#He worked at an adult video store

[coochiequeens]

There are so many people and causes that need legal help and the ACLU is helping this freak?

By Genevieve Gluck September 18, 2024

The ACLU has successfully fought to have a transgender baby killer be given taxpayer-funded “gender affirming” surgeries. Yesterday, the United States District Court of Indiana ruled that Autumn Cordellioné, born Jonathan C. Richardson, had been subjected to “cruel and unusual punishment” by being denied the various plastic surgeries he had demanded.

Richardson is currently serving a 55-year sentence for the murder of his 11-month-old stepdaughter. As previously reported by Reduxx, Richardson had been left to care for the child while her mother was at work. That night, he was visited by friends who observed he was “acting strangely” and refused to invite them in the house as he normally would.

Despite claiming the little girl was sleeping, Richardson had loud music playing in the home, and his guests noted that he appeared to have a fresh, bleeding tattoo of the child’s name carved into his arm. Shortly after his friends left, Richardson went to a neighbor’s home and asked them to call 911, claiming the child was unresponsive. The baby would later die at the hospital, with the cause of death determined to be asphyxiation by manual strangulation.

Richardson was booked awaiting a court hearing, and would later tell a prison official “all I know is I killed the little fucking bitch.” The following year, he was found guilty and sentenced to 55 years in prison.

In 2020, while incarcerated at the The Correctional Industrial Facility (CIF) in Madison, Richardson began identifying as transgender and taking estradiol, a synthetic estrogen, and anti-androgen spironolactone. Two years later, Richardson lodged a sexual harassment complaint claiming that he had been raped by his cellmate in 2005, and that he stabbed the inmate in retaliation.

Despite the brutal nature of his crime, the American Civil Liberties Union (ACLU) in Indiana took up his case and launched a human rights lawsuit against the Indiana Department of Corrections (IDOC).

In the suit, which was filed in August of 2023, ACLU lawyers refer to Richardson as an “adult transgender female prisoner confined in a male institution,” and complains that “the total ban on gender-affirming surgery violates [his] right to be free from cruel and unusual punishment under the Eighth Amendment.”

The suit was intended to challenge a recently-adopted policy stipulating that the IDOC cannot provide transgender surgeries to inmates. House Bill 1569, which took effect in July of 2023, bans the spending of state or federal dollars on sexual reassignment surgery for inmates. The bill, the ACLU argues, “mandates deliberate indifference to a serious medical need and therefore violates the Eighth Amendment.”

Among a list of demands prepared by Richardson and presented as evidence in court was a document titled “Surgeries to Reach My Ideal Self.” The first item on the list, the court heard, was a “vagina,” followed by: breast implants, a brow lift, a brow reduction, a tummy tuck, gluteal implants (BBL), a uterus transplant, hair removal, and wigs.

However, during court proceedings Richardson stated that he had amended his demands to two surgeries, an orchiectomy and a penile inversion.

In addition to identifying as transgender, Richardson identifies as “Muslim,” and is currently engaged in a separate lawsuit against his prison’s chaplain for being denied a hijab.

During his deposition, Richardson told the legal counsel for the IDOC, Alex Carlisle, that in 2018, he had been informed about gender identity by another male inmate at CIF who went by the name of “Pearl.” According to Richardson, Pearl had brought in pamphlets from California state prisons that explained the concept of “gender identity” and introduced to him, for the first time, the idea of taking feminizing hormones.

“I always knew I was a girl, didn’t know that term applied. Because until I talked to Pearl I didn’t even really know transgender was the name for it. I was hearing at the time that it was transsexualism and that didn’t seem to fit me because it was apparently people that like to wear girl clothes to have sex,” Richardson said in his deposition.

However, Richardson also stated that while briefly married to the mother of the infant he murdered, he had been working in an “adult bookstore” that sold pornographic videos. While employed as a janitor, Richardson would have sex with various male customers while pretending to be a “girl.”

Richardson further testified that he had taken the feminine name “Autumn” after his high school girlfriend, and said that he used to steal his sister’s clothing and his mother’s makeup as a youth. “When I put on the clothes, I could for a second realize the girl inside,” he said.

“I felt I was only a woman when a man used me,” Richardson remarked. “It was the only acceptable time to be a woman so it brought me a certain amount of satisfaction that I was pleasuring a man like a woman would and I got to express who I was.”

But the mother of the baby girl Richardson strangled to death opposed his legal bid to obtain surgery. Linda Thomas submitted a brief statement expressing her concern that his identity may be concealed from her when he is released from prison.

“On the day he murdered my child, I personally observed Plaintiff with a fresh bleeding tattoo of my child’s name on his arm while I was at the hospital that evening,” Thomas said. “I live in fear for myself and my children of the day [Richardson] is released from prison, which largely increases at the thought that [his] identity may be concealed upon release.”

ACLU attorneys under the leadership of Kenneth Falk attempted to have Thomas’ testimony dismissed as court evidence on the basis that “Ms. Cordellioné objected to the relevance of this declaration.”

During court proceedings, Kate Meltzer, a legal representative for the Office of the Attorney General, emphasized an issue of “timeliness” related to Richardson’s attempts to secure an early release.

On January 4th, Richardson had lodged a pro se request seeking a reduction of his sentence. According to Meltzer, Richardson’s request claimed that the “circumstances that resulted in the crime are no longer present,” as the motivation for the murder of the young girl was “tied to [his] transgender identity and [his] gender dysphoria.”

The court also heard testimony from Stephen B. Levine, a psychiatrist who specializes in sexual dysfunction and transsexualism, who founded the Case Western Reserve Gender Identity Clinic in Cleveland during the 1970’s. Levine was Chair of the fifth edition of the World Professional Association for Transgender Health’s (WPATH) Standards of Care in 1998. He also served on the American Psychiatric Association DSM-IV Subcommittee on Gender Identity Disorders.

In March of this year, while the case was ongoing, Levine emailed the Attorney General’s counsel Alexander Carlisle pleading with him to empathize with Richardson. According to Dr. Levine, Richardson’s condition “is a product of the need to find coherence, consistency, and stability”. The “countless traumas” experienced by Richardson, the gender clinician said, “began with her birth (actually with her pregnancy)”, indicating his belief that a transgender identity develops in utero.

As noted in court documents, in recent years Dr. Levine derived between 40% to 50% of his income from serving as an expert witness in litigation regarding the treatment of patients with “gender dysphoria”.

The ruling issued by Judge Richard Young on September 17 has far-reaching implications and sets a precedent for further surgeries and hormones to be doled out at taxpayers’ expense. The verdict declares that the statute added to Indiana’s legal code in 2023 barring the DOC from facilitating “medically necessary gender-affirming” surgeries for inmates qualifies as “sex discrimination.”

In a statement on Richardson’s legal win, ACLU of Indiana Legal Director Kenneth Falk said: “Today marks a significant victory for transgender individuals in Indiana’s prisons. Denying evidence-based medical care to incarcerated people simply because they are transgender is unconstitutional. We are pleased that the Court agreed.”

The ACLU has pursued multiple lawsuits in several states against the US prison authorities on behalf of men convicted of horrific crimes. As revealed by Reduxx, a 2019 ACLU lawsuit against the New Jersey Department of Corrections which required the state to allow violent male inmates to self-identify into the Edna Mahan Correctional Facility for Women was lodged on behalf of a self-admitted diaper fetishist and convicted terrorist.

Last year, the ACLU of Florida criticized officials for not providing “gender-affirming care” to a convicted rapist and murderer prior to his execution. Duane Owen had been handed a death sentence after brutally murdering a 38-year-old mother and a 14-year-old girl in 1984. Owen claimed that he sexually assaulted women as part of a ritual to harvest their hormones, and that he was a transsexual who carried out the sexual violence to “turn himself into a female.”

[deathbyotpin123]

You know that feeling when you text someone "that made me feel uncomfortable" and then you just don't want to look if they replied and in which way because you don't have the spoons?

[downtherabbitholewithlucy]

A Long Time Ago In A Galaxy Far, Far Away...

(Wes' "Harrison Ford as Indiana Jones in a Star Wars Movie Poster" T-Shirt)

(Fred's Fem!Boba Fett forearm tattoo)

(R2-D2, Darth Vader, & Yoda in the background of Sam's Photo)

(R2-D2 in the background of John's photo)

(An AT-AT Walker in the background of Wes' Instagram Post)

(Darth Maul in the background of this photo of Sam and Wes)

(Please do not re-post or share my video compilation/edit on any other social media platform. Thank you.)

[abuadam86]

Emergency: Help save my children's lives

Dear humanity,

I am Habib from Gaza. I am married and have four children: Menna, 12 years old, Adam, 10 years old (suffering from quadriplegia), Maria, 6 years old, and Ezz, one year old. Although they are young, they have survived previous wars, but this current war is the most difficult of all. This is a war of genocide, and the difficulty of the war lies in the inability to meet the needs of my son Adam, who needs special care.

Over the past ten months, we have been caught in the crossfire of the ongoing conflict in Gaza. Our once peaceful home in Khan Yunis has been reduced to rubble, and now we find ourselves displaced in Deir al-Balah, living in squalid conditions in a makeshift tent on the streets. The devastation not only deprived us of our physical shelter, but also destroyed my livelihood - the once thriving business that supported our family's well-being, is now in ruins. The daily struggle for survival is exacerbated by the scarcity of basic necessities such as clean water, adequate sanitation and basic medical supplies

Our home was the place where we found hope and safety, and where we made precious memories. Losing him was like losing years of our lives.

Not only that, they destroyed my source of livelihood, burned it, and demolished it with bulldozers, and today I am without a home and without a job. I was working in a store I owned that met the needs and expenses of my family

Living in tents is miserable. There is a lack of drinking water, hot sun rays, and strange insects that have terrified my children. What hurts me most is my young son Ezz, who I see growing up in an unclean environment and with no healthy food for him. I believe he has not received his right to life.

At this stage, my husband and I decided to go to you and create an account on the Go Fund Me website and ask you to help us in these difficult times until we get out of Gaza, from the land of war to the land of peace. All we need from you is to support us and help us to get out of the war, even if you cannot help. You should spread the word. This campaign is everywhere and among your friends. We thank you for your stance and support for us. Thank you, my friends

The amount that will be collected from this campaign :

We will spend it by paying the amount to coordinate entry through the Rafah land crossing, which connects Gaza to the State of Egypt, since, as I mentioned, they charge an adult $5,000, but depending on the pressures, crises, and waiting, the amount may reach $7,000 per person, and children $2,500 to $4,000.

We will also use it for the rest of the travel and safe transportation expenses to provide for all family members.

A picture of my children's life before the war

A video of my children's lives living the war

May God reward you with all the best and may God bless you

Best wishes with sincere gratitude,

Habib's family

My Instagram account link

My account vetted by:

@dlxxv-vetted-donations

(vetted)

@gazavetters , my number verified on the list is ( #187 )

[cracklinhaze]

wendy and dipper's dynamic is so important to me.

i know she's often categorized as just his crush, but i truly think she's the first REAL friend dipper's ever had outside of mabel. we know he struggles to make friends back home and tries really hard to be mature.

we also know wendy tries to be mature for her age, too. she's the youngest of her friend group and tries really hard to put on a whole cool, chill exterior: but she's just as stressed and anxious under the surface.

the whole "you were a freak" scene during the mystery shack party is further evidence of this.

dipper lets her be a kid again. WHICH SHE STILL IS. she's only fifteen, even though from dipper's perspective that's impossible cool and adult. she's not even old enough to drive. she still has nightmares about her mother dying. she's the only girl left in her family at home. dipper gives her a chance to not be so grown-up for once.

in almost every instance we see them hanging out, they're genuinely having a good time: building golf cart ramps, making up security camera games to pass the time at work, playing video games. friendship comes VERY easy for them. when dipper isn't freaking out about how to talk to her, they get along very well and seem to enjoy the same activities.

they keep each other's secrets. she often corrects robbie when he takes a jab at dipper and invites him to parties. she tries to make him look cool in front of her friends after what he did in the convenience store.

she gives him her hat. she takes his.

i've seen some folks say that it wasn't fair that mabel got close friends over the summer, and dipper didn't get any. to me, that's missing the obvious: he got wendy. they're best friends.

i think it's so important that it's NOT a one-sided dynamic. sure, he liked her -- of course he liked her. who wouldn't??? but he DOESN'T go the route of bill and gideon; he accepts the friendship, treasures it.

that's so fucking good.

[justagalwhowrites]

Oral Fixation - A TLOU One Shot

It's your boyfriend Joel's birthday but what do you give the man who has given you so much? AKA You learn how to give Joel a blow job. A one-shot set in the Lavender universe.

Pairing: Joel Miller x Female Reader from Lavender

CW: Oral sex, mild age gap (Joel is turning 33, reader is 21 almost 22), mild description of past sexual encounter involving oral sex that wasn't the best, Joel is almost disturbingly happy because he hasn't been traumatized yet RIP trauma-free Joel, unprotected P in V sex, no use of Y/N, 18+ only minors DNI

Length: 4.5k

A/N: The final part of the Joel Miller Birthday Celebration! Can be read as a stand alone fic with the understanding that reader is Sarah's nanny and has been seeing Joel for about six months.

Masterlist | Lavender Masterlist | AO3

September, 2000

“I can’t believe you talked me into this,” you said, all but clinging to Cassie’s arm as the two of you made your way through the adult store. You weren’t sure what you’d been expecting but it wasn’t this, neon colored silicone penises and intimidatingly tiny scraps of lace everywhere you looked. 

“And I can’t believe you don’t own a vibrator,” Cassie said, rolling her eyes. “Don’t be such a prude, with the way you and the DILF go at it I’m pretty sure you’ve had more sex than I have at this point.” 

Your cheeks got hot but… she was probably right. You and Joel had sex a LOT. So much that it was hard to believe that, just six months earlier, you’d still been a virgin. Sure, you doubted that sex with anyone else was even half as good as it was with Joel but it felt like you’d been denying yourself a whole world of good things because you’d been reluctant to make that leap for so long. Now, you wanted to make up for lost time, something that Joel was happy to oblige. 

But, because you were so new to it, you didn’t really know much and, what’s worse, you didn’t know what you didn’t know. 

Which is why you’d turned to Cassie in the first place. Joel’s birthday was coming up and you’d drawn a complete blank on what to get the man. You’d never gotten anyone a birthday gift who wasn’t your grandmother or your friend. What the hell did you get a boyfriend? What the hell did you get a man? 

“You, naked, ready to recreate the filthiest porn the guy’s got,” Cassie said, not even looking up from the latest issue of Cosmo as she did. “And, because it’s you, bake him a cake or something. He’ll be thrilled.” 

“I don’t know that Joel watches porn,” you crinkled your nose. That made her look up. 

“Are you fucking kidding me?” She asked, incredulous. “Babes. He’s a man. Of course he watches porn.” 

“I’m sure he would if things were different,” you said. “But he has a kid at home, we have to fight for privacy, I don’t think he’s exactly sitting down and putting on some…” 

“He is,” she said, closing the magazine now. “I promise you, he is. Maybe less now that you’re in the picture but he definitely is. Stashed under his bed or in some shoebox at the back of his closet is a pile of all his dirtiest fantasies and all you have to do is gift wrap yourself, ready to fulfill them.” 

So you might have done some snooping the next time you were at Joel’s before he got home from work. 

Maybe. 

Just a little. 

And yeah, Cassie might have been right. There might have been a box - one a bit bigger than a shoebox but not much bigger - that had tapes and magazines inside. You took a quick inventory, looking at the covers of the videos and flipping through the pages of the more well-worn magazines. 

It seemed both invasive and oddly impersonal, rifling through something that was mass produced and clearly not intended for you to see but was something that it seemed like you should know. The women in the magazines and on the covers of the tapes were so much more… everything than you were. More sexy, more confident, more knowledgable. It made your stomach twist. 

Was this what Joel really wanted? He was older than you and you’d been a late bloomer in the romance department. Of course he had more experience but he’d never made it sound like anything was missing from your sex life. But maybe he was just being nice. Maybe what he really wanted was something more like whatever someone named Candy was doing on the back of this VHS sleeve. 

It seemed like the least you could do for Joel was find a way to give him what he wanted.

So Cassie had convinced you to come to this store to figure out something to do for him for his birthday. Not that you had much idea what that would be. 

“What’s his favorite color?” She asked, examining the tiny scraps of lace. 

“Forest green?” You asked more than answered, examining something that you were pretty sure was a bra but seemed to be missing some key components. You were about to move on to something else when one of the movies playing on the opposite wall caught your eye. It was one of the actresses from the tapes at Joel’s, you recognized her. She was looking hungrily at a cock before taking it into her mouth, eyes closed in bliss with a satisfied groan. 

Cassie noticed where you were staring and joined you, smirking a little. 

“Like watching someone get their dick sucked, eh?” She teased, elbowing you lightly. 

You glared at her. 

“I just…” You looked back at the screen. “I think Joel has that video.” 

“Really?” She said, brows raised, looking back at the screen as the woman started to slide up and down the thick cock. “Well, that’s simple enough. Just blow him, wham bam thank you ma’am, you’re set.” 

“I don’t…” 

“Oh don’t tell me you suck him off too much as it is,” she said. “Your sex life is already insufferably perfect.” 

“No,” you said, defensive, your cheeks getting hot. “I just…” 

“Just what?” She asked when you stayed quiet a bit too long. 

“I’ve never… done that,” you said, looking back at the screen as the woman there hollowed out her cheeks and moaned. 

“What!” Cassie yelped and you shushed her as the other people in the store turned to stare. “You’ve never…” 

“Not with Joel,” you said quickly. “I did once with a guy but it didn’t go great and I really didn’t like it and honestly I think Joel might be too big to…” 

“Too big?” She grabbed your arm, her eyes wide. “Babes, you said he was big but like… what do you mean too big? Gimme a ballpark, like…” she tugged you over to a wall of remarkably life-like dildos and pointed to one on the larger end. “That big?” 

“No,” you said and she looked relieved for a moment before you pointed to one that was even bigger. “More like that one.” 

Cassie’s jaw dropped, looking between you and the silicone dick in awe. 

“That’s what the DILF is packing?” 

“Can you please not call him that?” 

“You big slut!” She was practically beaming. “Taking that for your first time? You deserve a medal!”

“Can we just…” 

“That’s it, you’re sucking his dick for his birthday,” she said, grabbing flavored lube, throat numbing spray and a copy of the tape that was playing overhead. “As often as he apparently goes down on you? Seems like the least you can do is return the favor as he turns… what, 47?” 

You glared at her and she smirked at you. 

“33,” you said. 

“And you don’t want me to call him a DILF,” she said, grabbing a surprisingly conservative set of lingerie and a small vibrator on her way to the counter. “Come on, we’ll turn you into an oral champ before you know it!”

You watched the video with Cassie that night after you had half a bottle of cheap wine in your system. The woman on screen seemed so… into it. The one time you’d gone down on someone was the summer before you left for college, going out with a boy you met at the movie theater when you took the kids you were babysitting there to see Hercules. He was cute, nice, didn’t carry the baggage a lot of the boys you’d gone to high school with did. On your fourth date, you were making out in his car and he’d nudged your head down lower and lower until it was in his lap. He pulled his cock out and you cautiously, hesitantly, took him in your mouth and you did try to do what you thought he wanted while taking it slow. But it didn’t take long before he was moaning and thrusting up into your mouth and you gagged as he pushed your head down further on his dick. You’d all but ripped yourself away, coughing and sputtering, and he half heartedly apologized before trying to push your head to his lap again. You didn’t go for it that time and he took you home. You didn’t go out with him again, deciding to write off men until you were away at college and hopefully meeting one who was fine with you doing things like not sucking their dick. 

