#and they didn’t all hang out all the damn time

[kamitv]

“God damn,” Toji groaned, head tossed back, lips wet and parted, and fingers digging into your hips, “Yeah-, fuck, ride this dick like it’s yours, doll.”

Your pussy sunk down on his thick cock, swallowing up his every inch lewdly as your jaw hang open, broken moans of his name leaving your throat.

“T-Tojii, fuck-, y-you’re too-, mmgh! T-Too big,”

His cock snaps up into you as you sink your hips down and your eyes cross, his dick was so big and thick, filling you up all too perfectly and stretching you open as you rode him.

“Y’takin’ it jus’ fine tho,” He huffs out with a lazy grin spread across his face, “So glad you walked in when you did-, fuck.”

You bit your lower lip to conceal a moan, a small whimper slipping out as you do so before you huff out a response to him, “Pervert,” You whisper.

Toji tips his head up and his eyes meet yours, sharp and pointed gaze locked onto your fucked-out features, “Hm? What was that?”

You gulp and quickly glance off to the side, feeling as he thrusts up into you again, “N-Nothing-, nngh…”

“Uhuh,” Toji tuts, his grin transcending into a cocky smile, “Call me a pervert again ‘nd see what happens.”

Heat rushes to your face as you recall how the hell you got in this position in the first place.

You didn’t intend to walk in on your roommate jerking off and you surely didn’t intend to bounce on his cock moments later but then again, your roommate is Toji Fushiguro.

How could you formulate the word no to him once help was requested of you. ‘It’ll be quick’, he said, ‘c’mon, y’know you want me anyway’, he claimed— all as he continued stroking his cock and tempting you like crazy.

You were going to say no and then apologize for walking in for the tenth time in a row but then he groaned out your name and you felt a throb in your core, you couldn't get yourself to move. His voice was so damn low and gruff with you, grunting your name as he shamelessly jerked off not too far away from you.

Your face was burning with embarrassment and you wanted to leave his room but your feet were stuck in place and your eyes had finally dropped down to his cock. It wasn’t like you’ve never seen one before but fuck was he huge.

Thick from the base up, bulging veins decorating his shaft, tip dripping in precum and what seemed to be spit, his hand which was damn there equally as big, pulling and tugging on his dick so messily that it had you in a trance. Then he’d groan and grunt, eyes boring into your still frame as if he were jerking off to you.

And he was. You didn’t realize it until he let out a pant and moaned lowly, “So fuckin’ sexy, shit.” That was when you snapped out of your frozen stupor and lifted your gaze, meeting his and swallowing hard.

His eyes were everywhere on you, from the loose shirt you had hanging off of you and down to your exposed thighs— he was drinking you in and getting off to it. Your overly attractive roommate was getting off to you.

You didn't even know what you were supposed to say at that point because he wasn’t kicking you out of his room yet and you weren’t leaving, “Toji, I-“

“Fuuuck, jus’ come over here already,” He breathed out heavily.

You didn’t hesitate for once. Normally you’re fidgety and timid around him but for the first time since he’s moved in with you, your feet were moving on their own and you were nearing the bed he was in.

Once you were there you again had no clue what it is you were supposed to do. That was, until he moved to raise two fingers and beckoned you closer.

Mounting yourself onto his bed and slowly crawling toward him, your lashes fluttered carefully, “What… What do you want me to uh… do, exactly?”

You’re definitely not a virgin but you were basically acting like one.

Toji reaches over to you, carefully, questioningly even, before his hand reaches the side of your neck, tugging your expression closer to his. Face to face with him, your breath left your throat and your gaze instantly dropped down to his lips and how close they were to yours.

His head tipped to the side and his eyes were on your lips, looking as soft as ever as he leaned in. You didn’t pull away and he stopped barely even a hair’s length away from you.

“Do you want this?” Was all he asked and your heart was jumping within your chest, a shaky nod given to him in response. Toji wasn’t satisfied with that so he scoffs, “Use your words, pretty girl.”

You swallow hard but your answer is relatively quick, “Y-Yeah, yes-“

Then his lips were pressing into yours. The kiss was rough but oddly sweet, one of your hands moving to comfort yourself as you unconsciously placed it on his muscular thigh. He groaned into your mouth before shoving his tongue in, lapping up the inside of your mouth and swallowing you up entirely.

Toji’s body was hot and it took you a second to ease into him. Kissing him already had you whining and humming desperately against his mouth but it only worsened when his hand left his cock and began to touch you.

First it was your waist and he carefully tugged you closer to him, his lips prying from yours just to whisper, “You want me?” He asked.

His question made your heart flutter and your mind felt like it was spiraling, “Mhm.”

Toji smirks as if he already knew the answer to his question prior to asking, “Then get on top of me,” He instructs.

And that’s roughly how you got into the position you’re in now— hips bucking against Toji as his heavy cock knocked around your insides, breast jumping in front of his face, and cries of his name filling the bedroom.

Even though you were on top, Toji was still very much in control. His big hands were locked onto your hips, forcing you to fuck your cunt down onto his fat cock over and over again.

He had you delirious and cockdrunk in minutes, it was almost embarrassing.

A hand would slap against your ass and your body would jump in reaction. Then there’s Toji’s voice that made your pussy squelch around his length.

“Jus’ like that, doll. Fuck me, c’mon, you can do it,” His tone was so rough but his words were oddly sweet, despite the way he guided your hips on him and thrusted up into you so meanly.

His thick tip pounded up into this one spot inside you and you were gasping and babbling his name— trying your best to keep up with the man but ultimately failing.

Then, every time you tried to turn your head away from him, he’d bring a rough hand up to your jaw and force you to look at him. “Thought’ I told you about that? Want you t’look at me while you fuck me, pretty girl. S’not that hard, is it?” He taunted.

You frown at him and suddenly his hands go to your hips. Then your body was tipping back and he was switching positions.

Your back hit the mattress before you could process what was going on and his cock thrusted deeper into you, making your jaw drop and your eyes widen.

Your legs were going up and the most you could muster was a strangled gasp, “Fuck! T-Toji-, mmgh..”

“This better for ya’?” He teased with a cocky tilt of his head, “Can y’keep your eyes on me now?" He asked while folding your body into a mean mating press, his larger frame pressing down into yours and stripping air from your lungs instantly as his cock dipped deeper in between your sopping folds.

Dragging his hips up torturously slow, he eyes down your expression as he thrusts back in-- hard and heavy. Your entire face twists up in pleasure and he watches the way your jaw drops and a sweet moan pours out of your mouth.

"Mhm, look at'cha, y'like this don't you-- gettin' folded up and stuffed?" Toji huffs.

His voice alone had you weak underneath him, wide teary eyes peering into his as you laid there with your mouth hanging open so foolishly, "Uhuh." You utter with a nod.

"Fuck, you're cute like this, roomie," He hums as he slowly tips his head to the side, "Can't talk when you're gettin' fucked can you?" A quick shake of your head is all he receives from you and it makes him grunt, "Yeah? Hah, knew you wanted me all this time. Y'should've said somethin' doll, always givin' me those looks."

Your brows pinch together and his claim throws you off, "W-What looks?" You murmur quietly.

Toji groans and the weight of his body over yours along with his cock drilling into you has your body sinking down into the mattress, "Oh don't act clueless. I've seen the way you look at me," He points out to you with a lil' smirk on his face-- god you can't stand him sometimes.

Pouting, "I-I don't-"

"No need t'lie about it now," Toji cuts off. He knows you far too well after living with you for so long, "You can be honest," His voice is a bit gentler.

And maybe it was because he'd seen you gawk at his body thousands of times that he considered himself being nice to you right now but either way-- the look on your face was making his cock twitch inside you. You'd appeared as though you'd finally been caught doing something you weren't supposed to.

Softly, you just gaze up at him, "I..."

Toji scoffs, "You..? Go onnn," He's leaning his face down closer to yours and his cock is practically splitting you open, tip digging impossibly deeper, "Spit it out."

"F-Fuck, okay-," You finally give into him, despite not putting up too much of a fight, "Hah, y-yeah, I do check you out sometimes-"

Toji's smiling already, "Sometimes?' He challenges.

As his words leave him, your legs are dangling up over his shoulder and fuck you couldn’t move one bit. "All the time,” You gasp, a cute whine exiting your throat seconds later.

"Mhm, bet you thought about this a few times, huh?" Toji continues to chastise you as if the bed he were fucking you into wasn’t starting to creak and rattle below you.

Your brows pinch together and you give him such confused doe-like eyes, "Hm?"

Toji smirks and you feel his cockhead dragging in and out inside your pussy, "Y'know, gettin' your pretty lil cunt fucked like this,” He utters vulgarly.

Your body twitches and you can feel yourself coming close, "Fuck.”

"Mmh, keep squeezin' 'round me like that,” He encourages, heavy balls smacking against your ass, cock splitting you open and leaving you dumb within’ seconds.

"Toji," You call out, unsure of why but moaning his name anyway.

He nods before glancing to your lips, "Mhm, open ya’ mouth f’me, pretty.” You begin to do just that and he smiles, “Nice ‘nd wide, yeahhhh…” Then he’s spitting right onto your tongue, fucking you rougher, and watching the way you moan because of his actions.

"Mmgh…” You swallow down the messy wad of saliva he’d just gifted you— eyes all teary as you blearily keep your eyes up on his.

The sight of you swallowing his spit makes him absolutely feral. You could see his pupils dilating and suddenly his fucking you harder and his grunts are getting huskier. His cock was so damn thick in girth, throbbing veins rubbing all against your plush walls at such a rough pace that your legs felt like pure putty within his hold.

“S’too much, fuck-," You gasp out sharply, your hands sliding down to his chest and giving Toji the slightest push.

The feel of your nails grazing his tense skin makes him let out a low groan, "Aht aht, stop that, don't start pushin' me away,” He hums to you almost sweetly. Then he’s pressing his body weight even further onto you, his leaking tip bullying your cervix with each thrust, “You can take me." Toji whispers to you.

Your head is shaking immediately and you’re just babbling to the man, "C-Can't Toji, m'gonna cum."

"Go ahead then, cum on my cock. Get it nice 'nd messy f'me,” He rasps as his eyes roll back with the way your pussy was clamping around his hard cock. "Yeahhh, there you goo,” He coos, leaning up slightly just to look at the sight of you below him all fucked out as you reach your high, “Look s'pretty creamin' on me like that, fuck."

He’s not too far behind you in the slightest. The simple sight of you still weakly trying to get him to slow down as he fucks you through your orgasm was enough to have him emptying himself inside you within seconds. Your eyes were all glossed over, lips swollen and pouty from kisses, cheeks wet with a few tears, and body fucking perfect beneath him.

Toji may have teased you earlier about the way you’ve been looking at him ever since the two of you started living together but fuck, he knows damn well this is all he’s wanted ever since he first set his eyes on you.

A/N: Had this sitting in my drafts for a while, hope you guys enjoyed <33

[us-the-voices-and-more-voices-2]

Duke meets Harold

Duke is in the bat cave like normal it’s a normal day, he’s usually not in the batcave during the day. But it’s quiet and he needs to look up something. All of a sudden he hears a noise and it’s coming from the bat mobile.

Duke: who- whose there?

the clanking and clanging of tools alerts duke to their position.

Duke: I SWEAR if it’s you joker I will BASH your head in with a crowbar

all of a sudden a short hunched man appears from behind the Batmobile.

Harold: *waves*

Duke: WHO ARE YOU

Harold: *shrug*

Duke: are- are you supposed to be here?? WHO ARE YOU???

Harold: *nods*

Duke: *thinks for a moment* wait can you talk?

Harold: *shakes his head no*

Duke: damn, wait you don’t have a AAC or something?

Harold: *shakes his head no*

Duke: I don’t think you’re a criminal or anything but we are going to go out and grab a AAC, it’s not fair for you man,

Then duke and Harold go out on the town to go find a AAC device after a few stops and a lot of calls later Duke and Harold return home and all the while Harold's been testing out the AAC.

Harold: *presses some buttons on the AAC and a computerised voice starts playing* Hi I am Harold

Duke: nice to meet you Harold your getting a hang of that quick!

Harold: I have never heard of these

Duke: yeah they weren’t really a thing for a while, but technology and stuff got way better and more people were able to use them!

Harold: *presses buttons* Bruce and The family are really nice to me, but I did not think I would ever have a voice

Duke: I mean? Not many people do sometimes, also YOU KNOW BRUCE???

