the fearsome man he’s attempting to negotiate with.

No wonder he seemed familiar.

“Canary.” You force out a smile, shaking his hand.

“Canary,” he draws out your name, your skin crawling at the way it grates over his tongue. “If you’d like, I would be happy to show you around. The rooms upstairs are particularly—”

Someone steps up to Hassan’s side—one of the other men from the alley—leaning in to whisper in his ear. The man faces away from you so you can’t read his lips. Not that you’d try with Hassan’s eyes fixed on your face. He nods at whatever the man says, standing from the barstool.

“I’m needed elsewhere, but perhaps later we can continue this conversation somewhere more…private?” Hassan doesn’t let you answer, kissing the back of your hand and walking off with the other man.

You let out a deep exhale the moment he leaves, rubbing the back of your hand on your jeans.

What the fuck was Ghorbrani’s right hand doing here? You knew from experience the Iranians kept their business within the family, but Hassan spoke as if he’d been here before. Was the 141 working with Ghorbrani? Your father tried for years to get in Ghorbrani’s good graces, throwing everything he could—including his only daughter—at the man’s feet. How the hell had the 141 managed what he couldn’t?

“You okay?” Alex’s voice breaks you out of your internal crisis, and you find him standing in front of you with a glass of water set between you.

“I’m a little overwhelmed, to be honest.”

And you are. You’ve had fun, but you’re tired and left with more questions than answers.

“You can sneak out the back if you want; we’re closing up soon anyway. Besides, I think you danced long enough to satisfy Gaz,” Alex chuckles. You look around the club and notice that there are indeed fewer guests, and those who are left seem to be winding down for the night. You check your watch, the hands reading a few minutes after three in the morning.

“Maybe. I wanted to say goodbye, at least,” you shrug, looking around to see if you can spot Kyle among the shrinking sea of people.

“He probably won’t be back out until after we close.”

You spin around in your seat to face Alex. “I can make it, just need something to do…You need any help cleaning up?”

“Hell, if you’re offering.”

Alex lets you behind the bar, handing you a rag to start wiping down the bar top. You busy yourself with cleaning, trying to keep your mind from wandering. The club winds down until only a few stragglers remain.

The music eventually comes to a stop, Farah heading backstage as the stage lights dim and reappearing in the hallway next to the stage. She’s changed into a black hoodie, dark jeans, and boots with her hair pulled back into a ponytail.

Farah makes her way to the bar, Alex meeting her at the top of the steps, leaning against the bar with a proud smile and pure adoration in his eyes.

You leave them to their conversation and take up the rest of the cleaning duties as König’s massive form heads down the steps to guide the remaining guests outside. The only people left inside are you, your co-workers, and Hassan’s two men standing guard outside Price’s office.

A few minutes pass by in relative peace: Alex showering Farah in praise, Soap bringing you empty glasses, Valeria counting her comically large pile of winnings, Kyle descending the staircase with Purple Dress giggling behind him, Alejandro joining the rest of you after locking the front doors.

A peace quickly broken by the sounds of shouting from the back office. All attention snaps to the doors and Hassan’s two men standing guard. Tension floods the room to a suffocating degree: Soap setting down his tray of dishes to face the door, Kyle guiding Purple Dress to stand behind him, Valeria’s hand crawling down the slit in her dress while Alejandro’s begins to slide into his jacket. You follow their lead, setting your rag on the bar top and preparing for the worst.

The seconds crawl by at an almost agonizing pace before the office doors burst open. Hassan storms out, followed quickly by Ghost, with Price walking up to stand in the doorway. Hassan turns back, shouting something in Arabic that you’re sure is an insult.

“Ghost, escort Mr. Zyani and his men out,” Price says, low and eerily calm. Ghost reaches for Hassan, but the man slaps his hand away.

“Get your hands off of me!” Hassan shouts. His men move forward, shoving Ghost out of the way to get between him and their boss. Alejandro stands abruptly, and Soap steps forward, but Price raises a hand, and the two stop where they are.

Hassan looks around, noticing the number of people he and his men are surrounded by before his eyes land directly on you.