Which, Joel was. Or seemed to be, anyway. But if he enjoyed it - if it felt like it was something that was missing from your sex life - you wanted to give it to him. He’d given you so much, you wanted to give him everything. You just needed to figure out how to do it. 

After you giggled your way through the video the first time, you started it again as Cassie gave you some tips: How to breathe through your nose, how to swallow around your gag reflex, how to use your tongue, how guys liked when you choked on it a little. It felt almost like you were in class, taking notes on a piece of scratch paper you mentally vowed to set on fire after you practiced a little with a cucumber so no one had to know that you needed someone to teach you this stuff, stuff that seemed like it should come naturally to you. 

“Just use the throat spray, use the lube and breathe through your nose,” she said when she left to go home the next morning. “You’ll have him eating out of your hand.” 

“Right,” you said, trying to ignore the tight knot of nerves that had settled in your stomach. “I can do it.” 

You carefully selected a Joel-sized cucumber at the grocery store and tried to not feel like an idiot as you followed Cassie’s advice as you practiced leading into Joel’s birthday. It wasn’t as bad when there wasn’t someone shoving your head down on their lap though it still wasn’t your favorite thing. But for Joel? You’d deal. 

The day you were going to celebrate his birthday, the reality of it set in. If there was one thing you were an expert in by now, it was your boyfriend’s cock and your boyfriend’s cock was… big. What if the throat spray didn’t work as well when you weren’t the one in control of what was going in your mouth? Worse, what if you were just bad at it? What if he had an ex who was as good at sucking him off as that porn star would be and you’d be struggling to measure up the whole time? 

You were rarely nervous with Joel anymore but you were weirdly nervous as you made him dinner - chicken fried steak - and tried to not let it show as the two of you ate together and had drinks and cake while watching Alien in his living room after. 

“You spoil me way too damn much, baby,” Joel said as your head was nestled against his chest, his lips in your hair. You could feel him smile against you as he kissed you there. “Best birthday I’ve had in years, thank you.” 

“Well, I might have one more thing for you,” you said, sitting up from him and smiling a little, your heart pounding in your chest. 

“Really?” He cocked a smile at you, his cheek dimpling. “Does it involve you naked?” 

“It might,” you teased, relaxing a little as you looked at him. This was Joel, the safest man you knew, the person you loved more than any other. It would be OK. “Want to go to your room and find out?” 

“Good luck stoppin’ me,” he winked, getting up and helping you off the couch. Once you were up stairs, the two of you kissed your way down the hall but he moaned as you pulled away from him and nudged him back toward the bed. 

“Just stay put,” you said. “I’ll be right back.” 

“Not goin’ anywhere,” he called as you disappeared into his bathroom. You looked at yourself in the mirror, forcing yourself to take a deep, calming breath before going to his linen cupboard and pulling out the throat spray, lube and lingerie you’d stashed away earlier. You used the spray first, wincing at the antiseptic-like taste of it, before you quickly stripped, balling up your sundress and bra and pulling on the deep green lacy babydoll set Cassie had picked for you. As you examined yourself in the mirror - fluffing your hair and adjusting your breasts in the sheer cups - you gave your best friend this much: she knew how to help make you comfortable. The set wasn’t too revealing or over the top but still highlighted your curves and put all the parts of you Joel seemed to like best on display. 

“Thank you, Cassie,” you muttered before taking a deep breath and steeling yourself, the strawberry flavored lube clutched tight in your hand. You looked your reflection in the eye and tried to get lost in the almost-porn star version of yourself in the mirror. 

“You got this,” you said almost silently, giving yourself a single, resolute nod before going for Joel’s room again. 

He was sitting obediently where you’d left him, watching the bathroom door. You draped yourself against the frame, popping a hip out to accentuate your curves, one arm stretched high over your head against the wood. Joel’s mouth dropped open, his eyes going wide. 

“Like what you see?” You asked more confidently then you felt. 

“Goddamn, baby,” he said reverently. “Gonna gimme a heart attack, looking that damn good.” 

“Well don’t go dropping dead on me now,” you teased, walking toward him in what you hoped was a sexy way and not something that made you look like an idiot. “You haven’t even gotten your present yet.” 

He put his hands on your waist when you reached him but, instead of straddling him, you reached down and spread his legs so you could step between them. You knelt in front of him, holding his gaze as you did, reaching for his jeans to open them. 

“What…” he frowned, looking down as you freed his cock, thick and long and hard. 

“Told you,” you said, trying to make yourself sound sultry and not nervous. “I had something for you.” 

You didn’t give him a chance to respond before you licked his shaft from root to tip, his skin velvet smooth and salty on your tongue. He groaned as you did and you took a deep breath as you took his tip into your mouth, sucking him gently as you did. 

Even just that was a lot and, as your tongue teased him, you squeezed some of the flavored lube into your hand before you spread it over his shaft, working him with your hand, your heart racing. 

“Fuck, baby,” he groaned as you started taking more of him into your mouth, licking and sucking and trying to focus on breathing through your nose as you did. It took more time than you really wanted to get all of him in your mouth, swallowing past your numbed gag reflex as best you could to take his length into your throat. You moaned as you did, sucking him hard, hollowing your cheeks like the girl in the video had done and he moaned, too, his fingers tightening on the edge of the bed. “Goddamn, your mouth…” 

You would have smiled at that if your mouth wasn’t open so wide. Instead, you started trying to work his cock the same way you did the cucumber in practice, hopefully the same way the girl did in the video he had. 

Joel’s breaths started coming quicker, needy little pants dripping from his lips as his cock dripped in your mouth and you took the encouragement, trying to move faster as you did, trying to take him as deep as you could every time. 

But Joel was big and you were almost positive he was getting bigger as you worked him, his cock swelling even further, his precome salty at the back of your throat, and the faster you moved the harder he was to take. Eventually, even with the spray, it was too much and you choked, coughing and gagging enough that you had to pull back from him, tears stinging the corners of your eyes. 

“Woah, you alright?” He asked, leaning forward and frowning at you, still a little breathless as he did. 

“Mhmm,” you hummed as you nodded, trying to keep yourself from coughing, massaging your throat as you did. “Sorry, I just…” 

“Don’t apologize, baby, goddamn,” he laughed once. “Not after doin’ all that for me…” 

You smiled a little sheepishly, feeling like you could breathe again. But the numb feeling at the back of your throat was gone. 

“I can do it again,” you said, sitting back on your heels. “I just… I got some throat spray and I just need to…” 

Joel’s eyebrows knitted together, frowning deeper this time. 

“Throat spray?”

You nodded. 

“It’s numbing?” You said, almost like it was a question. “I hadn’t really done this much before and I really wanted to do it like…” 

“Like what?” He asked and your eyes went wide. Shit. You hadn’t meant to say that part. “Like what, baby?” 

“Like the woman in one of the videos in your closet?” You said sheepishly, your heart pounding, everything else coming out in a rush. “I’m really sorry, I just couldn’t figure out what to get you for your birthday and Cassie suggested finding out what porn you liked and trying to recreate it so I might have looked through some of your things, I promise it was just to surprise you and give you what you wanted and…” 

“Baby,” he cut you off gently, tucking his cock back into his jeans. “Hey, it’s OK, c’mere.” He tugged you up on the bed beside him and you kept your eyes determinedly on your hands. “Think you can look at me?” 

You took a deep breath but listened, gnawing on your lower lip as you did. 

“There are those pretty eyes of yours,” he smiled a little, cupping your cheek. “Now, I ain’t sayin’ I don’t appreciate the thought - don’t think any woman’s ever done something like that for me - but honey, I don’t want to do something you don’t want to do. I really don’t want to do something that’s rough enough on your body that you gotta numb yourself to get through it.” 

You frowned. 

“But you go down on me…” 

“Yeah, because I like to,” he said. “Like seein’ what I can do to you but that doesn’t mean you have to do it back to me, not unless you want to. And if you do want to, you don’t need to do it so hard that you hurt yourself. It’s not good for me if it’s not good for you, too.” 

You took a deep, steadying breath, and nodded. 

“Besides,” he smiled a little. “Haven’t needed those videos in a while. Honestly, I kinda forgot I even still had ‘em.” 

You scoffed. 

“Hey, I’m being serious,” he said. “Haven’t used ‘em since you and I got together, that’s for damn sure. And for a few months before that I may or may not have had better luck thinkin’ about this sexy nanny I had working for me…” 

“Oh really?” You teased lightly, heat taking the place of the nerves in your stomach. 

“Really,” he said, almost unsettlingly earnest. “I’ve been yours for a while, baby. And that’s because I love you, don’t have a damn thing to do with what you do in bed.” 

You smiled softly and kissed him, his lips gentle on yours for a moment before it deepened, turning hot and needy. 

Joel tugged you back on the bed with him, one hand splaying wide over your back, the other slipping into the soft lace of your lingerie to cup your breast. But, before you got too distracted, you pulled back from him, making him frown a little. 

“But what if I want to,” you said, biting your lip again. 

His frown deepened. 

“Want to what?” 

“Suck your cock,” you said, trying to ignore how hot your cheeks got. 

“Fuck, baby,” he said, his eyes darkening. 

“Because I do want to,” you said. “I want to make you feel the way you make me feel.” 

“You sure?” He asked. “Because I know I can be… a lot to take.” 

You smiled a little. 

“Think I know how big your cock is, Joel. And I know what I want.” 

“You’re gonna be the death of me,” he groaned, lying on his back, freeing his cock and stroking it as he did. “Gotta take it easy and let me help.” 

You nodded eagerly before settling near his hips, taking his length in your hand and stroking him up and down, running your thumb over his leaking tip. When you looked at him now, you weren’t intimidated. Instead, you were hungry for him, wanting to feel him deep inside you in a different way, your mouth watering with it. 

You lowered yourself over him, licking his head, your tongue wide and flat against him and Joel groaned, his fingers tightening in the blankets on the bed. You took a moment to really experience him, the taste of him, the heady concentration of the scent of him in the thatch of coarse hair at his base, the tender softness of his skin. It shouldn’t have been surprising but you wanted more, more of all of it. 

So you took more, his tip disappearing into your mouth slow and easy. 

“Fuck, there you go baby,” he was damn near panting with need and you smiled a little around his intrusion, at what you were doing to him. “Nice and slow.” 

You moaned as you sank lower, easing more and more of him into your mouth before rising up and then taking a little more of him, your tongue pressed tight to his shaft as you did again and again. 

And then he was at the back of your throat, no longer numbed, and you tried to do what Cassie had told you to do: Swallow him past your gag reflex to get all of him inside. 

It worked, at first, your lips making it almost to the base of his shaft as he groaned. But it didn’t last, your body quickly trying to reject the thick heft of him in your throat, making you gag. This time, though you didn’t try and force it, pulling back quickly but leaving his head in your mouth. 

“You OK?” He asked, his voice strained, one large hand coming to cradle the back of your head. You just nodded, his tip still in your mouth. “Here, gimme your hand.” 

You obeyed and Joel guided your fingers to the base of his shaft. 

“Just…” you could hear the desperation in his voice. “Hold on like that, don’t gotta take it all. Feel the most at the tip, anyway.” 

You nodded and worked your way lower again, a little faster this time, adjusting your grip so you were still taking most of him into your mouth but not quite hitting your gag reflex. Joel’s breaths grew sharper, more desperate and you could feel him straining to hold back from fucking up into you and you couldn’t help but feel a sense of power at that, the way you could make him almost lose himself to pleasure. 

You started to work him faster, your tongue pressing and curling around him, your mouth working in tandem with your hand. It wasn’t long before you found your rhythm over him, rising and falling, sucking and licking, savoring every inch of him you could take. And even though you were focused on making Joel feel good, it was making you tight and needy, too, the hand not around his cock finding your slit, fingers trailing through the wetness that had grown there. 

“Fuck,” he groaned. “Takin’ me so well, baby, doin’ so damn good.” 

You moaned, working him harder, faster as your fingers grew firmer on your clit and you suddenly, desperately, needed all of him in your mouth, gag reflex be damned. 

So you took all of him, moaning as his head slipped into your throat, sucking him hard and fast and you felt him twitch in your mouth before he all but ripped you away from him, leaving you stunned for a moment. 

But then he damn near jumped between your thighs, shoving your panties to the side and pushing into you. You gasped at the stretch of him, your pussy already tightening around him. Joel’s hips snapped into yours just as fast as you’d been sucking him before. 

“Ain’t gonna last,” he said, burying his face in your neck and kissing the delicate skin there. “Too fuckin’ good at that, Jesus…” 

You could only moan in response, your own orgasm building quickly, your fingers tugging at his shirt as you tried to pull him impossibly closer, your pussy drawing tight around him for a second before you fell apart. Your orgasm was so powerful you couldn’t move, crying out with the force of it as Joel fucked into you twice more before he came, too, pressing himself deep inside as he spilled into you.

Joel collapsed, spent, on top of you after, still fully clothed and panting for breath as you held him close. 

“Holy shit baby,” he said eventually, still a little breathless. 

You laughed quietly. 

“Did I measure up to the video?” You teased. 

He pulled back from you, looking you over for a moment, like he was trying to tell if you were joking or not. 

“Think you know the answer to that,” he said, kissing you gently as he slid himself from you and lay beside you. He tugged you against him as he settled, tucking your head against his chest. “But in case it wasn’t clear, yeah. You beat ever damn porno I ever watched, ain’t even close.” 

You smiled, proud. 

“Good,” you said. “Because… I liked doing that.” 

You felt him lift his head to look at you before dropping back down to the bed. 

“Really?” 

“Yup,” you said, tracing your fingers over the outline of his pecs through his shirt. “Think I’ll want to do it again.”

“Sure as hell won’t get any arguments from me.” 

“There is a downside, though,” you said, sitting up just enough to look at him. 

“What’s that?” He frowned and you smiled. 

“Now I’m going to have to figure out what the hell to get you for your birthday next year.” 

He laughed and tucked you back against his chest. 

“Just keep givin’ me you, baby,” he said. “Doesn’t get any better than that.” 

A/N: I missed Joel and Doc so I wrote this. Thanks for reading them even more than a year after Lavender ended.

Happy birthday, Joel!

Love you all!

[stevebabey]

it was supposed to be short n small and now its 3k & its unedited and u all have to just deal with it bcos it was supposed to be SMALL | ao3

The driver's side car window makes a resounding thunk when Steve’s forehead falls against it.

Through the glass, his keys glint tauntingly back at him.

Still tucked in the ignition, locked in on the inside. So close and yet so far from Steve who is, unfortunately, locked on the outside.

I’m such a fucking idiot.

He lets his head raise up a bit just to drop it back against the window again, this time more in punishment. Of course, of course, he coughs up the money needed for a warrant of fitness and then he goes and locks his keys in the car the next day. Like he needed one more cost added to his finances.

Steve steals a glance at his watch. Fuck, if he doesn’t get on the road in the next 10 minutes, he’ll be more than late to work.

His eyes glance across to Eddie’s van, parked beside his own car, outside the trailer home in Forest Hills. Then he looks back at the trailer.

He can ask. He can just go inside and ask Eddie for the lift— and explain that the reason he can’t take his own perfectly fine car is because he’s so goddamn thick between the ears that he’s locked his keys inside, like some kind of moron.

The voice in his head sounds suspiciously like his father.

Something thick grows in his throat. He swallows it to no avail. Embarrassment begins to flush down his neck, hot and uncomfortable.

No, no— he can’t ask Eddie because as far as Steve knows, Eddie hasn’t quite figured it out yet.

Even while Dustin and Mike make their jokes about him being a bit slow, even when Robin says at least you have your pretty face, Eddie brushes them off and laughs. Takes them as jokes with no merit to them. Steve knows though.

So what if he doesn’t want to burst his bubble just yet?

He knows Eddie will figure it out eventually— because they always do. When he asks too many stupid questions and needs things explained twice and— and it’s just inevitable, okay? He knows that.

Fixing his glare through the window of his car at the shiny pair of keys within, Steve wrestles with what would be worse; being late or accidentally tipping Eddie off when they’ve just gotten so close.

Close enough to share a kiss, two nights ago, under the covers. It was barely more than a peck. But Steve knew it had taken a miraculous amount of courage from Eddie to do it— to surge forward and grab Steve’s face, his rings cool against his skin, and press his mouth against his Steve's own.

Eddie’s lips had been chapped but his smile had been pure sunshine and Steve thinks he could’ve stayed forever under that blanket, memorising the shade of pink Eddie’s cheeks turn after a kiss.

They’ve been dancing around it ever since. Each interaction is more charged, more flirty, more gooey. Long lingering looks and pointed nudges that make Steve feel like a 14-year-old with a crush again, in the best way.

So, no. He exactly can’t go ask.

With a heavy sigh and glance up at the darkening sky, Steve is only glad he’s not supposed to pick up Robin today as he begins to walk.

—

One phone call to the auto-shop reveals exactly how much it’ll cost to get his keys retrieved. Which is, to say, entirely too much for one adult living on the wage of a Family Video employee.

And they won’t be able to get anyone out for another whole day.

Growing more and more frustrated with himself, Steve angrily jots the number down into his little notebook, the pen pressing down hard enough to leave indents on the page behind it. Keith is somewhere out the back, snacking no doubt, and leaving Steve to man the front.

Normally, it wouldn’t bother him— especially because he could discretely make the phone call he needed— but now it’s just him, the empty store, and the number in his notebook that stares back at him.

Oh, and it’s raining.

The darkening sky from earlier had transformed into something closer to a thunderstorm, rain lashing against the windows and driving any and all customers away. Which is fantastic— just what Steve needs now, really the fucking cherry on the top.

The phone rings, the noise unusually shrill in the silence of the store. The film playing amongst the aisles has been on mute as soon as he’d gotten his hands on the remote and Keith had disappeared out the back.

Steve stares at the phone, watching it ring once, twice, before he picks it up with a heavy sigh. He dredges up his customer service voice.

“This is Family Video, how can I help?” He greets, putting as much pep into his voice as he can manage—which turns out to be a meagre amount.

“Did you walk to work today?”

Steve straightens up at the sound of Eddie’s voice on the other end of the line. His free hand instinctively smooths down the front of his vest before he quickly remembers Eddie can’t actually see him.

“Eddie?” He asks, instead of answering the question.

“Your Highness, himself,” Eddie responds. His tone is that usual jaunty playfulness that Steve’s come to adore. “Now answer the question, Steve-o. I thought you were one of those smart guys who actually listens when the weather report comes on the radio. Why the hell did you walk?”

Steve’s shoulders curl in, just an inch, and his eyes seek out the open notebook with the quoted amount, underlined and circled, staring back at him. His throat grows a lump at Eddie’s unknowingly poor choice of words.

“Thought I would walk today.” He replies, his voice clipped. “You know, walking, exercise, good for you? Any of these ringing a bell for you, Munson?”

It’s supposed to be a joke but Steve can tell by the end of the sentence, it’s come out way too sour to land that way. He sounds mean.

Steve cringes, clutching the phone a little tighter and screwing up his eyes. He waits for Eddie’s response.

