#and then i had to come back inside and then the fucking house phone rang

[gojonanami]

❝ 𝐁𝐄𝐀𝐓 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐓 ! ❞

❝ SATORU GOJO KNOWS JUST HOW TO KEEP YOU COOL DURING A HEATWAVE - WITH HIS D!CK !! ❞

✧ pairing: satoru gojo x reader

✧ summary: it’s a heatwave in tokyo and who better to spend it with than satoru, who has an interesting idea of how to pass the time — fucking the heat away.

✧ warnings: 18+, nsfw, smut, porn some plot, best friends to lovers, tiny bit of angst about suguru, inappropriate uses of popsicles, fucking in the heat, ice play, sex (p in v), oral (f!receiving), fingering (f! receiving), cum eating, cum fucking, pussy drunk satoru, implied multiple rounds, fanart by @ / umbra3terna on twt / tumblr (pls go follow htem, they are so talented)

✧ w/c: 7,161

“It’s so fucking hot,”

“Then let’s fuck to cool off.”

What? 

You stared at the strongest sorcerer, his face flushed red, heat clinging to his cheeks, white locks blowing in the cool breeze of the fan, his shirt lifted up to cool him or maybe to tempt you, his melting popsicle dripping onto his burning skin — and your eyes flicked to the blue liquid slipping down his abs, then back to his face. 

The low buzz of the fan filled the silence between the two of you as you stared at him, “what?” The question slipping from your mind out your lips. 

Satoru Gojo had far too many outrageous things leave his mouth — he was insolent, arrogant, and even mildly violent (mostly towards Ijichi) — but you didn’t know if it was him or the heat — but you were considering it. 

What the fuck was wrong with you? 

(Him. It was him that was wrong with you.)

It was a heatwave in Tokyo. The one rare time you hadn’t been sent away on a mission, and you couldn’t even leave your apartment with the heat warning issued. Not to mention your central air breaks down, with a repairman nowhere in sight. 

It was just your luck. 

You rub at your eyes — and you weren’t sure if they were burning from your sweat or your lack of sleep last night. You’re blasting your fans around your apartment, stripped down to your shortest shorts and lightest tank top. You’re walking around your kitchen, using a takeout menu to fan yourself as you watch your order drive towards your place. There was no fucking way you were cooking in this weather. 

And you see a phone call come through — Gojo Satoru’s name flashing across the top of the screen. You sigh, contemplating ignoring the phone call, but you know he would only call a million times more, and you pick up. 

“Why did it take you so long to pick up my phone call?” and you shake your head, placing the call on speaker as you watch your takeout arrive at your place. 

“It literally rang twice,” Satoru’s patience had not changed since your time Jujutsu Tech — as you glance at your contact photo, a picture of him dressed in Shoko’s skirt from your school days, with Geto snickering in the background — though a lot of things had. 

“Two times too many,” you knew he was pouting. 

“Satoru, unless the next words out of your mouth is an offer is to fly me to a place where the weather is better, I’m gonna hang up on you,” you sigh, making your way to the door, opening the door to find Satoru standing there, looking far too stylish in a white t-shirt, his blue shorts hanging low on his waist, and sunglasses perched precariously on his head, your takeout in hand, “what are you doing here?” 

“Well I thought you wouldn’t  want to take a beach day with me unless I showed up to your place. Ta-da!” he lifts up a duffel bag, seemingly stuffed to the brim. 

“Satoru, there’s a weather advisory out. I’m pretty sure all the beaches are closed, and even if you’re immune to heatstroke, I’m not,” you step aside to pull him inside, the humidity sucking the little cool air you have in your apartment, “why did you think going to the beach in this heat was a good idea?” 

He shrugs, “An excuse to get out of the house, plus, my apartment’s cooling is out—“ 

“So you thought even if you couldn’t go to the beach, you could steal my A.C.?” you sigh, collapsing on the couch, “well too bad because mine’s busted too,” you glance over, but your gaze doesn’t find Satoru, seeing his paintbrush head stuck in your freezer, “you’re going to melt—“ he turns around to have a blue popsicle stuck in his mouth and you almost snort at the sight, “bring me one too.” 

“What should we do?” you murmur, sticking the popsicle in your mouth, as you laid back on the couch, sucking on the end of it, “watch a movie?” 

“It feels too hot to do anything but lay here,” Satoru sighed, the crinkle of his second popsicle white noise as you scroll through possible movie options on your phone, until you toss it away, metal overheating just as you were. 

“Well, we have to fucking do something other than just burn,” and you glance over, his white tee rolled up to expose his stomach as he ate his popsicle, and you raise an eyebrow, “what the hell are you doing?” 

“What’s it look like? Enjoying my popsicle,” he half mumbles as he continues to suck on the colored ice, “it’s better than it getting on my shirt,” You watch the popsicle drip onto his exposed abs, liquid pooling in the crevices of his toned muscles, you lick at your own popsicle, catching the drops off the melting ice with your tongue, wondering how much sweeter it would taste to lick it off his abs, “see something you like sweetheart?” 

His teasing words and wide grin pry you from your reverie with the subtlety of a crowbar, and your cheeks burn, as you roll your eyes, “You’re a dumbass,” you mutter, and he snickers at you, as you avert your gaze from him, and go back to eating your popsicle. 

You don’t miss the way his eyes linger on you as you slide the popsicle into your mouth, and you definitely don’t miss the way he eyes you as you suck at the fruity ice, before letting it slip from your lips, leaving only the tip of it pressed against your lips. 

“See something you like, Satoru?” and he has no reaction, shamelessly staring still, as he tilts his head. 

“I do,” he says without missing a beat, lifting his gaze to meet your own, “are you offering?” and you blink, before looking away — why was everything with Satoru a game of chicken? A bull’s rush to the line the two of you refused to cross, but did everything to pull the other over it. But neither of you had faltered, not in all these years. 

Not since the very last summer just like this. 

The sun had sunk past the horizon line, the summer night only predicated by the harmony of cicadas and the humidity that still stubbornly clung to the air, despite the sun being long gone. And that’s when Satoru had knocked on your door to tell you — tell you what had happened with Geto. 

He was gone. He had left. And he wasn’t coming back. 

And why was it that the signs were all there, laid out before you like directions to where he was going — and you didn’t see them, obscured by his empty reassurances and your own selfishness. 

You didn’t blame Suguru. Not after everything that had happened with Riko, Haibara, and everything else. But when you saw Satoru before you, despondent and broken — not a single inch of his usual flippant humor present, not a bit of his joy that he always had. But a part of you wanted to blame him — blame him for hurting Satoru, for hurting you, so prolifically. 

But you couldn’t blame him all the same. 

Satoru had spent the next few nights in your place, even sharing your bed at time, waking up with his long limbs tangled with your own, his face often buried in the crook of your neck, and you could see the evidence of dried tears on his face, despite his best efforts to cover his own tear tracks. 

“Do you think I could have stopped him?” he had asked you that night, his head laid in your lap as you flipped through the channels of the shitty TV you had brought from home and refused to replace, “do you think he would have listened?” 

“I think Suguru is even more stubborn as you are — because you were stubborn enough not to listen to your best friends,” your fingers cupped the bottom of his chin, “there wasn’t anything you could do — you can’t help someone who wasn’t willing to accept it,” 

“I could have made him,” and his skies contained in his eyes were infinite — just as he thought of himself — but he wasn’t. Because unlike the sky, he was human. 

“No, you couldn’t have,” you flick his forehead, and he pouts up at you, “and sitting here and wondering what ifs will do nothing for you — except drive you and your very excellent best friend crazy,” 

“Lucky for me she loves me even when I drive her crazy,” and you roll your eyes, a smile pulling on your lips, as he stares up at you, your fingers mindlessly tracing the length of his jaw, feeling the quake of his body as he shivered under your touch. 

“Very lucky,” and you could feel the pull between your bodies, the ever so slight way you leaned, willing for once to cross that line for him, for you — but he turned on his side, facing the TV instead of you. 

“What should we watch?” 

And you had promised yourself that night, you wouldn’t let your feelings get in the way of your friendship, you wouldn’t do that to him — because you knew he had already lost too much. 

But now—he was the one trying to cross the line. 

You stared at him, before scoffing, “Shut up,” but you were too afraid to let him. Your eyes drift back to the TV, leaning back against the couch — it was for the best this way, “think the heat’s getting to you more than you admit,” 

“Maybe,” he hums, as you finish your popsicle and sigh, leaning back on the couch again, with a groan. 

“It’s so fucking hot,” you sighed, leaning back on the couch, head hanging over the armrest. 

And you could feel his gaze on you, undeterred from before, “Then let’s fuck to cool off.” 

You almost think you heard him wrong, as you slowly lift your head to look at him. You must have heard him wrong. Satoru was known to make bad jokes or say ridiculous things — but not like this. And you find a smirk across his lips, but the heat in his gaze had not a hint of humor in it — burning hotter than the sun taunting all of Tokyo. 

“What?” You don’t know what you want him to say — say that it was a joke, say that you heard him wrong, or just say it again. But your eyes can’t pull away from his, the blue of his eyes pulling you close instead of pushing you away unlike his technique by the same name. 

“You heard me, sweetheart,” he tilts his head, biting into his popsicle, letting the tip slip into his mouth, “we could fuck the heat away,” the idea slips so casually from his lips, as if he was recommending a movie or a book, and not fucking you here and now. 

“Satoru—“ your voice is chiding, you’re shaking your head, but the couch creaks as he leans forward, the remnants of his popsicle slipping down his abs and through his happy trail and seeping into his shorts, “don’t fuck around—“ 

“Do you think I’d say that to you of all people just to fuck around?” he raises his eyebrows, and your words flee your mind just as you wish to, but you sit, wondering if this is a literal fever dream from the heat, “you don’t have to think about it so much,” 

“Don’t I?” you scoff, shaking your head, as you get to your feet, wiping the sweat from your forehead, “Satoru, why—“ 

And he’s getting to his feet, wiping the melted popsicle on his stomach with his white shirt, no longer caring as much as he said he did. And you can feel the heat radiate from his body, all consuming just as this heatwave was — clinging to you even as you tried to keep cool, sweat dripping off your flesh like the pleas that left your lips. 

“I’ve thought about this for too long, too many times,” he murmurs, fingers brushing against your cheek, featherlight as if you’d break apart under his touch, “we’re sitting in your place — it’s just you and me. You’re asking why, and I’m asking why not?”’

“I don’t want to sleep with you just like that, I can’t. I want it—“ you cut off, but he doesn’t let you turn your head, hand cupping your cheek now. 

“You want what, sweetheart?” Your mouth was impossibly dry, the words unable to force their way from your throat, “tell me, please,” and the pleading in his voice breaks you. 

“I want it to mean something,” and his gaze softens, as your eyes meet his again, a ghost of a chuckle on his lips, “it’s not funny—“ and he’s daring even closer, a hand sliding down your side. 

“It’s funny because you could think I would ever want anything that’s to do with you to be only meaningless,” he murmurs, words fanning your skin, and god it was so fucking hot. Between the temperature, his closeness, and his words, you were sure you’d pass out, “do you know how many times I wanted to do this? So many times during the days and nights we’d spent together, I wanted to just reach over and pull you into a kiss,” 

“Then why didn’t you?” your brow furrows, “and why now?” 

“Because I’m tired of waiting for a sign, for something in my head to tell me it’s safe, that you won’t disappear,” his thumb rubs back and forth, “just like every good thing in my life,” 

“I’m pretty sure you’re stuck with me at this point,” and his lips curl, a breath away, “Toru—“ 

“Can I kiss you?” and you almost laugh at the absurdity of the situation, but you can’t, the heat so thick it feels as if every molecule of your body was on fire, and the only thing that could quench the flames was his lips. So you just nod wordlessly. 

His lips find yours. It was chaste, a brush of his lips against yours, the lingering sweetness of the popsicle dancing on your tongue. It’s too soon that he’s pulling away, your lips mourning the absence of his touch already. 

“Feeling cooler?” his words warm your lips, but even so you’re pulling him back into another kiss, lips sliding against his firmly, his fingers tangling in his hair, wanting nothing more than to melt into his grasp.

And you part your lips from his for a moment,” Not at all,” and your eyes flicker to your refrigerator, “but maybe we can cool down.” 

“Fuck,” Satoru shivered, and he wasn’t sure if it was your lips against his pulse, or from the drag of the quickly melting popsicle against his burning skin. But neither of those compared to the soft groan ripped from his lips as your tongue dragged up his side, following the sticky, sweet trail of melted ice, mixing with his sweat, “well, am I sweeter than ice cream?” 

He’s too sweet. 

He’s certainly sweet like this, laid out on your bed for you, his shirt long discarded, his shorts about to join them. Soft pants made his chest rise and fall, slowing and quickening with your touch — his pulse thrumming under your touch. 

But he’s also sweet with the way he looks up at you, soft eyes to match his smile, as if he was made to look at you like this. And a part of you wanted to believe he was — even if most of you couldn’t quite believe it. 

Your lips curl, humming as you press a wet kiss to his sticky skin, “i don’t know, I need more time to make my final decision,” you lick up the length of the rapidly melting sweet, droplets of sweet sugar water dissolving on your tongue, but you knew it really was nothing compared to the taste of his lips. 

But you weren’t going to tell him that. 

You take a bite of the popsicle, before leaning down to kiss him, letting the ice melt between your tongues, as his fingers tangled in your locks, and soon enough he’s rolling you onto your back, fingers digging into the soft flesh of your thighs. 

And he leans forward, eating the last bit of the popsicle from the stick, “Well it’s my turn to taste now,” 

“You can’t even wait your turn for this, huh—“ the last word is a squeal as his fingers slide into the waistband of your shorts, snapping it against your heated skin, flames licking everywhere he touches. 

The melted popsicle runs down his muscles, rivulets running down the contours of his body, before dripping onto your burning skin, nipples pulling taut from the sticky sugar. He leans down to tease one nipple, sucking the melted liquid off, before doing the same to the other. 

“I’ve waited long enough, sweetheart,” and he’s dragging your shorts off, thighs crying out in relief as the cool air of the fan did it’s job to ebb away the heat ever so slightly, drying the layer of sweat, “I don’t want to wait another minute,” 

“So impatient,” you chide teasingly, voice lilting and yet he looks at you with a half lidded gaze, sending a wave of heat right to your core. And the way your thighs press together doesn’t go unnoticed, fingers splayed against the plushness of your thighs, forcing them gently apart. Your cheeks burned, and this time not from the weather, “Toru—“ 

His cerulean eyes find the wet patch of your panties, a smirk pulling at the corners of his pretty lips, “Don’t think this is sweat, baby,” he teases, fingers skimming over the damp spot, “or should I make sure?” 

“Satoru—“ and your chiding is cut off by the sinful press of his fingers to your clothed cunt, his dark eyes lidded as they watch your slick soak through the ruined panties already. And you can’t help the way your hips buck against his hand, “you motherfucker—“

“Funny coming from the one humping my hand,” he grins, and his thumb grinds down against your clit, his other slipping under your ass to knead the soft flesh, “maybe it is sweat and I should just leave you to cool off,” his fingers slipping away, delicious friction that your cunt was already spread open, wet, and willing for— 

A whine leaves your throat, an all too pretty noise, “Toru, please, I—“ and his fingers are hooking in the fabric of your panties before ripping them off, quite literally, the sound of tearing fabric making you gape at him, “what the fuck—“ 

“It’s too hot for these anyway,” Satoru pockets the panties in his shorts, “look at this, you’re burning up,” he stares at your leaking pussy shamelessly — because shame was a word that Satoru Gojo did not know, “and I think I know just what to do to cool you down,” his head leans down, blowing softly at your inner thighs, over the sweat mixed your pre that coated your skin, your folds twitching, just as the corners his lips did, “so needy,” 

“You’re the fucking worst,” your words a mutter unfolding into a gasp as he drags a single finger up your leaking folds, gathering your slick on the tip of his index, and then he’s tracing a slow circle around your clit, “Toru,” your words are half pleading, half pouting. It’s so hot, his touch only serving to make you sweat — literally and metaphorically. You were sure your sheets would be ruined after this — and not just from your sweat. 

“Lemme savor this, you kept me waiting so long, Princess,” his reverent words pressed against your inner thigh, teasing butterfly kisses that make you squirm, a flick of his sharp tongue that tastes the sweat against your skin, “how’re you this sweet? S’perfect,” his words are seemingly more for him than you, pussy drunk without even taking a single sip. 

But not for long. 

His nose bumps against your clit, tongue flicking against the seam of your messy cunt, eager fingers pulling the sticky, sweaty skin apart, and your cheeks burn with how exposed you feel—and how self conscious you were. 

“M-maybe this isn’t a good idea. I’m really sweaty—“ and the flat of his tongue drags up your sopping pussy, and fuck, good wasn’t enough to describe it. 

“Then I better clean my nasty girl up, right?” he cools your sticky skin with another soft puff of air blown between lips glossy with your precum, making you whimper as he pulls away, “one sec, sweetheart, think I need reinforcements,” 

The creak of the bed as he scurried off for a moment making you lift your head, an embarrassingly strong ache between your legs making you whine, legs closing, as you bit your lip, “Toru, what the fuck—“ 