Harold: he took me in so I didn’t have to go back to the asylums

Duke: wait people were putting you in an an asylum???

Harold: many people like me get put in institutions and asylums, they are not good places.

Duke: wow I am learning things, well it’s nice to meet you formally Harold! Do you want me to drop you off anywhere or do you wanna go home?

Harold: I was in the middle of updating some parts to the Batmobile, and would like to continue.

Duke: sure dude, want any food before we go home? Because we are out already why not?

Harold: would not, but thank you

Duke and Harold make their way back to the bat cave, there Tim is sitting at the bat computer pouring over Case files.

Duke: hi Tim

Harold: hi tim

Tim: HAROLD???

Harold: I have a AAC now, duke got it

Tim: wait what is that?

Duke: dude, you don’t know what a AAC is?

Tim: no what is it?

Duke: it’s a device so that mute people or nonverbal people can communicate without having to speak, uh also why did no one tell me about Harold?

Tim: oh Harold usually sleeps during the night and tinkers in the shed, you never noticed his room?

Duke: uh, no.

Tim: wow no one told you?

Duke: yeah no.

Harold: I do not blame you, nice to meet you duke

Duke: you too man, wow uh so you really have been here the whole time?

Harold: yes HaHa

Tim: that thing really works wonders

From that moment forward Duke and Harold became good friends, and they started to talk often about all sorts of engineering and technology related things, and Duke would bring Harold cookies and cool things he picked up on his travels and fights.

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[stephsageek]

A preview of the Five x Lila one-shot I'm working on:

“Seriously?” she demanded.

“’Seriously’ what?” he deadpanned.

“Well, it’s Friday-bloody-night!”

“And?”

“Oi! What do you mean ‘and?’ You know damn well, I only get one night a month! One night where I make up an excuse to hang out, get out of the house, and let down my hair! And here you are, washing bloody dishes! Is that honestly all we’re going to be doing tonight?! I might as well be sitting in front of the telly watching the last of Diego’s brain cells die off while he watches Naked and Afraid!”

“What? You got a hot date with somebody else?” he quipped, tossing the towel he’d been using over his shoulder and opening a cabinet to his right. “Believe it or not, Lila, but I am not here on this planet to entertain you. You're the one who invites herself over just as an excuse to get out of the house--that has nothing to do with how I plan on spending my evening. A night of actual drinking and reading is plenty for me. I’m not the one living in a ‘domestic hellscape.’”

“Why do you have to be such an old man all the time?!” she whined.

“Maybe because I am an old man, crazy lady,” he replied, sounding unbothered, as he began to put dishes back into cabinets. Even with his back turned, Lila could hear the smile in his words. He thought this was funny!

“Believe me, I am more than aware,” she huffed.

“Don’t like it, toots, go darken somebody else’s doorstep for ‘book club,’ or whatever the hell other B.S. you feed that half-wit brother of mine,” Five snarked as he finished his chore.

He finally turned to face her, resting one hip against the counter. Lila noted he must have had a long day that day judging by the stubble along his jaw. And yet, despite his protests to the contrary, he didn't kick her out. If he didn't want her around bothering him, why give her his spare key? She watched him smile, his eyes crinkling ever so slightly in amusement. It was still strange seeing the signs of his advancing age. She’d gotten so used to him being so young that Lila found herself disconcerted to realize he was nearing physically twenty years old soon.

“C’mon, old man! Give a girl a break! I’m trapped in a bad episode of The Brady Brunch and Mr. Brady is a whiney sod!”

Five didn’t react other than to chuckle. He casually went over to another cabinet and retrieved a bottle of wine. He turned back to Lila and tipped the bottle, silently offering. She jutted her lip stubbornly. His smile widened. He turned back, returning with a bottle of scotch. He lifted his eyebrows invitingly.

Lila grinned and nodded.

Five nodded back, retrieved a pair of glasses, and went to get ice from the fridge while Lila continued with her diatribe. “I am trapped in a loveless marriage; I’m surrounded by needy people day in and day out! It’s nothing but an endless stream of carting around children, appeasing grumpy forgetful old people—no offense—”

“—None taken—”

“—trying to tune out gossipy aunties, and stroking an inept man-child’s ego! Five, I want to do something fun for a change! Something exciting! And my best and frankly only mate is a boring ass sexagenarian! Do you have any idea how sad that is?! That you of all people are the only one I look forward to seeing anymore! I love my kids and folks, sure; but it's not the same! You seriously don't have anything planned?”

Five shrugged looking non-plussed. Lila shook her head, dismayed.

“You’d think working as a time-traveling assassin and then as a government agent, you’d have developed a personality besides being annoying and uptight!”

Lila threw herself onto the table, her arms outstretched and her forehead landing on the hard surface with a knock.

She heard Five sit down across from her, patiently waiting. He sat her drink within her reach.

“Alright. I’ll bite; what did you have in mind?”

Lila turned her head slightly, peeking an eye out from between the heavy fringe of her bangs. “You’ll let me pick?”

Five sighed but smiled indulgently. “I suppose if I’m your only friend, than that means you’re my only friend too; I suppose I can be generous to somebody so pathetic as to call me of all people their friend.”

Lila sat up so quickly that Five flinched, drawing back ever so slightly in surprise.

She reached into her pocket and slapped a deck of cards on the table between them.

Five lifted an amused eyebrow. “Cards? And you call me old—”

“Not just cards, my dear man—poker!”

“Poker’s hardly what I’d call—”

“Oh! But I didn’t finish!” Lila wagged her finger, opening the cards and spreading them out on the table.

Five glanced down and reached across the space to pick out one of the jokers Lila had been searching for, removing it from the others and setting it aside.

“Oh? What’ll it be? Five-card draw?” He grinned ironically as Lila swatted at his fingers so she could dig out the other joker and set aside the ‘rules’ card. He continued. “Texas hold ‘em? Omaha?” Five took a long draw of his drink.

“Strip poker!”

Pfff!

Five expelled his drink, coughing into his fist after.

[suashii]

— 𝒸𝑜𝓏𝓎 𝒸𝓊𝒹𝒹𝓁𝑒𝓈 ౨ৎ

🦚 anon request: "making the house as cozy as possible before they come home" with matsukawa. you can request for my event here!

matsukawa issei x reader. 0.8k wc. ﾉ sfw ﾉ fluff ﾉ shirless mattsun. . . heh :3

Today has not been your day. Not by a long shot.

First, coffee splashed on your shirt before you even made it in the door to work—an accident that the owner of the unlidded beverage apologized profusely for. You think you could have brushed that off if it wasn’t followed so closely by an impromptu meeting that dragged on for an unreasonable amount of time. It left you racing to finish all the other tasks you were meant to complete today, tasks that should have been a breeze if your time had been budgeted accordingly—which it had been before that stupid meeting. 

By the time you’re finally able to clock out, the weight of eight stressful hours is heavy on your shoulders and makes your walk to the train feel twice as long as it really is. You find being squished between countless other bodies in the passenger car more unpleasant than you usually would but the upside is that you’re almost home—away from all of the bothersome inconveniences of the day, free to do as you please.

As you unlock the front door, thoughts of collapsing on your bed until you’re either too exhausted to stay awake any longer or your stomach growls in a noisy request for food are the only ones that swirl through your head. You’re quick to kick off your shoes and hastily hang up your bag when you cross the threshold into your apartment.

Your plan to make a beeline to your bed is put on hold after taking only a few steps in the direction of your room. You were so preoccupied with shedding the worst parts of your day at the door that you hadn’t taken notice of the oddities in the apartment—the scent of vanilla that only ever permeates the room when you take the time to light a candle, the unusual darkness you avoid coming home to by opening the curtains before you leave.

Your eyebrows pull together in a confused frown as you slowly approach the living room. The space that’s typically untouched when you return from work is anything but that. There are blankets messily strewn over the cushions of the couch and, despite the room being empty, the tv shines brightly in the otherwise dark area—one of many streaming service home tabs displayed on the large screen.

Before you can question any of the scene, a voice speaks up from beside you.

“Damn, you beat me out here.” You don’t have to look to tell that it’s Matsukawa—who else would it be? Still, you turn to face him anyway and are met with his large figure. There’s a goofy yet endearing smile on his face like he’s been caught in the act. The rest of his appearance contrasts that of his face—curls damp enough that water continues to bead at the ends, sweatpants low enough that you’re allowed a peek of his v-line. He must have just gotten out of the shower.

“You set all this up?” It’s a silly question that you already know the answer to but you can’t help but gesture to the cozy environment he created.

“Surprised?” he asks, and the smile tugging at his lips turns from goofy to proud.

“A little,” you admit with a nod, but you smile too. He did all of this for you. “I honestly thought you’d be asleep when I strolled in.”

Mattsun huffs out a laugh through his nose before putting his hands—still warm from the shower—on your shoulders and leading you to the couch. He sits you down and takes his place next to you, adjusting the fluffy blankets as he speaks. “How could I sleep knowing you had such a shitty day?”

You didn’t expect that your complaining to Issei throughout the day would lead to such a sweet gesture. It almost makes you feel guilty. “It wasn’t that bad…”

“That’s not the impression all of your texts gave.”

If you went through your message log right now, you’d probably find that the man was right.

“Fine, it was pretty bad,” you concede. But you don’t want to dwell on the negatives, not when Mattsun went out of his way to make sure you came home to something that was sure to cheer you up. You lay your head on his shoulder with a content sigh. “It’s better now, though.”

He’s warm, like a human heater—all the comfort you need bundled up in one person. Your person.

“Good.” Issei gives you a squeeze that you’re sure is meant to be a hug and leans down to place a sloppy kiss on your forehead. “Movie pick is up to you. And I can cook you something if you’re hungry.”

While the offer itself is kind, you can’t help but pull away and level the man with a questioning look. You and he both know that his skills in the kitchen are less than average. 

Without you even uttering a word, Issei chuckles in understanding. “Takeout?”

You nod. “Takeout.”

thanks for reading! if u enjoyed, please consider reblogging or commenting ❤︎

[evanescencelovrr]

Part 8 college!simon x reader. Reader works her first shift at the bar and meets team 141 🙊 feel free to like comment & reblog!

Masterlist here ✉️

First shift. You muttered to yourself, buckling your black belt in your jeans. All black outfit, perfect for waitressing. Your hair was tucked in a bun to keep it neat, some strands fallen. Closing shut your mirror, you eyed your dorm room, taking off the lights before leaving with your bag.

“I wonder what that crew is like…apparently they must mean a lot to him.” You said, under your breath as you walked to the main street. The bar was located behind Campus apparently and took about 15 minutes to reach. It wasn’t horrible—you saw shitty motel buildings and broken neon lights along the way.

Cars passed by every now and then. Your mind drifted back to Simon. Maybe that was where he got those eyebags from—working all these night shifts.

The bell rings as you enter and of course, you hear an electric guitar strumming over the speakers. Glasses clink and the displays are showing a football match. You nervously approach the counter and soon a man comes in—mohawk, beard and sharp eyes. Tanned. Tall, muscular and a rag thrown over his shoulder.

What you didn’t expect what his strong scottish accent. “Aye, y’er ere’ fa’ the job, lass?”

“Yes—“ You furrowed your brows, slowly comprehending it to which he barked out a laugh. You weren’t sure you heard him right and the words just spilled out your mouth.

His shiny teeth glittered in the lights. “C’mon, love, no reason t’ be scared. Names Johnny.”

“Of course sir—“

“Johnny.” He said firmly, eyes cutting a glance at you as he began cleaning the glasses with his rag.

You nodded and bit your lip—first mistake. You then made your way behind the counter, boots thudding against the ground. You always wore your lil platform combat boots—added a nice touch.

“Lieutenants got a hold on’ ya?” Johnny said suddenly, eyeing you. Confused, you turn to look at him and you shake your heard, lips tugging down a bit.

“I wouldn’t—“

“Damned man. Cannae help it, you’re a pretty one.” Johnny smiled, rolling his eyes and grinning.

You stare mildly shocked at his carefree attitude, not knowing what exactly to say—or how Simon would respond to this.

After a pause, you then say, “Show me around, yeah?”

“Look at er’ givin’ me orders.” Johnny teased and then got to work, dropping his causal persona. He led you gently to the kitchen, showing you where to restock the fruits. Oranges went in one crate.