He moves quickly, but you’re on high alert and catch the flash of silver he pulls from his coat. You drop to your knees, a bottle on the shelf behind you bursting into a spray of shards and alcohol.

You tuck yourself behind the bar, and all hell breaks loose.

Your heart slams inside your chest, the hurried thrum reverberating in your ears over the chorus of screams and gunshots. You crawl your way to the end of the bar, not stopping even as more bottles pop and shatter above you.

You barely feel the glass digging into your hands, peering around the end of the bar to look for a way out. You duck as several people run past you, all from the kitchen. A thunderous boom echoes from the front of the club, and the gunshots increase tenfold.

You take your chance, darting out from the bar and toward the kitchen as fast as your legs can take you.

You make it halfway to the backdoor when a hand snags the back of your jacket and yanks you into a rigid body. Two arms wrap tightly around your waist, lifting you up to slam you down onto the counter, dishes and cutlery shaking at the force. Pain vibrates across your body, your assailant gripping the back of your head to shove your face into the cold steel.

You reach out blindly as your attacker wrestles to get you subdued, feeling for whatever you can to help get away.

The blade that slices through your bleeding palm burns, but you tighten your grip around it and swing it backward. It lodges into the person behind you; you don’t know what part of them, but it’s enough to get them to step back from you.

You don’t hesitate, pushing yourself off of the counter and using the momentum to sprint towards the door. Footsteps thunder behind you, whoever it is recovering from their stab wound. You don’t think, yanking down every rack you pass in hopes of creating more obstacles to trip up your attacker.

You make it to the door, yanking it open just in time for it to shield you from an incoming bullet. You don’t bother looking, instead running straight for your car. Adrenaline courses through your veins, giving you the extra strength to not have to fight with the car door and pull it open on the first try.

You don’t even shut it all the way, only focusing on getting your key in the ignition. A higher power must be watching over you in this moment as your car starts up on the first try. You waste no time, not bothering with a seatbelt as you peel out of the backlot.

You head straight to your motel, body jittery with pain and adrenaline. Tension winds through your muscles, worsening into a painful tightness as blurs of police lights and sirens zoom past you. Blood leaks from your hands, sliding down your steering wheel to drip onto your jeans. You’ll deal with it later, you decide.

It’s not like you don’t know how to get blood out of your clothes.

You reach the motel, stumbling out of your car and kicking the door shut with little grace. You lock it behind you, trying not to run directly to your room but rushing all the same.

You move on autopilot, locking the door behind you, shutting the flimsy curtains, and immediately stripping yourself of your clothes. Your feet carry you to the bathroom, stepping into the shower before turning the water on.

The hard pressure of the frigid water is an instant shock, your body flinching at the sudden coldness. You stay under the spray, unable to will your feet to move, and stare down at the rusted drain to watch it sputter and swallow the water. Your hand rises on its own, holding your palm directly under the water. The hard beads sting as they beat into your wound, but the cold of the water seeps into your skin and numbs your hand just enough.

It takes almost two hours to collect yourself with a combination of deep breaths and soft assurances to yourself. By the time you turn the water off and step out, the sun is already starting to come up.

There’s a considerable effort for you to get dressed, the rush wearing off, leaving you full of aches and pains as your muscles untense. You wrap your hand in the gauze from your measly first aid kit, changing into your pajamas—a t-shirt and your only pair of sweatpants—before collapsing face down onto the lumpy bed.

You stare at your door, unblinking and vacant until the sun’s fully risen and sleep finally decides to take you.

A knock on your door startles you awake.

You lift yourself, groaning at the stiffness in your limbs and the ache that has invaded your entire being. There’s no light shining through your window, the whole room shrouded in darkness.

How long were you out?

The knock comes again, rougher and hurried.

“Hold on, hold on,” you grumble, shuffling to the door. You unlock it, pulling the door open just enough to look outside.

“Ma’am?”

It takes two seconds too long for you to process the blue uniforms and gold badges. The haze of sleep evaporates in an instant, and you straighten up. Their badges shine against the fluorescent light above your door: Dipaolo & Erikson.

“Is there something you need, officers?”

“We have reason to believe you might’ve been witness to a shooting last night. We were hoping you could come down to the station and answer some questions,” the cop in front of you, Erikson, speaks. You know that tone—the command hidden under the guise of friendly suggestion.