“You know,” Eddie says, sounding a lot duller all of a sudden. “I was calling to maybe offer you a lift through the rain—”

“Sorry, I’m sorry, that-“ Steve cuts in, that same strange embarrassment swelling in his throat. “I didn’t mean for it to come out like that.”

“—But if you’re gonna be a dick about it, you can enjoy the walk.”

Steve grits his teeth and pinches the bridge of his nose because this feels a little too much like a line from his Dad— but it isn’t because Steve is the one digging this hole all on his own. He’s the idiot who fucking locked his keys in his car and walked to work and snapped at Eddie and—

“No, I’m sorry.” He says, still a bit too tense.

Idiot, idiot, you’re being a fucking idiot, Harrington.

“A ride would be appreciated. Please.”

A pause. This time when Eddie speaks, he’s a little softer. “You off at five today?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay. I’ll see you at five.”

The dial tone sounds as Eddie hangs up but Steve stays where he is, phone pressed against his one good ear, with a sinking feeling in his stomach. The rain begins to flood the parking lot.

—

Five o’clock comes around too soon.

The rain has let up, just barely, but enough that Steve can actually see Eddie’s van when it pulls up into the parking lot. It rocks about dangerously in the wind and Steve suddenly feels bad for making Eddie come out to get him.

He could’ve stayed here, taken the longer shift. Told Keith to take off early and just walked back home when the rain let up a little more— or just camped out the back on the couch in the employee room if it never did.

It wouldn’t be the first time.

He’d started doing it more and more when his parent’s visits to home became more frequent. It was easy to pull a few white lies out and Steve far preferred answering questions like: Where were you last night? than Why won't you come out to our event tonight? Show face for the Harrington's? It's not like you're doing anything with your life, right?

The only reason he’d stopped, actually, was because he had become good friends with Eddie.

Eddie, who loved his company almost any hour of the day. Who gobbled up each and every morsel of food Steve cooked up, whether it was good or partially burned on the sides. Who told him he had a place in the trailer, day or night, rain or shine.

Eddie who… was waiting outside at five o’clock exactly, pulled up to the curb so Steve wouldn’t have to walk through the rain for more than a moment.

There’s a sliver of surprise, deep within his chest; like he thought Eddie might’ve not shown up and forced him to walk through the rain, just to learn his lesson. It would make sense, Steve thinks. You reap what you sow.

He clocks out hastily, barely murmuring his exit to Keith who doesn’t look up in the slightest. Steve heads for the door and decides then and there, he’ll happily pay the number in his notebook if he doesn’t have to tell Eddie what a fucking moron he actually is.

Water splashes as he dashes down the steps and Eddie’s leaning across, pushing the door open so Steve doesn’t even have to wait to yank it open in the rain. He slides in, sprinkled with rain, slams the door closed, and instantly gets blasted with heat.

“God, you’re a lifesaver,” Steve sighs, sticking his hands out towards the air vents which are working in overdrive. They whir loudly in complaint. Eddie smiles, the apples of his cheeks glowing in the warmth, and twists the wheel, his eyes on the road before him.

The van groans and the bumper dips, kissing the gutter, as they roll out onto the road and head for Forest Hills. For a moment, Eddie focuses on driving straight before he flicks his gaze across to Steve.

“You know I wouldn’t have actually let you walk, right?”

Steve blinks, unsure of what to say in response, because he actually did think that was a possibility until about 2 minutes ago. He shivers as a stray drop in his hair sneaks under his collar, cold and wet.

“Right.” He answers, giving a hesitant smile back.

They’re driving slower than usual due to the rain. Steve lets himself sink back into the worn seats of the van, comforted by the familiar smells. A tang of tobacco, a stronger hint of weed, and that musky deodorant that Eddie swears by— even if Steve has never heard of the brand before.

But, well, it must be working in some sense because when Steve takes a deep breath, he smells it and feels a sense of calm. He doesn’t even notice he’s begun staring.

The strange weather has made Eddie’s hair frizzier than usual and paired with his rosy cheeks, Steve thinks he looks goddamn delectable. He gets caught up in a daydream about having a hot chocolate when they get back to the trailer, maybe even sharing a blanket on the couch and—

And then, Eddie turns and says, “So, wanna tell me why you walked? For real, this time?”

Something shrivels up within Steve. The tightness in his throat from this morning returns. He turns his head and looks out the window.

“I don’t get why you don’t believe me when I say I walked because I wanted to.” He grumbles, almost too low for Eddie to hear over the rain.

Why are they still talking about this? He thinks of the keys through the driver’s side window, thinks of the number in his notebook and the much smaller one in his bank account, and has to hold back from thumping his head against the glass again.

Something metallic jingles behind him.

Steve whips around, his eyes zeroing in on his keys dangling from Eddie’s hand— clearly just retrieved from his pocket. Something ugly and warm wakes up inside him, his stomach knotting uncomfortably, and his cheeks start to burn in embarrassment.

Idiot, Idiot, Idiot.

He knows, he already fucking knows how stupid you are.

Eddie’s eyes dart off the road to look at Steve. “Cos you’re clearly not telling the truth.”

Steve averts his gaze, turning his face back to the window and the wet pavement rushing by beneath the car. He swallows but the lump in his throat doesn’t move.

“Okay, look I don’t actually care that you walked to work,” Eddie continues, placing the keys down in the cup holder between the seats. “I just don’t get why you wouldn’t tell me that they were locked in your car.”

Steve can’t help it, the way his shoulders hike up. His teeth sink into his bottom lip meanly, nearly drawing blood. He doesn’t get it, he doesn’t get it— Eddie’s still trying to rationalise away what everyone else has already figured out.

“I just—” Steve starts, on the defence, but it comes out a bit too wet. He forces himself to swallow again, thankful there’s no sting of tears in his eyes. “I can fix that shit on my own. That’s all.”

“Well, yeah,” Eddie agrees.

Below them both, the hum of the van begins to dwindle and Steve realises abruptly that Eddie’s slowing down, pulling over to the side of the road. He looks to the side, at Eddie.

“Please, c’mon, I just wanna go home, man.” Steve pleads, not even caring that he’s referred so casually to Eddie’s trailer as his home.

“Wait, just,” Eddie waves a hand as he sticks the van into park, releasing the wheel and properly turning to Steve.

“I just want to understand. You know I can pop the door to most cars in, like, 5 minutes. Why didn’t you just ask?”

“Eddie,” Steve stresses, turning away with a pointed sigh. He runs a hand through his hair, latching onto the roots and tugging at it. “Just leave it, please.”

“Or asked for a lift!” Eddie continues, his hands gesturing out a bit wildly. “I could’ve given you a lift even.”

Steve's eyes slice across the van and he wills back every emotional outburst that wants to lash out of him, to poke the right spot that will hurt to get Eddie to back off.

But Eddie is just staring at him, brown eyes wide, a little furrow between his brows, and is just confused. Concerned.

“If you keep driving,” Steve murmurs, almost dejectedly. He ducks his head low and turns back to the window. “I’ll tell you.”

It works— the engine rumbles back to life and the wheels roll gently back out onto the road, just a couple more minutes from Forest Hills. Steve watches the road and tries to grasp for the right thing to say, each possibility dissolving like smoke. His eyes squeeze shut tightly. The rain dins loudly on the roof of the van, a song and dance of the elements.

By the time they’re entering Forest Hills, Steve still hasn’t said a word. The van crawls up into its usual spot, next to Steve’s own car, and Steve stares down at it. He can hear the soft click of Eddie’s seatbelt as he releases it.

He supposes it’s too late now, anyway. Eddie already knows. He keeps his eyes out the window as he speaks, his voice flat and dull.

“I just... I didn’t want you to think that I’m an idiot, too.”

There’s a questioning noise behind him, a little noise from Eddie’s throat that slips out, unbidden.

“Too?” He echoes. “Steve? Who thinks you’re an idiot?”

Steve huffs loudly and turns back, throwing his hands up. “Jesus, who doesn’t? Would you like a list?”

Eddie’s face twists into a meaner expression than Steve's ever seen before and for once, he properly matches the dark clothes and spooky tattoos he dons.

“Yes. And I’ll go door to door— wait,” He shuffles, shifting up onto his knees so he can stretch over the console and place his large hands on either side of Steve’s face, directing his gaze towards him.

It’s reminiscent of a kiss not too long ago. Despite all the burning self-deprecation that churns inside, the pleasant reminder dulls it significantly.

“I’ll go door to door to anyone who ever made you feel that way,” Eddie repeats, now face to face with Steve, their noses nearly touching. His brows are still pull tight into a furious frown. But it's not at him, Steve realises. “And I’ll do something— I’m not sure what yet, but it’ll be foul and like, maybe I’ll put instant mash potatoes on their lawn and— okay the specifics aren’t relevant but this— this is.”

He searches Steve’s face intently, eyes darting around, making sure the message is sinking in. His expression softens out, his eyes suddenly sweeter than before. “You’re aren’t an idiot, Steve. You aren’t an idiot for making a mistake and I’ve never thought that about you.”

Steve blinks. Swallows heavily and god fucking dammit, is the thickness in his throat ever going to disappear? This time it feels different though. He’s not sure how.

“You don’t think I’m an idiot, do you?” Eddie asks.

Steve shakes his head, moving Eddie’s hands with them at the same time. It’s true, he doesn’t. Eddie is… goddamn fucking wonderful. He’s like a warm summer shower through the wretched seasons of Steve’s life. One of the reasons it was worth living through the entire ordeal of 86.

The rain outside continues, pitter-pattering on the roof, somehow softer than it was a second ago.

“Okay,” Eddie says, a small smile on tugging on his lips.

“Okay,” Steve says back. He tries for a smile and it’s easier than expected, though it wobbles at the ends. It doesn’t matter— Eddie is still gazing at him, brown eyes shining and Steve believes what he says.

“Okay,” Eddie says one more time, his smile turning closer to a grin. “Let’s go make some cocoa, yeah?”

He moves to retract his hands but Steve moves faster, his hands darting up to hold them in their place, palms against his cheeks.

“Wait,” Steve murmurs, watching how Eddie stills and keeps his closeness, their noses still a couple inches from touching— and Steve clings to the threads of courage in him tightly.

His hands slide off Eddie’s, grasping lightly at his wrists, and it’s easy to lean forward and connect their mouths in one swift motion.

Eddie squeaks— then melts.

It takes half a second before he remembers to kiss back, equally as enthusiastic and it’s nothing like the first kiss they shared under the covers. The rain dances around them and Steve swipes his thumbs over Eddie’s pulse soothing, feeling the barest jump of his rabbiting pulse.

When he shifts back, breaking the kiss, Steve keeps the closeness, the tips of their noses bumping together. Eddie’s hands feel blazing warm on Steve’s cheeks but when his lashes flutter open, catching sight of Eddie’s glorious pink cheeks, he thinks it might be his face burning up too.

They tumble inside through the rain and with all of Steve’s prayers answered today, they also share a blanket on the couch, ankles linked beneath the rumpled fabric. They make hot chocolate, Steve’s style, and sip it at, making googly eyes at each other over the rim of their mugs— until Eddie laughs too much and spits it down his front.

Steve doesn’t feel stupid again— unless that is, you count feeling stupidly sappy.

(He does not.)

[thevelvetvampyre]

Just Like the Actress - Neil Lewis x Coworker Reader

Summary: After being begged to stay after work to watch a film with the guys from gumshoe video, Neil is shocked to find out you haven’t watched porn during a drunk game of ‘never have I ever’ and is determined to change that, that very night.

Warnings: small age gap (reader is college aged, Neil is early 30’s), face riding, virginity loss, throat fucking, porn watching, Neil is selfish, he cums quick lol, begging , reader is drunk, general adult content, quite long !

Note: I’ve been so obsessed with 70’s/80’s porn music recently and I feel like Neil would be one to watch a porno with a soundtrack not to dissimilar to the vibes the songs give off so i had to add the one I’m obsessed with atm.

Sighing as you pushed the final tape into the comedy section of the shelf you had just filled with the new shipment, you picked up the empty box and headed into the storage room. Walking past Jonathan, Lucien and Neil on the couch, you rolled your eyes at their laziness as they sat there with a beer in hand watching one of the classics Jonathan was obsessing over.

Swinging his arm over the back of the couch as you passed, Lucien’s eyes followed you as you walked over and watched as you bent over to place the box down. Dusting your hands off and turning around he looks up at you and you curl your lips into a tired smile.

“Wanna stay back today and watch a film?” Bringing the can to his lips, he cocks his eyebrows up as you walk past him to the counter.

“I can’t, I need to study tonight.” You reached behind the cashier to pick your bag, swinging it over your shoulder and turning to face Lucien who now had a pout on his lips.

Tearing his eyes off the screen, Neil looked over at you and and furrowed his brows.

“Oh come on…” He groaned out his sentence as he threw his hands in the air.

Getting into your dream school here in New York was nothing more than a miracle, no matter how expensive the tuition or housing may be. Deciding to get a part-time job to keep yourself on your feet throughout your studies, you came across the shabby, indie film shop and decided it was low-key enough to not give you any more stress on top of college. You worked short hours for good pay whenever you were free throughout the week, earning a decent amount of pocket money for the lack of customers you actually had to deal with.

Oblivious to yourself, Neil only hired you as a piece of eye-candy, eroticising the thought of a much younger collage student who was financially dependent on his business. It was like the porno’s he watched, swelling countless erections in his pants as he fantasied you coming in after your shift, begging for a raise and proving him you would do anything to get it.

It started with watching the way your ass stuck out when you bent down in the agonisingly short skirts you wore, his neck pushing back as he tilted his head to get a good look and salivating at the sight of your bare thighs. Then it moved to staring at your plush tits, cock stiffening as he watched them bounce in your thin shirts as you walked through the store. Soon, it became a habit to replace the pornstars face with yours as he stroked himself, cumming on his stomach as he whined out your name wishing he was shoving himself against the back of your cunt instead.

“I have a test in a couple of days… I haven’t studied and I need to pass-“ You were interrupted by Neil standing up and walking towards you.

“Please- just one film…” He stopped in front of you and pouted his lips, clenching his jaw as his cock twitched when you gazed up innocently at him.

Sighing out, you looked over at Jonathan and Lucien who raised their beers to you, giving a hopeful smile. Looking back at Neil, you shook your head and made your way towards the door. He quickly walked besides you and rambled out a sequence of pleas to get you to stay.

“You never stay-“ He whined out in a higher octave than you’ve ever heard him speak at.

“Because I’m in college-“ Logically stating, you rolled your eyes at his lack of understanding. Turning to face him now you watched as his face scrunched as he walked faster to keep up with you, vein protruding in his neck as he breathlessly begged.

“But just one night please I’m-“ His begs were mixed in with the sound of the loud TV, close to overstimulating your senses with the noise pollution that surrounded you.

“No Neil… I have to study-“ You slowly grew annoyed at his persistence. He quickly grabbed your shoulders and forcibly turned you around to face him, stoping you sharp in your tracks just before you managed to get through the door.

“Just one film. Then you go can go back to whatever boring subject your studying.” His eyes widened and you felt the harshness of his fingertips in your arms, trying to shake free of his grasp as the pain was a sharp sting.

He took a small step towards you and you were mere inches apart, his lips and cheeks were flushed a deep red as he let go of your arms and poured his baby blue iris’s into yours. Sighing, you looked back at Jonathan and Lucien who had returned their gaze onto the TV, Neil now so close you could feel the heat radiating off his body and coating your skin.

“Please.” He whispered and you turned back to look at him, his puppy eyes glassy from the beer and tearing up, the bottom of his lip rolling under his tongue as his teeth grazed his baby pink skin.

“Fine…fine.” You nodded and put your hands up in defence. A look of relief washed over his face and his wide eyes turned soft, grabbing your shoulders again and shaking you in aggressive excitement as he lowered his knees to meet your eye level. His now pleading gaze had turned into a toothy smile, the thin dimples of the side of his cheeks showing just how happy he was that you decided to stay.

“Yes! Thank you…” He stopped shaking you and let you go once again, placing his hands on his hips as he sighed a relief with the triumphed smile stuck on his face.

Staring down at you, he felt the heat of his thumping erection from the closeness of you fill his pants, his tip leaking with the idea that you’d be staying to watch a film and giving him more time to assault your body with his eyes. Looking down at you now, he began throbbing at the thought of your eyes exactly like this but smudged black with mascara, saliva spilling out your mouth as you gagged on the base of him.

Breaking away, he snapped his head to the guys and remained smiling through his breaths.

“Jonathan- we need more drinks!” He screamed over to the couch, Jonathan snapping his attention to you and giving you a toothy smile before standing up and vanishing out the door.

————————

“So, how’s you like the film?” Lucien slurs his words as his hand raises and his finger points at you, swaying in small circles with his drink in hand.

“Shit.” You said bluntly, Jonathan coughing up his drink and Neil snapping his head to look at you with his mouth open in shock and his brows furrowed.

“What? Shit- that’s one of the most influential-“ Neil starts to raise his voice but is soon interrupted by Lucien shushing him.

“I’ve had to much to drink to hear about it Neil, please.” He rubs his forehead and placed his elbow onto the arm of the chair. Neil huffs out in shock and holds both hands out towards you with a look of disbelief on his face, looking at Jonathan for backup who just sits there and shrugs his shoulders.

You sat on the sofa facing the TV next to Lucien, Neil and Jonathan sat on the other one facing outwards towards the door next to you. The cheap bottle of vodka Jonathan had bought was almost too perfectly on brand with college students, considering these guys were around twelve years older than you. It sat half drank on the table in front of you and the cup almost finished in your hand.

The heat from the liquid had caused an internal burn on your cheeks, eventually spreading to your chest and causing a pink to spread across your skin. You were feverish and giggly, starting to see double of the TV screen and having to close one eye to focus on whoever was talking to you.

You weren’t the only one, Jonathan stumbled and found it impossible to stand up straight when taking the finished tape out of the player, Lucien half asleep next to you and Neil who was equally as red with a glued arrogant smirk on his face.

With the liquor hitting his lips he found you increasingly arousing, if that was even possible. About halfway through the film his eyes left the TV screen to look at you and never turned back. His breath quickening and his heart pounding as he watched you sit on the sofa oblivious to the fact that your short skirt was revealing the crotch of your white, cotton panties. He imagined himself on his knees, nose pressed to your covered mound as he inhaled your scent with your legs open submissively.

Each time you shifted your arm onto the sofa your tits would ever so slightly spill out the V on your shirt and his cock began spilling tears out his tip. He watched them squish together with each movement, lowly groaning as he pictured them holding his cock so well as he thrusted in between them. Furrowing his brows and biting cuts into the bottom of his lip as he watched you twirl your hair with your finger, he wanted nothing more but to grab your scalp while fucking your tight, wet pussy over the stores sofa and having your residue stick to the fabric.

“Let’s play a game!” Lucien perked up at Jonathans idea and hummed in agreement, Neil finally peeling his eyes off your exposed skin and taking another sip of his drink.

“Never have I ever… but dirty.” He smiled like a schoolboy who���s seen tits for the first time, Lucien spurring out a string of excited agreement.

“Shot if you have… no shot if you have not.” He lent over the table and grabbed the bottle, standing up to pour everyone a poorly estimated ounce and a half of vodka.