Apples in another.

Lemons to the side.

You nodded.

He then showed you how to clean the damn ice maker, which took a good portion of training. He even had you do it, watching you. A half hour at least passed.

“Y’er gettin’ it.” Johnny said, pleased. He patted your back hefty, and you nearly groaned at each pat. He was heavy handed.

You scoff a bit and smile, slowly getting comfortable. After that, was washing and soaking the glasses in lukewarm water to get stains out and debris. And then drying them. And then placing them on the hanging racks by the bar counter for use.

Just then, the door rung and Simon walked in, ready for his shift. When he rounded the counter and saw you, back facing him and drying a glass, he froze momentarily. He then slid his hands into the dark wash of his jeans, black button up wrinkling.

“See ya’ made it in one piece.” A gruff voice said from behind you. You recognized it.

You turned around and grinned, brow raising slightly at his appearance. He sure cleaned up nicely, although his stubble remained rough, hair uncombed. It looked like he ran his fingers through it multiple times.

“Johnny over there s’been keeping me alive. Does he always have a knack for teasin’?”

“Shit, shoulda mentioned that to ya. Don’ let em’ talk his way in y’er panties.” Simon said gruffly, although eyes flashing in amusement. His heavy lidded eyes raised and you found yourself staring a bit longer than necessary, and then turned around. Carefully rearranging the glasses so they stood upside down—the wet ones draining.

“Would be funny all he found were a pair of balls. Steel ones.”

With that, Simon let out a small laugh. A choked out chuckle, shoulders jerking up and grin stretching wide. The curve of his nose wrinkled, eyes flashing down to undo his cuffs to raise his sleeves over his hair forearms.

“Steel ones you said? Quite the image.” And with that, leaving you dazed and flustered, he went off to the kitchen.

——

As Simon approached the kitchen to begin slicing the oranges, and lemons, Johnny appeared.

“Ya’ got a lass under ya now?”

“Shut it, before I stuff Price’s unwashed sock in y’er mouth.” Simon is at it, gruff and glaring. Brows pinched together, big hands cradling the lemon. He tosses it up, then catches it, giving a sharp glance to Johnny who grins mischievously.

“I ain’t signin’ myself up fa’ tha’.” Johnny winced playfully and moved back, to which Simon found it pleasing. Even at work, he was still regarded as Lieutenant—which should still be. Regardless of being at base or not. His position would remain.

He then glanced at you, who leaned against the counter and spoke to a customer. Your grin, although some strands fell delicately, most was tucked away neatly. You shook the drink, mixing and poured it over.

You seemed to be adjusting pretty well.

‘’Aye, lass, come work the back, yea?’’ Johnny called out, from the kitchen. You moved swiftly on your feet, after given the man his drink to which he dropped tips on the counter.

‘’Ya forgot—‘’ Simon started when you breezed past him, sighing through his nose. He walked up, cleaning his scarred hands with the rag, and then slid the tips over.

‘’For that girl.’’ said the man, drinking his mojito and eyeing Simon. He didn’t like this fella. Something itched at him. Maybe it was the sly twinkle in the mans eye, the slight lift of his lip. Bushy eyebrows peeked out.

“Didn’t need ta’ explain yourself.” Simon muttered, stuffing the tips in his pockets, although in his left, making sure to keep his tips separate from yours. Seems you still had some learning to do.

The man returned to his drink, although occasionally eyeing Simons back who now worked the front of the bar. He used the calculator to punch in numbers. Just then, a crowd of people came in—as usual. Night settled now and chatter arose in the bar.

Barstools shook as people sat, slamming hands and cheering. Simon approached and leaned his hands on the edge, eyeing them. “What ave’ we got?”

“Whiskey, neat.”

“Same here.”

“Gimme a scotch, good man.”

Behind, you worked cutting the oranges skin off. Stealthy hands worked and even Johnny let out a whistle. “Things ya’ canna do with those hands.”

You found your breath catching and you shifted on your boots, leaned over the table. You pinched your brows. “You woke up cheery today.”

Johnny laughed and sautéed the vegetables, steam rising. A crackle sound rung in the air, then hissing as he mixed in steak. About halfway, he flipped it expertly. “Jus’ focus on makin’ them hands work, yea?”

“You got it, Johnny.” You quirked, releasing some of your rigidity. He grinned, eyeing you for a second appreciating your tenacity. Slowly, you were getting used to this work environment. It appeared to be smooth, occasionally filled with teasing and banter. Maybe this wasn’t so bad—you thought.

Simon didn’t like as soon as you arrived—new recruit—you’d gotten stares. What he didn’t like were the usual assholes that crept up here every night. He figured he should give you a heads up, although maybe you knew. He wasn’t sure.

And he also wouldn’t lie, you were a pretty thing. He stilled himself once he realized his train of thought, then went back to shaking the drink harder. Almost as if threatening the damn drink. Brows pinched in semi focus— and a hint of irritation at himself. He then removed the shaker and poured smoothly the drink into the glass, pushing it towards the rugged man.

Just then, he spotted Price who arrived. He took his jacket off, resting it on the hook in the small closet next to yours. The man didn’t take long to realize what had changed. ‘’We got a new one?’’

“Aye, shes in the back.” Simon responded, voice lowered.

“She?”

“Got a problem?”

“Nah, just thought you’d bring in a little lad, is all.” Price grinned widely, small eyes crinkling. His mustache brushed his lips.

Price earned a look from Simon. His usual stoic, and cold demeanor not wavering. As Simon leaned against the soda machine, he then perked up when a woman approached the bar, lipstick smudged and hair a wavy mess. Price took this to his advantage and moved to the back.

“Gimme—“

“Gimme a…Malibu mixed with pineapple and cranberry.” She mumbled, grasping the counter and smiling at Simon.

Price then saw you, peeling away at the oranges skillfully. Beside you were a whole basket—unpeeled. And another—ready to go. Price grabbed his apron and tied it round’ his waist, chin tilted down, eyes not leaving you. “Recruit, see ya’ made it to the team.”

You jumped as you were stuck in focus and the man smiled, one corner lifting up. He looked like a millennial dad, you thought. Shifting on your boots, you watched as deft fingers made a skill-full knot behind his back and then he moved to the table beside you.

He grasped at the large knife, as it shined in the overhead light.

“Names y/n.” You said, Johnny taking a long glance over at the scene as Price began slicing smoothly at the chicken.

“You up for waiting tables?” Price said gruffly.

“You got it, sir.”

And at that, Price gave you a smug smile, eyes flashing over you. Johnny then prepared a plate, handing it to you. His tall form towered over you for a moment before going back to prepare another round.

“That ones’ fa’ table five, love.” Johnny said and your eyes peeked up at the nickname. Honestly it seemed casual for him—maybe there was no meaning behind it.

Nodding, you grasped the plate and then caught eyes with Price. He was busy slicing the flesh clean.

Wasn’t so bad for my first shift, you thought.

[lizzy019]

𝒲𝑒'𝓇𝑒 𝒰𝓃𝒹𝑒𝓇 𝒯𝒽𝑒 𝒮𝒶𝓂𝑒 𝒮𝓉𝒶𝓇𝓈.

Sub!Johnny Cade x Soft Dom!Fem!Reader

cw -> best friends to lovers trope lol, masturbation, underweight mentioning (Johnny), panty smelling :((, voice kink?, dub-con, cunnilingus, THIS GIRL STROKES HIS COCK! (yes pls on my knees)

Word Count -> 3.9K

I LOVE THIS WHAT

Consider your friendship to be a little too closely knit together. 

Johnny spent long, consecutive hours at your place, often being the reason why your food and snacks were gone. You couldn’t blame the poor teenager, his family wasn’t ideal, but at least yours could afford food.

By the time you two were done hanging out in your living room, watching some random show that you two eventually got bored of, you found yourself serving him whatever leftovers you had in the fridge. It wasn’t much, but you knew damn well that Johnny was the most un-picky dude ever to exist. He’d eat rat poisoning if he didn’t know it was rat poisoning. 

But you couldn’t help but feed him whatever he wanted because you knew he’d like himself with more meat on his bones and less bruises on his back. You couldn’t control what his parents did, but you sure could offer him the pleasure of eating a proper, healthier meal than takeout.

So now it was just you and Johnny sitting at your dining room table under the dim but soft light from over your head with two ceramic dishes filled with warm food in front of your torsos. It had a slightly concerned but slightly adorning expression as you watched Johnny eat with such vigour. You were concerned because it seemed like he hadn't eaten since the dawn of time, but it warmed your heart knowing you were giving him something he couldn’t access often.

“Slow down, you’ll choke yourself and I don’t have room to finish your meal.” You chided softly, smiling when you saw the tiniest pink flush engender onto his cheeks. 

Those shy brown eyes that could make anyone like him, he just seemed so sweet on the outside. “Hey, I’m hungry and I’m gonna eat! Plus, it’s not like I haven’t been to the hospital before, they’ll know me for sure.” Johnny muttered, slowing his eating pace to a reasonable speed. 

Ah right, the church incident.

Johnny probably hated how his back and shoulders looked now too, and with all that physio? You felt a little sympathy for him.

Your plates were soon empty after a decent chunk of time, and you pushed him a napkin to clean the mess from around his mouth with a kind smile. It wasn’t to be rude, as you’ve learned that being rude towards Johnny chips away at your friendship.

He takes it graciously while you scoop the dirtied dishes into your hands for cleaning. But after a second or two, you left the dishes in the sink. They could be cleaned later, and it was already somewhat late. So the ceramic plates coated in a sheen of leftover food residue were left in the sink while you tidied up the kitchen to appease your parents’ expectations. 

Johnny just watched you, eyes soft and the lovely brown irises being held by the sockets trailing your movements to exact perfection. Why did you have to be so elegant with how you moved, so effortless and perfectly postured? Poor boy was swooning.

“Alright, do you wanna go get ready for bed? We don’t really have a guest room or anywhere for you to rest, but you can take my bed while I take my parents’ bed?” You offered politely, that sweet benevolence lingering in your tone while you led him down the corridors of your home.

Pictures and paintings littering the walls of the hall, the occasional piece of work that caught Johnny’s attention until you opened a door leading to your bedroom. It reeked of your scent, something that had his insides tingling out of joy. He got to sleep in your room? Fuck yeah!

“Y-yeah, I can stay here for the night. Sorry for.. bargin’ into your home so quick, I just needed somewhere to stay and Dal was drunk outta his mind.” Johnny muttered softly, walking into your room with caution while he looked around.

Clothes scattered all over the floor, the countertops somewhat messy except for the desk you seem to barely use. Your bed, unkempt but oh so cozy looking, even the curtains which were halfway closed from rushing. Shoes just chucked about anywhere there was room, a bra littered near your hamper which he could only assume was you trying to take it off late at night before heading to bed.

But he could smell you everywhere in this room, and it sent his senses ablaze.

“That’s alright, Dally does tend to have some poor habits. Anyway, I’ll be in the shower tidying myself up, you holler if you need anythin’, y’hear?” You smiled wide, toothy grin making him smile too.

Johnny nodded, watching you leave and close the door behind you. Your soft pitter-pattering footsteps that trailed down the halls until you closed another door which he presumed was the bathroom door.

The hardening sensation being squeezed within the confines of his denim pants was getting hard to ignore, but he felt so wrong for it. But good lord, he could smell it. Smell you. The redolent, fragrant smell of you that seemed to linger no matter where he stuck his nose just drove him up the wall to pure heaven.

Meanwhile, you were just having yourself a warm shower, washing off the grime from today as well as the bit of grease you used to slick your hair out. That took the most time, you had to scrub with such authority that you were sure you had lost enough hair to re-fur a hairless cat.

The soft soap you used was being lathered onto your skin, cleansing it and replenishing what it had lost during the day. You couldn’t lie, night showers were some of the best showers after a long day.

It didn’t take long for you to finish washing your body before you hopped out of the shower to dry off. The towel now warm from the steamy, hot shower was practically a cherry on top when you patted yourself dry with it. All the little uneven droplets being soaked up by the towel’s fabric to leave you dry and soft afterward.

Johnny was hiding away in your room, stripped down only with his boxers while his hand greedily pumped at his cock, a hand grasping at the pair of panties he managed to snag from your room and stuffing them at his face to get a whiff of what your pretty cunny smelled like. He felt so wrong for doing this, he was your best friend!