And he’s back, but not empty handed — a glass filled to the brim with ice, a grin on his lips, “ready to cool off, Princess?” 

~~~ 

“A-ah, too cold,” you whine, and Satoru can’t help but disagree it’s far too hot — and it wasn’t the weather. It was you. 

You were always hot. You always had been — otherwise how else did you melt his icy demeanor from the moment you met? Too big of a chip on his shoulder from all those years spent at the lonely top of his clan, and you had no problem keeping company up there while kicking off his pedestal. 

Fuck, you’re so pretty like this. Gasps pulled from spit soaked lips, chest rising up and down, and your legs spread open just for him. You shivered as he dragged a half melted ice cube along your collarbone, water trailing behind that he was more than dragging his tongue along, the sweetness of your skin mixed with the tang of your sticky sweat. 

How had he resisted for so long? 

It had been years and years of pining. Of late night spent watching movies, of days spent fighting alongside each other, and even more days spent trying to get home to the other. And all that time, he still had stayed at the same distance. 

Because it was safer. It was easier. But he wasn’t know what it was — the heat, patience wearing thin, the fucking sight of your smile even in this fucked world — but he couldn’t stand it anymore. 

Not without you by his side. 

“Think the ice would beg to differ, sweetheart,” he hums, as he presses a kiss over the pooling ice as it melts right above the swell of your breast, “I’d say it’s much too hot,” your nipples grow hard under his treatment, a hiss leaving your lips, as he sucks the ice water from one nipple while rolling the other between his thumb and forefinger. 

“Toru, fuck, please—“ your words cut off with another gasp as he buries his face in the swell of your breasts, licking up the valley, before his lips find your pert nipples, lips closing around, sucking and licking, before nibbling at the skin. 

“You always this needy, pretty? Or is it just for me?” his words are said teasingly, but his eyes are just as desperate as yours, fingers dragging down your sides now, “better be just for me,” he mutters more to himself than you, as you gasp, ice cold fingers prying your thighs apart, “heh, what a mess you’ve made,” his fingers skim your dripping cunt, and he lifts his fingers to spread them in front of your face, your pre strung like spider webs between them, “don’t think sweat’s does this, does it?” 

And he turns his head, pressing kisses to your thighs, a glorified slip and slide from your sweat and pre alike, but how was it that you still tasted so sweet? A whimper escapes your bitten lips, his breath warming your pussy, a puff of air blowing over your twitching entrance, eyes sliding to the glass of melting ice. 

“You put a fucking ice cube in me and I’ll—“ he snorts, but grabs an ice cube all the same. 

“Only I belong inside you, baby, nothing else,” and he presses the ice cube to his lips, your eyes hypnotized as you watch him drag it back and forth, until he lets it slip into his lips, melting as he leans down, “now let me cool you off,” he presses his lips to your clit, a short kiss that has him melting all the same. 

You jerk. Cold. His lips tingled as his lips enveloped your clit, and his tongue was no better. Fucking freezing, a yelp that he rips from your body, as you can’t help but squirm. But he doesn’t let you get away that easily. Because nothing about the two of you was ever easy. 

His fingers press into your hips, arms pinning your body to the mussed sheets of your bed, as his tongue circles your clit, cold ebbing away with each stroke, until he’s lost in the warmth of your pussy. 

And Satoru only could wish he set up a camera — so he can watch you again and again with your gaze hazy with lust, tears welling like the condensation on the glass on making your eyes just as glassy, but you stared at him all the same. 

So he might as well give you a show.

“Fuck, could live in this tight cunt, you’re gonna be the only sweet thing I drink all summer,” the only summer drink he will settle for — the only thing sweeter than sugar itself — and he only one he wants. His tongue parts your folds, sinking deeper past your entrance, until he’s practically tongue fucking you, face buried in your cunt.

“T-Toru, ngh, too much,” and it was all too much for him — your soft moans, the lewd squelch of your pussy, the tremble of your thighs as he ate you out, and his tongue pulls back a moment, choosing to focus on your clit, as he sinks a cold finger inside, “fuck!” 

“Now you’re getting it, Princess,” he coos, and your scowl only lasts a second as his thick finger fucks you open, “gotta make sure I fit don’t I?” 

“You’re so fucking full of it—how about less talk and more—“ and he presses his erection against your leg, letting you feel how hard you’ve gotten him, and how fucking much he could cum in his boxers here and now. And you whimper, pussy clenching at the sight of him, “Toru, how will you—how—“ 

He’s so fucking big. 

“Don’t worry about that, sweetheart,” and he’s slipping in a second finger, as his tongue laps at your clit, “I’ll make myself fit,” and he would be the only one who would fit, the only one that could fuck your cunt, have his fingers curling deep, the only one making your head loll back against the pillow, “she’ll let me in, fuck you right, make sure I can carve out a nice place for myself — when I fuck every inch of her,” 

And his fingers piston into you, surely pruning with how your pre slips down his wrists and the wet sounds of your sloppy cunt grow louder, almost louder than the moans you make. 

Almost. 

“Said I’m the fucking worst, but it sounds like I’m the best, huh?” and you’re too far lost in the pleasure, nodding your head, as he’s fucked all the logic from your mind — leaving only want behind. And it seems like you both were on the same page now. 

It was nasty, the way his tongue took turns lapping at your walls, before teasing them open with his fingers. The way his sweat dripped down his face and mixed with your pre as he glued himself to your pretty pussy — and he was sure he could die of heatstroke with how fucking warm your pussy was. 

And he would die happy. 

But he knew you were close — with the way your hips were nearly grinding against his face and fingers, spit mixing with pre as he pulled away a moment, continuing to hit every spot that drove you to the edge closer and closer, “G’nna cum already, baby?” His taunting lilt makes you scowl, even with how far gone you were,  “s’cute, is it that easy?” 

“T-toru, I swear—“ and his lips latch to your clit, sucking hard, right as his fingers find that spot—and he swears your soul leaves your body, your body tenses under his touch, lovely lips falling open with his name on it as you cum. 

Well, more like squirt, your release making even more of a mess of yourself, the sheets, and him. It splatters across his face and hands, and he’s groaning, vibrating against your cunt, as he fucks you through your orgasm, sucking and slurping every drop you gave him. And it’s a feat as you absolutely drench his mouth, slick, sweat, and spit, dripping down his jaw. 

And he’s a fucking vision, once you get it back, far gone in the pleasure, as he continued to lap at you, until he finally pulls his fingers from you, and your eyes flutter open, chest rising and falling as you watch him lick each one of his digits clean, sliding him into his mouth, “what? Y’know i love my sweets,” his tongue then darts out to clean your slick from his face, before wiping the rest off. 

You’re reaching for him, eager fingers finding his shoulder, as you tug him on top of you, before flipping him with ease, so his back hits the mattress. He stares up at you — and god, did he always look at you like this? And how did you never see it — and how would you ever stop? 

“Princess—” but you don’t let him protest, lips meeting his, a soft groan as you taste yourself on his lips, palms sliding down his sticky chest, and your lips journey downwards, ghosting down his body. Your lips linger over his raised nipples, tonguing and teasing them, a hint of sweetness that lingers from his popsicle undoubtedly. 

“And you said I was sweet, you’re the one covered in melted popsicle,” you mumble, and he smirks, but his reply melts into a groan as the tip of your tongue traces the ridges of his abs, “can’t take it, Toru?” 

“F-fuck, can you blame me, sweetheart? Been thinking about this for too long. Wanted nothing more, nothing more than you,”  and your lips graze down his happy trail, a sharp inhale as he shudders as your fingers dip into the elastic of his boxers, tugging it down.

He’s perfect — just like every part of him, almost annoyingly so, if you weren’t too busy drooling over it. Swollen tip flushed a deep red, while the rest was a perfect blush pink that you wanted to paint your cheeks with, glossy with precum and sweat, begging to be touched. 

And you were more than happy to oblige. 

He nearly cums then and there when his cock grazes your cheek, smearing his pearly precum across your face. You turn your head, letting his tip drag over your lips, painting your lips with his pre. 

“Shit—“ he sucks air between his teeth, fingers digging into the sheets of the mattress, “not gonna last long at this rate—“ 

“I’ve barely started, surprised the honored one hasn’t cummed in his boxers yet,” he pouts, before he’s hissing as your lips press teasing kisses to your inner thighs, “can’t handle the heat?” And the tip of your tongue licks at the pubes above his cock, the melted sugar water clinging to the skin there, leaning down to kiss the tip of his cock— “then maybe you shouldn’t have started this—-“ 

And his fingers sink into your flesh, and now you’re on your back, sweat making you nearly stick to the sheets but you could care less with the sight above you. His cheeks flushed as he looks at down at you, but his lips curled in the same grin he always had, “oh, I’m going to be the one end it,” 

“End it? Don’t tell me this is the last I’m seeing of you,” vulnerability creeps back in a moment, and his fingers traces the curve of your cheek and down to your lips — “didn’t take you the type to hit it and quit it,” 

And he snorts, “I didn’t take you as the type to know what that means,” but his thumb rubs back and forth across your bottom lip, “but do you think after all this time I could ever quit you?” 

His fingers grasp at the base of his weeping cock, groaning as he teases your entrance with his tip, marking you with his precum, your gasp making his dick twitch, as if it’s begging to be inside you. “All of this is for you,” he grunts, guiding your hand to his chest, feeling his heart thus underneath your palm, “it’s always been for you,” 

“I’m starting to think you didn’t wanna just fuck the heat away,” and he laughs, his tip kissing your entrance, just as he brushed his lips against yours. 

“Well, who said that was the only reason?” And he’s sinking inside you, inch by inch. And there far too many fucking inches. He groans at the sight of your folds, swallowing his cock whole, walls stretching around his length, “look how good you take me — this perfect pussy was made for me, isn’t that right?” and you’re nodding wordlessly, lips parted in a silent moan, as your walls pulled him deeper and deeper, “not g’nna be able to control myself, shit, feels too good, princess,” 

“Feels too good to be like this,” you’re panting as the words leave your lips, your eyes glassy with lust — Satoru swears you could look at him, and it would be enough for him to fuck you all over again, “too big, Toru — you gonna fuck me stupid,” and you can feel his dick grow, pushing against your walls as he bottoms out, and you whine in return, “hngh, I wasn’t being serious—” 

“So tight,” An almost guttural hiss pulled from the back of his throat, and he’s smug as he looks down at you, mouth fallen open, “I’m always serious about fucking you stupid, sweetheart,” as he lifts your legs, pressing them to your chest, your ankles dangling next to his head, as he kisses the soft skin there, a wicked grin, despite the sweat trickling down his face, “it’s the one time I can be smarter than you,” 

He’s torturing you. Torturing you as he grinds his hips roughly against you, the lewd noises of your sloppy cunt and the sticky perspiration between your bodies deafening, yet still won’t give you what you want. More than that, the heat between your bodies was too much — flames engulfed every muscle with every brush of his body against yours, every twitch of his dick inside you, and veins full of fire rather than blood. And you were sure you’d spontaneously combust in this heat, and he’d still fuck you all the same — letting himself be swallowed up by the fire just as well. 

Your moan was almost unrecognizable to you, the pleading in your voice bone deep, just as the heat was, “Please, Toru, move,” and he’s grunting, and you know he wants you — has wanted you all these years, and he only smiles at your words, a short laugh on his lips. 

“Anything for you, sweetheart,” and his fingers dig into your hips as he begins to fuck you, hard and fast. His balls slap against your skin, the noise ringing in your ears, and your cunt resists every time he pulls out — as if you never want him to go. And he never will. He can’t stand the thought of anyone else seeing you like this — see the way your lips part in moans; the way your eyes glaze over in pleasure; the way sweat drips down your face, running down into the divot between your tits; the way your tight cunt bulges at the sides as you take his dick so well — no, this is a sight just for him, “s’pretty, and all for me,” 

You’re already s’close after all the teasing all night, the sounds of his grunts and groans doing nothing to help as his tip rams against your cervix, and you’re sure his dick is fucking places you only dreamed of reaching, but still you can’t help but want more—so much so that the word slips from your mouth. 

He laughs, fingers pushing on the slight bulge in your stomach making you gasp, the sweat of his palm mixing with your own that gathered on your stomach, “Even when you’re getting your guts fucked, you want more, sweetheart?” and his fingers rub meanly at your clit, pinching and pulling at the sensitive spot as his tip hits that spot that has your vision blurring again and again, “I’ll give you anything you want, because you’re mine,” 

And you’re surprised the bed frame doesn’t break as he begins to slam into you, but it does creak, begging for a break, just as you had begged for this dick. Your eyes water as he rams into you, rutting like a dog in heat, and maybe he was — maybe you both were. 

“Toru, Toru, I’m close, s’close, I can’t—“ and you’re so cute, like this, whining and begging for him, for the thing only he can give you — and he’s twitching inside you, and he knows he’s not far behind. 

“Cum for me,” he nearly orders, and his words are the thing that makes the ribbon of heat in your cunt snap. Your toes curl, as you cum hard around his cock, walls squeezing and shuddering around him as he only pistons into you harder and deeper, intent on making you feel pleasure in every inch of your body, and he’s shifting your legs, hands helping you wrap them around his waist, as he ruts into you, chasing his own high. 

You’re boneless and long gone, as your chest bumps against his as he fucks you, but you still manage to find words to push him over the edge, goad him as you always did, because you know right where to touch (especially now). 

“G’nna cum inside me, Toru? Fill me up with your release?” and he swore he lost the ability to breathe, heat and your words stealing the breath from his lungs, as he ruts into you, mix of sweat and sex making his head spin, but not as much as your sweet cunt does. 

He’s close, he knows he is, especially when he looks to see the ring of cum and sweat around the base of his cock, and when your fingers thread through his white locks, thumb rubbing against his undercut, to pull him back into a bruising kiss, right as his cock hits your deepest part again—

“Cum for me, Toru,” and he does, uncoiling at your command, spurting thick ropes of cum inside your walls, painting your insides, as he fucks it deeper into you with every roll of his hips. Debauched groans leaving his lips as he murmurs how perfect you are, because you are — even more than he could have ever imagined. His thrusts slow, the sticky sweat and cum drenching both of you and the sheets alike. He pulls himself gently from inside, groaning at the loss of your warmth, but also wondering if your cunt doubled as an oven — the cool air of the fan sliding over his bare skin a relief. 

He eases onto your side, pressing sweet kisses all over your face, before you bury it in the crook of his neck for a moment, before pulling away, “You’re all sticky,” you wrinkle your nose, with a whine, and he laughs, a shit eating grin on his lips — more euphoric than sarcastic. 

“Well, who’s fault is that?” and you’re pouting, brow furrowed. 

“The same guy’s bright idea it was to fuck in the middle of a fucking heatwave,” and he props himself up, the sheets nearly glued to him as he took in the damage, mussed and ruined with the mess of cum, sweat, and spit all over, “you’re buying me new sheets,” and he chuckles, leaning over to peck your lips. 

“I’ll buy you a new bed if you ever let me do that again,” and you shake your head, eyes fluttering open and then closed, as he nosed as the column of your neck, completely fascinated with the way your skin was glowing still after all of that, “you just gonna doze off after all of that? Such a nasty girl, we gotta clean up after all that, don’t we?” 

“Don’t wanna get up,” and he chuckles, pressing a sweet kiss to the top of your head, but the touch seems to make you whine, “fuck, but its so hot,” 

“And yet I didn’t hear you complaining when I was fucking you,” he tilts your chin up, glazed over eyes fluttering open to meet his, and how was it that your gaze alone was enough to want him to pin you down and fuck you all over again? “Told ya it was a good idea to fuck the heat away,” 

“Except when it ends up like this,” and he sighs, the creak of the mattress underneath, as he gets to his feet, “what are you—ah!” he’s lifted you into his arms, sweat soaked bodies sticking together nearly as he carries you through the living room, making a small pit stop to grab two ice cold water bottles, sounds of the TV still floating through the apartment, towards your shower. 

“Who said this heatwave was over yet?” 

A weather report was playing, a snippet Satoru caught before he shut the door. Reports say the heatwave is going to continue for the rest of the week. Residents are advised to stay inside until things finally cool down!  

“You hear that, sweetheart?” as he sets you down, turning on the water of the shower, letting the cold water soak you both, as he loomed over you, pinning you against the shower wall, “guess it’s just you and me for a week,” and he opens the water bottle, taking a sip before pressing his lips to yours, forcing you swallow the water, tongue seeking after it. 

His fingers rest below your chin, as his lips ghost over the curve of your jaw and the slope of your neck, before his teeth graze the hollow of your throat, as his fingers sneak down to tease at your aching cunt, sinking in to stuff his cum dripping down your thighs back inside, “lucky I know just how to keep you cool, right?” 

✧ a/n: its been super hot here where i live and i'm dying so i want gojo to come fuck the heat away.

✧ taglist: @mysticaltigersorceress, @kentocalls, @biblioth-que, @dreamtardisspace, @augustwinesworld, @totallytatum, @hanxyy, @sxnkuna, @spindyl, @rosiesroseas, @kxouri, @elisaj313-blog, @theelegantpotato, @peppertoastuniverse, @alwaysfreakingout, @being-me-is-not-a-sin, @pompompurin-rambles, @catsgomurp, @admirxation, @ninikrumbs, @equanimoushuman, @mysticaltigersorceress, @eightantseatingapplesss, @notgoodforlife, @satowooo, @gojo-gets-me-wetter, @ivypinsss, @fayyyrieee, @hcn-eyes, @designerpvssy, @mua-for-now, @sukunabish, @fushitoru, @spider-fan72, @suguwife, @forest-fruits-jam, @pinkyvomit, @ranatherealestsigma, @gojosbrat, @megumibrainrot, @pxppygirl

[anathemaspeaks]

chocolate

character(s): toji fushiguro synopsis: you accidentally eat an aphrodisiac, but you definitely don't regret it. word count: 1.1k warning(s): smut a/n: i need him SO BAD inspired by this fic by the amazing @tonycries <3

this was a prank. it had to be. you stared at the empty black chocolate wrapper in front of you in horror. the bold, golden letters on the wrapper seemingly mocking your current predicament. 'making bedroom adventures sweeter since 1992' written in a sickeningly bold cursive font under the brand name.

once your initial surprise wore off, you realized you actually felt quite... normal. you had just eaten an aphrodisiac for the first time, after all. even if it was accidentally. but you felt pretty okay, so you decided to get back to work since your lunch break was over.

just as you were about to start working, your phone rang, showing your wallpaper of your drop dead gorgeous boyfriend toji. still, nothing was happening. there was absolutely no change in how you felt.

until you heard his voice.

"hey doll, you eat yet?"

and just like that, you melted at the thought of him.

your hands on his sculpted abs, teasingly moving lower. him whispering praises on how you're being such a good girl for him, how pretty you look right now. how he lifts his arm to fix his hair, unintentionally flexing his bicep to-

"babe, you there?"

"toji!" your voice came out much breathier than you anticipated. you were suddenly made very aware of how you'd soaked straight through your panties just by hearing his voice. you told him you'd be coming home early today and ended the call quickly.

when you entered your house, you found a naively confused looking toji sitting on the sofa. you would've explained the situation to him, but the only thought in your mind after seeing him sitting there looking so positively delicious, was having his fat cock inside you, making you cum over and over until you couldn't walk for a week.

you practically ripped your clothes off the moment you shut the door behind you.

"well i'm not complainin' doll, but what's goin' on?" toji questioned, his hungry eyes practically devouring you regardless.

you didn't even give him an answer. instead, you walked over to him and straddled his lap, and kissed him. you kissed him again, and again because fuck, he just felt so good against you. so warm, so right, so fucking big.

when you finally pulled away for air, all you could let out was a whiny "need you, toji." you kissed him again, harder this time. then his hands were everywhere, his touch alone lighting your skin on fire. he was holding the back of your neck, and then his hands were on your waist. every touch of his was driving you crazy, the heat inside you only growing, especially as his hand moved to squeeze your ass.

with that, you lost any semblance of self control you might've had before. you broke the kiss and tugged his hair, guiding his lips to your neck. you practically ripped his shirt off. a primal, raw instinct taking over you now. you slowly started grinding on his thigh, moans spilling out from your mouth uncontrollably. you could hardly think with the way his muscular thigh felt against you.

your bare cunt was rubbing against the denim of his jeans, which were already soaking wet because of you. the material rubbing against and catching your clit just right. his hands were on your ass, squeezing and caressing it while guiding you. his mouth sucking your tits, occasionally leaving hickeys on your neck as little whines escaped your pretty lips.

and just like that you're so close, that sweet relief feels so near. "toji please i'm so-" and you cum all over his pants before you can finish your sentence. he kisses you while still guiding you with his hands still on your ass, not letting you slow down. but you're still horny as ever. you get off his lap and help him take off his jeans and boxers, then you drop to your knees in between his spread legs.

oh fuck. he wasn't making it out of this alive.

you start by licking a small stripe up his painfully hard, slightly red and leaky cock. then you slowly take his flushed, hot tip inside your mouth, licking it almost teasingly. and then, within a second, you have his whole cock inside your mouth, tip almost touching the back of your throat with your cheeks hollowed out as you felt every vein running up his length, your saliva spreading on his cock as he fucked your throat relentlessly. "fuck you're such a good girl, shit" "mm, i know you can take all of it, my good little slut"

his cock was so big you had tears in your eyes trying to deepthroat it, but you couldn't stop, not when he looked like that. one hand on the back of your head, guiding you, with the other one in his hair, causing him to flex his bicep. his abs glistening with the light sheen of sweat that had formed, the salty taste of his precum in your mouth so addictive.

his flushed cheeks and closed eyes that would occasionally open to look down at you. his mouth, which was open and saying the filthiest of things to you, cursing and groaning every other second, panting from how good you were taking him, how deep he was.

you couldn't wait any longer, you were nearly dripping onto the floor.

you stood up and leaned down to kiss him, tugging on his hair. "need you, toji" you whined. "need me where, princess?" god, he was such a tease. but you were impatient. so you allowed yourself to sink down onto his length with no warning, bottoming out in a singular thrust as he throws his head back, eyes rolling into the back of his head with a broken moan of your name.

shit, you were gonna be the death of him.

you were so wet you could cum from that alone, but you needed more, more, more. you've been on top before, but never like this. you were insatiable, riding him like there was no tomorrow. the lewd sound of his cock going in and out of you, the feeling of being so full and stretched out so well, him whispering dirty praises into your ears, the timbre of his voice when he moaned, it was too much.

you couldn’t hold it in even if you tried, cumming all over his cock. he finished inside you a few seconds later, holding your hips down and in place to keep you from squirming as he filled you up, hips stuttering with his broken whines of your name, his warm cum dripping out of your ravaged pussy.

you didn’t stop there, though. you continued riding him, the only thought on your mind being toji. his current state only turned you on even more. completely lost in the feeling of you, so drunk on your pussy, a whimpering mess all for you.

you placed your lips on his again, wanting nothing more than to taste him. he couldn’t form a coherent sentence anymore. he was high on the feeling of your warm pussy fluttering around his fat cock, forming a sticky, creamy ring at the base as you continued. he was moaning so loud you were sure the neighbors heard you.

the overstimulation paired with your hands tugging on his hair as his mouth fell permanently open, practically drooling over you, with his hands squeezing your ass, and the view through his half lidded eyes of your tits bouncing so perfectly as you rode him were just too much for him.

the oversensitivity made you both cum again, filthy moans escaping the both of you. yet, you still didn’t stop. toji felt like he might pass out, but fuck, it felt so amazing. at this point, he knew it wouldn’t be over until one of you had blacked out. and he loved every goddamn second of it.

toji, despite having way more stamina than you, blacked out first - you were insatiable. that chocolate was the only thing keeping you going for longer than your greek god of a man. god, you'd never felt so fucked out. you both wake up on the sofa, your naked body on top of his. you woke up to find him already smirking down at you, a mischievous glint in his eyes. “toji?” you questioned. “yeah, i'm definitely giving you those again.” he said with a grin.

then it clicked. that little shit had replaced your chocolate on purpose. “TOJI FUSHIGURO-”

likes, reblogs, and follows are appreciated! requests are open <3

[zevrra]

LaDS—

synopsis: random hc’s i have for the men of love & deepspace!!

tags: 18(+) only, mdni, pretty nsfw, suggestive content, sylus, rafayel, xavier, zayne, LaDS MC(18+), my personal hc’s!

SYLUS—

has a very strict routine and hates when he has to change something in it

annoys you constantly bc he finds it funny

can and will steal your clothes and hide them so your forced to walk around in his house with next to nothing on

would buy you a collar

seems like this giant asshole but would actually kill for you

the second he hears about some lowlife messing with you it’s almost immediately that you never see them again

possessive !!!!!!!

gets jealous pretty easily as well

has to remind you why you are his and only his

toxic bf

leaves hickies/bite marks all over your neck specifically so other people can see them

is soooo into choking/breath play that goes both ways too!!!

he wants you to use him as you see fit

that is until he takes control and uses you like a new toy and does it all for his own pleasure

degrades you the entire time while he pulls your hair

asks you constantly who you belong to as he fucks ruthlessly into you from behind

“if i can’t have you, no one can.”

RAFAYEL—

either he calls you 26 times a day or will call you the second you wake up and stay on the phone the entire day

drops by unexpectedly at your house

brings you anything he sees that reminds him of you

you have a jar full of everything ranging from pearls, seashells, to aged flowers

secretly tries to befriend a stray cat he had caught you taking care of

even if he dislikes it he’d do anything for you

you are 100% his muse

has several sculptures or giant sets of paintings modeled after you

would showcase a gallery of just the paintings he’s done of you

yaps 24/7 to anyone willing to listen to him talk anout his “amazingly, wonderful, kickass girlfriend”

gets flustered so easily

also gets sooo horny if he sees you wearing his clothes

if you start anything sexual, at first he tries to stop you/hold himself back but if you keep pushing he’ll eventually snap

fucks you so so so good after he stops holding himself back too