Your stomach flipped and you felt your heart beating in your ears. You weren’t a prude by any sorts, spending most nights touching yourself till you came to relieve the stress of college and kissing a couple boys at parties and such. You’d just never experienced anything physically with anyone else yet, not even exploring porn by yourself because watching other people fuck was unknown territory for you. Sexuality didn’t scare you but it never caught your attention either, feeling the pressure at an all time high now you were in college with horny men who only thought with their dicks.

Sitting back down, Jonathan looked at you and smiled before asking the first question.

“Never have I ever…” He trailed off, looking out into the distance “had sex in public.”

Only Jonathan himself and Neil took the shot, wincing their faces and gagging at the dry alcohol hitting their throat. Placing their cups down before high fiving each other, Neil looked up at you as one side of his lips curled and his eyebrows cocked up.

“Huh…” He whispered in his huff. You felt the redness of your cheeks spread like wildfire and looked down at your lap, twiddling your thumbs feeling embarrassed at your lack of shot.

“And I know allllllll about it.” Lucien chuckled before Jonathan screamed an extended, frat like ‘yeah’ and stood up to high five him too.

“Right… who’s next?” Lucien cleared his throat and raised his hand slightly.

“You know… it’s getting late, I should go home.” The words slowly purred out your mouth, feeling a sudden sense of awkwardness that not only were you the only girl playing this, you were playing it with thirty plus year old men.

“No!” Neil screamed almost too quickly, all three of the guys turning to look at you in disappointment.

“Noooo… not yet! It’s only just getting fun!” Lucien wrapped his arm around you and pulled you close to him, holding you close as he started to ask the next question.

“Never have I ever… hooked up with my friends sibling.” Lucien excitedly took his shot and raised his empty glass, so drunk he had no physical response to the alcohol he had just consumed.

Finally letting you go, he lent forward and swiftly filled up his cup, looking around to see everyone else to see if they needed a refill.

“That’s hot.” Neil said, chucking like a schoolboy and rubbing his palms on his thighs.

“Okay, uhm…” Neil looked up and glanced at you. He wanted to ask something that he wanted to know about you, personally.

How much of a whore are you?

He hummed a little longer as his eyes fell all over your body, a sense of vulnerability panging your chest as he started undressing you with his gaze very obviously.

“Never have I ever, taken nude pictures.” The guys all laughed immaturely. “Or… videos.” All of them now nodding and hyping each other up.

One by one the liquids in their cups vanished down their throats and the intense feeling of being left out hit you again.

Oh fuck it. You thought.

The sting of the drink immediately hit your tonsil, your eyes squinting as you swallowed it resisting the antiseptic breath out your nose. Looking at you cringing as the after affects of the drink still heated up the inside of your chest, Neil licked his lips and gulped down, shifting his hips upwards as he widened his knees to bring less attention to the tent in his pants. Ignoring the pulse in his jeans imagining you holding your shirt to your chin, pushing your tits together towards the camera as you posed like a desperate whore, he cleared his throat and grabbed the bottle to fill up everyone’s now empty cup.

“Your turn sweetheart.” Neil barely spoke above a whisper and he slowly poured the transparent regret into your cup. His eyes looked up and met yours, the nickname surprisingly causing another wave of heat to rush over you. Blinking at him rapidly, your bottom lip trembled slightly and your brows knitted together.

“Um…” You thought around the room, unsure what to say. “Never have I ever… masturbated.”

The boys stopped breathing for a second before bursting out laughing, a sense of embarrassment rushed over you and you felt like being sucked up by the floor. Nonetheless, all of them took the shot, you included, and all made noises in reaction to the electric taste of the drink.

“You’re gonna have’s to do- try harder than that.” Lucien lent over and tapped your thigh with his palm.

The alcohol was completely distorting you now, looking over at Neils displeased face with Luciens actions, he was spinning in full circles. As if you were looking out a kaleidoscope, your back dented further into the couch and you weakly raised your hand to rub your face.

“Alright there?” Neil raised his brows as he looked at you with those wide eyes. All you could do was hum in response as the noise started to blur around you and the feeling of your heart beating was the only comfort in the bright lights of the shop.

“Okay… I got one you’ll like princess.” Lucien turned away from you and faced the guys. “Never have I ever, watched porn.” All of the guys started laughing hysterically now, making fun of you for the innocence of your last question.

You watched as all the guys took the shots, noticing how easily the liquid poured down their throat now that they were drunk. Coughing, Neil looked at you as you sat up properly again, swaying in your seat with a satisfied grin on your face knowing you didn’t have to take another shot.

“What?” The sharpness in Neils tone snapped you out of your daze, slowly tilting your head at him and squinting to try and see him straight.

“You’ve never watched porn?” His mouth was open and his face was stunned, genuinely in misbelief that you’d never watched it before. Both the other guys gasped as well, snapping their neck at you waiting for your response.

“Never. Ever. Never.” You raised your hand and wagged your finger with each word, giggling at yourself and placing the cup down. “‘N’more please.”

“Are you being serious?” Lucien whispered in almost disgust. “Never?”

“Ugh…” Your neck rolled as your eyes rolled with it. “No!” You pushed Luciens shoulder as you bounced off the shove.

The shop filled with silence for a while, the guys sharing looks of whatever expression you couldn’t care to understand in this moment before falling back onto the couch again. Humming and giggling quietly to yourself, Jonathan stood up and notioned for Lucien to follow him.

“We’ll go to the Chinese… get food.” He was swaying as he put his coat on, Lucien barely being able to stand up in himself.

“All too… too drunk.” He lifted his chin and pointed at Neil. “Take care of her… kay?” Neil nodded before Jonathan and Lucien stumbled out of the shop to the corner Chinese shop to pick up boxes of drunk food to sober everyone up.

Shifting up to sit properly on the couch once more, you brought your knees to your chest and glanced over at Neil who was already gazing at you in a dazed way. His fingers ran across his fallen bottom lip as his eyes slowly fell from your lips to the slight gap in between your legs that stayed exposing your panties to him.

Standing up and stumbling on the way over, he plopped himself next to you on the couch and stretched his arm over to the back of the couch behind you. Sighing as his eyes scanned your face and proximity of you, you looked up at him and gave him a boop on his nose with your finger. Giving a small chuckle, his cock had already started to harden at the closeness of the pair of you.

“You’ve never watched pornography?” He whispered, feeling his hot breath on your face and inhaling the smell of vodka. His brows raised in curiosity and a smirk grew on his face as the question fell from his lips.

“Nooo… not yet.” You shifted your knees that were linked in your arms towards him now, leaning your head on his forearm that was still up at the back of you.

Batting your eyelashes up at him, he groaned and lulled his head back at the sight of your flushed cheeks and swollen eyes, wanting to face fuck you so hard you’d lose your voice for the days to come. Anything to see those pretty eyes of yours squint as your throat closes around him.

“D’you want to?” He snapped his head up before asking, a look of confusion on your face. A sense of excitement filled his voice that wasn’t previously there.

You shook your head slowly trying to figure out if he was being serious or not.

“You know… we do have a large collection of pornography at the shop.” He pouted at you.

You shook your head faster and covered your mouth while giggling.

“No Neil… I-“ You began smiling through your words.

“Just one video.” Interrupting you, he nodded in encouragement. Furrowing your brows you pushed your neck back and sat up.

“That’s… no I don’t-“

“Come on. Just one.” His eyes remained on yours, the same puppy dog look he had earlier. Only this time, his head swayed slowly as he tried to focus on yours.

“I don’t… feel comfortable doing that.” You said under your breath, the smile dropping from your face as your heart rate became rapid under your chest.

“It’s okay… you’ll like it.” He dropped his arm from the couch back and wrapped it around your shoulder.

“No I-“ You glanced down at where his landed, feeling the prickly heat of his touch over your arm.

“Please.” He whined. Snapping your eyes to look up at him again, you had to admit to yourself you were curious.

“Just one video…” His thumb slowly started stroking small circles on you as he whispered his pleas. “Please.”

Blinking harshly to try and stop seeing double of him, your blurred hearing was filled with strings of slurry pleas and begs, being unable to focus on anything but how fast everything was spinning and the violent beating in your chest.

“I promise- just one. If you don’t like it-“ You were tired of his voice, having it filled the quietness of the empty story as his finger progressively rubbed faster around your arm.

“Okay…” You whispered under your breath.

“Huh? What was that?” He pulled you closer and ducked his head lower to meet your eyes.

“Okay.” You said louder this time. A small smile grew on your face as you felt slightly excited, curious to see what porn was all about and why Neil seemed to be so obsessed with it.

Standing up quickly while losing balance countless times on the way to the pornography isle, he spent a few minutes saying ‘no’ under his breath and sighing before a loud ‘ah!’ was heard and he came round the corner. Not letting you see the cover of the tape, he ducked onto his knees and pressed the tape into the player with his digit.

Rushing back as fast as he could to sit next to you, the weight of him landing on the cushion next to you shook you as you kept your eyes peeled to the screen.

“This one…” He turned to look at you as you brought your knees to your chest again, looking over your shoulder into his eyes. “Is my favourite.” He smiled and nodded towards the screen.

A girl, who seemed quite young in your eyes, was sat at a school desk with a belt thin plaid skirt and a see through short white blouse that ended at her ribs. She held the end of a pencil in between her teeth as she twirled one of her pigtails around her finger and seemingly pondered into the distance.

Shifting next to you, you look over at Neil who’s face was already red and twitching his hips uncomfortably. He glances at you without moving his head and grabs your chin, forcing your face to the front. Still feeling his heat so close to you, a sense of awkwardness in your chest took over your ability to move and you were frozen, staring at the scene unfold on the screen.

A man in a suit, presumingly this young girls teacher, makes his way over to her desk and pulls her chair out. Glaring down at the girl while gripping her cheeks in his hand, his crotch becomes evidently swollen as he shoves his clothed erection into her face. Gasping at his aggressiveness, you turn to face Neil, once more who’s eyebrow has cocked up and mouth has fallen only ajar. Looking back onto the screen, you watch as the man unzips his pants to free his large, throbbing cock in her face. Gasping even louder at this point, you cover your eyes and turn away.

“What’s the matter? Never seen a cock before?” Neil asks sarcastically, chucking at your reaction.

“Nuh-uh.” You say, shaking your head.

“Oh come on… you’ve never seen one before?” His voice sounding irritated.

You loosen the grip on your eyes slowly and look at him through a small gap in your fingers.

“Never.” His mouth falls all the way open now, staring at you in disbelief.

“Are you… are you a virgin?” He whispers the last word, treating it at almost a swear.

You nod your head slowly and his mouth is now on the floor, his eyebrows are knitted together and he sits up. Looking into your eyes, he wanted to devour you right then and there. His cock was now beating in this pants, a hot string of precum leaking down the top of this thigh and his shaft throbbing to be stroked.

“Oh my god…” He whined out.

Slowly turning your attention away from the stunned look on his face, you peak over at the TV and wince at the girl’s mouth being aggressively fucked. You heard the squelching and gagging noises, cringing as her eyes squinted with a mixture of tears and saliva pouring down her face. You felt as Neil fell back into the couch, watching as his knees widened next to you and a small groan left his lips.

“You ever seen a boner?” He placed his hand around the back of you again, sneaking into the small gap between your ass and the couch.

Looking over at him, closing one eye to focus on his face, you shake your head shamefully and look down. Keeping your eyes on his thighs, you watched as his palm raised and hesitantly made it’s way to his crotch. His palm started to slowly rub on his already swollen cock and he sighed out in relief to the pressure.

Widening your eyes, you rapidly blinked as you stared at him palming himself, his hand pressing hard and small, desperate whimpers falling from his lips.

“Would you like to?” He puffs out as his pace fastened on his clothed erection.

You felt a pool of heat build in your panties at his question, your walls clenching around nothing and the air leaving your lungs. After watching him press harder into his crotch for a couple of seconds, your eyes pull up to stare into his. His lips were slightly parted but wet and swollen, a flush of pink that spread to his cheeks and bottom of his eyes. His gaze was slightly squinted and his eyes looked teary, noticing how his eyebrows would twitch simultaneously with each quiet whine that fell off his lips.

You nodded your head and much too quickly, he unzipped his jeans and raised his hips. Hooking his fingers into the top of his jeans, he pushed them fast to his thighs and laid back just as fast as he got up. Sighing out as his back hit the soft cushion, he tilted his head as his palm quickly attacked the bottom of his throbbing cock.

Staring in awe at the size of him, your mouth started to salivate at the risen fabric and a small moan left your lips as his palm pressed down on the tent once more.

“Do you… do you wanna- ugh, touch?” A grunt interrupted him, gulping down the ball in his throat.

Hesitantly, you raised your hand and kept it in the air for a few seconds, unsure of what to do.

“Please.” He grabbed your wrist and pressed your hand onto his erection, twitching his face in discomfort and arching his back at the contact of your hand on him.

Slowly pressing your palm onto him, you tried to imitate how he was doing it earlier. Pushing your hand harder onto himself, he let you go and started heavy breathing to your soft presses. You felt his clothed cock from the tip to his balls, pushing harder with each stroke as you felt him twitch in your hand.

“Oh- yeah… yeah like that.” His head was lulling and his eyes were squinting, slightly opening them to stare down at how you were touching him. His mouth stayed slightly opened as an exit for his whines, his wet lips drying up as his brows stayed knitted together.

Grabbing the back of your neck as his dazed eyes met yours, he pulled you to him and latched his lips onto yours. Slowly pushing and massaging into plush, pink flesh his tongue skilfully and softly pet yours, licking you fast before pulling back into his own mouth once more. Tracing your bottom lip with his muscle, he sighed deeply as he pressed you harder into his mouth, keeping his open as he moaned into yours at your fastening touch on his cock.

Pulling you back by your scalp, he kept you inches away from his face as he began panting. Your pussy leaked at the sight of him, grasping you hard as his mouth was hot and wet, jaw open and eyes building up sockets of tears at the pleasure you were giving him.

“Want you- need you to suck.” He moaned out pathetically as you touched him through his words.

A look of confusion plastered onto your face, his eyes glancing to the TV as his fists grabbed your hair tighter and spun your head to the screen. Once more, you were met with the actress gagging on the mans cock, barely breathing and sobbing at the pain of the lack of oxygen.

“Just like that…” He groaned out lowly. “Just like the actress.” Loosening his grip on your head, he let you reposition yourself onto your stomach.

Keeping your eyes on the screen, you grabbed the base of Neils dick cluelessly and watched what the actress was doing. In all honesty, she wasn’t doing anything other than taking the mans cock like a whore as he thrusted himself into her throat. Still unsure and insecure on your actions, your lips wrapped around Neils angry, red, leaking tip. The slightly salty taste made yourfurrow your brows, unaware that the substance could even have a taste.

“Fuck- suck my cock.” Neil’s fist found it’s way to your hair once more, holding you harshly in place.

You sucked around his tip, eyes still on the screen as you copied the act of moving your lips along his shaft. Moving delicately and slowly, he grunted and rolled his head back. Slowly starting to move his hips for more friction, twitching upwards and forcibly putting more of him in your mouth, you tensed up at the feeling of his large cock slowly making it’s way further into your mouth.

“Just… just relax.” He breathed out. Listening to what he said, you relaxed your mouth and suddenly his thrusts became a lot smoother as he slowly pressed your face simultaneously into him and his hips twitched up. Feeling your throat salivate as his tip finally hit the back of your throat, he let out a loud moan and held your face in place as he began to fuck your mouth faster.

“Oh fuck-fuck yes, yes stay there.” His voice was loud and high, his eyebrows furrowed into one as a hot tear rolled out the corner of his eye as he watched you begin to gag around him.

Thrusting his hips up higher and harshly now, his knees started to wobble as he whimpered in the same rhythm that his cock twitched. Feeling your eyes swell and yourself begin to moan at the lack of air you were receiving, you grabbed the base of his cock roughly and his head shot back in response. He groaned loudly at your rough contact and you felt his cock twitch violently in your mouth.

Using all of his strength to not continue to face fuck you till he came and covered your throat in his cum, he slowed down his pace as his breathing regulated and tightened the grasp on your hair before pulling you off completely.

Looking up at him with smudged mascara, droll falling down your chin you couldn’t help but smile at the look of lust on his face. His hair had fallen in front of his eyes and they stayed squinted, his pink cheeks now wet with tears and a low whine leaving his plumped mouth as he saw the corners of yours turn.

“So pretty.” He whispered, letting your hair go and sitting up. He pat your wet face and slapping noises softly bounced off your cheek.

Quickly undressing himself and throwing his clothes into a pool on the floor, he stayed standing over you with his cock intimidating your face. He reached down and pulled your shirt off, groaning at the sight of your bare tits and your erect nipples bouncing in the cold air.

“No bra?” He smirked, chucking as he glared down at you.

You shook your head no and covered your tits, feeling exposed under his sight in a way you’d never been before.

“Take your skirt and panties off.” He weakly demanded, lips trembling into a smirk as he stayed standing over you as you did so. His dick bounced as it twitched at the sight of your naked body, something he’d been craving to fuck since you first started working there.

Sitting completely naked in front of him, he made his way onto the sofa and laid down horizontally, pulling you on top of him. Laying bare on him he twisted his fingers through your scalp, gently placing wet kisses on your lips as he softly moved his hands down to your ass. Roughly grabbing your asscheeks and pushing your naked body harshly onto his, he groaned as the slight shove caused friction on his desperate cock. Whimpering as his hands had spread you wide, your body shoved forward and you whined your pain into his mouth. Pulling his head back, he looked at you with a dark lust in his eyes as he cupped your face.

“Sit up- sit on me.” His voice trembled out, never breaking eye contact with you as the words fell from his lips.

Doing as you were told, you sat up and felt your warm, wet pussy sit down on the backside of his shaft. Looking at where the pair of you connected, he grabbed the sides of his hips harshly and whimpered at the slight rock you did on top of him, your wetness allowing you to hump him easily with soft movements.

“Come… come up.” He pulled your hips forward and you furrowed your brows confused. He sighed out and rolled his eyes, that familiar blush creeping onto his face as he looked back at you.

“Sit on my face…” He said quietly. “Please?” Your heart skipped a beat and a wave of insecurity washed over you, never even imagining doing such a thing before.

“Please just… sit on my lips.” He pushed his lips forward as his eyebrows twitched with nervousness. His grip grasped tighter on your hips and you could tell he was getting impatient.

Shifting yourself forward, you lower your hips onto his face and look down as his blue eyes looked up at you with desire. Letting go of your hips, he spread your pussy and placed his hot, open mouth onto your mound. His tongue was flat and slowly licked from your entrance to your clit, tensing on your soft spot and circling the tip of his muscle. You twitched your hips uncontrollably as his tongue moved faster, slurping noises filling the room and snapping your head back in pleasure. Loud moans and whimpers fell from your lips as your hips started to circle on his face, fucking his tongue faster than he could move it.

“Oh fuck.” You moaned, mouth open and eyes squeezed shut. You’d never felt anything like this before, uncontrollable pleasure rushing over you.

His harsh grip left your hips and snaked around your tits, grabbing roughly at your flesh and pinching your hard nipples. A whine of pain left your lips and your head twitched at the sensation.

“Oh my- oh my god…” Your cunt was rubbing along his lips as fast as you could move them, desperately chasing something that you weren’t sure of.

His tongue had slivered into your hole, darting in and out in unison with the grabs of your tits, your hips rocking desperately as a warm knot began to build in your stomach.

Looking down at him, a tear had formed in your eye and you started to shake, even with you sitting down your knees were trembling beneath you. His eyes were also furrowed as he seemed to be in great focus, using his tongue skilfully against your dripping cunt.