Johnny instantly stopped when he heard the soft tip-taps of your feet trudging towards your room, and he used the blankets to half cover himself so his boner wouldn’t be too prominent or easy to see. He also stuffed the underwear beside his thigh away from view before muttering a medium decibel, “Come in.”

You did just that, scurrying yourself into your room you found Johnny relaxing in while you scavenged your closet for proper night clothes such as a pyjama or even an oversized shirt with some shorts. Poor Johnny was just about to go insane when he saw you bend over, the sweet sight of your ass peeking through to his line of sight.

You had to have been tempting him, right? Right?

Once you had selected what you planned on wearing for the night, you looked back over in his direction to properly wish him a good night and good dreams until you paused to look at him further.

His ribcage was in full view, the bones prominent but you couldn’t find it in you to be disgusted or revolted by the sight. The soft brown skin of his, perfect in its glory asides the bruising and scarring which you’d come to understand was his insecurity. But he seemed tense, almost fearful and you couldn’t quite pinpoint why.

“Johnnycakes? Are you okay? You look stiff, is something wrong?” You asked sweetly, innocently.

How was he not supposed to nut to just that benevolent tone you held?

Johnny gave a hesitant nod, shooting one of his sweet grins that displayed his teeth to you. You could only smile back, finding his little radiant expression to mirror onto yourself and make you do the same. But it was late, you shouldn’t stay up for chit-chatting.

“Alright, you know where I am if you need me, right? Down the hall, last room. Knock if something’s wrong.” You hummed, scampering off with your clothes in hand.

The soft click of the door when it closed rang through the silence, emitting a pitch that resonated and lingered far longer than it had to, followed by the tippy-taps of your feet against the floorboards as you rushed to your parents’ room. 

Finally!

He dug his hand back under the blanket, finding his hardened cock growing a bit flaccid, and he frowned. Poor Johnny had a good rhythm going too! He fisted his cock once again, pumping mercilessly as the echoes of your voice from that simple moment when you waltzed your way in.

It wasn’t long until he was fighting himself to not make any sounds, but he began to lose his control as soon as he gained it when the muscles surrounding the base of his cock began to twitch and tighten to signal his release was upcoming. 

The dim lights from the midnight blue sky shone through your half open bedroom curtains, pushing past the glass to shine into the room Johnny sat in. This was all the light he needed to see the pair of panties in his hand, and that dirty, filthy mind of his began to simply picture you in them and nothing more.

The lovely shape of your body, its colour and form, the little markings that made you so individual and unique. Perfect set of tits, nicest ass that looked just about sculpted by angels. You were just so perfect, how could he not want you? How could he not want to have you?

Meanwhile, you were sitting with a disgusted look on your face as you heard the soft but audible noises Johnny was making from down the hall, but once you heard your name tumble from his lips, everything seemed to fade into a realization which led to hope. Did he like you like that too?

Soon enough, your own hand drifted to the soft pair of lips being freed from the confines of your panties, rubbing your unhardened clit with vigour. The tingling sensation burned in between your thighs, and you too found it hard to remain silent, but you managed. Johnny’s sounds from your room simply added fire to the ever growing flame building within your lower stomach.

Poor Johnny was clawing at the fabrics of your bed’s sheets, gasping and heaving while soft whimpers and groans seemed to slip his closed, pursed lips. It aggravated him, but he still thought you were asleep and he didn’t wish to wake you.

Boy, was he wrong.

By the time Johnny had set off his load onto whatever fabric you had around —which you couldn’t bear to think was now stained by his cum—, you hobbled your uneasy legs out of bed and down the long corridors of your home. Your steps were as silent as you could make them, but the skin on the soles of your feet now warm from staying under the blanket made the softest sticky sound that alerted Johnny.

He sat upright in a flurry of panic, inevitably settling on stuffing himself under your blankets when he heard the door slowly creak open. Maybe you’d leave?

“Johnny?” Your whispery tone got his focus, even though he tried hard not to shuffle or move around to alert you. “Johnny, are you awake?” You tried again.

When you finally thought that he was asleep and wouldn’t be waking up any time soon, you hobbled yourself beside him under the blankets and tenderly rubbed at his back. Your nimble fingers grazed the skin of the burn scars and bruises oh so gently, his heart filling with warmth that made blood pump down in between his thighs.

You were oblivious to it, moving yourself to use his thigh as something to grind against for purchase and friction. It was selfish, it was improper, but you needed it. Lord, you could feel yourself soaking his boxers from some simple grinding against him.

Poor Johnny didn’t know how to tell you he was awake, and in all honesty, maybe he shouldn’t. If he told you, or moved even a bit, you’d become startled and embarrassed to the point where you couldn’t speak and you both knew of this well. You weren’t great at handling your embarrassment.

Those soft moans tumbling freely from your lips were like a tease, something to tempt him to see if he would break. His cock was chubbing up at your dulcet noises, and he didn’t know whether they were somewhat soothing or a bit too erotic for his liking. Regardless, he tried to subtly move his hand to that aching spot between his legs for release.

You assumed his movement was involuntary like any person would do in their sleep. Adjustments to get comfortable weren’t uncommon, so you paid no mind to it and just kept at it. Surely you had stained the hem of his boxers with your arousal juices. But you weren’t focused on that!

But it wasn’t until the movements became consistent and they weren’t your own that you began to grow nervous. Had you made him uncomfortable? Was something hurting him? Maybe he had woken up? Oh, that thought sent a sharp shiver down your spine. You were scared that he had woken up and had gotten all flustered, maybe even trying to move away with the inability to wriggle you off.

So tentatively, you moved your weight off of his body, using what little arm strength you had in you at the moment to see what was happening below you. Johnny stopped almost instantly, trying to play it off like he wasn’t just jacking off to the way you were using his body. Would this be considered non-consensual? No, he liked it very much, so why were you hesitating on continuing?

“Johnny, I know you’re awake. Did I bother you? ‘M sorry, Johnnycakes, jus’ needed you..” You hummed, nuzzling your cheek to his boney shoulder to feel the little bit of warmth radiating off of his tanned skin. “Oh, but what’ll the others think?”

When you jostled him to show you knew he wasn’t asleep, Johnny allowed himself to turn over to face you and sighed happily. There you were, all pretty with your embarrassed pink cheeks and your pouty expression. Did you even understand how gorgeous you were to him? Even when he first met you, he swore you were sent from the heavens.

“Sugar, don’t worry ‘bout the others. Dal’s secretly been tellin’ Two that we were a thing anyway. I don’t mind it, would your family be okay with it?” His serene voice that wafted tobacco to your nose had confirmed just about everything you were thinking. So he liked you back, and the glances at your breasts during visits wasn’t just because he couldn’t make eye contact with you.

“I don’t care what my parents say, but your parents.. what’ll they do to you if they find out? You know that keepin’ it a secret won’t do us any good.” You murmured, a hand of yours gently holding his hip and caressing the skin while tracing the outline of protruding bone.

That had Johnny’s eyes forming hearts. Did you really think ahead of everything just to make sure he was gonna be alright? Good lord, he knew he was making the right choice.

“Ah, what’s a couple more bruises? I’ll be able to ditch them eventually, maybe move somewhere with you. How ‘bout that? We’d move far away from Tulsa, maybe somewhere warmer. No more Socs, no more fights, hell, I’d love to get rid of my cigs. I hate my teeth all yellow.” Johnny hummed at the thought of doing everything he listed off before pressing his lips to yours in a soft kiss.

It started intimately, just two idiots mindlessly kissing with smiles mashed together while fingers entangled into each other’s hair. Soft and meaningful, purposeful movements that were well thought out and calculated until Johnny moved his hips to show you what you had started. That hardening length slick with some pre-cum, and you moved your hand down to grip it and stroke it while adjusting.

Your body was now hovering over his, lips still intertwined while you wriggled off whatever clothes acted as a burden to what you were seeking. The hindrances you considered fabric to sheath your body were off of you in mere seconds, your body pulling away from his to throw your shirt off. Soon, your mouth found purchase against the soft muscle of his neck, desperately suckling some little hickeys into his flesh.

Painless bruises that expressed your affection. What was more beautiful than that? 

The soft little squeaks of moans that tumbled freely from Johnny’s pretty mouth just egged you on. Your hand fisting his cock mercilessly, milking him for all he’s got while showering him in soft praises. He deserved this kind of love, soft and sweet with just enough roughness to have you craving more.

“Yeah, baby? Feels good? You can take it, you got it.” You lulled him, pressing innocent kisses to wherever you could reach your lips, listening to the sheets rustle beneath you as Johnny wiggled around.

Sprawled out while desperately grasping the blankets and sheets below him, he found himself teetering off of that perfect ledge of ecstasy that was exposed to him. He was so close to that pleasurable place of heaven on Earth, and he was worried you wouldn’t let him cum. He hated edging.

But you didn’t. Your expression seemed to anticipate his climax, and that further had the coil connecting his lower stomach and the base of his cock to tighten and tighten until he simply couldn’t take it.

A cry that was so obviously forced to be squeezed quiet had alerted you just a few seconds before his climax that he was cumming. Sure enough, his pretty, pearly cum trickled down from his urethra and onto your soft skin, the liquid creating a thin sheen over your flesh.

The aftershocks of his body instantly made you become more sweet, hands resting on either side of his waist while gently caressing the warmed brown skin of his. Poor Johnny was rattling more than a damn Mexican maraca. Shudders made him all electric, but he soon found your hands gently holding his hips, and that grounded him.

“W-wait, I don’t think I can go again, sugar. Maybe.. get on toppa me?” He asked so sweetly, so pleasantly as if you’d say no.

You were practically stunned speechless at his words, pondering for a moment before inevitably answering his plea. Johnny adjusted instantly when he saw the soft nod of your head, and you could only giggle at his ecstatic expression. Happy, just like how he deserved to feel.

Your legs were quickly situated over his head, and with nervous hands, you combed through the soft locks on his scalp. Ungreased and silky, it soothed you enough.

“What if I’m heavy? I don’t wanna crush you.” You smiled shyly, and Johnny simply shrugged while caressing your hamstrings with tender fingers. For a greaser, you still questioned how his fingers were delicate and smooth. 

“Then I’d die happy. C’mon, it’ll be okay. How ‘bout this? If you hurt me at all, I’ll swat your legs lightly.” He offered, charming you with that devilishly sweet glint in his doe brown eyes.

You could only nod after he spoke, and you hesitantly lowered yourself onto his awaiting mouth. Nervousness caused your fingers to jitter sporadically, but you pushed through before sitting yourself onto his face. The warmth of his tongue caused a rattle to zoom up your spine like a racecar on a speedway, electrifying you.

The moans that were pulled from you just made Johnny all the more eager to please you, and he began to greedily feed off of your sweet nectar. The tangy taste of your juices were simply too addictive, could you even blame him? He didn’t know which he preferred, nicotine or your delicious wetness.

You were beginning to grind on his face, his nose nudging your clit every time you missed or got too careless. The mess of your arousal was smudging onto his chin and upper lip, but you were too dazed out to really notice anyway. Poor Johnny was about to bust again from your desperation to get a climax, but he knew cumming twice was enough for him.

His tongue slurped up any drops your cunny managed to spurt out for him, the overstimulation of your labia and clit being teased had your toes curling. You were becoming sheen with sweat, but you didn’t cease being quiet. Johnny was simply slurping you up like a snack, and you took it.

The coil within your lower abdomen threatened to snap, but you couldn’t sum up the strength to get off of his mouth to save him from mess. His hands groping your ass or caressing your hammies didn’t seem to let up either, in fact encouraging you to continue.

Johnny’s tongue kept hitting all the ooey gooey spots inside of you that set all the nerves in your body ablaze, and it wasn’t long until you were teetering over the thin line of release.

“Johnny! Johnny- I’m gonna cum..! Baby, I-” Your orgasm had cut you off, your legs seizing and stopping all their movements while you thrashed about from the sheer intensity of whatever pleasure Johnny gave you.

Poor boy’s face was squished to mush, but he was so happy.

Soon, you found yourself coming back to reality, your control over your legs and you used this newfound control to get off of his face. The last thing you wanted was to crush him or suffocate him!

When you got yourself seated beside him, legs still a bit shaky, Johnny licked off whatever fluid you managed to spunk onto his face with a gleeful smile. How gross! But.. somewhat hot too. Johnny grinned at you, his teeth all crooked but so sweet on his face.