fav position is missionary because he loves seeing your face, loves watching you as you take him in so well and deep

“i love you, i love you, stay with me forever, i need you, please.” in your ear the entire time

you both share a bubble bath after you’re done for the night

and once you both are too worn out to move anymore, you fall asleep with him at your back, curled up like a cat

XAVIER—

sleepy bf who takes 36 naps a day!!

you don’t have to worry about him when he’s not answering your texts, you just know he’s sleeping

“sorry fell asleep”

loves giving you his clothes to wear he genuinely enjoys seeing you in his wardrobe so much

hates crowds but goes along with any thing you suggest solely because he gets to hold your hand the entire time

would also willing kill for you just doesn’t make it as obvious as some

loves loves loves kissing

little spoon!!!!

will call you over for a movie date solely so he can sleep on top of you while you watch the movie

coexisting together is all he needs

you only ever see him truly awake during two things, missions & when he’s going down on you

truly is a different person when it comes to day vs night

during the day he’s soft, nods along with everything you say, looks at you lovingly

at night he’s hungry, wants to worship you and make you his

looks at you like he’s starving and you’re his last meal when he eats you out

rarely makes noise when you two make love until he’s close

lock your legs around him and force him to stay inside will 100% make him want to go a second round

his stamina is truly unmatched

he loooooves watching you ride him too

after you two finish, you both have to immediately shower together or else you’ll fall asleep in each other’s arms right after

ZAYNE—

is always busy but never busy enough he doesn’t see you

regularly forces his schedule open solely to spend time with you

not a morning person at all i swear

he’s groggy, hates getting up so early even if he has too

either sleeps the entire night on his back or anything but his back

also very possessive!!!

keeps a hand on your thigh whenever you two are out

buys you anything that you look at for too long

cute shirt in the store window? yours. want to try the new restaurant downtown? puts a reservation in the second you bring it up

doesn’t think himself worthy to have sex with you but after some convincing he’s the most tender, caring lover

but that doesn’t mean he isn’t fast and rough, pounding into you while he tells you how beautiful you look

also secretly think he’s into fucking you in public, especially at his office ugh

“god baby, you’re taking me so well.”

regularly only calls you darling or by your name until things turn intimate and he’s a slew of “baby, babygirl, my princess”

aftercare aftercare aftercare aftercare—

is all about aftercare!!! loves taking a shower with you and treating you like his queen

makes sure you’re all taken care of before he even focuses on himself

doesn’t fall asleep until after you do

[4unnyr0se]

❥ the babysitter | choso kamo

warnings: normal! au, babysitter! au, fem! reader, choso loves yuji so much and it makes my heart happy, switch! choso, switch! reader, oral sex (m! receiving), heavy use of marijuana, choso is a dick in the first part, hickeys, very lewd language, breeding, unprotected sex, sex while high, making out, mac and cheese, he whines a little bit, degrading if u squint

MDNI | 18+ content

word count -> 5.4k

“For a whole ass weekend?” Choso yelled, slamming his hand onto the kitchen table, hissing at the stinging sensation that followed shortly after. He gripped his phone so tightly that it almost cracked the cheap plastic casing surrounding the expensive tech. “You seriously hired a babysitter through the weekend? Why? I’d do it for free, for fucks sake!” He groaned, grumbling profanities under his breath. He didn’t mind that his parents wanted him to watch Yuji while staying at a hotel for a couple of days; he didn’t. But he did mind his parents hiring a babysitter to stay at their house through the weekend to watch Yuji with Choso. He didn’t fucking know who you were. Did his parents even perform a background check on you? Sure, they had always been slightly relaxed, but did they loosen up since he moved onto campus? For all he knew, you could be a serial killer or a felon or really fucking annoying. 

Choso cringed at the sudden height in volume as his mother yelled at him through the phone, lecturing him about getting over his trust issues and just taking it easy for once. Choso mumbled a goodbye and shoved his phone in the back pocket of his ripped black jeans, his violet eyes staring blankly into nothingness. Did he seriously have to put up with a total stranger for a weekend? At least he could hang out with his little brother, and that’s probably the only good thing that could come out of this mess. 

Walking quickly up the stairs, he entered Yuji’s room and found him sleeping peacefully. A small, content smile graced his lips at the sight, the sound of Yuji’s adorable snoring immediately soothing his panicked nerves. Choso bent over his little brother's bed and kissed his forehead carefully as if Yuji could break at any moment. Content with his sleeping sibling, he walked downstairs and flopped onto the sofa, crossing his muscular arms behind his head. He had hit the gym occasionally, but after getting some comments about his offsetting appearance, he had decided that working out in the privacy of his dorm was the best move; Choso didn’t have the energy to tell the dickhead gym bros to go fuck themselves. Who knows, they’d probably enjoy it. 

The doorbell rang, that annoying cheerful tune blaring in Choso’s ear. “Yeah, yeah, hold onto your tits.” He grumbled, pushing himself off the couch to answer the annoying ringing. His eye peered through the peephole, meeting a distorted image of your face. Choso chuckled to himself, finding the image of your distorted expression amusing.

“Hi, it’s Yuji’s babysitter. Your parents mentioned me?” you yelled from outside, slightly muffled by the thick wooden door. Choso reluctantly opened the door to allow you inside, his gaze glued to the tips of his scuffed Doc Martens. “Yeah, about five minutes ago. They should have told me a few days earlier, but you know, parents…” he trailed off, his deep voice barely audible. He held his hand out for you to shake in an ill attempt to converse. “I’m Choso, by the way, Yuji’s older brother.”

Chuckling, you removed your jacket and threw it onto the nearby coat rack. You shook his hand and gave Choso your name, noticing his hands were cold. “Yeah, tell me about it.” Seconds of awkward silence followed, Choso still looking at his feet. “So, where’s Yuji? Do I get to meet the little guy tonight?” you broke the uncomfortable silence, stepping towards the elder brother. 

Choso shook his head adamantly, lifting his unsure gaze from his shoes. He crossed his fit arms and leaned against the painted gray wall covered with family photos, Choso smiling in each of them, albeit softly. “Nah, Yuji’s asleep right now. His bedtime was an hour ago; you would know that if you knew anything.”

Offended at his words, you placed a hand on your hips and shot him a quizzical look. “Hey man, you don’t have to like me but don’t be fucking rude. I care for Yuji’s well-being just as much as you do.” you retorted, a displeased expression crossing your face.

He finally looked at you and sighed, uncrossing his arms. “You’re right, sorry.” Choso noticed that behind your annoyed expression, you had kind eyes and maybe an even kinder heart. Rubbing the back of his neck with his ringed fingers, he licked his bottom lip in a failed attempt to find his words. Despite his alternative presentation, Choso usually had a very extensive vocabulary. So why were his words failing to meet his lips? “I’m…I’m not very trusting around others, especially my baby brother.”

“Well, I’d hardly call him a baby. He’s five years old.”

“Oh, sorry, I didn’t realize you had a degree in being an older brother,” you smirked, sitting on the couch. The material was leather, no doubt Italian. His parents had some money, but you should have assumed that based on the enormous sum they deposited in your bank account a few hours ago.

Choso flashed you a subtle grin and gestured to the kitchen, your charismatic words breaking through his protective persona. “You want something to eat? It’s late, and I dunno if you’ve eaten already.”

“Sure, that sounds good. I only had some ramen to eat anyway,” you said as you stepped into the kitchen, shrugging as you sat down. I don’t do fancy dinners; there’s too much pressure to finish everything. It stresses me out.”

He nodded in agreement and reached into the cabinet above the granite kitchen counters, grabbing a box of instant mac and cheese. “Kraft isn’t too fancy for you, right? Yuji’ll eat anything, but Kraft is his favorite.” Choso chuckled, placing the box on the counter. “I keep it high up so he doesn’t snort the cheese powder, he’s such a little shit.”

“You’re smiling.” you pointed out, poking his cheek with your manicured finger. It was a simple manicure, only a black coat of polish with purple and red dots, but it really did look pretty on you. 

Choso shrugged, took a pot from a nearby drawer, filled it with water, and placed it on an oven burner. After turning up the heat to a medium level, he turned to face you with a neutral expression. “How cheesy do you like it? Mac and cheese, not shitty movies. If you make a joke about shitty movies, I’m going to punch you. His voice was so low that you couldn’t tell if he was joking, but you prayed he was. 

You bit your thumb and raised an eyebrow, subtly grinning at him. “How’d you know I was gonna make a joke, hm? Can you read people really well or something?” You tilted your head to the side, letting your hair fall onto your left shoulder. 

He smirked, noticing that you were pretty adorable under that sassy exterior. It could be a defense mechanism, and Choso couldn’t blame you. He was being a total asshole earlier, so he definitely deserved it. Perhaps he would get along with you more than expected and approve of you as Yuji’s babysitter. “Yeah, I can read people pretty well.” Choso tried not to brag, but that smirk would not disappear from his chapped lips anytime soon. 

“What do you think of me then, hm?” you smiled and pointed at yourself, your necklace dangling off your neck and above your top. 

Choso pretended to think momentarily as the water finally came to a boil, tossing the uncooked noodles into the liquid. “Well,” he spoke, stepping towards you. Choso propped his arm against a cabinet, his muscular form leaning over you in intimidation. “You’re sweet, but you can be pretty mean when you’re defensive and have a kind heart. Children like you and look up to you, and you probably have excellent taste in music.” He raised an eyebrow smugly, his silver piercing reflected in the kitchen's light. “Am I right?”

A blush dusted your supple cheeks, taken aback by his accuracy. Was Choso secretly stalking you or something? “That was…scarily accurate. Are you a psychic or something?” An uncomfortable laugh escaped your plump lips, the blush still lingering. 

Choso shook his head, taking the now-cooked pasta off the stove. “Nah, sweetheart. I’m just smart as hell.” This time, he flashed you a full smirk, tearing open the cheese powder packet with his sharp canines. Your blush grew more intense, your mind catapulting your thoughts into a darker and lustful setting. How would they feel on your neck, raking against your skin? Would Choso be gentle with his nibbling, or would he become beastly and ravage your neck until it was black and bruised? Hopefully, Yuji was a deep sleeper, maybe then the two of you could-

“Hey, you listening? What size portion do you want?” Choso snapped his painted fingers in front of your face, snapping you out of your arousing trance. He was much closer to you now. His nose was almost touching your forehead.

“U-uh half, please. Sorry, I was thinking about stuff,” you mumbled, stepping back to create distance. “Sometimes my mind wanders, you know?” 

Choso grunted in agreement, handing you the portion of the mac and cheese. “I added some butter and milk when you weren’t looking, which makes the cheese powder less dry. It’s how Yuji likes it.” He took his fork to his mouth and ate a noodle or two, seeming content with the flavor. “I like to think that even when he’s a bratty teenager, he’ll still like mac and cheese.”

Rolling your eyes, you took a bite of the macaroni as well. Choso was right. The extra butter and milk enriched the flavor of the cheap cheese powder. “I like to think that nobody really outgrows mac and cheese. It’s one of the rare foods that people of all ages enjoy, like toast or apple juice.” you smiled, taking another bite of the meal. “Delicious mac and cheese, by the way. Can we sit down and eat instead of standing? Y’know, like normal people?” you winked and strode to the living room, carefully sitting down to avoid making a mess over the cushions. 

“Oh, right, sorry.” He mumbled, sitting down next to you. His shoulder brushed against yours, and your eyes drifted to his bicep muscles, admiring his strength. Most alternative guys you knew were slim, but Choos was different. He was really different, and that was fucking sexy. “So, are you in school also? I’m a junior at Tokai University. I’m studying biomedical engineering.” He sighed, placing the bowl of mac and cheese in his lap. “It’s fucking hard work, but it’ll be worth it when I’m rich as hell and can buy things.” 

You placed your empty bowl on the coffee table, wiping the cheesy residue from the corner of your mouth. “Oh, I’m taking online classes through a program. I’m studying child psychology.” you nodded, sucking your fingers clean with your mouth and tongue. Choso bit his pierced lip slightly at the seemingly innocent display, blinking away his perverted thoughts about you. You were just Yuji’s babysitter, right? It was cliche as hell for the older brother to want to fuck the babysitter, but maybe it was a cliche for a reason.

“Child psychology, that makes sense. Maybe that’s why you’re such a good babysitter so far,” he observed, wiping off his mouth with the back of his hand.

“I mean, I haven’t really done anything yet. Yuji’s still asleep upstairs.” you pointed out, taking Choso’s bowl out of his hands. “I’ll clean up, I don’t mind.”

He raised an eyebrow and slowly nodded, shifting his position on the couch slightly. “If you’re offering, I won’t stop you. Go wild.” His deep voice rumbled in your ear, diverting your thoughts to the dirty ones you had earlier.

Hunched over the kitchen sink, you scrubbed the pot and the bowls clean, humming your favorite song softly. Choso remained in the living room, staring blankly as the newscaster predicted the next morning's weather. “Hey, it’s gonna rain. What do kids Yuji’s age like to do when it rains?” he asked over his shoulder, not getting up. 

“Same thing they do when it’s not raining,” you replied, your voice dripping with sarcasm as the last dishes were dried off and placed in their original drawers. “Run around screaming because they’re five and don’t experience fatigue like we do.” you sat yourself down next to Choso again, this time slightly closer. “Listen, your parents paid me through the weekend, so I’m spending the night. Wanna watch a movie or something? I don’t mean to be rude, but I am very bored.” 

Choso chuckled and looked at you with his violet eyes again, a smirk on his lips. “Well, we could do something that would help you relax.” his voice flowed like warm honey, hinting at something much more devious than you had realized. “You ever smoke before, sweetheart?”

You nodded and kicked your feet onto the coffee table, hoping he wouldn’t mind. “Once, when I was in high school. We smoked under a bridge ‘cuz our parents were being dickheads,” you laughed to yourself, fondly remembering what took place a couple of years ago. “I have such a low tolerance. It only took a couple of hits of a joint for me to get high.” A grin remained on your face, the happy memories lightening your mood. “I felt like I was floating.”

“Yeah, weed does that to you. It’s nice, though, right? Like all your worries go away.” Choso stood up, slapping his thighs. “I’ll be right back.”

Nodding, you observed him walking up the stairs. The sound of rummaging from his room was undoubtedly the result of him anxiously shifting through his nightstand drawer to find what he was looking for. After a couple of minutes, he yelled for you to come upstairs.

“Shouldn’t you be quiet? Yuji’s sleeping just a few doors down.” you whisper-shouted, voice filled with concern. 

Choso laughed and shut the door behind you, opening the window close to his bed. “Please, that little guy could sleep through an earthquake. Don’t worry about it, that’s my job. I’m his older brother, after all.” he dangled a baggie in front of your face, the contents having a powerful aroma. “Behold, stuff of the gods.”

Sitting on his bed, you rolled your eyes playfully at his childish demeanor. “I’m sure it’s incredible stuff, Choso. Better help me relax, or I’ll be pretty upset.” 

“Trust me, sweetheart, this shit will make you float into the sky,” Choso smirked, taking the bud out of the baggie. “Don’t look. I can’t reveal my secrets to you just yet.”

Your hands covered your eyes as you giggled, imagining what he was doing. “You aren’t lacing it or anything, right?”

“Fuck no, I’m rolling a joint. Whoever invented laced shit needs to get their dick chopped off.”

You giggled once more. “What if it was a woman, hm?” you inquired sarcastically, your hands still covering your eyes.

“No woman would ever create something that fucked up, no offense,” Choso muttered, finishing up with the two joints. “You can open your eyes now; it’s okay.”

Your hands left your eyes and landed on the two joints in Choso’s hands. They were smaller than expected, or maybe Choso just had huge hands. “Uh, you’re gonna have to guide me through the process. I haven’t done this since high school, remember?” you rubbed your arm with your hand, silently hoping he wouldn’t think you weren’t cool. Why did you want Choso to think you were cool? You were only staying so you could look after Yuji. 

Choso sat down next to you and patted your shoulder in reassurance. “Don’t worry about it. Even though I’m an asshole, I’m not that big of an asshole. I’ll show you.” He grabbed a lighter from his nightstand and held it to the joint, lighting the end of it like a cigarette. “You inhale, hold the smoke in your body for as long as you can, and breathe it out. It’ll make you cough, but that’s just what weed does. It still makes me cough.” he chuckled, putting the joint to his lips and sharply inhaling. You observed as he sucked in his chest for a few moments before breathing out the smoke, the scent of marijuana quickly filling the room.

“Shit, that’s good stuff,” he mumbled, passing the joint to you. “You don’t have to if you don’t want to, just saying. None of that peer pressure shit here.” his violet eyes were slanted, making your heartbeat quicken.

“No, I’ll do it. God knows I could use the relaxation. Shit’s been tough.” you sighed and took the joint from his tattooed hand, putting it to your lips. Squeezing your eyes shut, you inhaled deeply. Your eyes shot open after only a second, coughing harshly. “Fuck!” you grunted, handing the joint back to Choso. “Ow, my lungs! Well, there goes my hopes of being an organ donor. Fuck.” you giggled, hugging your knees to your soft chest. The scoop-neck top you wore showed off your cleavage beautifully, and Choso couldn’t help but stare. Your breasts look so smooth and round. He wondered if you would let him touch them, graze his thumb over your nipple, and let his mouth suck careful bruises onto the supple flesh. 

“Yeah, there it fucking goes.” he chuckled and took another hit of the joint, setting it down in his ashtray after. His mind started to feel fuzzy, almost soft. Like he was floating on a cloud made up of the finest cotton money could buy. Did you feel this way as well? Were you also floating on a cloud?

Your head began to feel light as a feather, and a delighted smile crossed your face. “Dude, it feels like I don’t weigh anything at all,” you laughed, leaning towards Choso. You observed the bags under his eyes and how his eyeliner was thick and dark, highlighting the golden specks in his purple irises. “D’ya also feel like that, Cho’?”

His name poured out of your mouth, smooth as honey. God, he loved how you said his name. It was probably the sexiest thing he’d ever heard, and he just had to hear more. “Yeah, sweetheart, feeling fucking amazing,” he spoke gently, a blush tinting his pale face at the proximity between you two. “I wanna feel like this all the time, but I have stupid fucking responsibilities like school. Not Yuji, though. Yuji will never be a burden for me.”

You smiled and rested your head on his broad shoulder, enjoying how close the two of you were. “You’re such a great brother, you know that? Yuji’s lucky to have you, Cho’.”

“Fuck, sweetheart,” Choso mumbled deeply, shifting his gaze toward your pretty and flushed face. “If you keep saying my name like that, I might lose it.” he offered you a crooked smile, his sharp canine poking out. “Got a real pretty voice. It matches your pretty face.” his thumb grazed over your lower lip, admiring its beauty.

“Choso,” you breathed out, feeling so small under his lustful gaze. The way his thumb touched your bottom lip, the way his deep and sensual voice reverberated in your ears. Maybe it was the weed fixing your thoughts, but damn, was Choso sexy as all hell. “You’re pretty, too.”

“Oh?” he raised an eyebrow, tilting your head with his thumb. Fuck, he loved your eyes. They were so big and beautiful, so expressive. “You think I’m pretty, sweetheart?” his hands trailed down to your hip, squeezing the denim fabric of your jeans. 

“Yeah, I do,” you smirked softly, climbing into his lap. You straddled his thighs and wrapped your arms around his shoulders, staring into his sunken eyes. “I think you’re pretty and sexy, Cho’.”

His arms snaked around your waist to pull you close to his chest; your breasts pushed up against his graphic tank top. “Shit, sweetheart. Keep saying my name like that, and you’ll regret it,” he growled, your plump lips hovering above his chapped ones. His hands squeezed your ass bolding, his eyes daring you to make the next move.

“Cho’,” you whispered, entangling your fingers in the silver chains around his thick neck. “Do something, Cho’.” 

“Fucking hell,” Choso slammed his lips against yours in a molten and desperate kiss, his hands squeezing the fat of your ass even harder. His kiss is filled with desire and want, along with the faintest scent of marijuana that makes the atmosphere of his bedroom that much more depraved. Longing dripped from the plush of his chapped lips to the sharpness of his canines that grazed slowly against your lips, teasing you with a tapering sensation. 

Choso tutted impatiently, his lips becoming more aggressive and desperate. It was like his mouth was trying to consume yours in a fiery passion you thought only existed in television shows. Your heated bodies pressed against each other in a frenzy, your hands moving from his chain necklace to lace themselves in his messy dark hair, tugging harshly on the strands. You could practically taste the marijuana on his breath, feeling the thud of his heartbeat in his throat.

Frantic groans left your lips as Choso’s tongue swept across your lower lip, pleading for entrance. You gladly parted your lips, his tongue briefly entangling with yours before retreating entirely. He broke the kiss, his breathing shallow and long. The thinnest string of saliva connected you, breaking as Choso licked his lips. 

The two of you stared at each other for a few seconds, the tension in the air slowly fading away. Second felt like hours, passion roaring inside both of you. Choso gave you a smug grin, his hands still glued to your hips. “What did you think of that, sweetheart? Is making out while high one of the best things life has to offer or what?” his words faded at the end, his mouth pressing fluttering kisses onto your neck. Your breath stopped in your throat at the intoxicating sensation. 

“Please,” he whispered, teeth nipping down on the spot just above your collarbone. His voice was so deep yet whiny, filled with desire for you, the sexiest person he’d ever lay his eyes upon. “Please, sweetheart, let me make you see stars tonight.”

You frantically nodded, cupping his cheeks with your hands to crash your lips against his in a passionate craze. The kiss was rough and full of ache, your lips battling each other for dominance and control. Choso’s rough hands gripped onto your hips with knuckle-whitening might, dragging you up and down onto his throbbing bulge. His teeth bite down on your bottom lip, pulling the sensitive flesh while staring into your glistening eyes. He pulled himself away from the foggy exchange and attacked your neck, biting and sucking at every inch of skin he could land himself on. 

Your mouth let wanton moans escape your bruised lips, still grinding yourself on Choso’s lap. Desire pooled in your core, your body rutting itself against him for any kind of relief as he continued to assault your neck with a battery of bites and nibbles. “Fuck!” you cried out, not bothering to control your volume. “Fucking love it rough. How’d you know that?” you demanded, pulling Choso away from your neck by his midnight strands. 

“It was so fucking obvious, baby. You were basically begging me to fuck you with those pretty bedroom eyes of yours.” Choso growled in your ear, his pierced tongue licking the shell. He thrust his clothed erection up against your covered core, forcing you to grind down on the pulsating length. “You feel what you do to me, yeah? You feel how fucking hard this cock is for you?”

You gasped as he dragged you across his clothed member, noticing how fucking girthy he was. “Shit, you’re really fucking hard. I really did all that?” you whimpered as he groped your breasts, his thumb circling over your covered nipple. 

“Yeah, sweetheart, you did,” his voice ached for you, so desperate for release. He knew you felt this way, too. Your pussy was sending him pulsating signals. “God, I need to know how that pretty mouth looks wrapped around me. Can you get on your knees, sweetheart, pretty please?” he mumbled, taking his greedy hands off your curves.

You were on your knees instantly, thumbing the hem of Choso’s sweatpants teasingly. “Don’t fucking tease me, baby,” he spat, pulling his sweatpants down to his knees. You rolled down the fabric and tossed it aside, your eyes locking on his boxers that had a cute little stain right where the tip of his cock was. “See that, sweetheart? Making me pre’ in my drawers. C’mon, hurry up and put that pretty mouth on it.” he demanded, his hand tugging on your hair in demand. 

Your hands pulled down his boxers and tossed them aside, not tearing your eyes away from Choso’s massive cock. It was bigger than any of the ones you’d seen before, and it was freakishly girthy, maybe about ten inches. The head was a beautiful shade of pink, adorned with precum leaking out the tip. “Someone’s needy,” you teased in a lyrical voice, pumping his cock a few times before taking just the tip in your mouth. Your tongue danced around the head and gave it the occasional kitten lick, eliciting a gasping moan from Choso. 

A few more inches was all that your mouth could take, gagging as the head hit the back of your sensitive throat over and over again. Your hand made up for what your mouth couldn’t handle, palming and squeezing on the shaft to make Choso sing those pretty moans over and over again. His grip on your hair hadn’t yet faltered, squeezing your roots the perfect amount so you weren’t feeling any pain. Sloppy, absolutely filthy sounds came from your precious lips as your mouth grew sore and tired, practically fucking your mouth on his length.

Just as Choso’s orgasm approached, he forcefully pulled your head away from his cock. He hissed at the sensation of the cold bedroom air hitting his previous warm cock, wondering if he should just let you keep sucking him off. “N-no, wanna cum inside you. Is that okay, sweetheart?” he whined, spreading his legs. His cock was glistening with your saliva, slapped against his now-stained tank top. “Ride me, baby, want you to fucking ride me.”

You smirked softly and pulled down your jeans and underwear, revealing your soaked heat. “What happened to the tough guy earlier, hm?” you purred into his ear, nibbling on one of his piercings as you hovered above his entrance, his wanting moans and whimpers sounding incredibly delicious. 

“Tough guy went away the second you put that slutty little mouth on my cock,” he grabbed onto your hips, forcefully slamming you down on his cock. The two of you gasped at the same time, a twinge of pain crossing your face. “Now hurry up and fuck me already.” his voice sounded dominant, but you knew deep down how desperate he indeed was. The warmth of your weeping cunt enveloped him, and his lips began to tremble.

“Shit! Fuck, you’re huge!” you cried out, taking a moment for your pussy to adjust to his size. He was huge and throbbing so intensely inside of you that it felt like a vibrator. Shaking, you clutched onto his shoulders and began to grind back and forth. His hands were practically glued onto your soft hips, matching the painfully slow pace of your movements.

Choso grunted impatiently, tightening his grip on your hips so they would be bruised tomorrow morning. “Going too fucking slow, sweetheart. Can’t handle my huge dick or something?” he whispered against your neck, his tongue licking the hickeys he had left previously. His cock was buried inside your gummy walls, twitching and in desperate need of friction. 

You yelped out pathetically as Choso began to move your trembling form up and down on his length, adoring the squelching sounds that came out of your sobbing heat. Your breathing was quicked and paced, huffs and puffs leaving your pretty mouth. “H-hah, Cho’! Fuck, fuck me! Shit, oh my fucking god!” you sobbed, your walls tightening around his cock as he continued to use your body like a fleshlight. 