Aware of what was about to happen, Neil’s hands grabbed your hips strongly to keep you in place, his mouth sucking at your pussy and fucking you with his tongue faster and rougher than before. Moaning against your mound, you started to shake violently underneath him as a white noise buzzed through your skull and a string of incomprehensible swear words and moans fell from your lips.

Slowing down the rock of your hips, he moaned and pulled his mouth off your cunt. Looking down at him, a transparent ooze had spread across his face. Staring at you with an arrogant, proud smirk, he kissed your slit once more and groaned as he massaged your hips.

“What… what was that?” You said innocently, his cock dripping with pre-cum at the sight of you so weak on top of him.

“You came… on my face” He smiled at you, giving you one last peck on your cunt before pushing you off his face.

He sat upright on the couch, shifting you onto his lap as his back laid into the cushion and he lifted his hips to get comfortable. Grabbing at your hips harshly once more, he started rocking your dripping lips against the back of his shaft.

“Do you know how long I’ve wanted to fuck this cunt?” He blatantly says, moving you in unison to his words.

You shake your head no and a small whine leaves your lips, his cock twitching upwards along your slit with your noise.

“So fucking long baby…” He says lowly, staring down at you humping his cock. Lifting you slightly higher, he grabs his base and drags his tip along your hole, collecting your arousal and wetting the rest of his cock. Sighing at the feeling of you, he held one hand strongly against your hip as he pressed slowly into you.

Feeling the small breach of his tip, you whined out and his mouth fell open. His eyes squinted and his breathing began to speed up.

“Sh,sh,sh.” He breathed out, removing his hand from the bottom of himself as his tip began pushing into you.

Grabbing both your hips once more, he started to push upwards and his head fell back and his eyes squeezed shut.

“Ah… fuck.” He winced as he stopped moving, giving you time to adjust. Your legs began to shake at the stretch of him around your walls, your muscles clenching around the small inch of him inside of you. The foreign feeling already had you feeling filled, your pussy warm with a slight sting as his cock was larger than anything you’d put inside of you.

After a few seconds, he pulled your hips into his crotch as he pushed his hips up, forcing the whole of his cock into your cunt and stretching you without warning. Sobbing out at the intrusion, his cock had now completely filled you, feeling his warm tip in your stomach.

Whimpering loudly, his grasp stayed tight on your hips and he quickly pulled out and lifted you up off of him.

“So fucking…” He said breathlessly “tight!” He moaned loudly as he thrusted himself fully into you again.

Your head fell back in pain with him repeating this action over and over again. Slowly, your cunt stretched to his size and mixed with your wetness, his cock started fucking you roughly as quickly as he selfishly began chasing his high.

“Fuck-fuck, fuck! Yes… yes just like that.” His cock hit the back of your walls with each thrust, he sobbed out the words and began crying while he fucked you mercilessly. He’d occasionally look up at the way his cock was splitting you into two, a tear rolling down his cheek as his balls bounced on your ass and a loud slap noise vibrated off your skin with each stroke.

Crying out in pleasure, you were a moaning mess and became weak under his thrust. Fucking you faster and harshly, you felt him twitch inside of you as he cried out in pleasure.

“I’m so close… so-so close.” He whimpered, his thrusts getting sloppier and messier as his pace became erratic.

Suddenly, you felt a warm string shoot up inside of you, coating your walls as you clenched rhythmically around his cumming cock. Leaving dents into the side of your hips, his hands stayed aggressively holding onto you as he felt his balls tense up, emptying themselves completely into the back of you. A sequence of praises, cries and whimpers left his lips, watching as his body shook uncontrollably under you and vibrating from your walls.

Letting you go as you subconsciously started to slowly rock once more, he sighed out and finally opened his eyes, his eyelashes dark and wet as his gaze remained pussy drunk on your face. Looking at you, he cupped your cheeks and pulled you in, slowly placing wet kisses around your face as his softening cock stayed inside of you.

Pulling yourself off of him after you had both caught your breath, you flopped back onto the couch. Suddenly, you were a lot more sober and worn out, a tearing pain seeping from your hole as you curled on the couch.

Breathlessly, he looked over at you and glanced at your red, swollen pussy that leaked his cum onto the sofa. Chuckling, he grabbed an ass cheek and pulled you apart further.

“You’re going to stay to watch movies after work now?” He whispered, a smirk growing on his face.

You looked up and him and hummed, smiling as you nodded. Slapping your ass, he stood up and grabbed your clothes.

“Get dressed. They’ll be back soon.”

[silkscream]

bullfight of love

ੈ✩ choso x reader

ੈ✩ tags: flirting, masturbation, porn watching, vaginal sex, riding, soft sub!choso, 2000s au, coworkers, workplace relationship, film bro stuff

ੈ✩ wc: 4.7k

ੈ✩ a/n: i wanted to write choso being a weirdofreak pervert boy that's all. this is part of my fics for gaza <3 there will be a part two for this. do not ask me about a part two because it's already being made

Maki could kill you for being late again. Five missed texts, the final exaggerated with periods and exclamation points – and she never used proper spelling, let alone punctuation. It wasn't serious the way she made it out to be. 

Toji never cared about your track record. The bastard was never in the shop anyway, probably high off his ass in whatever shed of a place he lived in. Maki already hated her cousin enough for the rest of the crew, running that stupid video store like it was a real family business. It was a summer job to you and nothing else.

She sighs when she sees you walk through the door, handing you your name tag without a word before fucking off to the storage room to look at the new shipments.

“Don’t give me the silent treatment!” you yell after her. In response, you only get a middle finger, chipped black nail polish with half a skeleton decal hanging on.

It’s always slow on Mondays. Considering the new cinema that opened across the street, it's slow every day. You should’ve taken a job there, scooping buckets of buttered popcorn instead of telling off porn-stached men who continually mistook the shop as the old adult video store. 

You mindlessly watch Reservoir Dogs on the CRTV, shaken by the sudden flood of middle school students paving their way to the used video game section. Fumbling with the remote, you meet a hard-faced Maki once again. 

“You can’t put on Tarantino, dude. Kids are in here.”

“It was already on,” you shrug. 

Maki rolls her eyes and points to a small stack by the register – some John Hughes VHS tapes. Sixteen Candles. The Breakfast Club. Most shit that both of you hated.

“Gotcha.”

“Can you deal with the new kid, today? Toji didn’t scan all the new shit in like he was supposed to last week.”

“New kid?”

“Uh, yeah. Goth-ish. Like he got spit out of a Hot Topic or something,” she snorts. “No hazing.”

“I should be saying that to you.”

She scoffs at you before rushing back. You’d had a crush on her when you started working there, back when she still had an eyebrow piercing before she let it get infected. She had that Silent Hill look about her for lack of better words. Resting bitch face with a raspy pout. 

Your head swims a little, pounding from dehydration. The morning joint didn’t help, either, nor did the fact that you had to train a newbie today. 

It’s quiet after the kids leave, snatching up some forbidden R-rated movie that’ll traumatize them during a basement sleepover. You nearly doze off once the clock hits three, but loud footsteps bring you back to life. 

A boy that couldn’t be much older than you stares into you, narrowed eyes boring into your soul. You see the dark birthmark across his nose first, as if someone had slashed him with a blade in one straight swoop. He smells like cigarettes and his eyes are decorated with some reddish eyeshadow. Either that or he had the complexion of a sickly Victorian child. 

“Hey,” you deadpan. “Can I help you?”

“I’m the new hire,” he says. His voice is low. He reminds you of the goths that would hit on you at high school parties. He's prettier, though. 

You give him a once-over quickly – he’s taller than you expect, for some reason, and you notice the blooming swirls of abstract tattoos peeking from beneath his sleeves.

“You don’t sound so sure about that,” you smirk. 

He rolls his eyes and introduces himself. Choso. You repeat his name, tasting it on your tongue. He has half a mind to shake your hand but pulls away awkwardly. You take note of the silver rings adorning his fingers.

You tilt your head. “I like your, uh, space buns…”

“Uh, thanks,” he narrows his eyes.

“Okay, so… have you ever used a cash register?”

“Yes.”

“Great. That’s basically half the job.”

You show him the ropes – how to make sales and deal with teens. Cash drops and tracking inventory. You ask him what attracted him to the idea of working at a run-down video store and he says he likes movies and easy money. His brother liked the place, too. 

“You got the Human Earthworm series, boss?” he drones, bored.

“Yeah, think so. You like romance-horror or just terrible practical effects?”

He snorts. “My little brother likes it. Wants to have a marathon with me.”

“Cute.”

Hours pass and he’s gotten the hang of it. If anything, there are more customers than usual today, because you suppose that Choso is conspicuous in appearance and the teenage girls that hang around at the food court need something new to play with. 

It stirs something uneasy in your gut, the waft of saccharine perfume in the air. Girls with tongue piercings, lollipops staining their lips as they bend over the counter to talk to Choso. Ripe girls.

They probably thought he could buy them alcohol, take them for a joyride. He’d only offer them an aloof, blank stare in return. It makes you almost giddy. By the time night comes around, you tell them to fuck off like flies.

“Closing time.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Choso mock-salutes, an amused smirk on his lips. Half-lidded eyes like a cat, maybe a stoner, though he didn’t smell like it. You saw him on his break anyway, sipping down an Asahi Super Dry in the back as if you weren’t looking.

He already knew his place, knew that you wouldn’t rat him out. It was the way something flickered in his eyes when you caught him. A taunt, a quiet challenge. 

You watch him count cash. Chipped black fingernails looked odd on his veiny hands like they were painted in a rush by a child. You notice scrawled pen on his pale skin. Smudged phone numbers.

“Getting hit on already?��

He glances at you and shrugs, hiding a smile. “Half were just from bored teenagers. Other half bored single mothers.”

“Any takers?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know.”

You narrow your eyes. 

“Ha. Don’t be jealous.”

“I’m not,” you snort. “As long as we get customers I guess.”

“Oof. You’re cold. You don’t care how I get these people to buy these movies as long as they buy ‘em, huh?”

“You’re not whoring yourself out by being a cashier. Relax.”

He shrugs on his jacket. Crumpled leather, the kind that held the smell of smoke over generations. It made him look like Takuya Kimura in that way, maybe if his hair was down.

He grins when he finds you staring.

“We done for the night, then, boss?”

You roll your eyes at the nickname. “Uh-huh. Night, newbie.”

He smiles sardonically, looking out and noticing the rain. He curses inwardly, knowing that skating home would be a bitch, and the next bus to his side of town wasn’t for another half hour. He clears his throat.

“Leaving already?”

“Yeah. What, don’t have a ride home, kiddo?”

“Fuck off. I’m not a damn kid. I’m just not someone with a car,” Choso mutters dryly. “I work at a movie rental place for a living. I take the bus everywhere.”

“Sucks to suck then,” you smirk, saluting him goodbye. You throw him the keys. “I trust you to lock up then, yeah? See ya.”

He lets out a frustrated scoff but doesn’t bother to convince you, opting to watch you go. Once you’re out of reach, he sighs and turns, shoving his hands into his pockets and looking around the dim store. 

Yuuji was probably out with that sea urchin–haired punk again. He had to remind himself to save up for a car instead of constantly having to share their parents’ beat-up Toyota.

He could take advantage of the shitty TV in the office, maybe. Watch a stupid re-run while he waits, because he sure as hell isn’t going to wait out in the rain. He walks in and settles on the black leather couch straight out of an amateur porno. He snorts and looks through a fat stack of DVDs in the corner. 

His mouth twists when he picks up something with a racy title. His eyes widen when he realizes it’s an adult film.

“Holy shit,” he mutters, scoffing. He lets out a low whistle, glancing around the office as if someone’s out there, ready to jump him. It’s eerily quiet. He can’t even hear the pitter-patter of rain from in here.

He skims the back cover. It looks crude, but Choso has never really been one to turn down something raunchy. He liked stupid movies, gory ones, art films with weird unsimulated sex. He’d gotten off to In the Realm of the Senses when he was thirteen. Skimming through something this cheap shouldn’t hurt. It wouldn’t arouse him — it would be as entertaining and silly as watching a sitcom for him.

He inserts the disc into the DVD player and waits for it to load. There are no cameras in the office, he notices. Figures. The way you talked about the owner made it seem like the place was barely being held together if not for you.

And then, he thinks of you. He immediately thought you were pretty, not that he’d ever let you know that. Plainer than his usual type, but something was alluring about the curve of your mouth, the way you spoke. He liked that you didn’t take shit most of all. It was probably the hottest thing about you.

He knew better than to fuck around with a coworker, however. It never ended well and resulted in petty drama. He was too old for that shit, wasn’t in high school anymore — he was a man.

When the intro to the film finally loads, a woman in a skimpy, barely-there dress appears on the screen. It’s something vintage, for sure, given the grain. She’s in a love hotel. 

Choso fast-forwards through blurs of messy kissing, colored lights illuminating a heart-shaped tub. He pauses on a frame of the girl riding, her mouth wide open in ecstasy. He presses play.

After about ten minutes, he finds himself in a trance watching with rapt attention at the way the actress moves. His cock twitches when he realizes that she looks a little too much like you. 

She moans particularly loudly and his mouth parts. Something snaps inside of him. 

He has to pause it again. Jesus.

Choso feels like a pervert. No, he’s a man with urges, needs. It’s a pure coincidence that the actress in the porno looks like you of all people. It’s not like he sought her out himself. A movie like this shouldn’t even be in here.

He grits his teeth, hands clenching around the couch leather until his knuckles are white. He takes a breath before pressing play again and his eyes widen when the girl gets even louder.

Ah, fuck it.

He mutters under his breath, shifting on the couch. Glances at the blowjob lips on the screen, soft and plush. He thinks of you and swallows. He bites his cheek, conflicted.

Maybe he shouldn’t.

Then again, no one has to know.

He lets out a shaky exhale, trying to resist the pressure building inside him. It feels like trying to contain a geyser with a cup, and he hasn’t even touched himself yet. 

After contemplating for a beat, he sighs and unbuttons the fly of his jeans, using his other hand to press play again. A gasp escapes his lips as he watches the girl on the screen. The curve of her back, the bounce of her tits. She looks soft. He wonders if you’d be as —

No. No. He’s not doing that.

He spits in his hand and strokes himself, his breathing starting to come out in short, uneven pants. There’s a rush of heat in his gut as he watches. His head tilts back slightly, eyes roaming the ceiling before closing them as he attempts to calm himself down. It’s no use.

His breath hitches, eyes glued to the screen. He’s memorized by the slick flowing out of her. Fuck, he hasn’t gotten laid in a long time. It’s killing him.

It’d be okay if he pretended it was you. It’s not like you would find out. He could imagine fucking your face the way the guy was doing right now in the video, making the bitch gag and moan. Whimpering at being called a good girl. 

“Oh, god–” he mutters, his voice a strangled gasp. She really did look like you. Disturbingly so. When he’s done, he’ll have to wash his hands for five minutes straight from the shame. 

He pants, his grip on himself firm as he squeezes his shaft. Precum smears over his tip and he groans at the sound of the woman’s whimpers getting louder and louder. It makes his lungs seize. He’s getting close.

He doesn’t even register the jingling of the doorknob.

Choso’s head jerks up, his eyes widening in shock as his head turns to see you in the doorway blinking at him. 

“Oh.”

His throat’s dry. What a cruel fucking joke from the universe. There’s no coming back from this. Not when the video’s still going and he’s still half dressed, hand on his fly in mortification.

You tilt your head, smirking. “Nice cock.”

Choso’s at a loss for words, staring at you with embarrassment and utter daze. What the fuck?

“I, uh…” he chokes out, his voice rough and more high-pitched than usual. Face burning. 

He’s going to get fired. No – he has to quit before you even get another word in, save the little dignity he has, maybe convince Yuuji to move to another shitty town with him so he never has to see you again —

“Forgot my wallet,” you say, snapping him out of his thoughts. 

You walk into the room, peering at him. Your eyes fall on the TV, which is still going. The moans feel cheap and tacky now that he’s back in reality. 

Choso scrambles to press the stop button on the remote, his other hand moving to put a pillow on top of his leaking dick. His eyes flicker wildly between your face and the screen.

“You find that in here?”

“Uh… yeah… I, um—”

You snort. “Forgot to tell you that this used to be an adult video store.”

“That explains the selection,” he mutters sheepishly. 

You eye him carefully. He blushes. “Didn’t finish?” you taunt.

He feels too fucking humiliated to say anything, so he mutely nods instead. He fumbles with the zipper of his jeans underneath the pillow.

“Need some help?”

He gapes at you for a moment before looking away. You look amused as you scan his face. Was he hearing you correctly? Was he dreaming?

“Are you— are you offering?” he gasps out, dumbfounded. 

“Wouldn’t be the first time I’ve done something like that in here.”

Choso’s jaw drops. 

He stares at you for a moment at a loss for words. Curiosity begins to win out over embarrassment.

“With… who?”

“None of your business,” you chuckle.

He doesn’t like that answer. His jaw clenches, knowing that it’s stupid that it hurts his ego a bit for no reason at all. It doesn’t matter. He doesn’t press the issue as his gears turn back to your previous offer.

“Then you… uh… want to…? With me?”

“You want to, right?”

He swallows nervously, his tongue darting out to wet his lips. He looks at your body shamelessly for a bit. He’s still so fucking hard. Finally, he nods shyly.

“Okay. Take your clothes off, then.”

For a moment, he wants to protest. This is the last thing he expects from you. Maybe it was a blackmail situation — if he doesn’t let you fuck him, would you fire him? 

He realizes that he doesn’t care either way if he gets to fuck you.

He pushes his jeans down with his boxer briefs, shoves the pillow in his lap away with a blush. Slowly, he strips off his t-shirt, leaving him completely exposed. He can feel your gaze on him, raking his chest and arms, the tattoos on his skin. He looks up at you again almost desperately. 

“I meant it,” you drawl. “You do have a nice cock.”

“Th-thanks…” he croaks. 

“Why so nervous?” you tease. “You were flirting with me all day.”

“Yeah, but–” he mutters, huffing defensively. “I didn’t think you’d actually—”

“Wanna fuck you?” you finish for him.

You say it so bluntly that it catches him off guard. He hadn’t really given it too much thought. You were somewhat receptive to his advances if he could call it that. It was mostly him being himself. His sarcasm was meant to be flirting, but none of it was that serious. He found you hot and interesting. He liked that you could keep up with him. 

When he started touching himself with you in mind, everything was thrown out the window. He wanted you, and would probably dream about you when he got home, but the guilt and shame of doing something so depraved in his place of work made him embarrassed. He wouldn’t have been able to face you on his next shift, and then you decided to barge in and ruin everything. 

And now, you’re offering yourself to him on a silver platter. It was absurd.

He narrows his eyes. “What’s in it for you?”

“I think you’re hot. Isn’t that enough?” 

“You… you actually wanna… uh–”

“Yeah, Choso,” you roll your eyes. “I wanna fuck you.”

He shifts on the couch, eyes roaming hungrily over your body as his breaths grow labored. He swallows a lump in his throat.

“Then… do it,” he mumbles.

You grin, moving to straddle his lap. His hands flex and he has to remember to not appear so eager. This is just a casual hookup with a coworker. One born out of bizarre circumstances, sure, but he needs to play it cool. He grips the edge of the couch.

“Don’t wanna touch me?”