“Feel good, sugar?” He asked you, smiling all happy and pridefully. Making you cum was a big deal for him!

You chuckled softly to yourself at his words, they were suave in how he spoke. You couldn’t admit to him that it was probably the best head you’ve ever received, his ego would get too overinflated and the gang already had an overconfident Dally.

“Yes, it felt good. Thank you.” You smiled, tucking yourself under the warm blankets of your own mattress. The duvet covers felt nice on your burning skin, even if it was a bit too hot for them.

Johnny beamed, getting under the blankets with you as well before throwing his lanky arms around you. It scared you for a second as it was unexpected, but you laughed and wholeheartedly accepted his hug. Warm arms encased you, and yours wrapped around him in return.

Giggles were shared and kisses were peppered all around, even some tickles to make everything seem more lively. Johnny also wanted you to feel like you weren’t just there for some sex and nothing more.

God, you were so fucking in love.

Shoutouts to:

@outsidersstuff16 @raycravens116 @johnnycadesslut @johnnycadesmuse @johnnycakesswitch

[crushpunky]

rafe and toxic!reader run into each other at a party

making out/allusions to smut, but nothing really...

She should’ve expected him to be there, it being a Friday night and a drug-filled party and all. Yet, when she finally laid her eyes upon Rafe Cameron, some drunk, Kook chick clinging to his arm, she couldn’t help but feel drawn to him despite the company she had brought along with her. The boringly mediocre company she had brought along with her.

Topper was fine. A textbook “nice guy”, mind-numbingly average in every sense, and above all, a stupid boy. A stupid boy that just so happened to be one of Rafe’s closest friends. So, when Rafe decided to chat with his ex Sofia again, y/n had no choice but to “hang out” with Topper. Her hands were tried, truly.

“I got you something to drink.” Topper said, finally tearing y/n’s eyes away from the way Rafe smirked at the chick on his arm. Talking with Topper was like stabbing a fork in her eye repeatedly, every mention of golf or football making her want to scream until she remembered the way Rafe looked at Sofia as he leaned across the bar, tipping her a crisp twenty dollar bill before walking back to his seat as if nothing had happened. Like he hadn’t just practically eye-fucked his ex right in front of y/n.

Y/n took the drink from Topper and, without a word, downed it before handing the empty cup back to him. Topper scoffed, looking down at the cup before looking back to y/n whose eyes remained fixed across the room.

“Do you have any coke?” Y/n said, finally making eye contact with Topper for the first time since they had arrived at the party.

“No… Rafe probably does though.” Topper said slowly, causing y/n to roll her eyes. Of course the one thing Topper was good for he couldn’t even do.

“Let’s dance.” Y/n said, grabbing Topper’s hand before pulling him into the sea of dancing bodies. The base pounded as y/n pulled Topper closer, the two of them swaying chest to chest, their faces inches apart. Y/n glanced towards Rafe, allowing herself to grin as she noticed his gaze stuck on her, a scowl on his face.

“Touch my ass, Top.” Y/n whispered into Topper’s ear, looping her arms around his neck. A shocked reaction crossed Topper’s face before he rested his hands on the swell of y/n’s ass, pulling her even closer to him.

“Damn… you’re so fucking hot.” Topper said, his warm breath hitting her neck. Y/n grinned, running her nails along the nape of his hair.

“I know.” Y/n said, moving to kiss Topper’s jaw, her hands continuing to trail through his hair… just like Rafe always liked. She could feel Topper’s grasp on her tighten, resisting the urge to gag as she worked her way down his neck until she was suddenly pulled back.

“What the fuck—” Topper was cut off as Rafe pushed him to the side, dragging y/n away with a bruising grip on her arm.

“Rafe, let go of me!” Y/n shouted at him as he pulled her up the stairs of the house, shoving couples making out in the hallway out of his way as he went. Rafe stopped at one of the doors, banging his fists against the wood. It swung open to a scrawny boy, his eyes wide in terror at the site of Rafe Cameron in front of him.

“Get the fuck out.” Rafe said, his jaw tense as the boy quickly scurried away.

“What are you doing—” Rafe pulled y/n into the bathroom, slamming the door behind her, his hand still on her arm. She struggled for a second, shaking out of his grasp as he locked the door behind them.

“Cut the shit. I’ve fuckin’ had it.” Rafe said, stepping closer to force y/n against the door, his face seething with anger.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Y/n said, her eyes locked on Rafe’s, her tone even.

“Seriously? Topper? I didn’t know you were that fucking pathetic.” Rafe scoffed, running a hand through his buzzed hair.

“Oh I’m sorry! I’m not the one so fucking horny he can’t help but eye fuck his ex-girlfriend— Pogue ex-girlfriend, mind you— right in front of me!” Y/n retorted. Rafe rolled his eyes, pushing away from her.

“Seriously? That is what this is about?” Rafe couldn’t help but chuckle, causing y/n’s face to grow hot with anger.

“Yes, Rafe, that is exactly what this is about.” Y/n crossed her arms in front of her chest.

“I was being fucking nice. Chatting with a bartender.” Rafe stressed.

“Yeah and I’m having a blast with your dumbass best friend. Don’t lie to me.” Y/n scoffed. Rafe Cameron was a lot of things, “nice” was not one of them.

“You’re insane, y’know that? Psychotic.” Rafe seethed, placing his arms to the sides of y/n’s head, caging her in against the door.

“And you’re not?” Y/n questioned with a tilt of her head, a small smirk forming on her lips. They stared at each other for a moment, their angered, flushed faces communicating thousands of words in the silence.

“Fuck.” Rafe swore before he jolted forward, slamming his lips against y/n’s. She moaned, quickly snaking her hands around his shoulders as she leaned further into the kiss.

“You’re so annoying.” Y/n muttered between kisses, their lips, teeth, and tongues swirling together messily. Rafe removed one of his hands from the door, sliding it around her body, pulling her closer to him.

“You’re so annoying.” Rafe said, pulling away for a second, before pressing his lips to her jaw.

“Fuck you, Rafe Cameron.” Y/n groaned, running her nails through his buzzed hair.

“Mmm don’t you worry, baby. We’ll get there.” Rafe grinned as he trailed his lips further down her throat…

[eggedbellies]

This is one of my dealer's choice commissions! Thank you anonymous, this was fun!!

Title: Midnight Search Wordcount: 1848 Kinks: tentacles, eggs / oviposition, suspension Synopsis: Jackson is a cleric with a job to do; get some flowers for a healing potion. Of course, they only bloom at night - and it seems something moved into the bog whilst he was away...

“Now ain’t this a damn fine idea?” Jackson heaved a great sigh from the very bottom of his chest, striding across the slightly boggy ground, deeper into the darkness. His bleeding heart had, once again, driven the cleric off in search of an unusual herb. There was no doubt that this stubborn curse required a very specific potion and, like the fool he was, he’d not ordered in any of the dried and powdered one for quite some time. No doubt a result of the particularly muggy summer, cracking open his reserve had revealed rather a fragrance of rot. Just wonderful. So now, here he was, letting his good boots get soaked with muddy water, heading off to find a flower as night truly fell.

“S’better fresh, at least,” he mused, wondering if he should’ve dragged on armour over the standard robes he’d taken to wearing. But getting a ponytail into a helmet was a nightmare, and whilst the bog was not the most pleasant place to take a trek, well, monsters were few and far between out here. Sure, he’d fallen off of the adventuring life and settled, it seemed; let himself soften down a bit, get a bit of a belly. But that was the nice thing about living out here, just being a local cleric, taking care of his community. Jackson was proud of what he did, dangit, and he wasn’t going to let a little thing like having to venture out to get ingredients stop him from making a cure.

The light was fading rapidly, but that wasn’t a bad thing – this particular bloom only opened it’s petals at night, but it was easiest to spot in the twilight. His boots squelched, the sucking water-mud mixture drawing his legs down with increasing power. Last time he’d been along here, he didn’t remember the bog being quite so deep… the edge of his robe was soaking quickly, unpleasantly sticking to his legs. Eugh. Gross. Murmuring a low incantation, sunlight glowed softly from his hand, casting the twisted trees around him, creating distorted shadows that he stoicly ignored.

Driving onwards, the trees got thicker and thicker, and still there was no sight of the soft pink glow of the flower that he needed. Damnit. There had to be something – this was definitely where he’d found them wild before. Casting his eyes up into the canopy, searching for any hanging by slender vine, he missed the roots that were rising just above the surface of the water – and with a yelp, his foot caught in it, casting him straight down into the pool with a loud splash. A moment later, cursing loud enough that a few birds took flight, he managed to drag himself onto a higher patch of ground, shaking water roughly off his robes. But it was too late. Soaked to the skin, Jackson reached up to squeeze his ponytail, grimacing. The light had flickered out, his concentration lost in the fall.

“Damnit to all Gods and Hells,” he muttered. This might be a lost cause. And now there was something wet and cold on his leg, probably a leech, which, ew. His hands began to reach down, searching for the offending insect, just as it occurred to him that whatever it was – it was far too big to be a normal leech. Eyes starting to adjust more to the dark, they caught the sight of something thick, shiny, rising out of the water, winding up his ankle – and then everything was cold and wet, liquid rushing up his nostrils as the cleric squirmed and fought, unable to cast a spell as he was yanked unceremoniously through the water. Just as he accepted that consciousness was about the fade and death might be around the corner, he was thrust into open air.

Gasping raggedly, he scrabbled hard, hands gripping at rock, mud, trying to pull away from whatever the hell was still wrapped around his leg. Twisting around, he aimed a kick, but succeeded in nothing more than entirely losing his boot. In here, there was a soft glow – from where he had no idea, but it suffused the small cave in an eerie pink light – and the air was unexpectedly warm, even if it was still damp. There, rising out of the water in front of him, a mass of lumbering tentacles. No beast he recognised, or had ever seen before - “What in the Gods-damned hells,” he gasped, coughing and spluttering, “are you?!” aiming another kick, even if it was bare foot, he wasn’t sure what was going to happen here. He didn’t know many violent spells, a healer by trade, but as he tried to summon up a simple ‘ignis’, it was too late.

They were everywhere. Soaking and slimy, and yet unbelievably strong, binding his wrists, jolting him up towards the ceiling. The ragged gasp was choked off, body covered in a writhing mass in what felt like a split second; one forcing it’s way into his mouth, coated in sweet water as well as something intensely earthy and natural. The sensation of his clothes being torn away was barely perceptible, all he could feel was every inch of those strong tentacles sliding over his body. Thick, pressing in to every part of his body, rubbing between his legs, spreading his cheeks, cupping his balls, stroking along the length of his cock… around his torso, over his thighs, and arms, and neck, not an inch of him was being left untouched. Struggling to gasp in air past the one that was wriggling into his throat, unable to get out a single word, more focused on just breathing, Jackson let himself relax.

There was no way out of this. And seeing as his cock was getting harder and harder, body tingling all over, he might as well enjoy it, right? Actually, the tingling was getting more intense by the moment, fogging everything over with a veneer of pleasure – whatever this damn thing was, it must have some kind of aphrodisiac in it’s slime – he had to get out of here – but as the goo oozed into his mouth, he was sucking on it like it was the sweetest nectar he had ever tasted. He couldn’t seem to stop, by the gods, it felt so good – something wrapping around his cock, now. It was drawing it down into something cool and so very, very wet – and all that thought went out of the window as the first tentacle began to push it’s way into his pucker.

“Oh, fuck -” he groaned, although it came out more like a garbled “hfh” because of the tentacle oozing down his throat. The tentacles were spreading his legs further, as if to gain more access, inch by inch of surprisingly thick tendril working it’s way into his orifice. His cock twitched, rock hard as the petals wrapped around it began to pulse and tug. He cried out again, trying urgently to roll his hips into it, needing more, more – but the tentacles were holding him tighter, forcing his trembling body to stay entirely still as tears rolled down his cheeks – not pain, but bliss, his body entirely accepting it’s invader. And still it sunk inexorably deeper – before releasing a spurt of cool fluid that made his whole body shudder as one, burning so hot that the coldness of the tendrils felt like a blessing.