The sound of skin slapping against the skin was all that could be heard, along with the sound of your wanton mewls escaping your puffy lips. “Shit, you’re such a fucking good slut for me, yeah?” Choso grunted, his face buried in the crook of your neck that connected your shoulders. “Letting me use this perfect fucking pussy, why did I ever fucking doubt you?” he lifted his face from your neck, smirking at your fucked out expression. Your eyes glazed over, mouth hanging open, hair completely disheveled. Just how he fucking liked it.

The head of his cock pounded mercilessly at your G-spot, the slick whimpers and wines you made becoming music to his ears. He knew you were close the way your weeping heat sucked him in, almost demanding that he shoot his seed as far into you as he could. 

“Shit, are you close sweetheart. Me too, fuck,” he sighed, bucking his hips into yours staggeringly and without rhythm, desperately chasing his nirvana. “Cum with me, yeah? Please, baby, I wanna feel you let go for me. Can you do that for me, pretty girl? Can you make a fucking mess on this cock?”

“Yes, fuck, yes! Cho’, oh fuck!” you screamed as your orgasm finally hit you, entire euphoria flowing through every single one of your veins. Your nails scratched and clawed at his back from under his shirt, your hands desperately looking for purchase. Your aching body twitched against his own, his cock still fucking up into your overstimulated pussy.

Choso threw his head back, opening his mouth to allow his breathy moans to escape from his throat. “Fuck, gonna fucking cum, shit! Gonna cum inside, yeah? Gonna fucking fill you up so nicely, shit! Fuck!” he groaned, finally achieving his high. Wave after wave of pleasure crashed over him as his hot and sticky ropes of cum coated your insides, the feeling of warmth making you feel all the more wonderful.

After the shockwaves of your orgasms subsided, Choso tilted his head back down to look at your face. All flushed and fucked out, the baby hairs in your widows peak sticking to your forehead. But his favorite part was the smile you had plastered across your face, looking the happiest he’d ever seen anyone before. 

“You were so right,” you breathed, kissing his lips tenderly.”Fucking while high is one of the best things ever.”

He chuckled and reluctantly pulled you off his cock, whining as he saw his seed spill from your core. “Damn, I really thought that would stick. Oh well,” he sighed, pushing himself off his bed in search of his boxers. “There’s always next time.”

You raised an eyebrow quizically, putting on your panties. Your sweatpants were probably in the room, but you were too tired to get them. “What do you mean ‘next time’?” 

Choso smirked and sat back down on his bed, making grabby hands at you. “Y’know, the next time we fuck, obviously.” he kissed your cheek as you curled up beside him, pulling the covers over the both of you for warmth. “Do…do you not want a second time?” his voice was soft, trying to mask the hint of disappointment in his tone.

You shook your head and pecked him on the lips, giggling at the cool metal piercing, making contact with the bruise on your lower lip. “Of course I want there to be a next time, silly. You’re the best fuck I’ve ever had.” 

He smiled and pulled you even closer to his muscular form, squeezing you like you would run away if he didn’t. “I’m so glad that’s happening, sweetheart.” his voice was heavy and sleepy, wanting nothing more than to fall asleep right next to you.

“Let’s just get some sleep, okay? Fucking takes up a lot of energy.” Closing your eyes, you welcomed the warmth that overtook your body, Choso’s strong arms wrapped firmly around your waist.

There was a sudden knock on the door, snapping your eyes open and Choso’s violet ones. 

“Choso, can I please get some water? I’m really thirsty.” a high-pitched voice came from the other side of Yuji's wooden door.

Choso groaned and sat up, his arms still not leaving your body. “Well, we’re lucky he didn’t want water ten minutes ago.” he laughed softly, kissing you on the forehead as he got up.

“Yeah, good thing he didn’t.”

[crystal-0-vibe]

You're supposed to be scared!

Sub!Ethan landry x fem!reader

Warnings: Smut 18+, implied oral (fem receiving), swearing

Summary: Halloweens coming up, and a certain masked killer turned up at your door. You didn't know he was the submissive type, though.

You had been obsessed with masked killers ever since your friend had introduced you to Scream. A movie about a couple of college kids that happened to also be the target of killers, killers that were in their friend group. It was just a movie, though, so you didn't get your hopes up that one of them would come after you.

Until you got a phone call. You didn't think much if it considering a lot of people had also watched the movies. You thought they would be trying to scare others by now. You picked up the phone and answered.

"Hello?~" You smirked, hoping they would hear it in your tone. "Hello? Who's this?" The voice replied, obviously a voice changer was in use due to the deepness of it. "C'mon, you don't type a random number in and say that. Who are you?" You ask back, hoping to gain an answer better than his question.

An audible groan was heard at the end, that's how you could tell you were getting on his nerves. "I asked you first lady, now if you don't say I'll come after you." The voice stated, trying to intimidate you. Obviously, it didn't work. You laughed and hung up.

You turned back to your show and set your phone aside, ignoring the call you had previously received.

Then it rang again.

"Hello?" You tried to speak but got interrupted. "If you hang up again I'll kill you, bitch!" You stared blankly at your phone in shock, who the fuck did this guy think he was? "Listen asshole-" You started again. "No, you listen." He stated. "If you interrupt me again, I'll come after you myself. Have some manners." You replied slightly agitated now. The males voice went silent. "If you want to kill me so bad, do it. Come out here, you pussy." Then you hung up on him again.

An eiree silence fell throughout the house as you unpaused your show again for the second time. A knock was heard at your front door. You got up and walked over to the door, looking through the spy hole to see who it was. Darkness. Covering it so you couldn't see, how funny.

You rolled your eyes and unlocked the door, staring directly at the tall figure in front of you. Shock painted your features as a sly smirk grew. You gripped the front of the Ghostface costume and dragged the figure inside. He yelped and fell forward before you slung him onto the floor.

"Y- You're supposed to be scared.. i- im supposed to scare you!" The poor boy whined, earning a laugh from you. "I'm not like any other victim, baby. So, who are you then?" You smirked devilishly, reaching forward and sliding his mask up and off his face. You didn't recognise him. A shock considering you knew everyone in the neighbourhood, which could only mean one thing, he didn't live there.

He stared up at you, his brown scared eyes resembling those of a puppy. It was kinda cute? He was obviously an inexperienced killer, a really really hot one at that. A thick pout crossed his face as you contemplated taking him to your room. "I'm a virgin-" He blurted out after seeing the lustful look in your eye. "I can tell.."

He looked away out of embarrassment the pout turning into a frown. "I- I've always wanted to ... to touch a girl.." You giggled at his stuttering and kneeled down in front of him. "Touch one, how?" You asked, curious to know what was going on in that head of his. His brows furrowed and he slowly returned his gaze to yours. "I wanted to... eat you out?... I know I don't have experience b-but I promise I can be good!"

You took his hand and told him to get up, dragging him off to your room. He hardly had any time to accept before he was being pushed to the floor again, this time in front of you sitting on your bed. "I'm not gonna do the work for you, that's not my job" you could see the look of confusion in his eyes as he questioned you. "I'm... allowed to.. do it myself? Have my way with you?" You giggled again at his eager tone, nodding (mainly because you were just as eager as him).

He smirked, the first time you'd seen him since he got to your house, but boy was it hot. He pulled you closer, his nose bumping against your panties.

"I'm not gonna stop anytime soon, pretty girl."

Halloween special by yours truly! Hope you liked it, it was hella rushed. Happy Halloween! 🎃

Mlist

- ⋆˙⟡

[starkeyisthelastname]

It’s Always Been You Chapter One

Okay.. so here is the first chapter of my first series. Things will get more exciting! Hope you loves enjoy! 🥰 Things are a little different in this universe and don’t necessarily follow the exact OBX plot line. Here is the back plot for anyone who missed!

Back Plot

Rafe is a total dick to other girls, you’ve been warned. 😅

Chapter One:

The girl below him, whose name he couldn’t remember, let out a loud moan as he shoved himself inside her entirely. He pressed her head down into the mattress, telling her to shut the fuck up. He closed his eyes, relishing in the feeling of her cunt as he tried to get a quick nut in that night. It had been a long work week, and tonight he needed a distraction from wanting to go out and get wasted. It was when he was mid stroke that his phone rang on the bedside table. He went to ignore it, but eyes glanced over the caller ID to see it read your name.

“Hey slut, listen to me. Don’t make a fuckin sound when I answer this..” Rafe spat, smacking the girl’s ass hard before sliding his thumb across the screen to answer.

You had plans to go out that night with some friends, but now we’re laying in bed with your makeup done, pajamas on as they had changed their minds, leaving you alone on a Saturday night. As you held your phone up to your ear, you heard the voice of your best friend answer after a few rings.

“What’s up?” He asked, hips not slowing down as he continued to thrust into the girl. “Club doesn’t sound too busy?” He laughed, hearing the sound of a tv in the background.

You were completely oblivious to Rafe having company, and if you did know then you would have probably shut yourself down tonight not wanting to think about all the girls he constantly was fucking that weren’t you. It was your own fault really, but he had been your best friend since before you two knew what that even meant. You couldn’t ruin your lifelong friendship by telling him you’d been in love with him since you both were teenagers.

“The girls changed their minds, don’t ask me why either because I don’t even know.” You laughed, as you were sure it had to do with one of them wanting to see their boyfriend instead. “But… can you come over? I’m bored… and can you bring food?” You asked with a soft giggle. It was when you heard a faint moan in the back, that your heart sank. That wasn’t his tv, and you knew it by the name Rafe being followed. “I-I’m sorry.. I didn’t know you were busy. Um.. just text me later.” You said, clearing your throat as the last thing you wanted was for him to hear the sad tone in your voice. It was best you hang up the call and quickly.

Rafe barely had time to respond, before the call ended. His thrusts completely came to a stop, no longer caring about his nut as he tossed his phone on the bedside table and pulled out. “Get your shit and get the fuck out of my house.” He said, voice cold as he grabbed his sweatpants from the floor. He hated himself for doing this. Meaningless hook ups to avoid how he felt about his best friend, and his anger only grew as he would have completely dropped this whiny bitch to go over to your place in a heart beat.

The girl sat on the bed, frown on her face as she watched Rafe pull the grey sweatpants over his toned hips and grabbed his vape off the dresser to take a hit of. “B- but, I didn’t cum.” She said with a pout, only to earn a mean laugh from the man that had been inside her the only moments before.

“I told you to the shut the fuck up when I was on the phone, think I care that you didn’t get to cum? Better be out of here by the time I get out of the bathroom.” Rafe said causally, walking towards his connected bathroom, not carrying that she mumbled asshole under her breath.

He was an asshole, always had been. That stemmed from some deeper issues that he didn’t talk about often. The only ones who knew about his mental health problems were his family and you, something no random girl would ever understand. He sighed, running a hand through his hair before slamming his fist on the marble counter of the sink. Why was he continuing this torture on himself? Why was he such a pussy about telling you how he felt?

You heard the beep of the alarm, signaling someone had unlocked the front door. There was only a few people who knew the code, your parents, Sarah, Wheezie and Rafe. Walking down the stairs of your townhome, you saw his tall figure stepping in quietly, a bag of food in his hand. You took a sigh, stepping onto the hardwood floor as you looked at him. You wanted to be mad at him, but you couldn’t. There was no reason to be. Right? He was just doing what Rafe Cameron did.

“What are you doing here? I thought you had your little girlfriend over.” You asked, trying to hide the obvious jealousy in your voice. Your fuzzy slippers glided over to where he stood, taking the food sack from him and turning around to head into the living room. You heard him chuckle behind you, but didn’t look back as you plopped yourself onto the couch.

“Not my fucking girlfriend.” Rafe snorted, throwing his keys on the coffee table. “You know I don’t do serious shit.” He said, collapsing down next to you as you pulled the food out from the bag. He didn’t do committed relationships as he was far too busy working at his father’s company, trying his best to become the man he needed to be. In an out of jail, high off blow and after nearly killing someone, he was trying to do right for the people he loved and more importantly himself. The only committed relationship he was willing to be in was with you, that was if he ever manned up enough to tell you.

As you unwrapped your food, you couldn’t help but feel your heart clench at that statement. For as long as you’d known Rafe he’d never dated anyone longer than a month. He was too selfish to be tied down and after everything he had went through during his coke fiend, you knew his focus was work and trying to stay clean. You just wondered if he would ever want anything serious when it came to you.

“And you really thought that bitch was important enough for me to skip coming to hang out with my best friend?” He asked, stealing a fry as he leaned back against the cushion.

Best friend.. and that’s all you would probably would ever be to him. You brushed the thought away, slapping his hand away as he started to reach for another fry. “Why didn’t you just get something if you planned on stealing my food?” You asked with a laugh as he pretended to look hurt that you slapped his hand.

Rafe always seemed to have a stick up his ass for the most part, a brooding look constantly on his handsome face. You knew it was hard for Rafe to let down the wall of being vulnerable, or even his funnier side. You felt lucky that you got to see the side of him that not a lot of people got to experience.

“I just wanted a couple, damn. It’s the least I can get for waiting in that long ass line for some damn chicken strips.” He scoffed, muttering about how the worker was an asshole anyway.

You rolled your eyes, taking a bite of one as he pulled his vape from the pocket of his hoodie to take a hit off. “Please tell me you aren’t gonna complain this much on family vacation.” You said, jokingly, meeting his blue eyes you loved so much as you looked up at him.

Blowing out the cloud of flavorful smoke, he rolled his own eyes before leaning his head back against the couch. “Don’t fucking remind me, that my dad picked fucking Disney World of all places.” He said with a grumble, shuddering at the idea of all the kids he was going to have to be around for 7 days.

It had been a tradition every summer for as long as you could remember that both of your families took a trip together. The first one of this year being Disney World, which you were excited for. Rafe on the other hand would rather go anywhere else than the happiest place on earth.

“Wheezie’s been begging to go for years and we’ve always gone elsewhere. Let your sister be happy.” You said, knowing the thirteen year old hardly got to choose anything that she wanted to do as she was the youngest out of everyone.

“She’s 13. Don’t you think she’s a little old for Mickey Mouse or some bullshit.” Rafe said, eyes traveling back to you. The way you looked so effortlessly beautiful, having washed your face free of makeup. Your hair on top of your head in a messy bun, and cute little set pink pajama set on that hugged those gorgeous curves. He wanted to groan, not only from the thought of leaving for Orlando in a few days but also that he wanted you more than anything he ever wanted in his life. Rafe pretty much got whatever his heart desired, except having you as his girl.

“You are never too old for Disney.” You told him, matter of factly as you continued to eat, completely clueless to the fact his cerulean eyes were bored into you as he watched you.

Rafe let out a small chuckle, shaking his head at the fact you and everyone else seemed to be thrilled about visiting a place he didn’t find so magical. “Are you that excited princess?” He asked, the nickname one you were used to but still felt butterflies when he said it.

Swallowing a bite, you looked up at him to meet his gaze with a nod to your head. Disney was the place where dreams came true and maybe there you would finally have the courage to tell your best friend that you were in love with him.

tag list: @alinavalentine

let me know if you’d like to be tagged! 🌺

[sweetshuga]

Lurking ✰ MS

───~𓆩♡𓆪~───

stalker!matt! Coming home from a business trip, only to find plushies and gifts all over the house—placed neatly.

You felt weird leaving your house for a few days, not because you were homesick, no, not at all, you just had that unnerving gut feeling. The one that made you feel like something was wrong—not knowing exactly what, anxiousness creeped in.

Your busy schedule and work, however, prevented you from thinking too much of it. The meetings and paperwork occupied most of your thoughts, but the feeling didn't go away, only worsened by each day spent away from home.

𓆩♡𓆪

It wasn’t a long business trip, just three days and two nights, and you arrived back on the third night. The front door opened with a soft click and you got inside, turning on the lights, you took off your shoes. And when you walked down the hall, you froze.

There were plushies on the couch, small-medium boxes of gifts on the kitchen counter, a few bags of things on the carpet beside the couch. You stood frozen for a solid 5 minutes, unable to move or speak.

"What the fuck?" You finally whispered, inching closer to the couch. You took one of the plushies, inspecting it. There was a small note attached to it—to all of the plushies. Small notes of confessions – love confessions – your gaze landed on the small box perched on top of a bigger one on the coffee table.

Your curiosity got the better of you, and your hands inched forward almost subconsciously. You took the small box first, opening it– you saw a silver necklace with a small heart pendant.

"What..." You mumbled, your voice trailing off as confusion set in. You quickly opened the bigger box, finding a dress, a beautiful black satin dress. You blinked as you stared at the expensive looking fabric in your hands.

𓆩♡𓆪

The night wore on and you decided to leave the things be, where they were, you were too surprised and tired to react strongly. "Who could that be? Should I call the cops-" suddenly your phone rang, an unknown caller.

Your heart pounded rapidly in your chest and even though every fiber in your being screamed for you to ignore— or even better, block whoever it was, you found yourself answering.

"Hello? Who is this?" A low chuckle came from the other end, a smooth honey–like voice crackled through. "Who am I? I wonder, who are you?" He taunted, causing you to frown, "excuse me-" the voice laughed, "did you like my gifts?"

Realization dawned upon you, he was the same person that left your house bombarded with gifts, the same person that most likely followed you home twice, as far as you knew.

The line beeped before you could respond, indicating that the call had ended. You tried calling the number again but it was no use, it kept telling you that the number you were calling had deactivated.

You were left shaken up, yet again.

Stage 3: Intimidation—gestures or words that felt threatening but were not direct threats.

He left you a bunch of things and called you.

𓆩♡𓆪

stage. 1 2 4

wc. 502

note. English is not my first language!

Isa's notes. Okay fuck, roomie!chris and stalker!matt are my new favourite au's. Fucking gobblin’ it up rn.

Taglist: @poolover123 @unknvhx @welovestromboli @stvrnslut @h3arts4nat

xoxo 𓆩♡𓆪

© sweetshuga

[talkbycolor]

halloween night

A/N; y e s, solivan as ghostface, HAPPY HALLOWEEN !!!

Pairing; "Solivan Brugmansia" x AFAB!Reader

CW; panic at the disco anxiety on the kitchen / non-con / ghostface mask stays on during sex / both are fucked up, grow up / dead dove as always / established relationship, unhealthy relationship / Sol is aggresive towards MC, important point

Halloween night! Who doesn't like that holiday? Parties, costumes, candy, terror, a time to enjoy with friends… Sure, if you had any.

It's not that you were a super strange person that people would avoid at school, you had friends who knew how to have fun and liked your company, in fact, Crowe kept texting you to remind you about the party Brittney had planned and if it was her party, you were pretty sure it would be as loud as it was mind-blowing.

You were almost ready, even if your costume wasn't the most creative it was in keeping with the theme, you just had to finish putting on your shoes.

…

You were a ghost, Brittney was definitely going to make fun of you, who would think of taking a white blanket and making two holes in it?

Well, it was worse than nothing, besides, the fun would be chatting with friends and playing together, you couldn't wait to see-…

Knock, knock

That was the door to your apartment, damn it! You hadn't put any decorations in your house so you didn't expect to have any visits from children, it's not like you could buy candy for them so you walked to the door with the resignation of disappointing a couple of little ones and probably suffering some pranks.

When the door was opened… you were greeted by an empty hallway.

"Damn brats" You couldn't help but think, in the end, kids would be kids but you weren't a person to receive many unexpected visitors, that wasn't good for your poor heart.

You went back to your small room to grab your phone and check your text messages when an incoming call appeared on the screen, an unknown number.

Breathe, breathe, breathe, it's not the first time you've done this, it happens sometimes, right? Some calls when you order a package, takeout or a simple mistake in the number.

You swallowed hard before answering.

"Hello, who's speaking?" Perfect, you didn't stutter.

"…" But no one answered, in fact, if you paid attention you could hear the distant sound of breathing.

You decided not to say anything else and just hung up.

Your phone rang once again, this time accompanied by the sound of the door, no, not a knock but it being opened.

Just when you were thinking of turning around an imposing hand grabbed the back of your head and slammed it against the wall, causing an immediate nosebleed, tears of pain were not long in coming followed by pitiful whimpers as you tried to keep your eyes open to see the person responsible.

"Move and die." The voice under the mask spoke, completely dressed in black and wearing a Ghostface mask, it was a little hoarse but-…

Suddenly he pulled your hair hard, and you felt your scalp burn as you were dragged across the floor until you reached the table.

"S-STOP! IT HURTS, IT HURTS SO MUCH!" You whimpered but he didn't stop even then.

A hand came up to your throat, caressing your skin possessively as he moved up to your bleeding nose to take your blood and use it as lubricant on your pussy, that hand had black painted nails, and you recognized it.

It wasn't gentle at all, he didn't even lubricate properly due to the fear and pain you felt, he simply slid his length inside you, your body was rigid on the table, bleeding and crying on top of the wood.

"NO! NO! PLEASE! ENOUGH! SOL, I-I'M SCARED!" You begged your boyfriend.

"You only squeeze this hard when you're scared, love."

It was tearing you apart, it hurt so much, you wanted to keep screaming but once again he held your head to smash it against the table, making the bleeding worse and knocking out a tooth, you felt so dizzy and your mouth was numb from losing one of your front teeth.

You looked so perfect that the taller man moaned just by looking at you, feeling himself harden inside your pussy to pound harder into you, your flushed face was a work of art, he wanted to use your blood to paint a portrait of you, a thousand of them.

"So beautiful, so beautiful, I'm so lucky, motherfucker, I love you so much."

Instead, your limp body was being maneuvered over the table, a mix of tears, blood and saliva forming under your face.

Sol's groans increased as his climax approached, he gently held your face as he brought a small disposable camera closer to take a picture, a perfect pose where your sleepy expression was unable to focus the lens as he fucked you.

"Happy Halloween, darling."

"H-Happy Halloween, S-Sol…"

♡

[urrockstar-xe]

precious - j.m x fem!reader

posted nov 27th, 2023 8:14 am

anon asked: hello!! I’m a sucker for a little angst ending with fluff, so could you maybe write a jj maybank x girlfriend where they have a fight right before bed and he goes to sleep on the couch but they can’t sleep without each other/being mad at each other so one of them goes to the other to apologize?

sorry for the wait love :( I hope you enjoy it.

masterlist

wordcount: 0.9k

“It’s like you never learn JJ!” your voice rang in his ears in a similar fashion as his rang through yours

“Learn what, Y/n? That I’m gonna die young anyway? It wasn’t even that fucking bad!” and if this were a cartoon the words would be coming right back out as steam. 

“It’s not like I haven’t done worse alright?” JJ added, frustratedly running his fingers through his hair. “It’s not about that JJ! You could’ve died! I need you around!” It was as if he totally skipped over your last four words as he scoffed, “I get it, I’m an idiot who doesn’t know better are you fuckin done yet? Actually, fuck this, I’m sleeping at JB’s” JJ grabbed his backpack on his way out of your house, not missing your calls for him just ignoring them, as he hopped onto his bike and left your sight in what felt like seconds. 

You didn’t try to conceal the frustration and hurt you felt, all of it spilling out in angry sobs and violent strings of swear words. 

The same stupid argument always stumped you and JJ, no matter how many short apologies and tears you guys go through, the argument of how precious JJ’s life was always took the cake for the biggest challenge in your relationship. 

Yet you still worried about how high he’d get tonight or how much of John B’s beer he’d drink and how safe he’d be even if John B’s was merely a 7-minute walk from yours, you always worried about JJ.

How could you not when he was as reckless as he was? 

A few hours went by of pacing your room, checking your phone for “baby, I love you” apology texts, and pretending not to realize the worried gaze your older brother gave you whenever you left your room to use the restroom, before you realized it was 1 in the morning and you still hadn’t been able to go to sleep, despite having woken up at 6 am for work the previous day. 

With a heavy sigh and eye roll at the realization that you’d have the give in first, you got up, throwing on one of JJ’s old jackets he left and your shoes before leaving out your front door in a rush and practically running to John B’s having memorized the way there.

You accepted the curse of not being able to sleep without JJ by your side and when a half-asleep John B opened his door, you knew he had heard an earful as he let you inside wordlessly, “he’s out back” John B motioned towards the back door, giving you a nod as a silent good luck before moving back to his room. 

You made your way to the back door, hesitating momentarily before grabbing the doorknob and opening it, making your way back out into the cold. You were almost instantly met with the beautiful sight of your boyfriend, lying on the hammock and watching the stars, mindlessly playing with his lighter. 

You wordlessly made your way to him, both you and JJ ignoring the sound of the grass under your sneakers until you sat down on the edge of one of the old lawn chairs, hugging your legs to your chest in an attempt to find warmth. 

“Can’t sleep?” He asked barely above a whisper, a stark contrast to his usual tone. 

“Not without you” You responded, letting out a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding when JJ finally looked in your direction. “Me too” 

“I know” he nodded at your words, of course, you knew. 

“C’mere, pretty baby,” JJ said, his voice quiet, tossing his lighter somewhere in the dirt, pretending he wouldn’t have to find it tomorrow. You stood up, almost too fast for your liking before settling into the hammock next to him, gravity pushing you into his side and his arm falling around you seamlessly, or at least you told yourself it was gravity. 

“I’m sorry I yelled at you” You whispered into his shoulder, pressing kisses into the fabric of his hoodie, all of your stubbornness flying out the window once his familiar scent filled your nose.

“I’m sorry I yelled back, and for being an idiot” JJ whispered, breathing as if he was trying to learn how. “You’re not an idiot, J” Your fingers instinctively played with the drawstrings of his neck, unknowingly bringing a sense of comfort to your boyfriend. 

“I just,” you sighed before continuing, cursing at yourself for how you teared up. “I just wish you realized how precious you are to me” You whispered, barely audible. 

But JJ heard it clear as day. 

“I’m sorry-” He started but you cut him off, “You can’t be sorry for something like that, you weren’t taught any better.” You choked out, not missing the way his lips found your hair when he realized you were crying, comforting kisses hitting your hairline. 