He feels even more meek, if that was possible. He hesitates, throat bobbing as he swallows. He’d had girls in his lap before. Bouncing them on his cock until they cried. For some reason, he feels like the submissive one here just because you’re on top of him. 

“Uh,” he stammers. His voice is quiet, nervous. You think it’s cute. “I didn’t know if I was, uh, allowed to—”

“Go ahead.”

He holds back from kissing you. Instead, he smoothes his large hands over your hips, the curve of your waist. He lifts his hands to the edge of your shirt and hooks his fingers into the hem, slowly tugging it upwards. The reveal of skin is tantalizing, makes his mouth water like a man stranded in a desert. 

Sparks jolt the length of his spine as his fingers brush over the bare skin of your stomach. Fuck, you’re soft. He knew you would be. He pulls the shirt over your head and ogles stupidly at your chest. 

“Someone’s worked up,” you tease, playing with his hair. You undo his buns, leaving his hair down.

“Of course I am,” he mutters, his voice strained. “You’re sitting on my lap, looking like that—”

“Can I kiss you?”

His eyes widen. 

“Please,” he breathes. It almost comes out like a desperate whine. “I mean— yeah—”

You raise a brow, laughing. It makes his face heat up down to his neck. 

“Begging already? Thought you’d be more of a dominant type.”

You’ve thought about me?

“I— I am,” he grumbles. 

“Uh-huh. I’ll let you prove it later.” You lean in.

“Promise?” He looks at you with something eager in his gaze and your eyes soften. 

“Mhm.”

Finally, he captures your lips with his. You sigh into it and it makes his cock throb underneath you. He takes that as an invitation, his tongue immediately pushing past the plush of your lips. He reaches up to grab the back of your head and tangles his fingers in your hair as if he’s done it all before. It makes you moan a little in his mouth.

He moans back, pulling you flush against the hard planes of his chest. You pull back slightly, leaving him to chase your lips for a moment as he lets out a small huff of protest. When you look at him, his eyes are half-lidded, lips slightly parted and shiny with spit.

“You’re pretty,” you say without thinking. “Real pretty.”

He flushes, unable to form words. His expression immediately floods with disappointment when you get off his lap to stand. 

“Where are you going?” His voice would be whiny if it wasn’t so gruff from desire. 

“Relax, idiot.” You unbutton your pants, sliding them down slowly. He assumes you’re teasing him, which he doesn’t particularly mind. You’re a sight to behold. His cock twitches as his eyes look at your smooth thighs. 

“Get over here,” he huffs. You laugh, moving to straddle him. 

He doesn’t have time to react before you lean in to immediately nip at his neck. He lets out a moan, hips bucking involuntarily. You can feel his pulse quickening, the vibration of his moans underneath your lips. 

“Fuck,” he gasps. His fingernails dig into the meat of your waist. 

He can’t stay still. It takes him everything in him to not rock his hips up into you. It doesn’t help that he can already feel your wet heat hovering over his cock. His brain nearly short-circuits. He preens under you, grabbing at you like you’re going to fly away. 

“Be patient. Wanna play with you first,” you mumble.

Choso’s eyes flutter closed as you speak. You sound so fucking sexy right now, he can’t stand it. It’s better than the stupid filler plot he scrubbed through in that damn porno. Miles better. 

“Play with me,” he grits. “Fuck — later.”

“Oh, yeah. Forgot you were pregaming this before I walked in.”

He glares at you. It’s entertaining watching the expression melt off his face when you lift your hips and immediately slam down on him. The moan he lets out is guttural. His hands immediately find your hips.

“Hah – fuck,” you breathe. “You’re bigger than you look.”

Choso lets out a strangled chuckle, head falling back on the couch. It makes him look even hotter, the way his tattoos flex with his collarbone. 

“Told you I wasn’t a kid.”

Your laugh tapers off into a moan when he gives a small, tentative roll of his hips. Testing the waters. You’re so fucking tight that it’s making it hard for him to even think. When he hears you gasp at being filled by him completely, his eyes widen.

“Shit,” he gasps. “Wanna make you do that again—”

“H-Huh?”

His eyes lock on your face as he grins, grinding into you slowly. 

“That noise–” he groans, his throat taut and dry. “You made this little gasp—”

“Ah–”

“There it is,” he snickers. His eyes gleam. “Just like that.”

Your eyes roll back, mirroring the roll of his cock inside you. Your cunt clenches around him and it feels like fucking heaven. He can feel all your wetness drool into his lap. He had the urge to push you into the leather, cant his hips up like something rabid. 

It feels like his brain was going to fall out of his nose, the head rush in tandem with the blood pumping into his cock. Impossible tightness. Snug cunt, petals closing into a bud. 

When you wrap your arms around him, it almost feels romantic. It’s dangerous.

He kisses you, then. Quivers when he feels you getting lost in it, tasting nicotine in your swapped spit. He whimpers as you start to move your hips with more intention. You smile wryly at his reaction, pulling away, eyes fixed on where your bodies meet.

You’re a fucking wet dream while you’re riding him. The way your hair brushes messily over your jawline, the way your mouth parts with a gasp every time he feels you pulsate on his cock. Choso grabs your ass greedily and kneads it, mesmerized at the softness of your flesh. 

“God, you look so fucking good right now—”

His eyes flash as he watches you move. He tries to match your tempo, rutting up into you with frenzied effort. His cheeks are flushed as he nearly unravels himself for you, his expression raw and hungry. He leans in to suck on your tongue, descending his wet mouth down to your jaw, your tits. Oral fixation.

You can feel him deep in your stomach, buried in you. It’s as if he could pierce you through the throat. You’re sure that you’ll ache everywhere by the time you get home. You’d never taken a cock quite this big, never been this wet, your insides swirling around like a washing machine. Your guts all muddled with something that felt too warm for just lust.

“So fucking hot,” he mumbles, hands pressing into your bare thighs. 

All his preoccupations with you had disappeared. He didn’t care if you thought he was a pervert, since you were one too, in a way. Letting him fuck you like this when he barely knew you at all, yet a repressed part of his brain made his heart flutter at the thought of you. It didn’t help that he could practically feel your heartbeat with his cock.

It isn’t romance — it has to be the sex. He can’t think about it too much right now. Not when he’s in a state of delirium inside your cunt.

“Choso, I’m close,” you whine.

“Yeah?” he rasps. “Fuck, me too.” 

His hair is tousled and sticky. Eyes glazed, chest rising and falling rapidly.

He grabs at your hips, guiding them to grind on him faster. Your wetness makes it all so smooth — all buttery, no resistance. You feel full.

He feels like he’s being squeezed to death, to heaven. It sends him over the edge at the same time he feels your pussy clench around him. You tremble in waves as you gasp out a moan. It’s more like a choked breath. He can’t stop watching you as you come, the way your eyes roll back. 

A whine escapes his throat as he cums. Everything that seeps out is slick, feels like something new and primordial at once. Seraphic, he’d say, if he happened to be drunk. He certainly feels drunk.

Choso doesn’t expect you to kiss him so sweetly after such a vulgar affair. He lets out a long exhale into your mouth with eyes closed, letting his head fall back a little while your hands cup his cheeks. His body is all melted limbs, languid sex. 

“Jesus,” he mutters. 

“Hey.”

He opens his eyes and gazes at you through sleepy lids. He lifts a hand lazily, brushing the hair away from your face.

“Yeah?”

“Did you pick an actress that looked like me on purpose?”

He freezes. His hands tighten around your waist as he looks away.

“No,” he scoffs. “Just thought she was hot—”

You chuckle.

“I didn’t pick it, I found it,” he gruffs. “I’ll admit that… she looks like you… I guess.”

“Was I as good?” 

He scoffs again, his eyes flashing with a mix of playfulness and irritation. You were as much of a little shit as he was.

“You’re better,” he rolls his eyes. “I already told you what I think, dumbass. Real pretty.”

“Oh, did you?”

There’s a hint of a smirk playing at the corners of his lips. “I’d be pretty pissed if you weren’t better than some stupid video—”

“Idiot. Those girls are probably like, Olympians at fucking. Porn isn’t like real sex anyway.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know,” he grins. He pauses for a moment, suddenly looking timid. “It’s just… a decent placeholder for when I… y’know.”

“Just call me next time.”

Choso’s eyes widen slightly, unable to hide his surprise. He sputters for a second.

“What? I’m, uh— not gonna call you every time I—” he groans, “That’ll be way too many times.”

You raise a brow.

“Wait, no— that came out wrong. I’m not some horny freak or something—”

“I mean, given how I found you…”

“That’s—” he stammers, unable to complete a sentence without his brain completely blacking out every millisecond. “That was a one-time thing.”

“Hope so. I don’t wanna fire you, newbie,” you grin.

His pulse quickens at your smile. 

“Like hell, you will. You’re too understaffed to fire me.”

PART TWO

[eddie4bat-president]

Eddie is a menace and a boy with a complex about normies and former King Steve works in customer service at a video rental store, just ripe for the picking, and I think we can extrapolate from there that there was 100% a situation where Eddie - followed by his giggling, cackling, elbowing friends - bothered a very tired Steve about an adult section that Family Video may or may not have. ("Do you haave...... Tittyblaster 3000?" "..." "No? How aboouuuut......-" He's making them up.)

And that's why Steve doesn't want to deal with him on his free time when Dustin asks. No, he's not jealous, why would he be jealous

[jenroses]

Hey! Please feel free to ignore but you did say to ask you about masks :P the ones I've found that are multiple layers for max protection are really stiff, which squishes my face and leads to gaps. Do you have recommendations? Thanks!

I know that there's a lot of noise about elastomeric masks but for me they're a nonstarter because of the stiffness you talk about. I think it's important to understand that most of the 94-95 standard masks that actually meet that standard are going to be plenty good enough where most people are concerned. Is it possible to catch Covid with a mask on? Yes. I've done it.

Is it likely? No. I'm immune compromised. This isn't data, but our experience has been that a combination of masks, reasonable common sense and good filtration are enough that despite having a school-aged child, a husband who travels for conventions, and me, immune suppressed, with a college student living in our house, I have only had covid twice, the first time was an unfortunate collision of me going to a store at the wrong time where a clerk had both covid and the flu and gave them to me, and the other one involved a family member not using a mask at a public event while eating. Even then, when I caught covid and the flu at the same time and isolated immediately with filtration and everyone coming into my space being masked... not one other person in our house caught it, and when someone else caught it a year later, the only people who caught it were sharing sleeping spaces. Our roommates did not catch it, and everyone was masking from the moment of the first positive test. When my kid got half-assed about masking at school, he immediately got flu and strep at the same time. I pointed out that his lack of care about it could mean a lot of missed school for him and serious health impacts for both of us, and he started wearing a mask again, and did not get sick for the rest of the school year. He HATES the masks that go behind the head and wears Armbrust kn95 masks exclusively (dark blue, lol) And it's pretty clear that without the masks he was getting sick a lot and with he just...doesn't. He is wearing them all day except for lunch through full school days, so that says something. Armbrust will send little behind the head doohickies to keep them off the ears but he never uses them. At $2ish per mask they're not the cheapest but he uses one mask for multiple days so it's not too bad overall cost wise. They have kid sizing, but he's in the regular adult size now at 11. Now, I'll talk about Armbrust for a minute because I really like the company. On pretty much every mask they sell you'll see a video of one of their people reviewing the mask and going over testing data... but they ALSO have reviews of almost every other mask on the market, bad, good and in between, and if you find a mask on Amazon or something and want to know more about it, search the mask name and "armbrust" and the youtube video and product data page will pop up. I've found several special masks for very particular needs by looking through their database for combinations of breathability and shape that weren't even masks they sold. So if you are struggling, take a look at the database, eliminate "failed" masks, look for the ones that meet your needs and then watch the video to see what he says about them first. There are some VERY inexpensive masks out there that work very well, and some masks that are incredibly breathable or incredibly high filtration and a few unicorns that are both.

Now Hubby is okay with the same KN95 masks that our son likes but he exercises and his lungs get a little touchy sometimes so he needs maximum ease in breathing, so using that database I found Dr. Puri masks. Here's the Armbrust review. Here's the listing I found them on. Hubby LOVES them. He also prefers behind the ear. About $1.50 each.

I *hate* behind the ear with a hot hate, they bug me. But I can't just use one type of mask all the time because I have EDS and neck issues so pressure there can be awkward, plus I get short of breath sometimes anyway (history of pulmonary embolism that long predates covid) and I have sensory skin issues.

Bar none the most breathable mask I've ever tried, which also does not fog my glasses, is the Drager mask. These are soft, extraordinarily easy to breathe through, and have a unique strap that makes on/off very easy, and lets you pull the top strap and let it hang around your neck if needed. Unfortunately it has a VERY snug fit across the nose and leaves marks on my cheeks, or it would be perfect, but it's a good option, and possibly someone with a smaller face would have an easier time. These are possibly the best filtering and most breathable masks on the market, so for high risk situations this is the mask I would use. They filter 99.7% in testing. They're a little more expensive at about $1.25 per when I checked today. For a good intersection of fit and comfort, but a little less breathable, are the ACI N95 surgical respirator duckbills. These do not leave marks, don't fog much, good seal around the face, and the single most comfortable head strap I've ever seen. The fabric is very smooth, it is sensory good, but the breathability is not as high. It's not hard to breathe through, it's just not as easy as Drager or Dr. Puri. But... They could probably pass an N99 standard by Armbrust's testing, as they filter >99.4% of particulate, where the standard is 95%. These are also incredibly cheap. If you get their subscribe and save discount (you can do every 6 months) you can get 50 for $25, so 50 cents apiece.

All of these masks are pretty soft, easy to wear, and very good at what they do.

The TL:DR though.... The important thing is to find a mask that you will wear consistently and correctly every time you need it. A mask that hangs on your face and slips is not a good mask for you. A mask you hate so much you make excuses not to wear it is not a good mask for you. A mask that breaks easily or makes it hard to breathe so you end up taking it off is not a good mask. If what you have isn't working, there are LOTS of things that might.

Last Armbrust plug: THEY HAVE A SAMPLER PACK. You can buy a pack of a zillion different types and styles of mask and try a bunch! And order the one you like best! If you aren't sick, one sampler pack can be tried by the people in your household so everyone can figure out what works for them!

Also, I used to get sick very very often and now I just...don't. Not from contagious viruses, anyway. I don't understand why people are so cavalier about it. I've been sick less since 2020 than in any given six month period in my entire life. Despite being on immune suppressants.

[silverzoomies]

Angels

peter maximoff x reader

warnings: peter being a goober, he watches porn for like half a second, it's highkey a stranger things crossover, my dialogue is goofy as hell

word count: 5,240

a/n: had a lot of fun with this one !! a while back, my buddy @quickandsilvers (now deactivated, and i can't find their new acc) requested a fic where he works in a video store and makes a fool of himself. i think i strayed from their prompt a lot, but i hope they don't mind. sorry about the stranger things crossover !! it happened naturally while writing it, and i couldn't stop thinking about steve and peter interacting. lol

Like a responsible adult, Peter spent the span of an entire month “studying” for his GED final. His rapid fire attention span made focusing a tough feat, even past his years of high school age hyperactivity. Which was the very reason he had to study so friggin hard for his GED in the first place. Peter never graduated high school. And because he never graduated high school, he didn’t really know what real studying was. “Studying” for him mostly entailed speed reading, once or twice over. Before he called it quits and bolted away to do…Peter stuff.

He was honestly really proud of himself for sticking it out, though. Much to his mother’s most pleasant surprise. Peter carried a perfect attendance streak through all his classes. A wildly stark contrast to his self proclaimed, unmatched ditch streak back in high school. In hindsight, that wasn’t something worth boasting about.

But all his hard work and bonafide effort proved supremely disappointing…when he flunked the final anyway.

Peter’s chest ached, as though someone tore his heart out, stomped on it, then double tapped for good measure. In a fit of unbridled frustration, Peter raced across the entire planet to burn out his rage. His blood boiled hot in his veins. After circling the globe about a gajillion times, he finally skidded to a stop. Somewhere in Indiana.

His clothes were all tattered and covered in holes. Burned from supersonic force. The soles of his favorite shoes turned to ash, crying smoke like a bonfire. Painful blisters littered his feet. But in his defeated haze, he couldn’t find the energy to care. Barefoot and blistered, Peter walked to the nearest payphone, his head tipped back in shame.

He could only imagine how devastated his mom would be.

It broke Peter’s heart, knowing he’d have to call her and ruin her day. After she promised to take him and his sisters out for a celebratory dinner. All you can eat Chinese! - she said. Being on the receiving end of bad news was one thing. But delivering said news to one’s mother - after an entire lifetime spent letting her down? That sucked unimaginably more.

At the payphone - after tossing his desecrated shoes in the trash - Peter hesitantly brought the handset to his ear. Deep breath in. Now, breathe out. He leaned against the glass of the phone booth. Over the line, his mother’s voice lost all liveliness. And a moment later, Wanda took over instead, sounding majorly peeved off. She threw all kinds of accusations at him - Did you even try, Piet? I thought you were taking this seriously! You said you studied! You totally dashed mom’s hopes!

Peter rolled his finger through one of the holes in his Queen shirt. Mannnn. Friggin sucks. He got that one from the totally sick Hot Space Tour. He even took Wanda with him, and they had the most righteous time. With her so disappointed on the phone like this, it hurt to recall any fond memories. Peter pinched the bridge of his nose. He tried cracking a half-assed joke to lighten the mood.

“Soooooo…no Chinese tonight then?”

Yeah, nah. Sis didn’t take to that one too well. Peter hated arguing with her, but the two spat back and forth for about five minutes. Peter bumped his head against the glass as his stress ran up to mach ten. Gathering whatever patience he had left - a microscopic amount, at this point - he apologized, told his sister he loved her, and hung up. Once he stepped outside of the phone booth, he heaved a long groan.

Peter’s fingers twitched at his sides. Taking a quick glance upward, he noticed a nearby video store. A Family Video, nestled in a strip mall next to an arcade. Narrowing his eyes, Peter chewed his lip in contemplation.

And he made a supremely stupid move.

A millenia passed since Peter gave into his klepto compulsions. Maybe old habits die hard, as they say.

At the Hawkins PD, the chief lingered nearby in a rickety, metal chair, a cigarette dangling from his lips. The night seemed to drag for eons, as Peter paced barefoot in restless circles…within the confines of a lonesome jail cell. Since Hawkins was such a small town, hardly any of the feds were familiar with the X-Men. Mutants were a rare commodity. They sooner thought Peter was a hobo the chief picked up off the street.

Come next morning, Peter got an earful from Chuck. Thankfully, the generous prof forgave Peter for his colossal fuck-ups. He even paid Peter’s bail. And while the speedster felt even more sick with guilt because of it; he was grateful he wouldn’t have to spend another second in nowhere town Indiana.

Tormentous boredom aside; for some reason, the place gave Peter the creeps.

Falling victim to his own compulsions proved a major setback on all fronts. After Chuck chewed Peter out over the phone, he broke even more bad news. Apparently, the Family Video manager made a major stink about Peter’s thievery. Even called in a complaint to Xavier’s school. The guy went so far as to blame mutants for their “dishonesty.” A completely baseless generalization. All because of some dumb knucklehead’s reckless behavior.