He’s asking, but he isn’t.

And if they’ve found you here, there’s little chance you can lie your way out of this one.

“Uh, yeah,” you say. “Yeah, no problem. You mind if I grab a jacket and some shoes first?” You open the door a little wider to show them your attire. Officer Erikson nods, and you leave the door open as you hurriedly grab your jacket and slide into your boots. You fasten your watch, catching your reflection in the glass.

To say you look rough is an understatement, but you don’t have the time to get dolled up now.

You head outside, and the officers let you lock your door before escorting you to their squad car. Officer Dipaolo opens the back door, holding it open for you. You can’t help but give your car a quick glance as you slide into the backseat. Officer Dipaolo shuts the door and joins his partner in the front.

The drive to the police station is quiet, the two in the front speaking to each other in hushed voices. Occasional chatter comes across their radio, but nothing they seem concerned about. Every once in a while, you catch Erikson glancing back at you through the rearview mirror, but when you meet his eyes, he immediately looks away.

Dipaolo holds the door for you again after you arrive, and you're escorted through the station. You get a few looks from the other officers, but all attention is suddenly stolen by the sudden shout from lockup—

“Hey, Pigeon!”

You turn abruptly, spotting Soap leaning against the bars with a broad smile and bruised jaw. He’s not alone, either. The entire gang seems to be stuck inside, all sporting their own cuts and bruises and all staring at you.

“Quiet!” An older cop, bald and angry and dressed in a nicer uniform than the rest, slams against the bars and startles Soap. You see Ghost shoot to his feet behind him, fierce glare aimed at the cop as he grabs Soap by the back of the shirt and pulls him away from the bars. The cop huffs, turning to look at you with a curious glare. You set your gaze on the floor, wrapping your arms around yourself.

“This way,” Erikson says, setting a hand between your shoulder blades and gently guiding you further into the station.

The room you’re left in is all gray, with a single metal table, a few chairs, and a large window of one-way glass.

You may have never been in a police station before, but you know what an interrogation room looks like.

Erikson brings you a cup of water, pulling your chair out before he takes his seat across from you. Dipaolo joins a few minutes later, walking in with a friendly smile. You smile back, but you peer out the door as it shuts behind him to catch a glimpse of the same angry cop watching you with an uncomfortable intensity.

“You’re not under arrest or anything,” Dipaolo starts—an attempt to be reassuring. “We just have a couple of questions for you, Ms….”

“Canary.”

“Of course. It’s nothing to worry about, Ms. Canary.”

“How did you find me?” you ask. “I—I mean, I didn’t give anyone my address, so….”

“Security cameras caught your car leaving the club,” Erikson explains. “We tracked your plates.”

Well, shit.

They must see the discomfort on your face because they both switch to good cop mode. Dipaolo leans forward, “Listen, the people who run that club are involved in some very bad business, and I think you know that. We just want to make sure they don't get anyone else hurt.”

They must think you're an unwilling participant, some damsel in distress. That's fine; you can work with that.

You shuffle in your seat, hands fidgeting in your lap. You keep your gaze focused on the table, glancing up at one of the officers every so often.

“What kind of help?” you ask softly. They share a quick glance, poorly hidden triumph in their smiles.

“We just need you to tell us what happened last night, as much as you can remember.”

You take a few deep breaths, exaggerating the shake in your exhale before nodding.

“Well, I got there—”

“Questioning someone without their lawyer present? I thought you two knew better than that.” You jump at the sudden slam of the door as a woman marches into the room, all respect and authority.

She’s older, blonde hair pulled up into a neat bun, and wearing a similar suit to the one your old family lawyer used to wear. She takes the seat next to you, staring hard at the now-agitated officers on the other side of the table.

“Didn’t realize she was one of yours, Kate,” Dipaolo spits, his glare briefly traveling to you.

“Because I’m not,” you speak up, taking everyone in the room by surprise. Dipaolo and Erikson ease up, but the woman—Kate?—fixes you with a stern stare. She turns to the officers, crossing her arms over her chest.

“I represent the club and all of its employees. As long as she works there, she’s a client.” She’s explaining to them, but telling you.