It seemed happy with the depth it had achieved, now, starting to thrust. And oh, Jackson had never felt so much like a toy – it was using him, fucking him, like he was nothing more than a hole. It felt so good – his brain was lost in the fizz of aphrodisiac goo and the deep pleasure of being fucked hard. His cock twitched again, then again – and he came hard, right as the tentacle struck deep again. Every drop was drunk down, but he didn’t seem to go flaccid; whatever the hell this thing was doing to him, it seemed like it was going to drain him dry. The thought sent a cold thrill through his spine, legs twitching erratically. Fuck, hell, damns and gods, he never wanted it to let him go. The thrusts were rough, bouncing him despite the way he was being held. His body was relaxing, allowing him to stretch, taking a thickness he never imagined. Eyes rolling back, everything became just a wash of warm light and being used…

And then, suddenly, it froze. Totally still. Whining, Jackson tried to wriggle, to grind, but it wasn’t moving. Just as his eyes were starting to open, wondering if it was about to digest him, something began to press hard against his pucker. It was thicker than even the tentacle, bulging it out, but there was no doubting it was going to come in. It pressed inexorably, millimetre by millimetre, and then – with a faint pop – the egg entered him. Shuddering violently as he released a pittance into the tube around his cock, Jackson went utterly limp – not that it made a damned difference to the grip around him. But there was nothing to do. Slowly, it rolled up inside him, shockwaves of pleasure before it popped loose and settled deep inside him.

Then there was another. And another. Before long, a whole parade of round eggs were squeezing into his body. Jackson shuddered. The tendrils started to loosen their grip, just enough to allow for his rounding belly. A rough gasp escaped past the drooling tendril in his mouth, struggling to get enough air before let alone now that it felt like his very lungs were being compressed. Pop, press, release, swell – he rocked in the grip as best he could, starting to feel like a balloon, the tentacle sliding in deeper with his sheer weight. As the last egg popped inside, Jackson shuddered through a completely dry orgasm.

And then the tentacle began to loosen. He was being lowered. The grip around his body began to drop – thinking that he was falling, his arms flailed, grabbing at anything – and then he was being pulled again, dragged through water. Enough forsight this time to inhale first. The rush, now somewhat reduced by the size of his over-swollen belly – his sore hole, twitching spasmodically – the feeling of the water pressing on him – he almost came again just from being rushed back to where he was found. Dumped unceremoniously on the stream, he panted in air, crawling just a few steps away before his legs spread. Overstretched as he was, it took only a few strokes of his overly tender cock before all the eggs were rushing out, splashing back down into their pool. When he could think again, rubbing his tender belly with one hand, Jackson looked up at the starry night he could see through the gaps in the trees.

Then, languidly, he lifted up his other hand, still clutching whatever it was he’d grabbed from the ceiling of the cave. The soft pink glow of the flowers stared back at him.

“Oh, you’re fucking kidding me --”

[still-breathing-au-p3r]

All things considered, it was an alright visit. 

That leader of theirs really never stops surprising him. He’d never really expected and definitely hadn’t intended to bond with the kid as much as he had, but here he was. Shinjiro had been under the impression that Arisato mostly just coasted through life without much thought. He’d say he reacted rather than acted, but to be frank, he didn’t really react most of the time, either.

So seeing naked hope and then that welding-torch spark of fury in Arisato’s eyes had been a surprise, and a damn unnerving one. Especially since the rest of his face had stayed as flat and blank as ever. You only ever look that hopeful or that pissed at someone if they actually matter to you.

He is extremely out of practice with mattering to people.

But that’s something he’s going to have to get better at in order to keep the promise he and Aki made, which is why he’d had Arisato fetch that re-enrollment form. Going back to school is much more for Aki and Kirijo’s sake than Shinjiro’s own.

Even before everything had fallen apart, it isn’t really as if Shinjiro gave much thought to what he wanted to do with his life. He’d never taken school all that seriously. His grades had been fine enough, but that was mostly to appease Aki, and later Kirijo, with her ‘education is the most important thing in the world’ attitude. 

It’s not like he was planning on going to college after high school. Even if his grades were that good, he’d never be able to afford it. Aki’s always had a bright future in anything he might choose, whether that was boxing or something else. Combine his scholarship offers and his well-off parents, and money won’t ever be an issue for him. 

And Kirijo? Her grades were perfect, of course, so between that and her frankly ridiculous kind of money, she could do whatever she wanted if she didn’t decide to inherit the family business. 

Then there’s Shinjiro. He’s not like either of them. He has no aspirations. He’d never had any long-term goals at all until joining S.E.E.S. to eliminate the Dark Hour. And after the night that had ruined everything, he’d abandoned the few half-baked ideas he’d had for the future.

He’d abandoned the idea of the future entirely.

Why go to school when he wasn’t going to live to be nineteen? How could he justify staying with S.E.E.S. when he was nothing but a walking bomb with a broken timer, a liability? How could he justify continuing to live at all when he had already taken away one life and ruined another? 

Why get close to people when he would only hurt them in the end?

And yet against all odds and probably some god’s better judgement, Shinjiro finds himself still alive. He finds himself surrounded by people who insist on caring about him, and are really damn pushy about it. It’s all a bit surreal to experience.

He has no idea what to do with any of it. All these feelings. 

But he’s ready to make his first choice.

He’s done a lot of thinking ever since waking up. It’s not like there’s really much of anything else to do but think while he’s stuck in a hospital room like this. He’s not sure how long he actually has– his failing organs don’t exactly have an expiration date tidily stamped on them– but if he’s really and truly getting a second chance…it doesn’t sit well with him just to waste it. 

He and Aki promised, after all. 

So as Aki, Arisato, and Yamagishi make their way out the door, he notices Kirijo lagging behind. Perfect.

She startles, like she wasn’t expecting to be directly addressed, but by the time she turns around to face him she’s got her pristine heiress’ composure back perfectly in place.

She frowns at him quizzically for a moment before his words seem to properly register. She actually laughs, which isn’t exactly what Shinjiro was aiming for, but– he’ll take it.

Kirijo hums and tucks some hair behind her ear– but not any of the hair that’s actually hanging over her eyes. Shinjiro knows he’s not really one to talk, but if his hair was constantly covering half his line of sight like that, he’d do something about it. He doesn’t know how Kirijo or Arisato stand it. 

It’s also a damn good thing that she’s standing well out of arm’s reach, so he doesn’t have to divide his attention between having this conversation and preventing himself from doing something incredibly stupid. Something like reaching out to comb his fingers through her bangs and sweep them out of her face himself.

She ‘may have’ pushed for a rush order, huh? Something warm blooms just under his sternum, but he’s quick to yank that up by the root. This isn’t the time to get emotional.

He doesn’t deign her with an answer. If a thin sliver of hope is as good as he’s going to get, it’s still more than he deserves. And it’s still enough for Shinjiro to finalize his second decision. 

He has to do this now before his nerves get the best of him.

Shinjiro opens the drawer on his bedside table back up and takes out the envelope. Wordlessly, he holds it out to Kirijo. 

The forlorn look on her face tells him that she’s getting the wrong impression, and it’s not like he can blame her after all that’s been said. Her expression brightens quickly though once she actually opens the envelope and sees what’s inside. She looks at him with wide eyes and tentative hope. Or eye, rather– the one he can see, that isn’t covered by those irritatingly compelling bangs.

She beams at him, all warm and sentimental, and he has to look away. You’d think two years distancing himself would be enough time to get the hell over this, but one smile from her is still enough to send his traitorous heart pounding like it’s trying to bust clean out of his ribs. 

Of course his luck’s never been that good. Of course he’s still got it this bad, even after all this time. He’s probably an idiot for even daring to hope otherwise.

It doesn’t help that he’s spent all day trying and failing not to dwell on what almost happened with Aki yesterday. What might have almost happened. He’s still not entirely sure if he actually read that moment correctly or if the painkiller fog in his brain and his own wishful thinking had made him see something in Aki’s expression that hadn’t ever really been there.

He is absolutely hopeless. It’s pathetic, really.

He has to admit to himself at least that it is nice that he can actually put a smile that sunny on Kirijo’s face. God knows she deserves more of that. God knows he in particular owes it to her, after all of the shit he’s put her through, especially recently. Seeing her like that is more than enough. This really is far more than he deserves.

She looks so damn happy. Happier than he’s seen her in far too long. Going back to school might be worth it just for the chance to see her smile like that more often.

[clowningaroundmars]

thanks to the amazing @starcut-sand for the inspo, i now present to you all... a new multi-chapter adventure! this time featuring our beloved gwen stacy and miles42 :)

no, it's not a ship fic lol but i hope to keep you all entertained nonetheless

this one will update much faster since i've plotted it all out and have drafts written already. so stay tuned for new updates coming soon!

general content warnings: canon-typical violence, mentions of blood, kidnapping, drugs, poisoning, death, bullets and explosions, teenagers being teenagers

without further ado, let's get into it!

part 1 of 4 >>

Gwen woke up in a small, dark room not knowing how much time had passed since she was knocked out cold.

And she knew she was knocked out cold, of course, because even she knew never to take a cat-nap in the middle of a mission.

That she was on currently… if memory served her correctly.

Slowly, painstakingly-- with knives in her ribs and her left shoulder still sore from her earlier encounter-- she sat up. Flicked through her watch to make double-sure that the migraine throbbing in her brain wasn’t tricking her into a vivid hallucination of some kind.

Earth-42 stared right back at her, bright green digital letters dancing and blurring in and out right before her very eyes. When she reached up to touch her forehead in a spot that itched, her glove came away with a bit of dried blood on the white fabric.

Shit.

Gwen could not let Jessica down under any circumstances, especially since this was her first mission since… well, since Miles Morales from earth-1610 came in and single-handedly caused the collapse of the Spider Society as everyone knew it.

Which wasn’t really a bad thing in the end, but it did mean that poor Jess had to step up as the leader shortly after Miguel was forcibly dethroned.

“I’m the interim leader right now,” she would say to anyone who called her “boss” or “CEO” or any variation of the word. The poor woman already had enough on her plate as it was with a newborn and a new family life to tend to, so Gwen understood 100%.

It was also why the pressure was on her shoulders to complete this one tiny, manageable task that was given to her.

Gwen wasn’t stupid. She knew she was on a sort of probationary period after her first blunder on earth-1610. And the fact that she turned her back on the Society to break a couple of rules, help Miles, save the multiverse... well, all of that didn't help matters much.

She ignored the looks cast her way every now and then by other Spiders when visiting HQ, but she knew. She tallied up those glances whether anyone knew of it or not.

But then there was also the stupid feeling of… sentimentality hanging in the air, keeping her chained to the Society when most of her other Spider friends had already abandoned the group.

Yeah, her relationship with her father was… repaired, for the most part. But damn it if she didn’t take a liking to Jessica Drew, too! Sue her.

So here she was, on a mission to visit earth-42 and investigate an anomaly that seemed to threaten the very fabric of space and time. Again.

Gwen was already starting to regret her very dumb, not-very-well-thought out decision to volunteer for this one, though.

No time to complain right now though. We’ve got a problem to solve, Gwen mused, forcing her annoyance, frustration, and panic deep down for the moment.

Her aching brain switched over to Work Mode once again, and she immediately slid into compartmentalizing and sorting every bit of detail that she could manage to remember in the present moment.

Her head was bleeding and throbbing, which meant she sustained a brain injury of some kind. She wobbled unsteadily to her feet, wiggling them and checking on her balance. Her head complained louder, but she seemed to be able to walk just fine.

Okay. Good. It wasn’t a bad injury-- and if it was, it seemed her enhanced healing factor already took care of the majority of it in her sleep.

Alright, time to examine her surroundings now.

While she did so, she found it pretty irritating that while her injury didn’t put her out of commission, it seemed to wipe her entire short-term memory instead.

She eventually sat down on a crate in the corner of the room that she was imprisoned in and with her head in her hands, started sorting even harder through her mental files.

… Nothing.

Well, nothing past the memory of flying through the designated portal she opened back in Jess’s office shortly after receiving her mission assignment. And then landing on top of a familiar-but-not-so-familiar building on earth-42's Brooklyn.

She vaguely remembered the late evening sunset, almost choked out by the various plumes of smoke reaching up to the heavens from the fires that still raged on in parts of the city.

... And then? Nothing else.

Gwen remembered how it was like when earth-1610’s Miles-- her Miles-- ended up in this strange world for the first time, a time that seemed like it was eons ago to Gwen, but couldn’t have been more than a few months ago. The fires were much more numerous, news helicopters everywhere and crime seemingly never-ending.