“If I could go back in time and teach you how much you were worth I would in a heartbeat” Your words made JJ pause his actions, his arm tightening ever so slightly around you. “I don’t know what I’d do without you, JJ” You shrugged as much as you could without disrupting the hug. 

“Can’t even sleep without you” You mumbled through a quiet laugh, earning one in return from JJ, alongside a few sniffles. 

“We’re good right?” he asked quietly, gently running his fingers up and down your arm. 

“As if this would be the thing that makes us break” I scoff, earning another laugh. 

A few minutes of comfortable silence passed before JJ spoke once more, “Can we go inside? Freezin’ my balls off out here”

[callofdudes]

Hiya! How are you doing? Hope you doing okay. Btw, if you have time, can I request TF141 with Fem! Reader who is emotionless. The men’s went to visit Y/n place for her birthday but they heard loud bark in her house. When Y/n open the door the men’s are pin down by a lot of puppies. They though she has scary dog only to meet cute puppies. Imagine when the men’s see Y/n cuddle/hanging out with her puppies and she her smile a bit during her birthday they be like ‘Dammit! So cute!’ And almost faint seeing the light above of her like an angel.

Thank you for being so patient anon, I'm trying to get these done, ahh!

Simon "Ghost" Riley

Ghost is pretty used to how you act on base, and while he doesn't exactly trust the whole emotionless thing (that's his thing, back off his permanent emo phase) he does give you space and respect you.

So much so when you invited him to come over after a long mission needing a break from life, he just decided to except. To hell with it, at least he knew you wouldn't bother him.

And plus, it was your birthday in a couple days so what was the real harm in saying no??

So he shows up with his bags a couple days later, not expecting anything special until he rang the doorbell.

Now.

Simon.

Loves.

Dogs.

There are few things he loves more in this world than tea, arson, and dogs. So when he hears a bunch of barking he rightfully assumes you have a dog, unless you just have that playing to scars people, which he wouldn't put it past you.

You come to the door, struggling to open it before he's bombarded at the glass screen, seeing a bunch of tiny puppies jumping and wagging their little tails in excitement to meet a new person.

And Simon nearly dies of how utterly fucking cute that is. You open the door and their jumping at his legs, yipping as he comes in and puts down his bag, on their little legs rushing to sniff the new item in the home.

"Sorry about them." You apologize.

Simon shrugs, melting. "That's alright."

The puppies are pretty adorable, one of them even wants to sleep on his bed with him. And Simon gets used to them, pulling them into his lap and stroking them, cradling them, occasionally following you when you take them for walks.

But when you're both sitting in the living room, Simon scrolling through his phone and you on the TV. He can't help looking over and seeing two of them curled up on your lap and passed out. The others all snuggled close as you barely cling on to the TV remote.

He stares, lip turning up slightly under his mask, seeing how cute the scene was. It was pretty damn adorable.

And he's going to miss those puppies when he goes home. But now he has a nes perspective on you as well. He knows you're gentle.

You pretend not to have emotions, and in your line of work he understood, but he saw the gentle side of you. The nurturer, even if it was too a bunch of cute puppies.

Also.

Let him see your puppies again.

Please.

He's begging you.

John "Soap" MacTavish

Now, Johnny probably would have declined your offer to stay at your house if he knew you had dogs. Johnny hates dogs, and is not afraid to kick one on the spot.

But you wanted to throw a party for your birthday and he couldn't just.. decline to go to your birthday. That was horrible, he was invited, he had to go!

He doesn't want to be cruel to dogs or go out of his way, but they scare him. And he doesn't like being near them.

He grabbed his bag and knocked on your door, immediately tensing when he heard the sound of yips coming toward the door.

Please don't let it be a big dog, please don't let it be a big dog.

You rushed to the door, struggling to open it and Johnny was suddenly swarmed by tiny puppers.

He tensed a little and you apologized, herding them back inside and letting Johnny in. Luckily they were distracted by the scent on his bag long enough he could make it to the living room.

"Sorry about that, should have told you."

"Oh ah, no no that's alright..."

He chuckles softly as the puppies get excited from the new guest, some scrambling to hop into his lap when he sits down and you have to gently remove them from him so he can get settled.

You smile softly as you pull them off and gently, lovingly scold them on crawling all over him. He can't help a little smile when you pick one up, drawing the rest to follow you to the couch.

You flop down, tossing Johnny the remote as the puppies crawl up to you, yipping and snuggling up.

Johnny puts on some YouTube video for experimental slow motion capture explosions for a bit.

Eventually looking over to see if you're even interested, only to see you passed out on the couch with the puppies all curled up.

He watched, smiling softly seeing you so relaxed. You were gentle and kind and now you were soft, all curled up like the world was calm. He grabbed the throw blanket and gently laid it over you, turning off the TV.

One of the pups squirmed out from under your arm, yipping as he moved to the stairs. Johnny shushed the pup softly so you could continue to sleep and he headed down to his room.

You were pretty cute like that, all curled up with a bunch of puppies.

Just... It might not be as cute when they get bigger.

But for now, absolutely adorable.

And now he thinks he might try to get you to open up a little more. Because clearly you aren't simply what you want to be seen as. And he wants to know you. That gentleness he saw that day with your puppies.

Kyle "Gaz" Garrick

Kyle doesn't feel any which way about either animal. He's slightly more of a cat person but would say he likes cats and dogs equally.

He didn't really have any particular thoughts about you either. You were on the team, you got the job done, and that was good. You were quiet, like Ghost, and that was something he could appreciate.

He might have declined the offer to stay over, but it was you'd birthday and you had offered. And what's a week in someone else's home he didn't have to worry about rent and resources? (Gaz math)

So he found himself at your doorstep with really not much idea of what to expect. He didn't think much of it when he rang the doorbell and heard a bunch of yips and little barks.

You must have dogs. Or puppies from the sounds of it.

And he was right, looking down as you opened the door, seeing puppies skittering around and wiggling excitedly. You opened the door, nodding to Kyle, who nodded back.

"Sorry about them, off." You commanded, helping Kyle to put his bag down on the kitchen chair. He watched the puppies dance around between and around his feet.

"That's a lot of puppies." He put his hands in his pockets.

"And I love them all." You smiled softly, cooing them over to the couch. Kyle watched all of them waddle over, yipping and scrambling to get up into the couch.

You curled up in a blanket with them all, one of them staying back to sniff Kyle's pantleg and nibble on it a little.

Kyle watched the little puppy, bending down to pick him up and felt his soft coat. He was very cute puppy, very light too.

"They are beautiful... What breed??" He looked up, noticing your eyes were closed. The light from your blinds casting on you in just a way he could tell it had been a long day.

He smiles softly, thinking how cute it was paired with your earlier words.

He attempted to put the one puppy down but it scrambled back, following him as he took your advice and also went to pass out for a nap.

Eventually waking up with that same pup curled up with him. He went upstairs to see you still sleeping, and he couldn't help thinking it cute s second time.

You were soft, gentle with the small animals. So comfortable with them. He couldn't stop s small smile. So this was the real y/n... He'd like to see more of you.

And he thinks your puppies are adorable.

John Price

Price is like Kyle in that he doesn't really prefer one species over the other, he vibes with both. Though he's leaning more dog person.

You on the other hand, your skill alone is what got you on the team. Price wishes you would be less 'emotionless' and try to open up even a smidge to the others. Even a little bit of teamwork can lead to a lot of success and smoothness.

But oh hell he picked you all...

That's what he couldn't help thinking as he drove down to your house for your birthday. It was mid leave and Price was headed over to celebrate the day with you and make sure you wouldn't be alone.

Showing up at your door, he didn't his little dad shoulder roll and knocked. When he got no response he rang the doorbell, immediately hearing loud barking and yipping.

His eyebrows raised slightly. He didn't take you for a dog person. Unless he's at the wrong house, in that case, fuck him.

But he's reassured it's you when you open the door, giving him a half a smile for effort. "Captain, sorry, I was trying to put them away."

Price chuckles when the small puppies jump up at his legs and run around him, smelling all the new smells on him.

"That's quite alright."

You open the door further and let him inside. Price steps in, the small puppies yipping and jumping. You try to gently scold them off but Price doesn't react, letting them do their thing.

"Sorry, I can make you tea, we can sit down??"

Price nodded. "That sounds lovely actually, thank you."

You nod, grabbing out two cups and getting the kettle ready.

You two pass time talking until you get to the couch, Price crossing a leg over, one of the pups hopping up into his lap, yipping at him and snuggling up to his stomach.

Price can't help chuckling again as you talk. The rest of the puppies curl up with you, you'd arms wrapping around them all, trying to squeeze your love gently into their tiny bodies.

The quietness somehow seeping in along the way until Price looks up from petting the small puppy to see you nodding off against the arm rest.

The sun through the window hits you nicely and Price sighs softly. Seeing how tired you looked, how gentle you were.

Price always knew it, he knew the soft soul under those faces. And now he saw it, seeing how utterly adorable you were curled up with your puppies.

He walks over, setting down the pup from his lap against you, having a feeling he'd feel better there.

He pulls the throw blanket over you, rubbing your arm gently. Guess he's making dinner to give back for making him tea.

He looked back into the living room, seeing you still passed out. Maybe, with some more work he can get you to open to him. He liked seeing you so cuddly up.

You were so gosh darn adorable, almost as adorable as the puppies themselves.

(sorry it's short, it's late and I wanted to at least get something out, blep.)

[chvoswxtch]

part four: the massacre

[series masterlist] | [previous part] | [part five]

pairing: billy russo x fem!reader

summary: your security has been increased, but are you really safe?

warnings: swearing, mentions of past abuse, graphic violence & gore (this is a slasher people)

word count: 4.4k

a/n: I told y'all this was gonna get real insane real fast. the kill count is upped this chapter, as is the intensity. I want to reiterate that this is a slasher. if gore is not your thing, or even reading about it makes you squeamish, this is your final warning before you get into this part. as always, feedback is welcomed/appreciated!

A few days had gone by since Billy had installed the cameras. The detectives still had no updates about the case. You hadn’t received any more phone calls, but that didn’t ease your nerves. If anything, it made you more on edge. It felt like you were stuck in a purgatory of waiting, wondering what the next nightmare would be. Roman had never been the type to give up or let anything go. He enjoyed toying with you and fucking with your head. You didn’t know where he was, but you knew he was watching, just waiting for the perfect moment to strike.

Letting out a deep exhale through your nose, you turned off your computer and stood up from your desk. It was a little past five-thirty, and the sun would be going down soon. Grabbing your long black wool coat off the hook next to your office door, you slipped it on and tied the belt around your waist. The last few days you’d essentially been on autopilot, just going through the day to day motions, immersing yourself in any distraction you could find.

After slipping a thick manuscript into your bag, you slung it over your shoulder and flipped the switch to turn off the lights in your office, shutting the door quietly behind you. When you took a step forward, you abruptly paused, noticing that John’s door at the end of the hall was closed and the lights were off. He hadn’t been in the office in two days. It wasn’t like him to just disappear without saying anything, but his assistant had said something about a last minute business trip.

Pushing through the revolving glass door, the brisk chill of autumn air nipped at your face, and the sharp contrast in temperature compared to your warm office made you instantly more alert. The second you stepped out onto the sidewalk, an older man that you’d come to be familiar with got out of an all black SUV that was parked right in front of the publishing house. He came around to open the back passenger door for you, walking with a faint limp. He was dressed casually as usual, but you caught sight of the holster on his hip beneath the brown jacket. 

Billy had insisted on making sure you had an escort to and from work, and even though you still felt guilty he was doing all of these things for you without letting you give him anything in return, you couldn’t refuse the peace of mind.

Walking towards the open car door, you looked up into his kind brown eyes with a soft grateful smile. 

“Thanks, Dwight.”

He gave you a faint nod in return, a friendly smile stretching across his lips. Despite the streaks of gray in his dark brown hair, and the salt and pepper beard, he looked younger and less weary when he smiled. You could almost see a hint of the boyish charm he must have had in his youth.

“Of course, ma’am.”

»»———　　———««

After being dropped off in front of your apartment building, you quickly made your way inside. The golden hour had already dipped beneath the Manhattan skyline, and with the darkness of night came a crisp wind that prickled your exposed skin as the temperature dropped along with the sun. 

The elevator ride up to your floor felt like it lasted an eternity. With each floor it ascended, more and more weariness settled in your bones. From the moment you left your apartment every morning, you felt stuck in a state of hypervigilance. Every sudden noise, every stranger that looked in your direction, every time your phone rang, your brain perceived it all as a new threat. There was so much cortisol pumping through your bloodstream throughout the day that by the time you returned to the sanctuary of your bedroom, you thought your heart might finally give out from the stress and the constant feeling of teetering on the edge of a panic attack.

This was almost worse than the abuse. At least then, you knew what to expect. You got to a point where you could tell when it was coming by the shift in Roman’s tone, the rhythm of his footsteps, even a slight change in his breathing pattern. Even when he caught you off guard with it, you knew the routine. As soon as it was over, he would leave you to pick up the shattered pieces of yourself, and then he’d come back demanding forgiveness with a false promise of change.

But this…this waiting and not knowing…the psychological torment was worse than the physical.

Typing in the code on the keypad of the door, a little succession of beeps sounded before the lock shifted. Stepping through the threshold, you closed the door and locked it behind yourself, setting your keys in the little green bowl on the side table. Untying the belt of your coat and slipping it off your shoulders, the muffled jingle of your phone ringing sounded from the bottom of your bag.

The sound caused an uptick in your heart rate, as it usually did lately, and your stomach dropped like you’d just swiftly plummeted from the highest point on a roller coaster. Slowly slipping your hand into your bag to pull it out, a breath of relief escaped you seeing the caller ID, but then a curious pinch formed between your brows.

John Altieri.

It wasn’t the first time he’d called you outside of work hours. You just hoped this time he hadn’t been drinking. Letting out a deep sigh, you pressed the green button with your thumb and brought the phone to your ear.

“Hey John, can I call you back in the morning? Now isn’t a really good-”

“Scary night, isn’t it? With a killer on the loose and all.”

Immediately you froze. That wasn’t John’s voice. It was the same one you’d heard on the other end of that call that had tipped your world upside down. 

“How did you get his phone?”

“Oh, you don’t have to worry about him anymore. John’s ties to your life have been severed.”

The color instantly drained from your face, and you reached out to grip onto the edge of the side table to steady yourself. Closing your eyes, your voice was shaky when you finally spoke.

“You’re lying.”

A dark and sinister chuckle sounded from the other end of the line.

“Now why would I lie about that? You saw how knife happy I got with Adam. You think I wouldn’t do the same with a man whose stare always lingered a little too long? Who was always a little too…friendly? C’mon, Cass-”

“That is not my name anymore.”

A rush of anger layered over your fear at the mention of the identity you’d worked so hard to bury. You weren’t that girl anymore. You hadn’t been her in a long time. The person you were now had been born out of necessity, carefully crafted to be everything the other version of you hadn’t been. The sinister voice just chuckled again.

“You can’t run from who you really are. Besides, I did you a favor, and you know it. And now there’s one less person standing in between you and me.”

“You sick, twisted son of-”

“As a matter of fact, there’s three less people standing in between us now. Four, if you count lover boy.”

The taunting tone of the deep voice made your blood run cold, and a furrow of confusion nestled between your brows. If he was insinuating John was dead, then that made two victims, not four.

“What are you talking about?”

“Are you alone in the apartment?

Your eyes darted back and forth as your brain tried to process the implication behind that question. When you glanced down at the side table you still had a tight grip on, you noticed that Annie’s keys were in the bowl beneath yours. Turning your head slightly, you saw that Derek’s boots were by the front door.

Slowly, you turned around towards the living room, seeing that it was empty. Annie’s purse was on the coffee table, but there was no sign of her, or Derek. Walking further into the living room quietly, you cautiously stepped around the corner to look into the kitchen, but it was empty too. 

“Anyone home?”

Gripping tightly onto the phone in your hand, you grit your teeth as the voice taunted you once again with another dark chuckle. Fury suddenly blazed within you, causing you to snap and grit through your teeth.

“Fuck you.”

Abruptly hanging up on him, you swiftly pressed your thumb on your phone icon, and when the keypad appeared on your screen, you rapidly pressed the nine and the one twice. But before you could hit the green call button, the sound of a door shutting echoed from down the hall. Instantly, your head snapped up. A few seconds of silence went by before you timidly called out.

“Annie? Derek?”

The lack of response from either of them had a shiver of dread cascading down your spine, and it made the hairs on the back of your neck stand up. The sinister silence caused anxiety to knot in your gut. Hesitantly taking a few steps towards the opening of the hallway, you glanced down towards the end of it, seeing that Annie’s bedroom door was cracked open and the light was on.

That little voice in the back of your head was screaming at you to run and call the police. It could be a trick. Roman could be waiting for you, ready to punish you for running from him, for hiding from him all these years. He’d brutally murdered Adam, and he hadn’t even known him. Whatever he had planned for you, it was going to be way worse.

But what if Annie and Derek were hurt? What if they needed help? What if they were-

Swallowing down your nerves, you let out a shaky breath and cautiously took slow steps down the hall, keeping your footsteps silent. Abruptly you paused, turning your head towards the kitchen. Stealing another glance at Annie’s bedroom door, you quietly took a few steps backwards and took a detour into the kitchen. You silently slipped the largest knife out from the wooden block on the counter and gripped it in your hand. If it was a trap, you weren’t walking into it defenseless.

You could hear your heartbeat starting to pound in your ears as you continued your soundless steps down the hallway. You kept your eyes locked on the cracked door, and your palms became clammy as your hands trembled with fear. Your nostrils flared from how heavy you were breathing, and when you reached the door, you paused for a moment, trying to will the courage to open it. 

Reaching out with your shaky hand that still grasped your phone, you pressed your index and middle fingertips against the cold wood, and a slow creak from the worn hinges disrupted the ominous quiet. Nothing could’ve prepared you for what was on the other side of the door.

A scream of sheer horror ripped through your lungs, burning through your vocal chords, and your eyes doubled in size in unfiltered shock. 

The pale lavender bedspread was stained with dark splotches of deep maroon. The cream colored walls were streaked and splattered with blood like some kind of grisly abstract painting. Annie’s lifeless body was in the middle of the bed, contorted in the fetal position, and a swell of nausea rose in your throat seeing that her stomach had been carved open, leaving her intestines to spill out in a messy pile of pink and red ropes. Streaks of her golden blonde hair had turned bright red, and her clothes were torn and soaked in blood.

Derek’s body was face down on the floor, a dark puddle of crimson surrounding his head. There were several tears and holes in the back of his blood stained gray shirt where he’d been stabbed, patches of his denim jeans drenched into a dark shade of purple, and you could see the jagged flesh where something had pierced right through his left hand. The sheer carnage and brutality of the scene shocked you to your core, nearly knocking the breath out of your lungs. 

A choked sob caught in your throat as your eyes welled up with thick tears that blurred your vision, and your hand flew up to cover your mouth in absolute repulsion. The depravity of the scene in front of you was so gruesome, it didn’t even look real. It looked more like the set of some gory slasher.

Abruptly the closet door slammed open, the sound of the knob hitting the wall as loud as a crack of thunder, and your eyes snapped up as a tall figure dressed in all black stepped out. A sharp gasp caught in your throat, and your mouth dropped open as terror blew your pupils wide open. The glint of a blade caught in the light as it appeared in the figure’s gloved hand, but you couldn’t tear your eyes away from the mask covering their face.

The one that had haunted Woodsboro for nearly thirty years.

As soon as they took a step forward, your fight or flight kicked in, and you swiftly spun around and took off running. Racing towards the door, you could hear their heavy boots rapidly thudding against the hardwood, chasing right after you. Running right into the front door, you dropped the knife you’d been holding, your trembling fingers trying desperately to turn the locks, but your hands were sweaty and your fingers kept slipping. Turning your head to look over your shoulder frantically, you screamed when the ghastly figure went to strike, ducking right as the knife embedded into the thick wood of the front door.

When their black gloved hand gripped at your arm, you quickly reached for the green bowl on the side table and smashed it over their head, causing the figure to grunt and let go, staggering backwards. He only faltered for a moment, and then he reached out to grab your arm again, his other hand grabbing your throat to slam you back against the front door, winding you momentarily with a wheeze. Reaching up with your right hand, you blindly grasped at nothing until your fingers slipped over the solid black handle of the hunting knife, tugging at it to try and pull it loose. Releasing one of his hands from around your throat, he reached up to grab the handle before you could pull it out, and you swiftly brought your knee upwards that was right between his legs as hard as you could.

A loud grunt left him as he stumbled back and doubled over slightly. Pulling the drawer completely out of the small table by the front door, you swung and smashed him over the head again, the wood splintering into pieces, causing him to drop to his knees with another noise of pain. Taking advantage of the moment, you ran as fast as you could towards your bedroom, dashing into your bathroom and locking the door. Your lungs were burning and the adrenaline was making your entire body buzz like you had been struck by lightning. 

Panic skyrocketed in your bloodstream when a loud banging began to sound against the door, the person on the other side trying to break it down with deep grunts of effort. Frantically glancing around your bathroom, your shaky hands tugged open drawers, feeling a stone of helplessness sinking in your stomach. You had nothing in here to defend yourself with.

A shrill scream ripped through your throat when the knife suddenly pierced through the wood of the door before being ripped out, stabbing through it again and again five more times. Without thinking, you smashed your fist against your bathroom mirror, ignoring the pain of glass splitting through your knuckles. Grabbing the biggest jagged piece that fell into the sink, you gripped it in both hands and stumbled backwards until your back met the wall. Each wave of terror felt like it was pulling you further and further beneath the tide, and you could hardly breathe.

Squeezing your eyes shut, you screamed at the top of your lungs.

“Stop it! Stop it! Stop it!”

All at once, the banging stopped, and it went dead silent. Sliding down the wall, a sob bubbled up in your chest, and it burst through the fear and panic in overwhelming streams. This was it. He was going to find something to break the door down with, and you were gonna die. Once again, you were weak, and you were helpless. This time when he tried to kill you, he was going to be successful.

You barely even registered the sound of shouting voices a few minutes later. You’d started to hyperventilate, and you couldn’t hear anything over your own panicked breathing and blood rushing in your ears, not even the sound of a familiar voice calling out your name.

The door burst open all of a sudden, and you screamed as you held the jagged piece of glass so tightly it bit into your palms, holding it out in front of yourself as a weak defense. Billy’s hardened expression softened the second he looked at you, and he swiftly lowered the gun he had grasped in his hands that had been aimed at you. 

“Shit.”

A fresh wave of thick tears soaked your cheeks, and your voice cracked in desolate sob.

“He was here. He was here. He-”

Billy abruptly set his gun down on the bathroom counter and crossed over to you in three short strides, kneeling down in front of you.

“Shh shh shh, he’s gone. He’s gone.”

Billy gently pried the glass away from you, and you didn’t even flinch as he pulled it from where it had been deeply embedded in the torn flesh of your palm, causing a stream of blood to flow freely from the wounds. Reaching out to rip the hand towels off the rack, he carefully wrapped each of your hands that were bleeding profusely.

“He killed them, Billy. He killed them-”

Billy pulled your shaking form into his chest, wrapping one of his arms around your back firmly and placing his other hand on the back of your head, tucking it under his chin. He rocked you back and forth gently, carding his fingers through your hair and speaking softly into your ear.

“Shh shh shh, I know. I know, sweetheart. Just take deep breaths for me.”

“He was here-”

“He’s gone, baby. He’s gone, I promise. Just breathe, sweetheart. It’s gonna be alright, just breathe.”

»»———　　———««

While the nurse finished up the final stitch on your right palm, four of Billy’s men were standing in front of him with apprehensive looks on their faces. He’d been primarily focused on getting you to the hospital, but now that you were safe and being treated, his concern for you had turned into pure wrath for his employees.

“What the fuck happened?”

None of his men wanted to meet his furious glare when his angry voice boomed in the hospital room. Even the two police officers standing off to the side flinched at the animosity in his tone. One of Billy’s men cleared his throat before speaking.

“We don’t know sir-”

“What the hell do you mean you don’t know? There’s six goddamn cameras in that apartment and not a single second of footage.”

The fourth man lifted his head to speak up.

“He cut the cameras, sir. They were offline.”

The edge of Billy’s lips was curled up into a faint snarl as he snapped his heated glare in the direction of the man who had just spoken.

“And how the fuck did that happen?”

“We’re looking into it sir-”

“Look faster. Go.”

Billy’s men all nodded and mumbled out a ‘yes sir’ when he barked out his orders, shuffling out of the room in a single file line. His hardened stare followed them until they were all out of sight. Once he turned his attention back to you, his sharp features visibly softened. He took a few steps closer towards where you were sitting on the edge of the patient table, placing his hand protectively against the small of your back as he glanced down at the gauze being wrapped around your hands.