“I don’t need a lawyer,” you counter.

Kate’s hands clench around her arms before she says, “I need a moment with my client.”

“Doesn’t sound like she wants to be your client,” Erikson smirks.

“Doesn’t matter what she wants; I’m still here to represent her. Now, give us five minutes.”

You don’t need to be alone with her; you need to get the hell out of here and back to your motel room.

“I can tell you what happened,” you call out before the officers get two steps from the table. “If she wants to be here or not, that’s her choice.”

They sit back down, smug and taunting, ready to listen. You can feel the frustration oozing from Kate, but she stays put and stays silent.

“Kyle invited me to come see the club when it was open—”

“Kyle Garrick?” Dipaolo asks, and you nod.

"It was supposed to be a fun night out—a break from work—and it was. Things were fine until….” You give Kate a nervous glance, quickly looking away from the look of warning she gives you. “I was at the bar when this man came up to me. He said his name was…Hassan, I think? He started…flirting with me, and when I tried to keep things friendly, he got pushy. He said he noticed me outside and that he could show me the upstairs rooms. I tried to leave, but he grabbed my hand and—”

You take a moment, letting out a long, quivering exhale and squeezing your throat. It only takes seconds for the wetness to build in your eyes.

“One of his friends pulled him away, but he promised to come find me later so we could talk in private. I didn’t know what he was going to do, so I told the bartender, and he let me stay near him until closing. After everyone left, I was grabbing my jacket when Hassan showed back up with his friends. I tried to walk away, but one of them grabbed me and threw me onto the bar. I—”

You let the tears roll down your cheeks, waiting a few seconds before wiping them away. “I wasn’t trying to hurt anyone, I swear, but I was so scared. I just grabbed a glass and hit him with it. I think someone must’ve heard the commotion because Ghost and Kyle came in and tried to kick the guys out, but then Hassan pulled a gun—”

“Wait—wait, you’re saying Hassan pulled a gun?”

“I don’t know who shot first, but only him and his friends had weapons. I don’t know what happened; Ghost told me to hide behind the bar and run as soon as I could, so that’s what I did. The last thing I saw before I got out of there was him trying to wrestle the gun out of Hassan’s hands….”

Silence looms over the room, so you add, “If Ghost hadn’t been there, if he hadn’t shown up, I don’t know what those men would’ve done to me. He saved me.” You throw in a sniffle as Dipaolo sighs. He leans over to whisper something to Erikson, glancing back at the one-way glass.

“Is there anyone else who can corroborate your story?” Erikson asks through clenched teeth.

“There was another woman; she was in a glittery purple dress. I didn’t catch her name, but you could probably find her on the cameras. There weren’t a lot of people in purple.”

“And she saw everything that happened?”

And then some, you almost laugh to yourself.

“Yeah, she was there the whole time.”

“Alright,” Dipaolo sighs. “Thank you, Ms. Canary. We appreciate your honesty.” He doesn’t sound very appreciative, but you don’t really care.

“We’ll have one of the boys escort you out,” Erikson says, standing from the table. He holds the door open for you, and Kate follows you out into the long hallway. Dipaolo disappears into another room as Erikson whistles over another officer to show you out. You follow behind him but are stopped when a door opens behind you.

“A minute, Kate?” You and Kate look back to see Erikson and Dipaolo standing with the same bald cop from earlier.

“You go ahead,” Kate says to you, turning to the three with a polite and professional smile. She walks away before you can stop her, the officer in front of you nudging your arm and grumbling a quiet let’s go.

He leaves you on the front steps, standing by yourself in the cold, commenting that a cab has been called for you. You mutter a thank you, pulling your jacket tighter to fight the chill.

You take back that thank you forty-five minutes later when you’re still standing outside with no cab in sight.

Of all the times to not have a phone.

Another fifteen minutes later, you post up against the wall next to the doors, staring up at the clear night sky. It’s not as clear in the city as it was from your old view, but you find a small sense of comfort in the twinkling stars.

A few cars pull up, sleek and black, led by a vintage silver car with dark windows. You don’t have time to question it, the station doors opening abruptly as a cluster of footsteps pouring outside. You turn your head, watching the 141 leave the station, too busy speaking to each other to notice you.