She couldn’t speak on the crime rates per se, but the place looked a little bit less like the mess she and her Spider Band stumbled into at first.

She distinctly remembered thinking to herself-- before swinging down and heading towards the reports of the anomalies-- that she was glad that the Prowlers seemed to get some things under control. If it was them battling the crime in the first place, that is.

But now there was no time for such thoughts. Wherever the Prowlers happened to be now, they were most likely nowhere near her location. Calling Miles-42 up on her watch would be… distasteful, especially this early in the game.

Especially when she had no idea if he was even available or not. Hm. Maybe she should’ve let Jess ping him and let him know of her arrival as per the usual protocol, but. Oh well.

Too late for that now.

So she stood up again, massaged her shoulder and rolled her neck, and blinked the stars out of her eyes. Time to get to work, for real this time.

She eventually happened upon a door that seemed to lead to the outside, which was really well-hidden against the four walls that enclosed her inside.

The room she was held in wasn’t very big, but it was dark. There was only one tiny little window high up near the ceiling that offered a glimpse up into the night sky beyond.

So it was well past sunset… better than not knowing anything at all, right?

The exit was seemingly hard to get out of, unfortunately. Try as she might, Gwen’s strength alone couldn’t get the giant metal door open. She pushed and pulled on the edges, tried sliding it left and right, tried kicking at it. It didn’t budge.

Whoever trapped her in this… storage closet seemed to know exactly what they were doing, who they were dealing with… whoever they happened to be.

Sinister laughing echoed in the back of her mind as she recalled her run-in with the bad guy but… couldn’t for the life of her remember who he was! So frustrating!

Still, this was earth-42. The baddie could’ve been anyone at all, anyone from the Sinister Six Cartel that she knew still held power on the streets here.

Even with their power slowly slipping from their collective grasps, it wouldn’t be out of the realm of possibility that one of those assholes still owned a high-security compound out in the middle of nowhere. It also wouldn't be out of the realm of possibility for one of them to have enough tranquilizers to knock out ten elephants, and use that drug on her to drag her out here.

For all Gwen knew, she was probably miles and miles away from Brooklyn, too. Just great.

No time to despair. Time to concentrate.

Okay, so she couldn’t really get past this gigantic metal door that seemed to be made of some titanium alloy or whatever. That left the small space up high on the wall that probably served as ventilation for the room, only sporting thick metal bars to prevent things from getting in… or out.

Gwen quickly scaled the wall and eyed the dimensions of the space before deciding that if she got the metal grating off of the concrete wall, she might be able to squeeze her shoulders through and possibly achieve freedom.

Assuming as well, of course, that the security in this building was easy to get past.

But she would rather take her chances with evil police-drones and bumbling goons than sit another minute in this prison waiting to see who exactly captured her.

Gwen got to work, using her super-strength to painstakingly detach the grates corner by corner, trying to stay as quiet as possible. She bent a few bars in the process, but what was a little property damage to a Spiderperson? No big deal.

If the bad guy who kidnapped me wanted his compound to be spotless and damage-free, he shouldn’t have kidnapped me in the first place, Gwen reasoned.

After what felt like hours, the grating was off. She was free! Now all she had to do was--

Gwen’s heart almost leaped out of her throat and into her mask when glowing purple and white eyes suddenly came into view. They narrowed into slits.

“Jesus Chr--!!! What the…” her brain fully booted up this time, taking a second to stare right back into the glowing eyes of...

“Miles?” She gasped, once it hit her.

The glowing eyes blinked once before finally nodding at her. He raised a metal claw to his mask’s mouth in a universally-recognizable gesture.

Shhhhh.

Gwen’s own giant white eyes blinked back at him before shifting out of the way to allow Miles to extend a begauntleted arm into the room through the window and shoot out… something.

A spark of purple lit the room up, and shortly after, a clattering of glass and plastic resonated through the room before the place fell deathly quiet once more.

“There was a camera in there with you, most likely recording audio, too,” Miles offered as an explanation.

“… Oh. Well, thanks.” Gwen said awkwardly.

So she was wrong. Somehow, in the middle of the night in this odd prison she woke up in, Miles Morales happened to find her anyhow.

She wasn’t used to… this other Miles, and they hadn’t spoken much after their first meeting months ago.

He would join the Spider Band on their own missions sparingly. As far as she knew, only 1610’s Miles hung out with him with any sort of regularity. The kid was a complete mystery to everyone else otherwise, and whenever he was brought up around 1610, the topic was usually brushed off as casually as possible.

Gwen had no clue why 42’s Miles didn’t seem to take a liking to any of the members of their little motley crew. She figured he probably had a hard time keeping up with super-powered heroes and just left it at that, even though from what she could see of their encounters-- however far and few between they were-- the kid seemed to have talent. He was able to keep up with them on most days without barely breaking a sweat.

So all in all, a total mystery to her. Even if this guy shared the same face as her best friend and ally Miles Morales, he... moved differently. Acted differently. Like Miles Morales, but in a different font.

He started to shimmy his shoulders into the room to get past the tight constraints of the window. Gwen stared at him with a cocked head the entire time.

He used his sneakers to cling onto the wall for a little bit, reaching right back out of the window once inside. He pulled in a backpack through the opening and promptly dropped down onto the cold hard floor of the room.

“Uh, hi? Wait. Weren’t we supposed to both escape through that window instead of you, y’know, coming inside?”

Miles-- well, 42--shook his head as he threw his pack back on in one swift motion. “I checked the perimeters, and we’re a long, long ways away from the city. Even if we managed to get past the millions of goons and cameras everywhere, they got dogs doing night shifts out in the woods.”

Gwen’s heart sank. Shit. Her earlier thoughts were coming true. They were far away from Brooklyn, which complicated their escape plans even more.

“I mean… ugh, I-- we can climb the trees! Right? If we just--”

“The guards, Gwen. They got guns loaded up with bullets. But you know what I got? A plan.”

Gwen blinked back at 42 yet again. “You do?”

42 took confident steps back as he put some distance between them and then triple-tapped the side of his mechanical mask. Gwen watched with awe as the front of the mask sectioned itself up and off of his head, revealing a laser-focused expression on Miles’ handsome face-- er, his regular, normal, totally-not-good-looking face!

From somewhere on his mask, a bright purple hologram was projected between them, suspended in mid-air. The lights cast the entire room in a hazy purple glow.

The hologram projected a 3D blueprint-like map of the entire building-- all 5 stories of it. Each floor was meticulously detailed, down to the various entrances and exits and relative dimensions of the many, many rooms the building held.

42 tapped his mask again, this time on the chin, and a maze-like structure materialized, all of it hovering on top of each other and weaving themselves in between the floors… a maze-like structure that seemed very, very familiar.

“Vents!” Gwen snapped her fingers once she recognized them. “You have the blueprints of all the ventilation shafts in the building!”

42 nodded, the projection bobbing along with his movements. “Yeah, I do. I’m a Prowler, right? We always stay prepared.”

Gwen squinted at him. “I guess...? How’d you get stuck in this place if you’re always prepared, then? Did you get kidnapped too?”

“Nah,” 42 answered easily, a corner of his mouth quirking up for a split second, “I followed you here.”

Gwen blinked at him for what seemed to be the umpteenth time. "What."

42 sighed. “You got knocked out by this dimension’s Doctor Octopus. He threw you into the back of a van and ordered his goon squad to bring you back up here, to a secret location he’s got surrounded by energy dampeners and signal blockers. Most likely? He knows you’re not from this dimension and wants to experiment on you. But me? I’m here ‘cause me and my uncle have been lookin’ for this place for months. It’s… top-secret, this compound. Classified.”

“Oh. How did… how did you know he’d bring me to the place you and your uncle have been looking for this whole time? What if he brought me to another building?”

42 smirked, the purple lights of the holograms twinkling in his eyes. “Doc’s assets are being… uh, slowly compromised by us with the underground resistance. Not many places for him to throw his unwilling science experiments into nowadays.”

So it wasn’t just Gwen’s imagination. This dimension really has been steadily cleaned up by the Prowlers and their freedom-fighting allies. Well, that was good to hear. Still didn’t provide much relief for their current situation considering this was Doctor Octopus they were talking about here, but it was still nice to know.

“Well. That’s great to hear, then. What’s the rest of your plan, after ducking out of here through the vents?”

42’s mask re-formed back onto his face and the glowing purple and white eyes came back online. “We’re not ducking through the vents. Well, yet. I came here on my own mission and I gotta complete it before leaving.”

Gwen sighed softly. “Which would be...?”

Getting the whole story out of this version of Miles was like pulling teeth! Was it always going to be like this? Because if so, this wasn’t going to be a very easy mission to pull off after all.

“I can get you out of here first, if you want,” 42 glowered at her, voice distorting behind his mask’s voice-changing technology. His tone seemed impatient, too. “I can stay behind ‘til I’m done.”

Gwen shifted her weight onto one leg. “No, not a chance. I have to stay here and make sure Doc Ock doesn’t turn you into minced meat. Plus, you’re the one who has all the blueprints and cool glowing tech thingies. I’m sticking with you until we can both get out of here!”

This seemed to satisfy 42, because he gave her one unreadable nod in her direction. “… If you’re sure, then let’s go.”

He moved swiftly, much more gracefully than Gwen was used to seeing a Miles move. He walked almost silently, crouching down near one side of the wide metal sliding door thing that Gwen was trying to unsuccessfully pry open earlier.

He reached back into his gear that was saddled on his back and pulled out what seemed to be a small metal object with tiny purple lights on the outer edge. It attached itself onto the door and then 42 was sliding a hidden panel that Gwen had completely missed.

Gwen eventually sidled up to him and clasped her hands behind her back. “I see we’re sticking real well to the branding here. Purple lights, purple holograms… very cool,” was her lame attempt at lightening the mood.

“Yeah, it’s a family thing,” 42 muttered as he worked on… what seemed like some electrical circuitry built into the door. It glowed a soft green. “Been passed down for a couple of generations.”

Gwen hummed. “Oh, I see.”

A beat of silence as 42 continued his work.

Gwen checked her watch once more as she leaned on a wall. “Soooo… should I be doing something while you… y’know…?”

“Yeah, you should be quiet.” 42 answered.

“Ouch.” Gwen replied back as flatly as she could. “Look. I don’t wanna step all on your toes or anything while you do this whole… Prowling thing, but we’re a two-man team here! I’m at the very least trying to make conversation,”

“Okay, sure,” 42 replied easily, never taking his eyes off of his task. “Why are you in my dimension in the first place? Since you like to talk so much, maybe you can tell me that.”

Gwen sighed loudly. Great. Here she was trapped in a bad guy’s compound in the middle of who-knows-where, with the meanest Miles in the entirety of the multiverse. Just her luck.

“I was sent here on a mission. By Jessica. You know, the other other Spiderwoman? Who’s now in charge of the Spider Society, by the way? Yeah, we detected anomalies here in this dimension and she sent me to check it out. But… well, I kinda already screwed that up so I guess I can go and kiss my Society membership goodbye for good this time. Happy?”

42 glanced up at her then, his mask as unreadable as ever, the darkness enshrouding much of his body language. He slowly stood up and backed up, silently gazing at Gwen all the while.

She stood there glaring at him with her arms crossed.

“Yeah. Yeah, I’m happy.” 42 finally replied coolly. “Now keep quiet, we don’t know if there are guards out here on patrol. My mask is still calibrating its infrared heat sensors so I can’t see ‘em yet.”

Infrared heat sensors? God, is this kid packed to the teeth with high-tech spy gadgetry or what?

Gwen begrudgingly did as she was told, taking a couple of steps back as 42 lowered the brightness of his mask’s glow.

The door rumbled open with a mechanic hum, and that’s when it hit her; Gwen couldn’t have possibly gotten the door open by herself, because it wasn’t just locked… it was hooked up to a main power source and sealed that way.

Damn. Looks like she really did need to rely on this guy to escape this place, after all.

Well then.

They poked their heads out of the dark room and quietly surveyed the expansive maze-like hallways of the compound. Pipes running the entire length of the ceiling as far as they could see told them both everything they needed to know.

42 took a quick step back to update his mask’s digital blueprint and map out exactly where they were.

Gwen glanced back at him. “What’re you doing now?”

“I'm marking where we are...” He then drops his voice to a near whisper, eyes still methodically scanning the area around them. "This compound's built into the side of a steep hill, which is how I climbed in. We must be on the north side, then."