“These dissolvable?”

The nurse lifted her head to look at Billy, nodding in confirmation. 

“Yeah, they’ll last for a few weeks.”

Billy inhaled sharply with a curt nod, lifting his gaze to look at the older woman.

“And for the pain?”

“We’ll send her home with a prescription.”

When the nurse left you and Billy alone in the room, he stared at you silently for a moment. You hadn’t said a single word in the past hour. He slowly came around to stand in front of you, gently grabbing your chin between his index finger and thumb to lift your head. His dark brown eyes searched your face. There was a bleak look in your eyes, and your face was shrouded in despair. 

“I’m gonna find him.”

Billy’s voice was firm and unwavering, and the look in his eyes told you he meant it. This was personal for him now. All you could manage was a weak nod. Billy let out a deep exhale through his nose, gently cupping the back of your head as he took a step forward to stand between your legs, hugging you to his chest.

“C’mere. It’s gonna be alright.”

Closing your eyes, you buried your face into Billy’s crisp white dress shirt that had been stained with the blood from your hands. He was the only person you had left in New York now. 

A moment later, a knock sounded on the door, and you and Billy both turned your heads as Detectives Craven and Williamson walked in. Detective Craven had a manila folder in his worn hands, and his sympathetic brown eyes washed over you as he let out a weary sigh.

“You okay?”

“I’m not dead.”

The older man faintly winced at the edge to your voice. Rubbing his hand down his face, he let out another deep sigh as he opened the thick folder.

“Is this what you saw?”

When he held the photo up, you bristled and your blood ran cold. It was a crime scene photo from the original case that had shocked the once peaceful town of Woodsboro back in the late 90s. Two teenagers had terrorized the town, commiting a series of brutal murders, all while wearing a costume that had become infamous, and synonymous with the killings. In the crime scene photo was the original bloodied ghostface mask that had been worn by the two men.

The exact same mask you’d seen Roman wearing when he’d attacked you.

Swallowing thickly, you looked away quickly and nodded.

“Yeah.”

“Have you contacted Woodsboro PD?”

Billy glanced between the two detectives, his sharp features morphing back into the more stern expression he’d given his men just moments ago. 

“That’s privileged information.”

Billy’s dark brown eyes flickered over towards Detective Williamson, and he arched one of his dark brows as he stood up straighter and turned to face him.

“Considerin’ my company is the one protectin’ her since neither of you could be bothered to lift a goddamn finger, I’d say I’m privileged to it.”

Detective Williamson prickled at Billy’s accusation of inaction, firmly crossing his arms over his chest as he narrowed his icy blue eyes.

“Well thank God for you. I mean, without Anvil, we wouldn’t have a single shred of evidence about what happened in that apartment. We look forward to you sharing that helpful footage with us.”

A muscle feathered beneath Billy’s bearded jaw from the younger detective’s jab about the cameras. Detective Craven shot his partner a warning glare.

“Kevin-”

“With all due respect, Mr. Russo, this is a police investigation. We can’t afford bias or coincidence-“

“Coincidence?”

Billy took a few steps closer, towering over Detective Williamson with a menacing look in his eyes. Detective Craven lept into action, slipping his arm between the two men.

“Guys-”

“You think it’s a fuckin’ coincidence that son of a bitch was wearing the goddamn mask associated with the most notorious murders in her hometown? In his own hometown?”

The older detective pushed at his partner’s chest, forcing him to take a step backwards. Detective Williamson looked at him with incredulity, gesturing towards Billy. 

“C’mon Wes-”

“Shut up, Kevin.”

Detective Craven snapped, raising his voice for the first time since you’d met him. His younger partner immediately closed his mouth, clenching his jaw, clearly displeased with being chastised in front of you and Billy. Whether it was due to respect for the older man, or because he knew not to cross him, he stayed silent. Detective Craven turned to look up at Billy, holding his hands up in a placating gesture as he spoke more calmly.

“Mr. Russo, I assure you we are doing everything we can right now. We’ve got three dead bodies, and a missing person. That constitutes being able to skip over the, ‘red fucking tape’, as Miss Y/L/N so accurately described it.”

Detective Craven looked over in your direction, giving you a knowing look, and you could detect the faintest hint of a smile. Despite the situation, you couldn’t help but give him a faint one of your own. You knew from that first meeting in the precinct, he’d been trying. It wasn’t his fault he’d been restricted on what he was able to do without any concrete evidence. He’d been on your side from the beginning, and you were grateful for him. His partner, however, could be Roman’s next victim for all you cared.

Detective Craven turned his attention back to Billy with a more serious expression.

“I put out an APB for Roman Walker. Every cop in New York has been sent a photo of that mask. I have several units out looking for him.”

Behind him, Detective Williamson rolled his eyes and let out dry scoff, crossing his arms over his chest.

“So we’re looking for a guy in a mask the day before Halloween, in New York City. Great.”

tags: @thyme-in-a-bubble @ferns-fics @danzer8705 @to-thelakes @simonsgirl @sweetserendipity65 @zomtart @day-dreaming-goddess @caroblogsthings @thomasshelbyswife @snowkestrel @hallowedtangerine @ameliaswife @dreadfulxives18 @ebsmind @lllla717 @slumnit @fireeyes-on-teller-dixon-grimes @nolita-fairytale @oliviaewl @r1kk @unlikelystarlightcowboy @imperihoe-writes @dumb-fawkin-bitch @merc12-us @moonyinthestars @sweetttart @i-caught-a-pidge @fruityfucker

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[the-prettiest-teardrop]

Second Chance Ch. 1

Pairing- Childhoodbestfriend!Steve x Introverted!reader

Warnings- Drunk Steve, Alcohol mention, Steve being an asshole, regret, kissing.

A/N- This was so fun to write, and part 2 should be out soon. This actually hit close to home tho cuz I got dumped by my childhood bestie right after lockdown ended

———

Steve-fucking-Harrington, childhood best friend, turned to someone you considered an enemy.

Elementary school was great, sitting on the porch together, eating popsicles, fighting over who was the faster runner. Middle school wasn’t bad either, minus a few arguments and awkward moments. Late nights were spent lying in your backyard, giggling and gossiping over who had a crush on who, and who was dating who. This was around the time you started noticing his popularity rise, more girls were starting to take interest in him, I mean, yourself included, but that was something he never knew. High school is when things went downhill, rather than laughing with him on the porch, you sat alone, staring down at your shoes, hiding inside whenever him and his new, cool friends came driving past your house. It all still hurt, the way it was as if you were erased from his memory, like he never knew you at all. 

Your phone rang, interrupting your otherwise quiet night. You set down your book, “Pride and Prejudice” and picked up the phone.

“Hey, Y/N, you think you could come help me out?” It was Robin’s voice, and you could hear drunken chatter and the other sounds of a party in the background.

“Depends on what it is.” You reply with an exasperated sigh, you were trying to have a relaxing night in, and having to save someone at a party didn’t sound like something you wanted to do right now.

“Listen, I need help getting Steve home, and before you complain, I’m not gonna be able to drive him home and you’re the only one I know that could help.” She explains before you can interject. She knew how he hurt you, and how you still disliked him to this day.

“God, fine, only because I want you to be happy.” You groan as Robin thanks you before hanging up. You put the phone back on the receiver and make your way to the party. 

Once you arrive at the house, you’re immediately hit with the overwhelming scent of alcohol and vomit, making you gag. You quickly find Robin, a drunken Steve at her side.

“Did you get him water?” You ask with a sigh, already over having to deal with him.

“Mhm, now get him home please, I’ve got things to do.” Robin reply’s, helping shift him toward you. You wrap an arm around the drunken boy, his hazy eyes meeting yours.

“I know I’m the last person you want to spend the night with, but let’s go.” You murmur, and he luckily complies as you get him into your car.

The drive home is fairly silent, until you turn onto your street.

“I don’t know why I ditched you.” He slurs drunkenly, and your heart seizes. You knew he wasn’t in his right mind, but hearing him say those words still meant something. “I thought they were cool or whatever, but now everyone’s off to college and I’m stuck working a stupid, dead-end job.” His words were sincere, no matter how drunk he was, it was all the truth. You couldn’t help but feel bad for him, it seemed like he’d changed, not completely, but enough to give him another chance.

“C’mon, let’s get you inside.” You murmur, helping him out of the car and into your house, where you then got him settled on the couch.

You could hear him mumbling to himself as you got him water, and when you set it on the coffee table in front of him, his eyes landed on your face.

“You’re pretty, you’ve always been pretty.” He slurs, and you give a brief smile, acknowledging the comment without giving it any time to blossom into anything more.

You brought him a blanket, telling him to rest before retreating to your bedroom. 

As you laid in bed that night, his words kept replaying in your head, and you couldn’t help the little swell of excitement you got in your chest when you thought of him. He was still as handsome as always, with his gorgeous carmel locks and big brown eyes. You dreamed of him, of what it would’ve been like if he hadn’t ditched you, if your life hadn’t taken that turn.

In your dreams, you lay in his arms, his face tucked into your neck. You were utterly in love, attending college together, planning out the rest of your lives. Unfortunately, when you woke up, you were forced to face the harsh reality.

You walked downstairs, expecting to see Steve on the couch, but he was nowhere to be found, until you spotted him out on the porch.

“What are you doing out here?” You ask quietly, confused as to his sudden change in location.

“You deserve an apology, and I figured there was no better place to do it.” He says quietly, his voice low as you sit down beside him. “I really shouldn’t have done that, I was an asshole to you, and look where that got me. I know this isn’t nearly what you deserve in the forms of an apology, and I understand if you never want to see me ever again.” He explains, looking down at his shoes.

“Thank you, I mean, I can kinda understand why you did it, being popular feels good, especially when there’s no one at home to make you feel like you matter.” You knew all too well about the situation at home, all the times he stayed over at your house as kids, all thanks to his neglectful parents. “For the record, I really don’t want to lose you, not after getting you back.” You add, and you find your hand in his, fingers laced together.

“You know, I had a crush on you all through elementary and middle school, always thought you were pretty, even after I left.” He says, squeezing your hand a little.

“I know, last night, you said some things. I’ve always liked you too, I mean, I don’t think that’s a huge surprise, everyone likes you.” You smile sadly, which makes his heart ache. He’d hurt you enough, and didn’t want to do any more damage.

“I’d be willing to give us another chance, but maybe as more than friends.” He offers, his tone soft, fearing rejection. Your silence scared him, but before he could react, you were pressing your lips to his, and his hands flew to your lower back, holding you close.

You spent most of the day like that, sitting on the porch and chatting, catching up on the last 4 years.

[strawberryblue-blog]

Guilty as Sin? —Pablo Gavi.

summary: Your relationship with Gavi as friends with benefits is no longer the same and you have to do something even if it means breaking up with him.

warnings: none. friends with benefits, sad, angst, break up, discomfort, curses, etc.

words count: +2.3k

#SEXYNOTE: As promised, here I leave you this story. I apologize for any errors or spelling mistakes, English is not my first language. Thanks for everything. Pedri imagine 🔜

It was late Friday night when you were still reading your notes and taking notes while the video played on your computer. You were supposed to turn in a paper tomorrow and you had fallen a little behind after so many assignments.

Maybe it was because your head had been a mess the last few days but you tried to ignore it and move on. If you kept putting ideas into your head, you wouldn't end up well and you had suffered enough to go back to square one.

It was probably late and you needed a break but you couldn't afford a nap right now. Your eyes were focused on the video when your phone vibrated in the distance. You ignored it.

But it vibrated again.

You stretched out your hand without waiting for the screen view as you unlock your phone. The notification makes you sigh and you open it wearily. You had at least seven messages from Pablo, asking where you were, what you're doing, who you were with. You rolled your eyes wondering whether to respond but after a few moments you locked your phone again.

As you refocused your head back on your stuff, your doorbell rang, making you jump with fright. Damn. The pounding on your door grew louder as the doorbell continued to ring making you despair. You got up from your chair quickly in a fury, walking to your front door and sighing. You open the door quickly and your eyes take in his figure, you are infuriated and you will let him know it.

"What the fuck, Pablo?" you squeal tiredly.

First your phone, now your doorbell. If you didn't answer it was clearly for a reason, why had he come?

"What are you doing here?" you asked again at his silence. His gaze was somewhat lost.

"I wanted to see you" he says taking a step forward. But you stop him. You don't want him to pass.

"Well you saw me, go away" you mutter angrily.

What did he want anyway? He had ignored you for days, now he appreciates out of nowhere and that made you desperate. Lately he did that with you. Ignoring you and showing up only when he wanted to and not when you needed him.

You used to be closer but these last months Pablo had been quite distant and disinterested on his part. And although you tried to find out what had changed in him or why he was treating you this way, he didn't seem to care at all, so you didn't care either.

"Y/n..." he mumbles, grimacing.

Now you are inside your house and you really fear for your integrity knowing that he already has power over you. Especially with that puppy dog look. His hands wrap around your waist pulling you closer and you whimper.

Great. The only thing missing, him showing up at your house when you're vulnerable. He knew you weren't going to throw him out or anything, he had that effect on you. Couldn't he tell things between you weren't right?

"Pablo, stop" you ask as his face sinks into your neck. Your skin bristles and even though you don't want to push him away, you have to stop him.

"I missed you, baby" he whispers and his lips search for you but your hands are quicker and they rest on his chest pressing against it.

However, he is more agile than you and quickly kisses you. His lips wrap around yours and you sigh loss as you kiss him back. You had missed him too, even more when he had been away these days. His tongue takes place in your mouth and tastes you, Gavi smiles a little as he feels you gasp when his hands go to your waist.

It was clear he had other intentions in coming here but you weren't going to fall for his webs again. Not if you didn't want to leave with a broken heart. You had suffered from his distance these past few months and could barely recover when he came back to you.

Your relationship with Pablo had changed over time, you first started out as friends, you got along well and had fun together like typical friends. You used to just hang out, write to each other, visit each other, do typical things that friends do until one night you slept together and everything changed.

You thought it had been a mistake and that it would never happen again, until you did it again. Again and again when you needed each other.

You started to see each other secretly from your friends, he would come to your house or you would go to his, in secret, no one even imagined it. You saw each other when you felt lonely or bored, sometimes to keep each other company but mostly to fuck and then you pretended to be friends as if nothing had happened between you.

These last weeks you had tried to meet him, you tried to call him and send him messages but he completely ignored you. But sometimes he would show up at your apartment when he wanted to fuck, you would do it and then he would run away from you when you wanted to know about him.

Yet he kept coming back to you again and again.

Just like now.

Your friendship had been damaged, you both knew it, you no longer talked or spent time together, you just fucked and it was killing the only "friendship" left between you. All these years, your secrets, the smiles, your nights awake under the stars, the talks in the wee hours of the morning, nothing made sense anymore.

You had become strangers. Strangers who fucked and nothing more. And that broke your soul. Because you were used to the idea of him being yours when in reality he wasn't. Clearly tonight was proving it. You were nothing. All that had meant nothing.

Of course, you have to admit that you never promised anything. You only saw each other when you wanted to fuck and then he left you with your feelings blooming. You were afraid that he would leave you at some point, which was the normal thing to do because of his situation, but it hurt you more that he didn't even bother to ask you how you felt about everything.

When you feel like that's enough from him, you pull away from his mouth, hearing him growl as he tries to kiss you again and you run your face. Gavi watches you somewhat angrily and confused.

"What's wrong?" he asks without understanding.

"We need to talk" you say putting your hands on your chest.

You feel that if you don't put a stop to this, you will end up consumed by passion and whether you want to or not, this is hurting you more than him.

"We don't have to say anything" he murmurs toying with your waist, his fingers draw you back to him and your body responds.

His hands feel warm on your skin and you recognize his scent quickly. His nose sniffs your skin and you shiver as you feel your belly churn. You swallow saliva holding your breath to maintain your posture and push him away from you again. But he doesn't let go and drags you onto the couch, depositing you on it gently as his lips impact yours.

Inevitably like an action programmed in your head, you reciprocate his kiss but instead of feeling it with passion, you pity him. You want to kiss him, it's clear but not knowing that he will then walk out the door and leave you a mess. How he's done it for months, come, take a piece of your soul and then leave with it.

You don't want to be the one to end it this way but unlike Gavi, you seem to be the only one who has the balls to do something about your little friendship or whatever relationship you have.

But you want to enjoy it one last time. At least you deserve it if you'll finish everything after this. So you try to keep his every move in your head, to remember every trace of his touch on your skin, to file every caress of his lips on yours. Even though your heart aches and you want to push him away from you, you allow yourself to enjoy his touch, his desire, his passion.

"Pablo" you call him panting when he crosses the boundaries.

You feel it's the perfect time to speak. If you don't now, you never will knowing him. His dark eyes look at you in confusion and his attention is drawn to you.

"We need to end this" you say softly. Your hands encircle the back of his neck and his brow furrows in confusion.

"What do you say, Y/n?" he asks doubtfully. His body lifts off of yours and he re-incorporates himself sitting up to look at you seriously.

"I can't do this anymore, Pablo" you admit sighing.

"Do what?" he insists.

You shake your head worriedly. He lets out a grumbling huff.

You don't say anything more. You've just said it all. He looks at you confused and his shoulders tense at your overwhelming silence. He doesn't seem to want to understand the situation and that makes you despair, he really is being selfish.

"Do you want to end this?" he asks tensely.

"Y-yes" you say sincerely and painfully.

"You're overreacting" his arms rest on his thighs and he sighs. "It's just sex" he says again.

Your chest heaves as you feel the pain grow. It's breaking your soul that he's so indifferent to you as if he never cared about your feelings.

Yes, maybe it was just sex. But you can no longer hide as if your feelings for him haven't changed, you're tired of enduring the pain he leaves every time he seeks you out and then leaves you. He gives you signals that you don't know how to take and then disappears like its nothing, it's not fair. Every time you tried to talk this with him, he would ignore you or say it was your ideas.

"We're not the same anymore, we've changed" you insist with your voice cracking.

"We're just friends" he points out lifting his shoulders.

Those words burn in your head. Just friends. Yes, you were but not clearly anymore. You are in a vicious cycle that only leaves you in a loop of the same thing over and over again. Maybe he doesn't see it that way but you are in danger.

"No, we're not friends anymore..." you say with a sigh.

"What the fuck do you want from me?" he questions exhaustedly interrupting you.

His tone of voice surprises you. The words choke in your throat and the air becomes tiny.

"Stop ignoring me, stop acting like a jerk, stop avoiding this conversation, Pablo" you say, a little excited.

You are hurt. You've wanted to talk for so long and keeping these feelings bottled up has hurt you, you won't shut up again. You are tired. You want this to end, for better or worse.

His back tenses as he listens to you, rests his elbows on his thighs and clutches his head in hiding. Just like a coward.

"I'm sick of you ignoring me and then coming after me like you don't give a shit about my feelings" you spit without swinging. "You want to have sex fine! but then don't ignore me for days, answer when I call you or listen to me when i want to talk to you, at least answer my fucking messages!" you shout in exasperation.

Gavi shakes his head denying with a wry laugh.

"You have no right to ask me anything, we are nothing" he mutters harshly and you tremble with fury.

"It's not fair!" you shriek out of your mind. "Do you even wonder how I would feel after you run every time you come back for me?" you ask warily.

He snorts again as if what you say is meaningless to him. Like you weren't important at all. he wasn't going to say anything? He really was an idiot.

"What do you want me to say?" he asks as if he reads your mind.

"I want to be with you but do you want to be with me?" you question confident with your statement.

You can see his neck tense and his muscles react. Still with his head down, he remains silent. He knows very well what your words come to and the meaning of being with you is not just fucking. It goes far beyond that.

"Of course I want to" he says obviously raising his head.

"That's not what I mean, Pablo" you mumble slowly.

His eyes search for you and you bite your lips eagerly.

"Why do you say stupid things?" he asks with a grimace. His nose wrinkles and you feel like you want to cry. "We said nothing was going to happen between us, we were just going to have fun."

Your belly twists in pain. You're completely vulnerable in front of him but you don't care, you just want this to be over with for fuck's sake.

"We never said that, it just happened" you whisper weakly.

"Because we only sleep together when we want to, isn't that what we used to do?" he lifts his arms exhaustedly.

"That's what you want!" you squeal again.

Tears begin to sting in your eyes and pain spreads through every pore of your body. This is hurting too much but more you are hurt by his indifference, his unconcern. Knowing that he doesn't care about you at all.

"I can't go through with this" you admit devastated.

"I don't understand why you're giving it so much thought, it's just sex, there are no feelings in between" he insist getting up from his spot.

"Did you really think this would work?" you question you scornful and disappointed. "You're hurting me!" you spit in reproach.

His attitudes are the straw that broke the camel's back. Ignoring you for days, leaving you alone when you needed him, pretending you were fine, that your relationship as friends was perfect, not caring enough, avoiding conversations. He may not see it this way but he couldn't see what was hurting you either.

"You're the one who ruined it!" he raises his voice pointing at you.

His words stab like daggers into your chest and you swallow a sob. You don't want to make a fuss when it doesn't even make sense, he's just said it all. Yes, you fell in love. But it's not your fault, it's both of yours for letting this happen.

Gavi watches you and you can't stand it. It hurts you to be the one with enough nerve to face the situation and yet he still gets offended. He acts like nothing is going on between you when your whole relationship is in chaos. You are no longer the same as you were months ago, you are not friends, not a couple, not close, not anything.

He clearly just sees you as someone he can fuck and nothing more. He doesn't see you as a friend, he doesn't see you as a lover, he doesn't see you as the person who is in love with him. He doesn't see you at all.

"Go away" you ask sobbing. You cover your chest with your knees and hug yourself, looking for some encouragement.

You want to let it all go. You need to get it off your chest and forget about it. He doesn't say anything, just stares at you in confusion. His silence burns, leaves a trace of emptiness in your heart and makes you despair but there is nothing else to do.

"Let's forget what happened, it's just you and me" he whispers kneeling in front of you and wraps his hands around your legs.

Pablo tries to smile weakly as he caresses your skin. Your chest resonates and you want me to embrace you but you can't. You can't get back into this vicious cycle, which only makes your heart break. You have to cut the streak and try to save yourself because Gavi doesn't seem to want to save you either.

You deny in tears, how can he be so cynical like that? You just said that this is over, that you're hurting each other, that there's no end here with no one coming out healthy.

"Go away" you demand angrily again.

His eyes weaken and he opens his mouth to say something but you don't let him. Not when all that comes out of his mouth is shit towards you.

"Get out of my house now" you shriek on the verge of exploding.

Your shout takes him by surprise and he stands up quickly, startled. He scratches the back of his neck as he searches for your sad look and when he meets it, he knows you're serious.

He nods slightly and moves but stops to look at you again, your head looks away as tears fall endlessly down your cheeks. You won't see him go. You don't want him to leave. But it has to end here.

You hear his soft footsteps walking away and open the door, for a few seconds he stands there. You can see him out of the corner of your eye, his hand is holding the doorknob and he keeps watching you, as if he expects you to ask him not to leave at any moment, but you don't.

You hug yourself tighter over your body and sob as he slams the door of your apartment, walking completely out of it. You collapse into a thousand pieces in that instant, letting out everything that made you ache.

Your head hurts from crying so much but your heart hurts more. You had lost the war against Gavi and you had fallen for him. It was obvious that at some point one of you would feel something for the other but clearly, that had not been Gavi.

You loved him. You were in love with him and you hoped he felt the same but his signals didn't tell you the same and acting now was the only way to save yourself. It should never have started like this, you should have stopped this before it was too late.

You try to hold out hope that in time, you were going to heal and understand his reasons. But for now, you can only live with the burden of having fallen in love with someone who doesn't love you back.

[ellebakers]

☆ Too bad | Part one

Ethan Landry x reader

NEXT

Summary : Ethan hates your new boyfriend. Luckily he has a knife and a phone.

Warning(s) : Death + Blood + Mention of sex.

You had been lying, naked, under Bradley your boyfriend for six months, his hands wandering along your body when your phone started ringing. Your lips parted and you groaned as you answered.

"Hello ?"

"Y/n, where are you ?"

Your best friend, Ethan sounded annoyed.

"I'm at Brad’s, why ?"

"We were supposed to study together, I've been waiting for you at the library for an hour."

You hit your forehead, how could you forget? But watching Bradley lower his mouth between your legs you remember.

"Damn, I'm so sorry e. Brad needed my help." You gasped when without warning, he thrust his tongue inside you.

"But-"

Your back was arching, but it was out of the question for you to get licked while on the phone with your best friend.

"Look, the test is in two weeks, we'll study later, bye." And you hung up, or so you thought. But the truth is that in the rush, you didn't check to see if you had hung up.