Chuck convinced the asshole to let Peter off the hook. Only if the speedster made up for it by working a summer’s job at Family Video. A short-term punishment. At least until Autumn, when Peter got another shot at his GED. The professor basically grounded Peter from X-Men stuff. Awesome. Heck, technically, he grounded him from the mansion altogether. Cool beans. Thumbs up. Hunky dory.

Hell no. Peter was an adult. Not a teenager who needed to be disciplined after disobeying papa’s orders. He didn’t even really have a papa. In fact, papa disappeared off the face of the planet just a few years back.

Peter digressed. Whatever, right? Grown men messed up all the time. So what if he made a few minor missteps on the road to personal development?

And he would’ve argued these points, had something in Chuck’s honest voice not guilted him into silence.

Hopefully, he wouldn’t have to wear a stupid vest or anything.

The sweltering hot month of June.

Quicksilver should be out kicking ass, causing trouble, stealing hearts (playing video games, tampering with tech, being a total nerd).

Instead, he found himself leaning on the counter of a Family Video register in Indiana.

Peter had never worked an everyman’s retail job in his life. And holy smokes, was it slow. The days ran slower than a sloth in cement shoes. At any given moment, Peter swore he was nanoseconds away from dying of boredom. Literally. Call him melodramatic, but the monotony of day-to-day living sucked the speedy soul out of him. Only a few weeks passed since he “joined the Family Video team.” But all he ever did was idle behind the counter like a chud, gorging on snacks and watching MTV.

Whenever the news reported another X-Men victory, achieved without the help of the team’s one and only speedster; Peter felt the urge to run around the globe again. All he wanted was to shake off his temperament until his legs gave out. But alas. His feet stayed planted on freshly mopped linoleum, in the confines of VHS rental hell.

On the flip side, at least his new shoes were still intact.

Peter spent his days doing mind-numbing activities like reorganizing shelves, sorting movies by genre, and mopping floors. Playing with the label maker was kinda fun. Totally not even a little boring. Nope. Peter never daydreamed some psycho might rob the place, just so he’d have an excuse to be Quicksilver again.

Why would he? When he could play with that sweet label maker.

Yawn.

Thankfully, he wasn’t completely alone. Not that he minded much either way. Solitude and Peter went together like Han Solo and Chewy. But another guy worked the same shift as Peter. Some dude named Steve, with great hair and a metric fuckton of pins all over his vest. He swore up and down, his friend Robin insisted he cover himself head to toe in them. Because something something “chicks totally dig a guy with accessories.”

Peter never met Robin, since her hours were all jacked up. But judging by the Rainbow Brite, Care Bear, and Garbage Pail Kids pins all over Steve’s vest; Peter knew she had to be pulling her pal’s leg.

Which…alright. Cool. He could respect that.

Steve was a decent enough guy and super chill to talk to. He got along great with the group of hellions who always came in, looking for nerdy flicks like Clash of the Titans. Peter once spent a whole afternoon debating Star Wars logistics with them; arguing whether or not Ewoks had any justifiable place in Return of the Jedi. But, come on, those fuzzballs were kinda cool.

And Peter refused to admit he had a few Ewok figures in his collection back in Westchester.

Neither Steve, nor his munchkins seemed to have any qualms about mutants. The only thing he ever bitched about was Peter’s effortless ability to stay in tip-top shape.

“It’s so bullshit, man.” He blatantly complained, “You can pig out on Twinkies all day and still look like that. What does your metabolism run on? Jet fuel?”

Peter’s beady eyes darted swiftly back and forth, across the pages of Lord of the Rings. One of Steve’s little minions gave the speedster a used copy. Worn at the edges. Barely held together by the spine. Peter hadn’t read a real book by choice since middle school. As he skimmed through it at a remarkable pace, he spoke through a creamy bite of Twinkie.

“Flux Capacitor.”

Shame. Sucks for Steve. The dude was obviously good looking. But he somehow fumbled his attempts at flirting with cute chicks. Not to mention, his opportunities came so few and far in between, with Peter there to steal the show. And while some small-town ladies had a tendency to scrunch their noses and sneer at the presence of a mutant - others recognized him as a hero. One of the X-Men. On the rare chance a cutie walked in with her besties following along; they sometimes whispered amongst each other.

"Isn’t he with the X-Men?” “Oh my god, he is!” “Which one is he?” “I think he’s the fast one.” “How fast is he though?” “Oh, he’s, like, so mega fast. Like a speeding bullet on legs.” “Whoa. He’s kinda cute.” “What do you think his calves look like?” “I like his hair.” “What’s he doing here in Hawkins?” “Do you think he’s undercover?” “He looks so ripped.”

Chewing his gum and secretly listening in, Peter cheesed a grin from ear to ear like a doofus. And he soon fell into a shameless habit, letting awestruck girls cop a feel of real, superhero muscles and speedster calves. Hard as vibranium, vascular like Commodore 64 wiring.

What?? Give him a break! Back in Westchester, girls never gave him a second glance.

The endless quiet and steady pace of everyday living drove Peter up a freaking wall after a while. A month in, he felt himself going stir crazy. Peter continuously thought about zipping out for a quick run. One whole second tops. Just to make a break for a slushie at the gas station down the street. Steve even swore he wouldn’t rat Peter out if he bailed and came back. Cuz, like, seriously…who would notice?

But in the back of his mind somewhere, Peter heard Chuck’s voice. A guilty reminder to slow his roll. Stop and smell the roses. The speedster had his impulses, sure. But he wasn’t so weak willed. Peter knew, deep in his heart, he could do better. Hell, he was better. A true master of self control. No problem-o.

Except…he totally wasn’t.

Hand to god, Peter was, and would always be a colossal jackass.

He affirmed this brutally honest fact with himself the first time he met you.

That night, the store seemed like a barren ghost town. Not a customer in sight. Most of the town’s locals were out having fun at a traveling carnival. Steve even took the day off to chaperone his hobbit posse. He stopped by just to give Peter his pin-covered vest, and left his esteemed colleague to stew in his own boredom. Wasting away behind the counter, restless as ever; Peter dreamed of carnival funnel cake.

And why not sneak away for a quick sec? Just to grab himself something sweet. He liked to think he earned it.

Peter zipped to the carnival, paid for some funnel cake, tied Steve’s shoelaces together, and returned to the store in a flash. Leaning comfortably back on a metal stool; he stuffed his gullet with fried delights. Sweet, doughy goodness. Powdered sugar coated his fingers and dusted the corners of his mouth. Peter kept his legs hiked up, dirty sneakers crossed on the countertop. Whatevs. He’d wipe ‘em down before he closed up shop in two hours.

His lidded eyes gaped lazily at one of theTVs hanging from the ceiling. Peter shamelessly watched a wildly inappropriate porno. A filthy flick he snatched from the restricted section and popped in. Partly out of boredom. Mostly out of morbid curiosity. Angels of Passion. Peter sat through an hour of hilariously raunchy scenes - all featuring steamy, angel hanky panky. Talk about divine intervention. He snickered to himself as heat pooled in his cheeks.

A blonde bombshell gyrated her hips in some dude’s lap, rolling her bush, bouncing to the beat of a catchy, unidentifiable song. Her explicit moans echoed lewdly over that earworm of a tune. Jesus, she was really going for it. Looked like she, uh…liked it, actually. Blood in Peter’s cheeks rushed south at warp speed. He felt a familiar tightening in his groin. With funnel cake crammed between his powdery lips, he adjusted himself in his jeans. Smearing powdered sugar carelessly over his crotch.

And he nearly choked to death when a voice he didn’t recognize called his name.

“Wow. Quicksilver? Is that you? Whatcha watchin?”

Oh. Oh, it wasn’t just his name name. But his hero name. Peter whipped his head around, his dark eyes widening as he met yours. Brows raised. Gazing humorously at him as though he were a bozo. Just his luck. A random customer - a very cute customer - picked the most optimal time to walk in. And there he was, the X-Men’s famous speedster; covered in powdered sugar, cheeks puffed like a chipmunk, Care Bear and Rainbow Brite pins all over his vest, a stiffy in his jeans, a nasty porno playing in the background.

What a huge lamebrain, you probably thought.

Peter blinked, and so did you. Time seemed to stretch in a long, awkward moment. Someone should honestly just shoot him and be done with it. From his perspective, an hour passed before he got his shit together. But from your perspective, he was there in a second. Leaning casually over the counter on his elbow, his other hand on his hip. The TV blared reruns of MTV music videos, with Madonna singin’ loud. The very same TV you caught him watching dirty movies on - just for the hell of it. Purely for entertainment’s sake, mind you.

And bizarrely enough, your expression held no judgment.

Furrowing his mercury brows, Peter wiped the last trace of powdered sugar from his lips. He cleared his throat and gave you a careless nod of his head. Stay cool. Stay collected. It wasn’t like his mom caught him with his pants down or something. He put on his best customer service smile. A grin so fake, his dimples vanished into hiding. Time to get the ball rolling before he lost whatever dignity he had left.

Peter hated Indiana. Like, really hated it.

He spoke fast, the words tumbling past his lips at the speed of light.

“That?Thatwasnothing.” Peter blurted out, his mouth running a hundred miles an hour. His fingers tapped anxiously on the countertop. Your curious gaze flicked down to them, before looking into his coke-brown eyes again. His face erupted in flames as he kept rambling, punctuating each sentence with an uneasy laugh, “I wasn’t watching anything. Just some lame religious documentary. Y’know. A real snore fest. I swear, I was this close to takin’ a nap.”

You laughed.

No lie, he wasn’t expecting you to laugh like that. The sound sliced through the tension in the air, catching him off guard. Peter’s breath caught in his throat. He swallowed hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing. His forced smile curled up involuntarily, revealing his dimples for real this time.

“Yeah? Huh. For some lame documentary, you looked pretty into it. I’m surprised you heard me at all.”

“Eh, you’re not wrong. Puts a whole new meaning to goin’ heels to Jesus, doesn’t it?”

You let out another laugh, and your voice cracked. Blush creeped over your face from the neck up. A surge of shyness overtook Peter. Running a hand up through his hair, he searched for any words to say. And then he remembered he had a job to do.

“Anyway. Sorry. Can I help you with something?” Peter smoothed out his (Steve’s) vest, brushing powdered sugar from it like pesky snow.

“No biggie, dude. Just wondering where your horror section is.”

Peter arched his brow, “Horror, huh?”

With a cheeky smirk, he disappeared, leaving a swift gust of wind in his wake. You gasped a small peep. Pressing your hands to the counter, you leaned forward as though you were looking for him. He took the opportunity to admire your ass from where he stood between the aisles. Politely, of course.

“They’re over here.” The speedster called from his spot, keeping himself nonchalantly propped against a stand of horror mags. Your gaze flitted down to the Walkman hanging at his hip. His easy going stance made you laugh yet again - man, you made him feel like the king of comedy. You made your way to the horror section. Peter kept his eyes on you while you glanced over the tapes, “You lookin’ for anything in particular, orrrrr…”

“Nope, just looking.”

“Just looking. Got it.” Peter clicked his tongue, nodding, “Cool. Well, if you need any recs…I mean, I’m kind of a movie aficionado, so…”

“Oh, you are, are you?”

Aw, you actually humored him.

“Pfffbbt. Yeah. My twin sis is, like, super into sitcoms and stuff. But I’m the movie guy of the family.”

“And what kinda movies do you like?”

Peter didn’t miss a beat, “Star Wars, definitely. But I like Bladerunner too. ET. Robocop. Alien. Oh! Rocky’s awesome too. Scarface. I can do a crazy good Tony Montana impression. Clint Eastwood movies are cool. Conan the Barbarian. Can’t get enough of Arnold. And I’m not sayin’ Flash Gordon’s my favorite, but-”

You gaped at Peter like you saw him get hit by a car or something. He stopped himself short, pausing as he named off movies on his fingers.

“What? Not a fan?”

“Not a fan of wh-”

“Flash Gordon?”

“Is that what you said? I didn’t understand a single word of that, dude!”

Oh. Guess he got a little too amped up. The apples of Peter’s cheeks turned pink. Scratching the back of his neck, he sheepishly laughed.

“Sorry, uh…lemme start over…I like Star Wars.”

“So do I! I love Star Wa-”

Peter raised his head, fixing you with a squinty eyed, analytical look - mostly playful. He quickly cut you off again.

“What about Ewoks?”

“They’re like little teddy bears! What’s not to love?”

Points for you, cute, mystery babe.

“Oh, bitchin’. Yeah, uh-”

And like a huge doofus, Peter leaned a little too hard against the magazine stand. It tumbled to the floor as he knocked it over unintentionally. Catching himself, he flashed his teeth in a humiliated smile.

“Uh…I totally meant for that to happen.” He clarified.

Even though you laughed yet again - and sounded so, unfairly cute too - Peter vanished to the restroom to smack himself in the face a few times. Returning only to clean up the fallen magazines. Another microsecond later, he appeared behind the counter. At the register again. His summer hellscape. Purgatory.

And for now, after making such an ass of himself, he’d leave you be. Let you come to him.

You eventually did.

“Just these.” You muttered bashfully, sliding a few tapes across the counter.

Peter glanced up to look at you every few beats. Tapping away at the keypad, his agile fingers danced across the keys with finesse. And despite the speed at which he normally worked, there was an unmistakable lag in his movements. Almost deliberate. He took special care as he typed your information and logged your rentals. It was as if he prolonged the interaction on purpose, drawing out everything at a leisurely pace.

Very unlike Quicksilver.

You eyed the pins all over his (Steve's) vest.

"Nice pins." You said.

"Thanks. Care Bears are the shit."

You held back another giggle, covering your mouth to conceal it.

“Say, uhm…forgive me if I’m being too nosy. But what are you doing all the way out here in Indiana, Quicksil-” You paused, tilting your head innocently to the side. Your eyes squinted into thin slits as you read his nametag, “Peeeter? Peter, yeah.”

Peter flashed a lazy, cat-like grin, snapping his fingers and throwing a finger gun your way.

“Bingo, you got it. But, yeah, everyone else calls me Quicksilver. Except for the oldies who have no clue who I am. It’s insane being recognized sometimes. Cuz I’m just a glorified track-and-field star who ended up a wage monkey, I guess. The job sucks ass, honestly.” He chuckled, leaning against the counter, resting his weight on an elbow, “As for what I’m doin’ here? It’s top secret X-Men business.”

“Ooooh! What, like…some kinda covert op-”

“Covert operation? Yeeeeeaaaaaahhh…nah, I’m totally messin’. Let’s just say I got into some trouble and this is my punishment.” Peter chuckled softly, glancing at the films you picked out. His eyes widened as he scanned the titles, letting out a low whistle, “H’oooh. Some pretty gritty stuff here. These are brutal. Blood, guts, limbs flyin’ all over the place. You tryin’ to give yourself nightmares?”

“Eh, it’s all fake anyway. Just cheesy, dumb fun.” You giggled, taking the horror flicks from him. A jolt of electricity shot through him as your fingers brushed his own. The contact was brief, but it left a flutter in his stomach he couldn’t shake. Parting your pretty lips, you teased, “They’re way more interesting than any lame, religious documentaries.”

Peter raised a brow and gave you a bemused look, your playful comment catching him by surprise. He crossed his strong arms, restlessly tapping his finger against his bicep.

“Mhm. But that “documentary” had some pretty hot angels, not gonna lie.” He joked. Peter smirked, his eyes flickering up and down, giving you a quick once-over. He snapped his fingers again, keeping his tone casual, “Hey, speaking of, are you gonna be wingin’ it back to the pearly gates anytime soon? Or are you stickin’ around for a while?”

Aha! So, you weren’t immune to his natural charm. Your eyes shot open, your blush sending a righteous wave of satisfaction buzzing through him. Peter pressed his tongue to the inside of his cheek and wiggled his brows. His confidence soared beyond the stars. Shrugging off any remnants of awkwardness, he eased himself back into a state of carelessness. You broke into another cute giggle fit.

You scratched the back of your neck, looking bashfully down at your shoes.

“Nice save. I think that one actually made me blush.”

Peter blinked laxly, drawing out a satisfied hum. 

“Oh, yeah, it did for sure. Looks cute on you. What can I say? I aim to please.”

A warm smile graced his face as he slid you the last tape.

“Flash Gordon?” He asked.

If you blushed any more, you’d probably explode.

“I couldn’t keep up with the way you were talking…but you mentioned that one. You said it was one of your favorites, right?”

Peter’s heart skipped a beat.

The banter between the two of you seemed to flow so naturally. Time lost all meaning. And as the minutes passed and you said your goodbyes, moving towards the doors; Peter’s foot tapped at a frenzied pace. A powerful urge to chase after you swarmed him like a pack of angry bees. He knew he wouldn’t be staying in Indiana for much longer. Only a month more, at the most. But, man…there was something about you.

Ah, screw it. Act now, face the consequences later.

A fwip, and Peter materialized before you at the doors. You stumbled back and erupted in another surprised squeal. His hands instinctively reached out, grabbing your shoulders to steady you before you fell.

“Sorry! Sorry. Uh, any chance you’d wanna stick around for a while longer? It’s just so dead here tonight. We could kick it back, chill, and hang. And fingers crossed, I promise I won’t make you watch any weird, religious docs or nothin’.”

Miraculously, you agreed. Peter couldn’t believe his luck. And he spent the remaining few minutes of his shift, along with the rest of that night, hanging out with some cutie he met on a whim.

Maybe Robin was right. It was the vest, wasn't it? Chicks were totally into guys with accessories.

The impossibly hotter month of July.

Some might call Peter a little irresponsible. And true to form, he was. But you were legit the most fun thing to happen to him in months. Up there with the bitchin’ funnel cake he swiped from the carnival, the same night he met you. He hadn’t stopped thinking about it since. Both you, and the funnel cake.

Carpe diem or whatever.

In the cramped shadows of a video store supply closet, Peter pulled you oh-so-close against his body. Hot as hellfire. His heartbeat ran on bubbly fumes of anticipation. Peter’s chapped lips confidently claimed yours, a moment after you gave him a bashful peck and confessed the cutest thing ever-

“Pleaaaase don’t go back to Westchester!! I really really like you. I think you totally rock. I’m gonna miss you too much if you leave.”

D’awww. You were all soft on him. Your pouty lips and innocent eyes made his chest warm and tingly. Peter never imagined someone could win him over so easily. But after the front doors chimed, and you walked into the store wearing a Grace Under Pressure shirt - of which you told him you wore only because he got you into Rush; Peter thought he heard wedding bells. But, oh…wait. No. The doors chimed again.

Peter felt his resolve instantly weaken around you. Whatever aloof front of speedster confidence he held onto seemed to melt away. Mostly. Partially.

In the closet, he grinned into the kiss, tasting your giggles on his tongue as he coaxed you into something deeper. You were such an undeniable sweetheart. A ray of sunshine, casting light on the most boring summer of his life. Clinging bashfully to his intense kisses, you followed the motion of his tongue. Your own tongue raveled delicate threads with his. Overzealous, he tangled those threads in frantic knots. Peter breathed the softest groan, running strong hands down your back and just above-

Passionate rock songs rang out love ballad riffs in his head, and the music halted to a disappointing stop when - all at once, a veil of blinding light washed over you both. Moment ruined. What asshole would even dare? You pulled away from his kiss, but an eager Peter chased your lips. He only stopped himself once he noticed a figure looming in the closet doorway. Steve looked unamused, holding a broom and dustpan in hand.

“Can I help you?” Peter sarcastically quipped.