Valeria leads Alejandro and Rudy into one car, Alex and Farah getting into another. Ghost and Soap get into the same car while Roach, König, and Kyle head across the street and start walking down the sidewalk, leaving one more car behind the silver car.

Price and Kate stay behind, waiting until everyone’s left.

“You sure we’ll be alright, Kate?” Price asks, watching the cars pull onto the street.

“Should be,” Kate sighs. “All they have is the exterior cameras and the bullets from Hassan’s guns. No one got killed, so all they have is eyewitness testimony.” Kate looks over Price’s shoulder, catching sight of you.

“Thanks for the help, Kate.”

“Don’t thank me,” she says, nodding toward you. “It was all her.”

Price turns around, surprised to find you standing there. You give a little wave of your fingers, trying not to wince at the pain in your hand.

“Here, you can take my car home,” Kate says once Price turns back to her. She hands him her keys before making her way down the steps. “Just make sure to return it in one piece,” she calls over her shoulder as she gets into the back of the last black car.

Price huffs out a laugh, shaking his head before turning his attention to you.

“Enjoying the fresh air?” he asks, leaning on the wall next to you.

“Waiting for a cab that probably isn’t coming,” you sigh, moving your gaze back up to the sky. “I think I pissed off the officers, and this is their way of getting back at me.”

“You definitely made a few enemies in there,” Price chuckles.

“Well, I couldn’t let my boss rot in a cell, could I? Who’s gonna sign my paychecks?” you joke. His chuckles turn to a full laugh, staring at the side of your face while you pretend not to notice.

“Come on,” he speaks up, pushing himself off the wall.

“What?”

“I’m taking you home,” he smiles. You want to argue, assure him that you can find your own way home, but your mind goes blank, and all you can do is nod. You follow him to Kate’s silver car, trying—and failing—not to blush as he holds the door open for you. If he notices, he doesn’t say anything, sliding into the driver’s seat.

The first few minutes of the drive are spent in comfortable silence, with you giving him quiet directions. You lean back in your seat, savoring the warmth of the car.

“Does it hurt?” Price asks, breaking you out of your contentment.

“Does what hurt?”

He takes his eyes off the road for a second, nodding towards your hand where it rests in your lap.

“A little,” you shrug. “I was too tired to do anything other than wrap it.”

“Have Rudy look at it tomorrow. Make sure it’s nothing too serious.” He’s using that Boss tone that tells you there’s no room for debate, but you swear you hear a small current of worry beneath the surface.

The rest of the drive is quiet but not uncomfortable. Price follows your directions easily and even lets you turn the heat up a few notches.

It isn’t until you get close to the motel that you tell him to stop.

“You can just pull over here,” you say, gesturing to the sidewalk. It’s close enough that you can see, and walk to, the motel but far enough that no one else staying there will see the car.

“Here?”

“Yeah, people might get the wrong idea if they see me getting out of a car this fancy,” you laugh as he pulls over. He doesn’t laugh along, and when you turn to him, he’s frowning back at you.

“Something wrong?”

“I know we’re not paying you a lot, but I’m sure you can afford more than…this.” He looks to the motel, then back to you, unsure and concerned. It’s almost endearing.

You unclip your seatbelt so you can turn to fully face him. “You’re paying me quite generously, actually.”

“Am I?” He raises a brow, leaning forward ever-so-slightly. It takes everything in your power not to let your eyes fall to his lips.

“Mhmm,” you hum, a sly smile stretching across your face. You lean closer, blinking up at him innocently, catching the way his throat bobs as he swallows. “In fact, you’ve decided I earned a raise after tonight, and I’ll be sure to celebrate and treat myself to two bags of pretzels from the vending machine.”

With that, you swing the car door open and slip out into the crisp winter air. You start down the sidewalk, the telltale sound of a car window rolling down behind you as the car creeps alongside you.

“There’re other places around you can stay, y’know? Safer places,” he calls, leaning over into the passenger seat to look at you.

“Thanks for the ride, sir,” you laugh, turning to wink at him before heading into the motel parking lot. “I’ll see you tomorrow!”

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