That's why Ethan found himself sitting on one of the sofas in the library with his headphones listening to you moan.

Bradley continued to devour you harder and harder. Knowing what turned him on, you tugged his hair lightly, making him groan against your pussy.

"Damn. Baby I'm close."

That's when your boyfriend stopped, you were about to ask him why, but he sat down and took you on top of him. "I want you to ride me."

You bit your lip, nodding. "With pleasure."

And in one movement you're impaled on his hard cock. You opened your mouth wide, the pleasure being intense, then you started to move your body, Tommy groaned, took one of your nipples in his mouth and sucked it.

You hadn't noticed, you were so taken by the wave of pleasure that washed over you, but Bradley knew that Ethan was listening, he also knew that your best friend had a crush on you, that's why he discreetly took your phone and put the call into FaceTime mode, revealing Ethan's red face.

Brad smiled at him while thinking show time.

"Sweetheart, you're so tight."

Your moans were pornographic.

"Look at you, all wet. Your nipples are so hard, I could cum just looking at them."

"Brad-I'll-oh shit, I'm going to cum."

"Go ahead baby, cum and scream my name." And in a stronger thrust you cried his name while cumming on his cock. Bradley hung up on Ethan's face, then he cum inside you.

After both of you took a shower, you went home and fell asleep peacefully.

But, it was going to be a long night for Bradley.

———☆ ★ ❀ ✿ ♡ ☆ ★ ❀ ✿ ———

Bradley was watching Evil Dead when his phone rang, without bothering to look who was calling him, he picked it up.

"Hello ? "

"Hello, Bradley."

The voice was deep and unrecognizable, Bradley frowned and looked at his screen.

"Who is this ?"

"Guess."

He sneered. "Y/n ?"

"Oh no, I'm much less hot than your girlfriend."

"So who are you ?"

"I'm a little curious, by the way, do you like the movie ?"

"What movie ?"

"Evil Dead."

Bradley froze. "How do you know ?"

"I know, because I'm at your house."

Bradley paused the movie and went to check that the doors were locked. He brought his phone up to his ear again.

"You couldn't come in without me seeing you."

The persona laughed coldly. "Maybe I came when you were taking a shower after fucking your girlfriend on your fucking couch."

Bradley stopped in front of his bedroom door. "Ethan is it you ?"

He didn't let the person answer and laughed "Damn it's you ! So did you like my little video huh ? You want to know something."

He paused, then whispered. "I fuck her like this every day."

The caller's breathing became heavy.

"You could never fuck her like that. You really thought I wasn't going to notice the way you looked at her. I know you want her but she's my girl."

He wanted to piss off Ethan and it worked, but his reaction was different than he expected, in a soft voice he told him.

"But if I kill you, she'll come cry to me. I'll wait as long as it takes and when she's ready I'll fuck her and believe me she won't have to fake it. With Me."

"Damn! You'll never get it, you're just a little bitch, she'll never want to-" Bradley didn't have time to finish his sentence, Ethan, dressed in ghostface came up behind him and slit his throat. He watches your boyfriend fall to the ground choking on his own blood. He got on top of Bradley and removed his mask, his face dripping with sweat he smiled at his victim and whispered to him. "I'll say goodbye to her for you." Then he repeatedly stabbed Bradley in the face with his knife.

After draining Bradley of his blood he got up and admired his work. Without your boyfriend in the running, you'll be his and his alone.

[miraclewoozi]

DRIVE. - l.c

DRIVE -- or, the night you realise it's actually very hard to stay mad at the guy who shows up at your house, throwing stones at your window on a Thursday night, to try and fix something that was your mistake in the first place.

pairing : chan x fem reader. content : fwb > lovers. angst, smut (MINORS DO NOT HAVE MY CONSENT TO INTERACT), fluff. more or less in that order. they’re both dumb as hell. not explicitly put in any detail but this was written with a more 70s vibe in mind so feel free to bear that in mind when thinking of the car/tech/styles etc if u like. w/c : 7.8k warnings : lots of swearing. it’s all a big fuckin misunderstanding because i am a whore for that. weed & alcohol mentioned (neither party is drunk or high at the time of this taking place). mentions of past cheating (neither mc or chan are the cheater). some pov switching because i said so. let me know if i've forgotten anything. proofread exactly once so if there's a typo, no there isn't. SMUT TAGS UTC.  notes : dino. get the fuck off my ass. i’m so serious i am not strong enough to handle the very real feelings i have for you. go away.  notes 2.0 : i listened to halsey’s drive for some inspo for this & took that as the title, so feel free to give it a listen if you want!

SMUT TAGS : dom!chan. car fuckin', making out, hair pulling, grinding/dry humping, fingering, finger sucking, dick riding, marking/scratching, unprotected sex (make good choices), overstimulation, multiple orgasms. praise. chan calls reader ‘baby’ & ‘sweetheart’. he’s a BIG talker during sex (sorry).

You’re not stupid. You heard his car pull up outside your house almost an hour ago. 

Since then, at random intervals ranging anywhere between thirty seconds and five minutes, there have been clinks of a thrown stone at your bedroom window, a piece of the gravel that lines your driveway. Each time, it makes your jaw tense, makes your fingers tighten in the bedsheets you pulled all the way up to your chin in a foul mood at 8pm. It’s been the same now for almost two weeks — you’ve been getting home from work, showering the day away, eating your dinner and retiring to your room as early as you possibly can. Your roommate tried to find out what was wrong around day three but you very promptly shut her down — she’s since learned that the best she’s getting out of you currently is a dismissive wave of your hand or some kind of a grunt. She joked one evening that it was like she’d adopted a teenager; you scowled so violently that she went to her room. 

Hardly any of your other friends have seen anything of you, either, despite the fact that several have come knocking to check if you’re all right. 

You’re very much not all right, as it happens. This is perhaps the most upset you’ve ever felt, and that’s going quite some way. The angriest, too. It’s worse than when that middle aged woman threw her entire bucket of popcorn at your head when you gave her salty instead of sweet, and you were picking kernels out of your hair for the rest of your six hour shift. It’s worse than when your nasty supervisor ‘forgot’ you were in the bathroom and ended up locking you inside the cinema overnight, because you didn’t have your own set of keys to get out and the people whose numbers you remembered weren’t answering their phones. 

It’s somehow even worse than when a summer crush from a few years ago broke things off by telling you that he already had a girlfriend back home and that you were basically just a means to pass the time and get his dick wet. God, and you thought that was the lowest you could possibly be.

Here you are, though, so far beyond all those things it would be comical, if it didn’t hurt. Chan has really done a number on you, and you’re not sure how you ended up getting so emotionally involved in your situationship with him that this is what you’ve been reduced to. For days now, you’ve been swallowing back tears of frustration (both with yourself and with Chan), rolling around in your bed night on night, unable to get to sleep because all you can think about is him.

Him, and the way he sounded genuinely horrified when his friends asked about the ‘movie girl’, and he laughed, ‘God, no – we’re just friends. That’s never gonna happen’. It was impressive, how quickly your face fell, in no way aided by the squealing giggles that rang through the house as a very, very drunk girl came running out of the living room and shut herself in the toilet, drowning out a chunk of the conversation you were listening in on. Somehow, it hurt even more when he went on to say ‘besides, there’s… someone else’. 

And when you have managed to drift off after hours of staring at the walls and the ceiling, hearing those words on a loop on your fed up brain? Of course he’s been in your fucking dreams, too.

In your defence, all you were trying to do was use the mirror in the hallway outside the kitchen he and his friends were standing in, readjusting your top to cover the hickey that he had so kindly left on your collarbone just the night before. It wasn’t as though you sought him out to listen in; it was a coincidence. And okay, fine, maybe you should have walked away when the conversation turned to the topic of Chan’s love life. Maybe you should have not crept closer and held your breath to be able to hear them all better. Maybe, even, you should have stayed around long enough to ask what he meant by it then and there instead of hopping in a taxi and going home without saying goodbye to anyone. 

Hindsight really is a beautiful thing.

Never gonna happen. Well, Chan seemed quite happy to ignore the fact that it already had happened. Several times. At least four of those being in the very car currently on the street outside your home. The car he’s used on countless occasions to drive you up to lovers’ lookouts in the dead of night, letting one of his many mixtapes play through the tinny speakers, where he’d kiss you breathless and cradle your face between his palms, as his fingers would delicately explore beneath your clothes, as his broad shoulders would slot between your thighs, as his hips rol–

And maybe you aren’t stupid, but Chan seems determined to prove that he sure as hell is. He came to pick you up from work the day after the party like nothing had happened, and couldn’t figure out why you said you would rather walk home in the rain than get in with him and stormed away without any further explanation. Then, he showed up on your doorstep on the morning of your day off with your favourite coffee and a breakfast bagel, asking if you could talk. He still didn’t realise what he’d done to upset you, so you slammed the door in his face. Finally, just earlier today, he ran after you in the mall, persistent as you’ve ever known him to be, and laid a hand on your shoulder when you didn’t turn around to just the sound of his voice calling your name. 

You pushed him off so hard he almost fell over. 

“Why can’t you just leave me alone?!” You had barked, shrugging your shoulders to try and realign your jacket. “I don’t want to talk to you. What’s not clicking?”

His face resembled that of a scolded pet when he took a step back and frowned at you. “I just wanted to–”

“I don’t care what you want, Chan,” you spat. “Give it up. I’m done.”

You could see the desperation swimming in his eyes as he scrambled for what to say and your heart felt like it was being weighed down all the way into your stomach. You supposed that was the part of you that was causing all this ache in the first place, and further that it was to blame for your current state of misery. But you steeled yourself and stood your ground nonetheless. He wasn’t going to win you over with puppy eyes and a pout. Not this time.

In his silence, you only then noticed how hard your breaths were coming, each slow and long but still dangerously unsteady. You lowered your voice, top lip curling at him as you muttered, “You’re embarrassed of me enough to lie to your friends? Fine. I don’t give a–… but shit, next time, tell a girl that to her face instead of behind her fucking back.”

It’s been seven hours, and you keep replaying the last thing he said to you as you stormed away (how his voice got quieter when he realised you weren’t turning back; how he sounded so hoarse, so sorry). 

‘I’m sorry if I hurt you - I— I never meant to.’

If. If. If. Were you not making it completely fucking obvious that he had, most definitely, hurt you? Part of your brain is even now starting to go down the route that he’s doing this on purpose, that it’s some twisted sort of damage control, that he hopes maybe if he plays dumb for long enough, you’ll forget what you were mad about or maybe start to second guess what you heard. But if that’s what he thinks, he obviously doesn’t know you very well at all. That’s never going to happen. 

Hell, for someone you were being so careful to keep in the appropriate lane in your head, Chan really has you thinking yourself in circles. You’re sick to your back teeth of him, and his stupid voice and his stupid smile and his stupid –

Clink.

Stupid. Fucking. Stones.

A groan loud enough to definitely catch the attention of your roommate sounds from deep within your chest at this interruption to your spiral and you finally, finally concede. Whatever argument he’s so clearly longing to have at 11 o’clock on a Thursday night? Fine. He can have it. If it means he backs off for good, you’ll give him his one last ruck.

You pull the window open none too gently and lean enough through it that Chan comes into view. He isn’t even looking up, you realise, too busy sifting through the driveway trying to find his next little projectile, and you hiss his name to get his attention. It startles him so much that he drops the indiscernible bundle in his right hand. He blindly scrambles to pick it up, those big, earnest eyes gazing at you as if you’re floating in midair before him.

“What the hell are you doing?!” You ask him, trying not to raise your voice too loud but at the same time, needing to generate enough volume for him to hear. He holds the bundle in both hands, now, and they catch the light of the lamp by your front door. Flowers, you register, squinting to try and make them out, your brows furrowing so much that your forehead hurts. 

Black dahlias.

You choke back a laugh. Ah, the joys of fooling around with the son of a florist. Are they all so damn dramatic? (Or does he just know that they’re your favourites?)

Whichever it is, you tell yourself that’s not going to work. You won’t let it. Through gritted teeth, you say, “go away. I’m serious. I’ll call the cops on you.”

He shakes his head, begging as he steps just a little closer so his face is more visible in the amber light too. “Please–” he hurries, biting his bottom lip. “Please, don’t– just… tell me what I did. I want to make it right. Please.”

He never begs like this. In all the time you’ve known him, you swear Chan has said ‘please’ to you fewer times than you could count on your fingers. Which is by no means a bad thing — that’s just always been the very comfortable nature of your friendship, and later, the -with-benefits tag that you ended up sticking on the end. 

“Why are you doing this?” You ask, pinching the bridge of your nose and fighting not to shiver in the cold nighttime air. Note to self: don’t do a Romeo and Juliet in the middle of the fucking winter without layering up, first. “What does it even matter?”

“What do you mean, what does it matter?” He asks, looking down at the bunch of flowers in his hands, then back at you. “I-... you know I’d never hurt you. Not on purpose. Please, just… if I did something–”

“There’s someone else,” you echo, fed up with his pretending. He’s a fair actor, you’ll give him that – he might even have been able to convince you, if you hadn’t already heard the other half of this tale he’s doing his best to spin in his favour. 

His face screws up, thinking he’s misheard. It’s his turn not to understand now. If you’re telling him you’ve met someone else, he’s got questions, because you’d promised to be open and honest with each other if that ever happened, so that you could call things off and go back to being just friends without it becoming a big deal. That was always supposed to be a calm conversation, not… whatever this is. You talked about it, right at the start. But… those are the words you’re saying, aren’t they? And why would you be mad at him if you were the one whose circumstances had changed? 

“What?” he asks, finally. “What do you mean?”

“God, no – we’re just friends. That’s never gonna happen. Besides, there’s… someone else!” You raise your voice without really meaning to, before swallowing hard and glancing back inside your room. “You said that, Chan. Don’t piss me off by coming here and pretending like you didn’t.”

Chan starts to look like he’s trying to figure out an algebraic equation in his head while only having half the required information; his eyes fall down to the gravel, his lips move without any sound coming out of them, his features tighten until there are definite lines between his eyebrows. Then, it clicks. The lightbulb moment. He slaps one hand to his face and shakes his head furiously, and you just know he’s going to wake up with an ache in his neck tomorrow because of it.

“Oh fuck,” he curses. “No, no, no, no, no – that’s not–”

“What did I just say?” You spit down at him. “Don’t piss me off–”

“Listen!” He shouts, and you gesture with your hand for him to lower his voice, interrupting his flow of thought and rendering him silent for a moment. “Fuck, please. Come down here and talk to me. That’s not what you think it is.”

You’re in every mind to slam your window shut and leave him out there in the cold. It would work if you got out your headphones to drown out the sounds of him trying to get your attention, which you have absolutely no doubt in your mind that he would do. And maybe then he’d get the hint; maybe then he would understand that you’re not just some pushover who he can just pick up and play with when it suits him. 

But he’s still holding those fucking flowers like they’re a lifeline, still looking up at you without a single lick of anger on his face. Not stress at having been discovered, which you would have expected him to be swimming in right about now. He looks… kind of beside himself, as if nothing could possibly be worse than what you’re threatening to do.

All this, for you? It just doesn’t make sense. 

“Please,” he says again, quieter, weaker. For the first time, you pick up on the hint of a shiver in his voice, and you swallow. Whether you’re gulping back your pride, or your resolve, or the last remnants of your sensibility, you don’t know. 

Does he deserve for you to hear him out? You’re not sure.

But does he deserve to be stuck out in the cold in just his stupid leather jacket and a pair of jeans? 

With regret, you think, no. He doesn’t.

All you give him is a scowl before you disappear from view entirely, pulling the window closed and drawing your curtains again. Faster than you think you ever have before, you throw on a sweatshirt over your pyjamas, grab your keys, and hurry down the stairs as silently as you possibly can. 

He’s stood in exactly the same place when you edge outside and pull the door closed behind you. Up-close, you can see the tiredness on his face: this is a man who has exhausted himself in worry, you think, and yet he still smiles a little when he sees you in full. He still holds the flowers out for you to take. He still purses his lips and blows out a stuttered cloud of air. Nervous, and not in the way you think he ought to be. So when you walk straight past him and don’t take the dahlias out of his hands, instead standing by his car and waiting for him to unlock it for you, you start to feel overwhelmingly guilty. 

Chan is many, many… many things. But he really isn’t this good of a performer, no matter what you’ve been telling yourself all week. For God’s sake, why is it so much easier to be angry at him when he’s not standing right in front you?

You slip into his passenger side as he fumbles to set the flowers down on his backseat again, and he joins you up front just a few moments later. His hands are shaking when he sets the keys into the ignition. His whole body is. When you cast a real look over at him, the tips of his fingers are pale and his lips are lacking their usual rosy, pink hue. Your own teeth are chattering despite only having been truly exposed to the cold air for a matter of seconds; you dread to think how frozen he must be.

“Are we driving?” You ask to break the silence. Since he got into the car and fiddled with the heating settings to try and warm things up a little, he hasn’t said a word. It’s awkward. It’s horrible. You already miss the comfortable way you’ve been able to sit for hours together, barely talking, just watching the lights of the city and the cars travelling through it. 

You already miss him. Which is a strange thought, seeing as he’s only about ten inches away. 

“If– if you want,” he says, stuttering through the frost in his lungs. “We can go—...”

“Drive, Chan,” you say. It’s not just because you want him to stop falling over his words – which, to be fair, you do. Chan has always been very confident, carrying himself with the air of someone who knows exactly their worth. It’s one of the things you treasure about him. So this? Is fucking weird. But a big part of it is that you know his car will heat up faster if it’s in motion, and right now, you think maybe he’s at risk of losing a finger or two if he doesn’t get some circulation back.

He steps on the gas and the car pulls away from your home. It’s the first time you’ve ever been in his car without there being some sort of music playing, whether that’s historically just been the radio or a tape he put together with the help of one of his older friends. (The tapes that always had your first initial on them. The tapes that he never failed to ask your opinions on when he dropped you home – as if he’d compiled them with only you in mind.) The silence feels jarring and you can hear every rumble of the engine, every squeal of the brakes he definitely needs to get serviced. 

But the car does warm through, and you sigh out relief as the bones in your hands move a little easier, as your fingers curl and uncurl to less resistance from your taut muscles. Chan feels it, too; his body relaxes, his breaths stop coming out in fractions, his face gets some colour back. The timing feels a little less awful when you finally say, “go on, then.”

Chan glances over at you as he drives down an unlit street. Only for a second, like he’s checking you’re still there, before his eyes train back on the road. He’s going to one of your favourite spots. It isn’t a lookout – it’s somewhere completely shut off from the rest of town, hidden by the trees near the railway tracks, somewhere you’ve never had to worry about being seen or heard. Maybe he’s anticipating a screaming match. Maybe he’s expecting something else. Maybe, even, he just cares about how much you love it there. 

“I didn’t know you heard that conversation,” he starts, sheepishly. You want to roll your eyes, reach over and thump him, ask if that makes what he said okay, but you don’t. You stay looking out the front windscreen too. Waiting. “I… all right. I was out of my ass drunk.”

You click your tongue, pressing it afterwards against the inside of your cheek, but again, you stay quiet.

“I don’t think you heard what you thought you heard, though,” he goes on to say. “‘Cause– ‘cause it wasn’t…”

But you can only be quiet for so long in the face of this mess. Especially when he’s apparently working towards a doctorate in beating around the fucking bush. “I heard you tell your friends that it was never gonna happen with ‘movie girl’.”

Chan’s face brightens, and you can’t help but wonder what on Earth is wrong with this man. Why does he find that funny? Why is his chest moving like he’s trying not to laugh?

“And you… thought you were movie girl,” he says, nodding. “Okay. Okay – shit. I’m sorry.”

You look at him properly, now, as he indicates to the right and takes the turn that leads him down the lane to your spot. “What are you talking about?”

“I get it,” he says. “You work at the–... but you’re not movie girl. Not that movie girl.”

“Stop talking in riddles before I get out of this car, Chan. It’s too late for this shit.”

He holds a hand up as if to apologise and settles back against the head cushion, suddenly looking far more comfortable than he did thirty seconds ago. He clears his throat, running his tongue over his lips, before sucking in a breath and letting himself go on.

“You’re not movie girl,” he says again, successfully clarifying nothing. “There’s this chick I used to dance with — years back, before… God, when we were in school, like, forever ago. She moved away when we were sixteen.” As he talks, he reaches your destination and sets the car into park, before he unfastens his seatbelt and turns to face you. You do the same, shifting your weight to tuck one leg up beneath you, and with your undivided attention, he goes on. “I ran into her recently. She’s back in town now, I guess. It was like, two weeks—?”

“I’m gonna be all-over grey by the time you finish telling this story,” you interrupt, raising an eyebrow. “Can you please give me the short version?”

“Not if you want it to make sense,” Chan shrugs. Begrudgingly, you let him keep talking. “She said it would be cool to hang out, maybe catch a movie or do lunch or something — and look, I didn’t know she was asking me on a date, I thought she was just being nice, y’know? Trying to be friends, but… you weren’t working that day, it was when you had that… that stomach thing going on? And I brought you the soup my mom made, remember?”

You nod; of course you remember. At the time, you wondered why on Earth this grown man’s mother was making you food — you asked yourself whether he’d told her about you, or if she thought it was for someone else. In the end you decided he must have just been bringing you leftovers. But you’d been too worn out to start asking questions; instead, after you’d eaten, you let yourself fall asleep with your head in his lap as he patted your hair and hummed his favourite songs. You hadn’t let yourself think too deeply about it since. 

“Anyway. We were sat watching the movie and she, uh,” he glances down at his lap, tips of his ears burning pink. “She put her hand, sorta, on my thigh? And then I was like, shit, I didn’t read this right, like… at all. So I moved it off and she took the hint — and after it ended I said to her, you know, I was flattered, right? But I wasn’t interested. And then I went home and got that soup and—… yeah.”

He came straight to see you. To look after you. Hell, you didn’t even fool around that night; in retrospect, it was all uncharacteristically domestic. And slowly, the pieces you’ve spent days struggling to fit together start to fall into place. It makes sense. The only question that remains is do you believe him?

Well, tell a lie. 

There is one more. 

“You said there was someone else,” you add quietly. 

You’ll die before you admit it, but this is secretly the part that was hurting you the most. 

You can’t even look him in the eye, right now; your cheeks are burning with the embarrassment of even caring. As much as you want to tell yourself that the only reason you’re pissed is just because of the dishonesty, you can only stare at yourself in the mirror and point-blank lie so many times. Someone else. You hate it. 

Just the thought of him seeing somebody else, taking them out on dates, smiling at them, laughing with them, kissing them the way he kisses you, touching —

A shiver runs the length of you and you cross your arms, thrusting your sleeve-covered hands under your armpits. 

Chan takes a deep breath in and exhales it slowly, like he’s blowing smoke out of his lungs. “There is,” he admits, nodding slowly, avoiding your eyes, too. “There is someone else.”

“When were you going to tell me?” You ask. 

Chan doesn’t respond straight away. You don’t notice, but eventually his eyes do land back at you; it’s only when he clears his throat to get your attention that you look at him long enough to realise he’s quite deliberately staring. His lips are lifted on the right in a lopsided smile, his eyes soft as he reaches across the seats towards you. You stare blankly down at his hand until he wiggles his fingers, and you think briefly that this is the most fucked up ending to a situationship you’ve ever been through. 

You drop one of your hands down and let him hold it, though, staring at his face as his thumb brushes over your knuckles and you wait for him to finally say it out loud. For him to announce that he’s fallen for somebody and that he can’t see you anymore. To put the nail in the coffin. Don’t tell me their name, you think. I don’t want to know anything about them. Please, just don’t.

“For someone so frustratingly smart, you’re really fucking dumb,” Chan says, finally, swallowing around his words and squeezing your fingers. Whatever stoic expression you had forced onto your face at the start of this conversation dissolves into irritation and you snatch your hand away from him again, letting his own fall and collide with a thunk against the handbrake. 

“Oh, sorry that I didn’t realise you were sneaking around behind my back when that’s the one thing we promised we wouldn’t do,” you snap. “God. The only stupid thing I’ve done here is get involved with you in the f—”

“You’re the someone else.”

Oh. 

Oh.

“I’m—?”

“You.”

The admission hangs heavily between you, as does your nonsense, unfinished insult. Neither of you really know what to do with yourselves except sit perfectly still and try to somehow deal with your increasingly dry throats. When Chan moves, it’s only to turn down the heating dial when his cheeks burn a bit too hot; you appreciate it, in part due to the bead of sweat currently running down your back, but you don’t say so. 

“You could have started with that,” you say weakly, wrestling with all your strength to keep even some of your cards close to your chest. It’s not working though. Your attempt to conceal your elation is a bit like throwing a single leaf on top of a bison and calling it camouflage. 

Chan commits to laughing, finally, your sentiment breaking him too. Now, you do crack that smile, albeit mostly just at the sound that comes from him. It’s bright and airy, lighting his whole face up as he drops all the way back and leans against his car door, pushing his fingers through his hair. “I was trying to build to a moment! It’s not my fault you hit every branch of the anti-romantic tree on your way down.”

“I am not anti-romantic,” you scoff in protest. 

“Yes — you are.”

“Am not!”

“Are too.”

“No, you’re just an idiot.”

“Says she who didn’t realise her fuck-buddy had feelings for about six months, Jesus.”