“Really, man? Really?” Steve scoffed, cheeks pinkening. Clearing his throat, his dark eyes shifted. Away from the couple getting a little too cozy. He stated in a matter-of-fact way, “FYI, you’re still on the clock, yanno? Jesus.”

“Jesus? I’m flattered, Harrington, but you can just call me Peter.”

A soft snicker erupted from your swollen lips. Your small hands curled shamefully into Peter’s work vest, narrowly avoiding the band pins stuck in the fabric. Ultimately, you failed to keep your giggles at bay. Peter always had a way of making you laugh til you cried. His own hands rested just above your booty, a centimeter away from some spicy grab action. Damn you, Steve. Damn you. Teasing an indignant sigh, Peter reached out to lazily snag the door handle.

“Ever heard of knocking?” He joked before easing the door closed, sealing your cute chuckles inside.

The icy cold, freeze-your-balls-off month of January. Post New Years.

Bundled up in a warm, turtleneck sweater and matching, black jeans; Peter cozied up next to you on the sofa. At his mom’s place, Wanda was perched comfortably on the floor. She kept her back against the foot of the couch close to Peter. In one of the loveseats, Lorna sat with her legs tucked under her. A blanket draped over her small frame. The faint hum of infomercials in the background went ignored, as Peter fell into a long winded info dump about the Lord of the Rings.

Peter’s mother padded into the room from the kitchen. A hand-made shawl covered her shoulders, knitted by Wanda and given to Magda as a gift. Carrying several glass bottle sodas, she passed one out to each of her kids before delivering the last one to you. Magda breathed a chuckle. She noticed the way you narrowed your eyes, as you struggled to follow Peter’s speedy rambling. His family seemed to have no problem keeping up. They understood every word, without asking him to stop and reiterate.

Lorna rolled her eyes affectionately. Wanda gazed up at her brother like he held all the secrets of the universe - and she wanted the details on every single one.

When Peter’s rambling eventually ceased, his mother asked him if he had any plans for the future. He poked inside his empty box of chow mein with a pair of chopsticks. A bit embarrassed, Peter grinned. Now that he finally scored his GED - he knew exactly what he wanted to do. He just hadn’t told anyone aside from Wanda yet. She patted Peter on the knee. A gesture of encouragement, pushing him to open up. With a timid sigh, he confessed - he wanted to teach at Xavier’s.

He got a big ol’ hug from mom for that one.

When she left for work, Peter snuggled up on the couch with you and his sisters. You were all crammed in like warm penguins on a chilly night. Until Peter randomly pushed himself out of the pile. He stumbled forward, checking his watch. Waving his soda in your face, he winked.

“Babe, hold this for me? I almost forgot I wanted to do something.”

Before you could ask, he zipped away and returned in a nanosecond. Peter threw himself into the cuddle puddle.

“Where’d you even go?” You asked, scooting aside to give him more room.

Peter snatched his soda and shrugged, lazily smirking.

“Dropped by Family Video. Tied Steve’s shoelaces together.”

[aphrogeneias]

𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐭𝐨𝐛𝐞𝐫, 𝐝𝐚𝐲 𝐟𝐢𝐯𝐞 — body worship

pairing: steve harrington x fem!reader

warnings: steve is kind of a perv in this, but we love it. mentions of male masturbation.

Steve didn't mean to eavesdrop.

He really didn't. He just happened to be restocking the Horror shelves — which had been a mess with Halloween around the corner — while you and Robin were apparently gossiping on the other side of it.

That wasn't uncommon. The three of you were always gossiping like three old ladies at the country club, the only difference is that you were underpaid young adults with too much private information in your hands. Who knew working at a video store would give you that much of a window into people's lives?

That's what Steve assumed you were doing. What you were actually talking about was much, much better.

"Steve hasn't been giving me fuck me eyes. He wouldn't even fuck me in the first place." You were whisper-yelling at your friend, and Steve almost felt guilty about hearing you. Almost.

"What? He totally would." Robin raised her voice a little too much, which prompted a noise that could only be a groan from you. "If you gave him a chance!"

"Robbie, have you seen the last girl he went out with? What's her name again, Hannah? Heidi?"

"Don't expect me to keep up with Steve's love life. The homeric proportions it's taking are too much for me."

"Whatever. Have you seen his ex-girlfriend? C'mon." You huffed, and Steve's heart broke a little over hearing just how wrong you were. "I'm not his type."

"You are even more clueless than I thought."

"I'm not clueless. I'm realistic. No matter how much I'd love that to be true, it's not."

His hands trembled a little as he kept shelving and organizing the tapes. Something in the back of his mind kept telling him that he wasn't supposed to know all that, he wasn't supposed to be aware of your insecurities, but he couldn't bear to be the cause of them.

Despite all that, he had to agree with Robin. He could almost laugh, if he hadn't had to pretend he wasn't listening. It was almost unbelievable how oblivious you were.

He was giving you fuck me eyes, uncontrolably so. He was giving you fuck me eyes because all he could think about was fucking you.

In his defense, that's not totally true. He did think about taking you on dates, and holding your hand. He thought about telling you how beautiful he thought you were, and about making you smile — but all that faded away when he thought about your body.

Since the day you first walked through the doors of Family Video, his eyes couldn't look away. The way you moves your hips when you walked, how you looked with your hair up and your neck was left exposed, making him think of all the ways he could make your skin rise with his lips and teeth on it.

He craved for the times where you would take the night shift on Saturdays with him, when the store closed at midnight, because that meant he would take you home in his car and he would be able to see the way your thighs spread when you sat on his passenger seat. He yearned to run a hand over it and squeeze, feeling your soft flesh under his big hands. Getting to the sacred place between them, feeling you wet and wanting on his fingers.

It was worse when the weather was hot and you used to wear skirts. It made him completely lose his train of thought, instead thinking about bending you over the counter, pushing aside whatever cute little pair of panties you were wearing and drive his aching cock into you until you were both satisfied.

It wasn't much better when you wore jeans, though. Not when he kept picturing his hands hugging your curves, not the fabric that made your ass look like it was sculpted. He'd make sure to walk behind you, as closely as possible, just to run a hand over your waist, or guide you the other away with his hands on your hips, just to get a small taste of it.

Getting a whiff of your signature scent and trying not to get hard, thinking about running his tongue all over your skin.

And when he was in bed late at night, after standing uncomfortably in his jeans all day, finally able to stroke his cock at the thought of you, all he could think of was what he was going to do if he had you right there. All the ways he would worship your body, not leaving a single inch of it untouched.

You, in the middle of his bed, legs spread for him to feast. You, on your stomach, pretty ass perked up for him to grab and grope while he thrust into you until you couldn't hold back screaming his name. You, on your knees, your perfect lips even more perfect around his cock. Burying his face on your tits, on your tummy, kissing you in all the places he wishes he could see.

He just needed to find a way to prove it to you.

[kissoulie]

𓈒ㅤׂㅤ𓇼 ࣪ 𓈒ㅤׂㅤ⭒

𓆡 ⭒ㅤ𓈒ㅤׂ 🫧

— NSFW, MDNI. being in love with soul ♡

warnings: not proofread, odd amount of minecraft references, implied that they met underage but all physical activity happens when both are adults, idol!soul, gender neutral for the most part

nsfw: fem-body in mind but can be read as gn (imo) mild voyeurism, some roughness, overall pretty tame

a/n: i wrote this while doing a harry potter marathon so it's not the best 😭 might make it a series tbh, one movie = one being in love with [piwon]. joking, mostly. work has been ass this week ngl and i work again tmrw buttttttt i will be able to dedicate at least 5hrs to delusion after i pick up some conditioner 🫶 who knows maybe i'll lock in and get it done by the 1st (i probably won't)

1. first meetings

soul is the type of person who would be your friend first. one of your very best friends, actually. if you aren't childhood friends, you would be someone he met by chance. at a store, cafe, a park. no matter what, you would be the one to approach him. striking up a conversation about an interest you both share. soul would take a liking to you immediately, opening up gradually, meeting you as often as his schedule allows. he would eventually have to introduce you to the members, and start bringing you over to the dorm. he's getting recognized. going out was becoming a chore for both of you. besides, you've been friends for a while, it's only natural the next step is hanging out in each other's personal space.

after years of your bond, soul finds both of you in his bed after a long day of practice. he wasn't sure what was up wirh you. normally, you wouldn't insist on seeing him after practice. you knew he was tired. for an hour, you'd been clinging to him, head tucked into the crook of his neck. he didn't need words from you. yet, anyways. he just needed to know you're okay. "my treasure," he whispers, "what's wrong?"

your fingers tighten their hold on his shirt. those soft eyes of his, they melt you. "i just had a bad day."

mhmmmm. soul's hand finds itself pressed against your lower back, pulling you onto his lap with ease. "what else?"

"i love you, that's what else." you see soul's expression twitch ever so slightly, brows furrowing before he evens his gaze with your teary one, "i love you too."

2. commitment

life with soul is bliss. he's an extremely attentive lover. he already knows you inside out, and like everyone you change; he changes with you. he blossoms with you. soul loves you so much, he becomes the best version of himself. he doesn't even mean to. all he knows is that you know perfectly how to soothe his fears, how to celebrate with him, how to make him feel loved. he will never ask for more. he's the kind of boyfriend who brings you things that remind him of you. he makes a minecraft realm just for the two of you, where he fills up a whole book telling you how he loves you more than he's afraid of losing you.

soul has a possessive side to him. he rarely shows it around you, but sometimes you notice. when jongseob is making you laugh just a little too hard. or when you're alone with him in their shared room. if he could, sometimes soul thinks he would bite down on you and claim you forever. but then your eyes light up when you see him. you're encasing him in a hug so tight, so intimate, he forgets all about the possessiveness he felt.

date ideas are split evenly between the two of you. whether it's a movie marathon, a quick little errand turned exploring all the shops, a nice dinner date, playing video games for hours on end... you two come up with your own ideas of fun, and share them. but he never ever lets you pay. he will hold your hand so you can't get your card. trying to pay with cash? he's already tapped his card. oh you tried to be sneaky and pay for dinner by giving the server your card? he gave the hostess his the second you walked in. seriously. he's not huge on princess treatment, or gender roles, but he firmly believes you shouldn't have to pay for anything. except in minecraft. he will go halfsies with you when trading with villagers.

2. intimacy

always, always, always is touching you in some way. holding hands, arms wrapped around you, hand on your side. he is casually touching you no matter where you are. while he used to be shy about kissing you around the members, he'll kiss your forehead, cheek, and nose around them. kissing your lips is saved for when you two are alone because...

every kiss turns into a makeout session. no matter how innocent. you'll give him a soft peck, and before you know it his tongue is slipping past your lips, licking against your own. honestly, he doesn't even always wait until you're completely alone. jongseob does have noise cancelling headphones on, at least.

speaking of jongseob: your lovely boyfriend always seems to be more passionate with you when he's in the bed just across from you two. it's that possessiveness he hides from you. he wants to bite you so hard you bleed, so no one will ever look at you again. but he doesn't want to hurt you. so instead he settles for stretching you open with his fingers while his best friend is in the room. you would think he'd be quiet and leave him out of it, but his dirty talk makes it seem like he wants you to moan a little too loud. "quiet, baby. unless you want him to hear? want him to see how good i ruin you? how i pleasure you? you know he can't see you cum, baby, that's only for me to see."

but aside from that little fantasy of his. no matter how rough soul is with you, he's always making love to you. even when he's thrusting into you so hard the bed is shaking and your knees are pressed up next to your chest, he's still looking at you with his puppy eyes, making you feel so good. and if he finishes too early, you bet he's using his mouth to finish you off, even if it means eating some of his own cum. usually he's ready to go again by the time you cum anyways. he has endless stamina.

taglist: @tkooooop, @haolovre ♡

[sh1gglypuff]

If This Was a Movie

▶︎ •၊၊||၊|။||||။၊|• 2:10

It had been four years since you had last seen Kenma Kozume. Four years since you kissed his lips, four years since you had last told him you loved him, four years since he told you he never wanted to see you again. You had spent the last four years thinking about him, all the mistakes you had made and most importantly how you had lost him.

You tried not to think much of that last night, that last fight in front of his house. You barely could remember what that fight was about. You were 18 when it happened, barely an adult. You were 22 now, and you had grown up into a person you doubted Kenma would even recognize. It was hard watching your ex boyfriend be successful. It proved that he could live a life without you, a happy and fulfilling life.

Sleepless nights were spent thinking about him, you wondered often if he had ever felt the same. You wanted more than anything for him to come back to you. You wanted to run into him at a bar, see him at a stoplight, run into him at the store. In your mind you would see him and he would immediately remember why he loved you and take everything back.

He would remember the days you had spent tangled up in each other’s arms. He would remember how you would trace hearts into the center of his palm, sealing them with a kiss and mouthing those words he had grown fond of hearing. I love you.

He would remember you sleeping soundly in his bed as he played a video game. You always looked so peaceful, so safe. His heart would swell at the sight of you so comfortable and at peace in his presence.

As you scrolled through Kenma’s socials, you stared at his face. He had grown out his hair, you could still see the bleached ends. He smiled more now. He offered smiles to people, smiles only you had had the pleasure of seeing before. You wondered how he had spent these four years, who he had met. You wondered who he had kissed, who he had spent nights with. The thought of it made your stomach churn uncomfortably.

You didn’t know what Kenma thought, but he thought of you sometimes too. It was hard not to, you were his first everything. He had never gone so far to check your social media profiles, he knows his heart would ache seeing you happy. He often wondered what would happen if he did check. If he messaged you and asked to meet up what would you say? Would you embrace him warmly despite everything you had once said to him? Despite everything you had said to him that night four years ago?

You’ve never let yourself love anyone how you had once loved Kenma. Part of you will always wait for him. You will always leave a part of your heart open for your first love to fill. You desperately wanted things to be back to how they were before. You wanted to see Kenma, at least one more time.

But you never will.

Things don’t work like how they do in the movies. Kenma would not message you how much he misses you. Kenma would not find you and knock on your front door with flowers. You would not run into him on the street, at the grocery store, at a bar. It had been four years. If this was a movie he would be here by now.

[lou-struck]

The All Nighter

Kenma Kozume x reader

W.C. 1.1k

~ Your favorite video game series just released a new installment, and you are eagerly prepared to spend all night playing through it with your Boyfriend.

'Why is being a CEO of a startup so hard?' Kenma Kozume wonders as he tiredly shrugs his way down the long hallway to his apartment doorway. 

If it weren't for the seasonal wreath you hung on his front door, his tired eyes would've missed it. All he wants to do is go inside, lay down on the couch with you, watch a show, and order some takeout from that one place you like. But when he opens the front door to a darkened penthouse, those tantalizing plans of his seem to crumble before his eyes.

" Y/N? "He calls from the doorway, kicking off his shoes. "Are you here?"

When he is met with silence, his suspicions are confirmed: you are not home, and he is stuck missing his favorite person.

With a sigh, his tired legs carry him across the threshold into the home he shares with you, navigating the darkened halls to the bedroom so he can change out of his work clothes and put this long day behind him. His button-up shirt hits the floor, and he slips on his favorite sweatshirt.

The faded garment is littered with holes from years of washing, but it still feels like a second skin to the man. He runs a hand through his two-toned hair as he flops onto the couch. 

"Where could they be?" he murmurs to himself as he tries to remember you saying anything about having plans tonight. Although he tends to miss certain details when he is deep in one of his games, Kenma always pays attention to you.

Knowing that you will be home later, he just decides to rest his eyes since he is too tired to do anything else for the moment.

~

It's here…

It's finally here…

One of your favorite video game sagas just launched its latest installment in the series, and you can hardly contain your excitement. Ever since Kenma first introduced you to the series, you have been obsessed. You have played through the original game too many times to count and have been eagerly waiting for the latest installment to come out so you guys could play it together.

Lately, the two of you have been so busy with work and other adult things that the launch date of the game completely slipped your mind until you passed by your local game store today and saw a suspiciously long line out the door.

Your bag from that very store sways back and forth, bumping against your knees as you rush to Kenma and your apartment. Swinging open the door triumphantly, you see someone (Kenma) roll off the couch, startled.

"Ken Ken, You'll never guess what I got for us," you say in a sing-song voice. You hold the bag in the air and swing it back and forth, temptingly, as Kenma gets slowly to his feet.

"Y/n, did you really have to come in with that much energy?" he mumbles, blinking his catlike eyes sleepily up at you. But when he sees the bag, his face seems to light up with a newfound energy. "No."

"Yes," you grin as he takes it from you to get a peak at the goods. 

"You mean it came out today?" he asks, looking just as excited as you and somehow more awake.

"It sure did," you laugh, kicking off your shoes. "I hope you didn't have any plans tonight because now you and I are going to stay up and play through the whole thing."

"I'll order us some food." He says, reaching for his phone. You can tell from the satisfied look on his face that he has nowhere else he would rather be in this moment.

-

It's been a few hours, and the two of you are slowly making your way through this goliath of an RPG. If you thought the previous game was massive, then this is otherworldly. The two of you take turns manning the controls, crawling through dungeons, slaying monsters, and leveling up your skills.

There's so much content in this game that you haven't even been focusing on the main quest line, the main quest getting pushed further and further back beneath the miscellaneous questlines. 

"This is so cool," Kenma says, looking at the enchanted weapon you found in the depths of the dungeon you had just completed. 

"I-"you are cut off by your own abrupt yawn. "Sorry, I know. The graphics on this game are incredible, too."

"Are you getting sleepy?" Kenma chuckles. His body is warm next to yours as you hand off the controller. Gently, you rest your head against his shoulder.

"No," you murmur. "I still wanna play."

"Okay, then just relax a bit." He says gently. But there is something else in his voice that makes you not trust him all the way. "I'll tap in for now. Just try to stay awake a little longer."

"Good plan, you humm, watching as the avatar you created runs through a tall grassy field. The soft ambiance from the soundtrack is peaceful, and after a whole work week, you are more than willing to embrace it.

But at the same time, you want to stay up and keep playing. 

"Oh," Kenma says, pulling you from your thoughts. "It's a bit cold in here, don't you think? I'm gonna grab us a blanket so we won't have to stop later on."

You nod, and he stands. With your headrest gone, you are forced to support yourself with an arm until he returns with a blanket for you.

"Here, this will help us see the game better," he says softly, turning off the lights behind you. You only nod as he lovingly wraps a fuzzy blanket around your shoulders and returns to his spot on the couch next to you. 

As he plays on, your eyelids feel as if they are doubling in weight by the second. Strangely, the warm blanket and the darkened room make you feel much more tired. 

"Ken. Did you trick me?" your fuzzy mind murmurs. "Are you trying to get me to go to sleep?

"No, why would you think that?" he says, never taking his eyes off the screen. "I just want you to be comfortable."

Your heart flutters at his thoughtfulness. "M'kay", you say. But you're pretty sure your loving Boyfriend is trying to make sure you get some decent rest tonight.

How dare he…

"Oh, this game is a bit loud, I'll just turn down the volume a bit," he grins, knowing that you are falling for his little trick.

You cannot open your eyes, not that you want to. You are warm, comfortable, and curled up against your Boyfriend. As far as a Friday night goes, things can't get much better than this. 

The last thing you register before you drift off is the feel of his soft lips brushing against your temple and the sound of your game console shutting off.

Tagging:@pixelcafe-network @sleepyyshroom @isaacdaknight @qardasngan @dog55teeth