“Chan—” You start, your voice laced with a playful warning. 

“Here I was thinking I was making it completely obvious,” he rambles on. 

“— oh my God, just shut up and kiss me.”

“Dropping hints left and r—” … “Huh?”

He stops short a fraction of a second after you finish, stumped and silent, frozen with everything but a little buffering symbol above his forehead. Kiss me, you said. Chan, […] just shut up and kiss me. All right, you’ve asked him to do that before, but not like this. Not as if you’ll wither away should you not get a taste of his lips this instant. It takes him some time to process it, but he does move in first, eventually. The way he always does, closing the distance between you like he’s been shot out of a cannon, one hand either side of your face, crashing feverishly against your mouth. 

Every now and again, he’ll be happy to let you take charge and set the pace: mostly just if he’s feeling lazy or especially generous. Tonight isn’t one of those times, however. He holds you and kisses you possessively, like you’re his, like this is how he finally gets to lay claim on you, licking between your gasp-parted lips after he moans straight into your mouth. He’s spearmint sweet, edged with that one cherry flavoured chapstick he stockpiles as he grins up against you, rolling his body fluidly with every separation for air, every changing angle. 

He pulls your sweatshirt up over your head and throws it down into the footwell on the passenger side, straight away hurrying to kiss you hungrily again, hands cupping your neck. His tongue is in your mouth once more, there’s no way you could possibly differentiate your breaths from his: you’re one, in every way you can be with your clothes still on, but it’s not enough. 

“Want you,” you whimper as he nips at your bottom lip and pleasure rushes through you from head to toe. 

“You’ve got me,” he groans with his eyes still closed. “I’m all yours.” 

“No,” you insist, whimpering when his cute little nose drags across your cheek until he’s pressing hot kisses to your jawline. “I— fuck—”  He suckles on the sweet spot below your ear and your spine tingles, head tilting to give him better access. “Chan, I want you.”

Chan settles back from you, his usually bright, sparkling eyes now darkened with desire. All he gives you is a singular glance sideways, but you know exactly what he’s suggesting. You nod, breathing deep, biting the inside of your cheek; he turns off the headlights and it’s all systems go. 

There’s a rush to scramble into the back of the car. Chan takes the keys out the ignition and climbs through the gap in the seats; you opt for the less hazardous approach of getting out of the vehicle entirely and re-entering it instead. Not that it bothers him — no sooner is the door closed behind you, Chan’s hands are on your hips and he pulls you on top of him, your leg knocking the dahlias off the leather and onto the floor in the process. You gasp and glance down but he averts your attention with two fingers under your chin, guiding you to look back at him. 

“What? You think this is the last time I’ll bring you flowers?” He asks, capturing your lips as he leans up to you; at the same time, his hands drop low and he starts to slide open the buttons down the front of your pyjama shirt. “Baby, m’gonna get you so many more.” 

You sigh at the affectionate name, at the change in its use; until now, Chan has only called you baby while he’s buried inside you, bruising you inside and out with sharp thrusts and rough-gripping fingers. But as much as you can feel him growing hard against the inside of your thigh while you try to get comfortable, one knee planted either side of his hips, you can’t help but feel as if this time, it means something different. 

(He’s had feelings for six months: it always meant what it does, now. You know that, deep down.)

Somewhere in amongst the never-ending sloppy kisses and constantly travelling hands, you manage to strip both his jacket and T-shirt off him and you’re pressed bare-chest-to-bare-chest with Chan, feeling every little hitch of his breath in his lungs, every thump of his heartbeat, every tiny increase in the temperature of his skin. Your desperate search for friction between your legs has you rolling your hips down against his hard-on, drawing grunts and making him squeeze at your tits when you rock against him the right way. His head eventually drops to your chest and he replaces one hand with his mouth, freeing his fingers to slide down the front of your pyjama bottoms. 

It’s honestly rarer for Chan to get straight to the point than it is for him to tease you a little first, so when he flattens his palm against you and brushes his fingertips over your already aching clit, you let out a squeak of surprise. He shivers, releasing your nipple from between his teeth for a moment; once he’s collected a little more arousal to ease the friction, he continues to rub at the bud, slowly building the pressure inside you.

“No panties?” He asks, struggle clear in the roughness of his voice. 

“I was in bed,” you gasp, eyes rolling back. It’s for the best that it happens out of pleasure, really, because you’re not sure you’d be able to stop yourself rolling them in exasperation at his remark otherwise. You shuffle a little, lifting yourself up on your knees more, breath hitching when he uses the newly granted space to dip his hand lower and press a finger against your hole. “Please, Chan — this can’t be comfy— just…”

“S’fine” he argues, shaking his head, despite the fact that the angle of his wrist is actually kind of painful, right now. The truth is that he can’t bring himself to care: not when he can smell your fabric softener on the shirt still hanging off your shoulders, the shampoo in your freshly washed hair, all so pretty mixed with the damp scent of your desire. Not when you clench around him as he slides his finger in and out of your cunt. Not when he could get you to soak all the way through these pretty satin pants. 

Your arms snake around his neck as he dips a second finger inside you to join the first. The way your thighs tighten around his hips could — should — be embarrassing, the fact his sturdy lap holds you open enough for your pussy to be toyed with even more so. You almost always do this too music, too — for what might be the first time ever, you can hear every single wet sound your body makes, every hitch of your own breath, every grunt he gives even though he’s not the one being pleasured. 

You don’t even realise how you’re rocking up and down against his hand until Chan licks from the base of your neck to your jaw, smirking over your pulse point and says, “gonna ride my cock this good too, baby?”

And if it was anyone else talking to you like this, you would be embarrassed. Mortified, at being so needy you’re here doing all the work for him. At the cry you give as he splits and scissors his fingers to stretch you out. But instead? You feel another rush of arousal drool out of you as you press your nails into his shoulders and nod, bouncing harder and watching how his bicep tenses up solid with the effort of keeping his arm steady for you to use. 

“Wanna,” you gasp. “Want it so bad, Chan—”

Despite your pleas for this to move further, when his hand pulls back out of the elastic of your waistband, you feel like you could throttle him. The urge ebbs away when his soaked fingers press to your lips and he quirks an eyebrow at you, though — you end up suckling them clean, licking up every trace of your own slick. You lock eyes with him as you do, slumping on your thighs so your drenched core sits right over his tweaking length, the seam of your pants giving just enough friction to your clit for it to feel good as you grind down on him again. 

“Get those off,” he instructs, trying to sound hard and dominant. Which would work, perhaps, if his voice didn’t crack in the middle of the sentence. “Now.”

Even though you’re overcome with a need to tease him, the desire you have to be split open on his length outweighs it, so you do as you’re told and hold it in for later. It’s not easy, but you manage to manipulate yourself in his lap to work the satin down your thighs and past your knees. He helps you tug them the rest of the way past your ankles and feet, shoves them onto the floor — Chan’s hands settle back on your hips and yours skim down his stomach at the same time, fingers grazing over the little hairs that trail from his bellybutton down into his jeans. 

“Can I?” You ask, playing already with his belt buckle. 

He hums assent and you slip it all the way open, tugging as he moves his hips underneath you so you can pull it free from the loops. Between you, you manage to get his jeans unfastened, to pull both them and his boxer shorts down over his ass and to his knees; finally, fucking finally, his cock sits pretty and leaking and free between your stomach and his. It’s getting cold in the car now the heating isn’t on, but you’re already burning up in anticipation for him to ruin you; the way his abs ripple as he takes his shaft into his hand and strokes himself a couple of times to prepare tells you he’s in the same boat. 

It’s like clockwork, from here. You shift into position as easily as you settle into bed after a long day. Chan rubs his tip through your folds, feels the warmth of you and hisses through his teeth with fluttering eyes. Just like always. This never changes. He can’t ever get enough of that first feeling of his cock against your pussy: it’s like the first hit of a blunt, like the first sip of a cold beer, the first full-body stretch early in the morning. He’s sure it’s what arriving at the gates of heaven must feel like. 

You sink down onto him slowly, fluttering around his tip and stilling to give you both a moment to get used to the feeling. He’s thick inside you. Thicker than his pretty, dainty fingers have ever been able to stretch you enough for. Even as wet as you are, you still need to suck a deep breath into your lungs before you can relax your hips further and let your heat swallow him all the way to his base. 

Chan’s head is tipped back in pleasure, he’s biting his lip at the sting of your nails pressing hard into the back of his neck. He loves it, though — loves how the pain shoots in waves down his spine, how it tingles in his brain, how he knows you need to anchor yourself this way or you’ll lose control. He kneads at your ass as you sit against his thighs, listening to you whimpering at how deep he is inside you.

“So fucking tight around me still,” Chan groans, focusing all his willpower into keeping his hips down on the leather beneath him. “Shit, baby — you feel so good…” His neck softens and his head drops forward again as you start to move, rising and falling over and over. He kisses your throat and down to your collarbones while you work up to a rhythm, sliding his palms up your back, hugging you close to him. 

He isn’t even the one putting in the hard work, but within minutes of this, his soft, fluffy hair clings to his forehead. A light sheen of sweat makes him radiant under the moonlight breaking through the trees. He’s breathing heavily, the top of his toned chest painted a soft pink — you don’t think he could possibly look prettier. Not until he cups your jaw with his hands and you look upwards: you land on his smiling face, those plush, swollen lips, his devilish but sweetly glittering eyes. The sight of him, looking at you like you’re some kind of Goddess, makes your pussy tighten and your tiring hips stutter. You slip your pyjama top all the way off your arms and curl your fingers into his hair, meeting him in an open-mouthed kiss, through which you’re both just beaming. 

You’ve never kissed him this much. When it all started out, you sort of had a rule against it, but now? Neither of you can stop. As he starts to fuck up into you, taking the reins and letting your burning thighs rest, he keeps your face steady with his hands and freely allows his lips to slide against yours. It’s not refined. It can’t be. Not with how hard and fast his movements quickly become, not with the onslaught of curses and moans and babbled praise coming from the both of you. One particularly sharp thrust makes you yelp out a squeak of his name and he just swallows it down, making a point to keep aiming for— and hitting— that same spot inside you. You’re a mess. 

He could do this all night. When your orgasm bubbles inside you and he starts pinching at one of your nipples, sending you over the edge, he’s nowhere near finished. Even though your cunt massages at his length, throbbing and pulsing through your climax; even though your voice is so high by now that only dogs can hear you; even though you nearly collapse on top of him with almost all your weight in his lap, and he has to work twice as hard to keep this going, he barely slows. He definitely doesn’t stop. 

“You can gimme one more, right sweetheart?” He asks, grunting into your neck. “Always feels so fucking good when you come.” You choke up an ‘mhm’, to which he responds by slipping a hand between your bodies and down to where you’re connected. His thumb presses against your clit again — not moving, just applying enough pressure to make you stutter when you say his name. 

Your thighs are still twitching when you try to lift yourself a little, try to meet his movements as he chases his orgasm too. The “problem” with Chan is that his stamina is otherworldly. You couldn’t keep up if you wanted to. 

“Relax,” he says, tensing his jaw, doing the opposite himself. “Fuck — lie down.”

It’s pretty cramped and hard to move, but you lift yourself off him and only slightly lament at the sudden emptiness between your legs. There isn’t time to get too upset, however: moments after you get comfortable on your back, Chan shoves his jeans the rest of the way down and stands with one knee planted on the seats, lifting one of your ankles up to rest it on his shoulder. He slips back inside you easily then, gripping around your calf to keep you both steady. From the word go, his pace is relentless. You scrabble around for something to hold onto but the entire car seems to melt away; you ball your hands into fists at your sides instead, your eyes squeezed tightly shut. 

“Mm-mm. Look at me,” Chan hums, tightening his grip on your leg. “Wanna see those pretty eyes.” 

You obey, opening your lids to look up at him while he pounds into you hard enough to make the car shake. Over, and over, and over, and over. Rougher. Faster. For how long? Who even knows. All you’re truly aware of is how good it feels. How the windows grow foggy with the  steam of your laboured breaths. How his sweat mingles with your own. 

When his fingers on the other hand get reacquainted with your clit, when he bites down on his bottom lip, when his thrusts start to get messier and more erratic and the veins in his arms start to bulge out, you know he’s getting close. He doesn’t need to tell you out loud. The smirk he wears speaks for itself. 

“Where d’you want it, baby?” He asks you, pressing a kiss to the inside of your ankle. 

“In— mmh, in-…side me—” you stammer, hips jolting as you near your second orgasm to match his first. “Please, Chan — want it all…”

“Yeah?” 

“Yeah—”

Well, he must’ve been holding himself back something spectacular, because a few thrusts later you watch all of his muscles contract as he tips over the edge, and you go hurtling with him. It’s all so much. All your nerve endings feel like they’re on fire and your vision starts to blur at the edges; it’s not long before you have to close your eyes to shut one of your overworked senses out, completely. Your muscles are sore. Your throat hurts. Even your lungs ache. 

God, he hasn’t gone that hard in so long, you don’t know what to do with yourself. You can barely speak — it’s going to take you a week to recover from this, minimum. 

He stills deep inside you, feeling his cock throb with the last pumps of his release. Your leg slips off his shoulder and your foot lands down with a thud onto the car’s (thankfully clean) floor; he bends forward to kiss you, still breathing heavily against your lips. You’ve come over completely boneless and reaching up to thread your fingers into his hair again feels like running a marathon at sprint pace. You’d fall asleep right here, right now, if you could, but with sweat cooling rapidly against your skin, you know that’s probably not up there as one of your finest ideas. 

“You really think getting involved with me was stupid?” Chan asks, nudging your nose with the tip of his own. He’s never been less serious than this in his entire life, which stops you feeling too bad when you lightly slap at his rock solid chest and try to push him off you.

“Yes,” you lie, attempting to reach to the ground for your pyjama shirt while he grips your chin and attacks you with tiny little pecks all over your face. “Stupidest thing I’ve ever done.”

(Chan chuckles to himself and thinks that he’s quite happy to be the stupidest thing you’ve ever done, really. He can stay that way, as long as you promise never to stop.)

thank you so much for reading. i hope you enjoyed it - likes, feedback, comments, reblogs are all so appreciated.<3

[navstuffs]

5 stars ⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐

Pairing: Re4!Leon Kennedy x F!Reader

Summary: Leon Kennedy is on his way to pick you up in 5 minutes.

Warning tags: SMUT SO NO MINORS, NSFW, porn with plot, car sex, roleplay of rideshare driver x passenger, ooc leon (he doesn't hit the car), masturbation (female), sex (p in v), public sex, creampie, image taken from google and edited by me

Author's Note: heeey, i had this on my draft sitting for so long and wrote this from 11 pm to 2 am, in a frenzy. i had so much fun writing, (not so much fun editing this picture let me tell ya), so i hope you enjoy it too!

my leon's masterlist

Leon Kennedy is on his way to pick you up in 5 minutes. 

You blink at the message sent to your phone, confused. You had just finished a good walk in the park and could definitely walk back home, no biggie. The weather had been great, not too warm or humid. Your husband had other plans, clearly. You pinpoint your location to your driver, excitement growing inside of you.  

Not even four minutes later, the black Range Over enters the park's gates, and you start giggling. Before getting in the car, you must laugh as much as you need, you think. If your husband was doing this, he had an excellent reason.

The car stops by your side, and you open the backseat door. Inside, a handsome and familiar face looks at you in the rearview mirror.

"Leon?" You hold back a laugh, simply giving a timid smile. Leon asks your name, and you confirm. "Would you mind if I rode in the passenger seat, Sir?"

Leon mumbles an inaudible "Not at all." You know just calling Leon "Sir" has already affected him. You close the back door, open the passenger's and jump right in. Leon is wearing a black baseball cap over his golden locks, and you control another urge to not chuckle. To complete the look, he wears one of his tight black shirts (which makes his chest looks huge) and the black pants you love on him.

Leon is staying in character: it is weird he isn't smiling at your presence, but you are to be blamed for this. He is trying, and it is your fault.

You were the one who revealed, while drunk, how interesting it would be to get fucked in a car by a rideshare app driver if, of course, he was Leon. You knew it was a silly fantasy, but Leon considered it a great idea to surprise you at the right time. And the moment finally came, when you left the house ready for a walk, wearing a green shirt and those tight pants. 

"Is the AC okay, ma'am?" You are taken aback by how serious and smooth his voice sounds.

"Mhm, yes, thank you, Sir." But two could play into that game.

You can feel Leon staring at your gym pants, going up to your shirt and cleavage. You lied: the car was a little too cold, and your nipples, protected by your bra top, were starting to get hard, a fact that didn't pass unnoticed by your driver.

"Are you sure you are not cold?" Leon asks again, his blue eyes struggling to stay focused on the road. 

"Maybe a little," You admit.

Instead of raising the AC temperature, Leon places his warm leg in your upper leg. Surprised by the sudden touch, you don't move as Leon caresses slowly. 

"This help?" Leon murmurs, and you nod as his hand starts raising up slowly. "How do you plan on paying for this ride?"

"I have no cash on me. Or cards," You whisper, your body shaking with anticipation. Your eyes wander outside momentarily, not recognizing the empty road you are on and not even caring.

"I guess you will have to pay me in another way, then," Leon sounds decisive, a naughty smile playing on his lips.

"What other way, Sir?" You pretend to sound nervous, despite your body warming up. 

Leon answers by firmly pressing his thumb against your clit, as the rest of his hands grab the middle of your legs. Bastard, who knew your body so well by now. He rubs circles through the fabric, an approval hum coming from his chest.

"I think this could work."

You moan back a frail "Yes," spreading your legs open so Leon can have easier access. Your worries about him hitting the car don't even come to mind: you would trust Leon with your life. And the windows are tinted, so fuck it. Your head falls back against the seat as Leon continues with the lazy strokes.

"Touch yourself. Pull your top up."

You follow as told, pulling your shirt and top up until your collarbone. The cold wind from the AC makes you wince a little, the seatbelt scratching against your bare skin. You don't mind, your nipples so hard Leon licks his lips with desire. He also notices your chills, and suddenly you have your husband back.

"Do you want to raise the AC, sweetheart? I don't want you to get sick, and my hand is quite busy down here."

You nod, raising the temperature before going back on, pinching your nipples, a fire spreading in your veins. Typical of Leon getting worried about you getting sick like he doesn't have his hand in the middle of your legs.

"S-sir...Leon." You moan desperately, and Leon grunts an answer. You think he might pull over any minute now, but Leon continues driving, despite his attention flickering between you and the road. 

"Take your pants down. And your panties as well."

You take your gym pants down, together with your panties. When you place your feet into the seat, Leon momentarily loses control of the car, causing it to jolt to the left, but he quickly retakes control. You are going to be the death of him, spreading your legs like that, your body turned to him.

Fuck, Leon thinks. You look adorable, sexy, hot, spread like that, your pussy wet and ready for him. Your chest is rising up, and your face is heating up. He wants to stop the car and take you now, but Leon is committed to giving you what you want.

"Let-let me check" You hide a smile when Leon Kennedy stutters, but your smile disappears when your mouth turns into an "o" while he rubs his index finger, starting from your clit down to your entrance. He pulls in just the tip of his finger before pulling out.

Leon tastes his fingertip as if savoring it, making your stomach drop. You are so fucking glad you aren't driving this car, or you both would be dead by now.

"It should be enough as payment," Leon declares, not hiding his proud smile when he sees you even more embarrassed. He wanted to grab his phone and record it. Maybe next time, he thinks. 

Without wasting any more time, Leon shoves two fingers inside of you. Your head goes back against the seat and the window, the cold feeling good against your warm skin. He rocks his fingers slowly, admiring your pleasure expressions. 

"Look at the mess you are making on my seat," Leon says, smooth and proud. You look down, your wetness even more evident against the dark seat. Leon doesn't seem to care, pumping his fingers fast inside you. 

"Leon," You moan, desperate.

"I know, sweetie, I know." It is your Leon back again. You barely know how your husband is holding up, keeping you safe as your eyes glance at the hard cock between his legs. Your hand tries to approach it, but Leon shakes his head, a blush rising on his cheeks. Not if we want to live, Leon thinks. 

"It is about you now, okay? Be a good girl and touch yourself for me."

"O-okay." You sob. You take your fingers into your clit, rubbing in a circular motion, squeezing Leon's fingers even harder. You close your eyes, trying to focus on the knot on your belly. You are so close now.

"Open your eyes. Open your eyes, sweetheart."

You hear the command and obey, your eyes focusing on Leon's blue ones. He shares the attention between the road and your eyes. He is sweating, his other hand holding the wheel with his fists white. You want to touch him so badly, it hurts. Leon is panting now, jerking his fingers fast inside of you, your movements in your clit following the speed. You moan his name over and over again, finally releasing the knot in your stomach. You cum, tears in the corner of your eyes, as your head falls back. Leon only stops when your whole body just relaxes against the seat. 

The car jolts when Leon finally pulls over and locks the car doors, but you barely seem to register a drunken smile on your lips. He pulls his fingers out, pulling them inside your mouth.

"This is my tip. Come on. Lick them clean."

You lazily lick his fingers back, still trying to catch your breath. When he considers them clean enough, Leon pulls his fingers out of his mouth, his eyes entirely focused on you and only you. Your Leon seems back, releasing you from your seatbelt to pull you into his lap. You can feel his dick against your ass as Leon rubs your back.

"You okay?"

"Mhmmmm. Where are we?" You ask drunkenly.

"I have no idea," He chuckles while you hide your face in his chest.

"That's why you didn't come in the walk with me, you were plotting, sneaky bastard."

Leon chuckles, letting you relax for a few moments. He looks outside the car for signs of human presence, but there is nothing, just trees. No other vehicle has even passed since Leon was driving on this road. He doesn't want to push you to do anything you don't want, of course, especially after how much energy you just used. You seem to understand, though, turning off the car.

"What are you doing?"

"Deciding for you. Come here."

You release Leon from his seatbelt, pulling him to the backseat. You finally kiss, Leon's body covering yours, his clothes reminding you he is too dressed.

"I probably won't last," Leon states apologetically. With his help, you undress him leaving Leon only with his black boxer briefs. Leon finally throws your bra and shirt far away. You want to argue those were your favorites, but he steals another hot kiss from you.

A car passes fast, illuminating Leon and your faces for a second before disappearing. It doesn't have to be an idiot to understand what is happening inside, especially with the now car's foggy windows. You pull his boxer briefs down, and his cock presses against your belly, causing you to chill. You lick your lips, adjusting your position in your backseat as Leon's forehead frowns.

"Hey. Don't worry about it: if it is the police, you can just show your badge and say it is a secret mission or something."

Leon chuckles, knowing you are probably right. He tries to say something, but you finally stroke his dick, just the tip, and Leon is trembling in your hands, his blue eyes glowing.

"Shit, sweetie, one second."

"We don't have much time, Leon." You argue, impatience. You wrap your legs around his waist with your back leaning against the window and the car seat. Leon stands kneeling in front of you, one of his hands at the window and the other holding the seat behind your head. 

Leon enters you slowly, causing you both to groan. Leon is much louder than you, and the car starts shaking as soon as he starts moving.

"Shit, you feel so good. You liked your driver that much?" Leon teases, his golden locks rubbing your face.

"5 stars. Ri-right there, baby," You answer, holding him close to you. Leon knew precisely where and how to poke you with the right intensity. You try to stay silent, focusing on the noises of your pussy and Leon's groans. As his thrusts become harder without you even needing to ask, another car in a different direction passes, this time much slower, his high beam on. Leon notices your worried expression, pulling your chin back to look at him, and biting your mouth.

"Let them hear. I want them to see you are mine. Come on." Leon changes the angle slightly, and you scream, squeezing his triceps. He is thrusting so hard you can hear the car groaning. You forget about the existence of other cars and everything else, focusing your eyes on Leon's.

"S-so close," You sob, and Leon takes his hand to rub your clit. It takes two strokes until your body arches from the seat, shaking. You moan incoherently, while you close your hands in Leon's arms, as a way to keep you from passing out. Leon soon follows you, biting your neck as he cums deep inside of you, jerking his hips until the very last drop.

You two remain breathless. Leon's hair is damp with sweat, and he looks a mess. You kiss his cheek, looking at Leon's arm flexing so he doesn't put his weight on top of you.

"Are they gone?" Leon barely registers what you are asking, finally remembering the other car from earlier. He has to pass his hand over the window to take the condensations, searching. It seems that they left.

"They are gone."

"Bring me up, Leon, please."

He nods and gently brings you to your lap, still deep inside you. You just need a moment to catch your breath. You rest against his shoulder again, a happy and small smile on your face.

"Well, this tops the cowboy experience."

Leon chuckles, relaxing his head against the seat. When he starts feeling sleepy, Leon lifts his head, finding you already napping.

"I have to drive away soon, sweetheart. Before you fall asleep completely, why don't you wear your shirt and pants, okay?" You murmur something inaudible, and Leon smiles. He finds your shirt under his seat and your pants in front of yours and helps you dress, you more asleep than awake. Next, Leon pulls his shirt on and his pants, swearing low when he does not find his briefs. Guess he is going commando, then. 

Leon leaves you half-lying in the backseat, placing your seatbelt before jumping back into the driver's seat. He gives you one good look, sleeping peacefully, before finding his cap on the floor and placing it on his head. It is time to take you home.