He tapped his mechanical claws on the tip of his chin and started thinking aloud. “Which means… what I’m lookin’ for has to be underneath the ground, towards the south. I’m lookin’ for a room not on the blueprints. And... and I think I know exactly where to start.”

“You think you know? I thought you had a plan!”

“I do,” 42 threw back. “An escape plan. But you’re stickin’ with me, so now we’re gonna do some Prowlering. Unless you changed your mind?”

Oh, right. This game. Well, this kid wasn’t getting rid of her that easily, that was for sure.

“Oh no, no. Just making sure you’re capable of getting out of here, is all,” she offered innocently.

42 might’ve rolled his eyes behind his mask, but it was hard to tell.

Together, they moved through the halls as silently as possible, straining their ears for any sign of human life-- or robot life, really-- as they quickly made their way down several wide corridors.

All of the halls started blurring together since they all looked completely identical to Gwen, save for the numbers on the various doors they passed by changing and getting smaller as they advanced.

After several minutes had passed, Gwen wanted to open her mouth and ask 42 where exactly they were heading to since it didn’t seem like their trip was even coming anywhere close to an end, when he suddenly grabbed her and pulled her around a corner they had just walked past seconds earlier.

Gwen made a slight noise of confusion and then sucked in a breath when the sound of metal clanging and machines whirring echoed all around them. 42 was closest to the corner, head turned over to where she suspected the intruders were coming from.

Sure enough, a pair of heavy work boots stamped gracelessly down the halls and the casual back-and-forth between the men that suddenly came into view could be heard more clearly.

“… Can’t believe he’s got us down here working doubles now, man! Sucks,” one of the men grumbled as they made their way past the two vigilantes and opened yet another giant metal door with a keycard.

Gwen’s vision zeroed in on it as the man reached behind him to tuck it back into his pocket, and her split-second reflexes allowed her to time her web just right.

She snagged the card and held a breath as the door whirred shut right behind the men, both of them none the wiser.

“Whew,” she said after a second of tense waiting, and smirked at 42 who held a metal claw out for the keycard. “Look who’s got a plan now! Aren't you glad I stuck around?”

42 chuckled, the sound warbling slightly under his voice modulator. “Yeah, that was pretty cool. I can admit that. Now that we got this, we might be able to use it to get into the room I wanna get into once we find it.”

“Right,” Gwen pipes up once they continue their descent deeper into the bowels of the compound, “about that. You never told me what it is that you came here to find. In fact, you’ve been pretty cagey this entire time. Like, about everything.”

42 made an undecipherable sound. “Uh, yeah. This is my recon mission, not yours. You’re not even from this dimension, this doesn’t really concern you.”

Gwen grunted. “Gee thanks. If that’s how you feel, then I’ll be having my keycard back!”

42 shook his head and laughed. “I didn’t mean it like that, man. I meant… just don’t worry about it. It’s info we’re looking for to eventually take down Doc Ock. If I said it out loud here, it might jeopardize this whole thing me and Aaron have planned. I'm in work mode right now, I'm sure you get it,”

Gwen relaxed a bit more. In a way, she did get it. She even understood 42’s hesitance to have her aboard to work with him, since working on group projects wasn't exactly on her own list of top ten favorite things… especially when the project itself concerned the very fabric of the space-time continuum.

Gwen was a solo hero, and maybe since 42 was here on his own, he finally graduated into being a solo hero, too.

Actually, on that topic…

“Does your… does your uncle know you’re here, then? If he does, maybe he can help us get out of here?”

42 helped himself to a healthy pause. “Yes, and no. Aaron’s not… here, near the compound. But he does know I’m out on a mission.”

Gwen stared at him. “Sooo… call him? I’m sure he can get past security, right?”

42 laughed yet again, shaking his head. “Guess you didn’t hear me back in the other room when I told you there are blockers all over this compound, huh.”

Gwen cocked an eyebrow at him and their lenses met.

“What I mean is,” 42 continues, “tech down here doesn’t work very well due to all the interference the Doc’s put up to conceal this place. Again, top secret. Super classified. My own mask took a little while to come back online, and some stuff is still… coming back online. Kinda."

“And your communicators wouldn’t happen to also be on the fritz, would they?” Gwen asked, fully knowing the answer she was going to get.

“Mmnnyep, communicator’s offline. I dunno what the hell Doc’s got this place running on, but it’s not electricity. I’m not too concerned about the details, though,”

Here, they came up to a wide metal door marked in bright caution-tape stripes with several warnings plastered on its surface.

“... ’Cause I got my eyes on the prize,” 42 finished, swaggering up to the door’s keycard panel and successfully getting the thing to slide open.

They both fell into fighting stances in case anything behind the door leapt out at them and attacked, but… there was no one and nothing in the spacious cave-like room beyond it.

Nothing except… a humongous collider!

Gwen gasped as she lowered her fists and advanced forward, making her way over thick wires and past computers to get closer to the giant dimension-ripping machine in the center of the room.

It looked… not quite as high-tech as the one in her dimension, or Miles’-- er, 1610’s collider, that is-- but it was completely unmistakable. The form never changes, neither through space nor through time. It was indeed a collider built by none other than the infamous Doctor Octopus, even if it didn’t quite look as close to being complete.

There were still various wires draped on ladders near the edge of the lab, scissor-lifts located below the platforms parked for the night, and several components were missing that seemed to lay underneath odd-looking bulgy sheets on top of several tables nearby. Gwen made her way over to a computer and woke it up, balking at the password-locked screen in front of her eyes.

Damnit. Damnit! It wasn’t just an anomaly that the Society managed to detect… it was the energy signals from this collider, most likely having gone through some initial tests before advancing to this final stage of construction.

If this was it, then Gwen needed to get back to Jess with this information ASAP!

She fiddled with her watch a bit, but it still looked to be on the fritz somehow, not letting her switch to any other dimension or access the other features Hobie had installed into it. Weird.

She straightened up and glanced behind her, hoping that 42 had some kind of tech or knowledge that would help crack this computer open so she could take a look through the files to gauge just how far along this little pet project was… only to find that she was alone.

... Alone?

"Miles?"

Silence. Her heart jumpstarted a bit and started hammering away in her chest as she hurriedly made her way past rows of tables, science equipment, and computer screens of all sizes, only to find a pair of legs sticking out from underneath a weird car-shaped machine set aside in the corner of the gigantic lab.

She stood there for a bit with her hands on her hips, quieting her thoughts and watching as 42 tinkered away at whatever the hell he was tinkering away at.

She eventually kicked a purple Jordan gently and smiled bemusedly at 42 shuffling his way out from under the machine.

“Having fun down there?” She said as casually as she could manage.

42’s mask was off slightly, still framing his face, but now Gwen could see his slightly exasperated expression in full view.

“Yeah, actually, I was.” He gave her a full view of his snarky attitude too, while he was at it.

He laid back down and pushed his way underneath once more.

“Is this gigantic collider in the middle of this room not a huge concern to you at all?”

“Not really.” 42 answered from under the machine.

“Can I ask why? You do know that if the Octopus gets this thing done and booted up, that your entire dimension is at risk of collapsing just like every other dimension that’s had a collider in it before?”

“Really? Ya don't say,” 42 replied sarcastically, clinking and clanking away. The machine rattled a bit. “That’s nowhere near done right now and I gotta prioritize my priorities. I’m getting to root cause of the problem rather than just climbing in here and smashing stuff up.”

“… Are you now?” Gwen deadpanned.

A mighty metallic scraping sound jolted its way through her eardrums suddenly, making Gwen jump slightly. After a second or two, 42 slides out once again with a big sunny grin plastered onto his face, holding up what looks like a small motherboard with a bunch of metal wires still attached to the metal casing it was screwed into. He only wore one gauntlet, she noted.

He quickly took his pack off and got to work inlaying the computer part into a panel in his pack that she had never noticed before.

A total tech marvel that thing was, really. Even Gwen had to make a noise of approval when with a few purposeful jabs and swipes, the whole pack disengaged and unfolded itself open, much like his mask. No tools required.

He made quick work of the task at hand, using one metal gauntlet as a makeshift toolset, his other gloved hand working to set the entire component into the rest of the pack’s inner workings.

Once that seemed to be done, all of the circuitry glowed purple for a beat before going dark once more. 42 tapped at his gauntlet, bringing up more info on the inside of his wrist, which he seemed to approve of.

“All set?” Gwen probed, still standing a little ways away from him, watching as he seemed completely engrossed in his little side-mission.

He reached back under the machine and pulled out his other gauntlet, springing back up once it was in his hands.

“Yeah. Better than all set, ‘cause now my pack’s online! I can use my climbing gear again.” At this, 42 unlatches a reel of rope from behind him, his grappling hook dangling on one end as he swings it in circular motions through the air. “Hell yeah,”

Gwen stared at him once again. “Your climbing gear wasn’t working? How did you climb into my window, then?”

42 gave her a bit of side-eye. "I got other gear besides my rope, you know that, right?"

Gwen huffed, clearly annoyed. "No, actually I don't. I've been following you this whole time and you haven't really been saying much at all,"

42’s mask slid back into place as he rolled his shoulders and readjusted his pack. “You ask too many questions,”

“You don’t provide too many answers,” Gwen bit out dryly. “Seriously, dude, we are in the middle of giant evil lair of some kind with no way to communicate with the outside world and you’re swaggering through this whole ordeal like it’s a walk in the park,” she huffs. “Why can’t you just tell me like, anything?”

They’re both face-to-face now, mask-to-mask, very obviously frustrated with each other if the electricity in the air was as thick as it felt.

Two teenagers butting heads in the middle of a giant lab, trapped in the lair of their greatest enemy… it would embarrassing if it wasn’t so absurd, but here they were, glaring each other down anyways.

“I am telling you things, you just don’t listen! Probably ‘cause you think your powers make you all-powerful and omniscient or something, that you think you don't need to listen to a word I'm saying,” 42’s words dripped with venom. “Seriously, staying with me to make sure I don’t get myself killed? Gimme a damn break. If sticking with me is soooo boring and you know more than I do, you can get yourself up out of here, then.”

Gwen bristled. “Listen here, jerk. I never said that I was better than you. Kinda telling on yourself there, don'tcha think?” She jabbed a finger in his direction. “I was perfectly capable of letting myself out before you fell in here and got us all turned around! I had it on my own, I could've gotten myself out of here ages ago!"

“And who’s stopping you?” 42 threw his hands up in the air. “Use your little spider powers to bust up out of here, and just leave!"

Gwen stepped back, seething. With fists clenched by her sides, she shoots 42 more daggers his way, hoping her mask’s lenses would convey the message.

Wordlessly, she turns around and shoots a web up to one of the ventilation grates high up in the cavernous room, sticking to the wall.

She works the grating off while 42’s Jordans pace right out of the room and into another side room, leaving the lab completely silent.

Fine. If that was how things were going to be, then fine. This was hardly the worst situation Gwen’s ever found herself in, and it most likely wasn't going to be over anytime soon. But she’s gotten herself out of stickier conundrums on her own, so this was just going to be yet another one of life’s little tests. Just a bump in the road.

A small, insignificant little bump.

As Gwen quietly seethed and crawled her way through the ventilation shafts (completely blindly, since she didn’t really bother to memorize the absolute maze that was whatever 42 showed her earlier) she came upon a vent opening that overlooked a room filled with monitors and… guards.

It looked to be a security room not too far from the collider room, and the men inside were armored to the teeth, only slipping off their helmets and masks to chat some shit over takeout containers and coffee cups.

The rest of the room was covered in tv monitors that showed various different CCTV camera feeds, all of them stationary. Most of them were pointing to the outside, though, hardly any of the screens showed views from the basement level’s numerous corridors, curiously enough.

Gwen doubted 42’s earlier claim that this building ran on some other form of power, since she didn’t think it would be very economic on the Octopus’ wallet to buy so many cameras and monitors and computers that ran on alternate power sources.

Maybe… if he was wrong… then maybe she could even use her watch to open up a portal in an empty room somewhere and just peace out!

Tell Jess what she found, because by now she’d pretty much done her job. Leave the rest to a more capable task force put together by the Society and just go back to her normal, boring, definitely not eventful life.

But then… as tempting as the thought was… she’d be leaving 42 behind. 42, sure, but a Miles nonetheless… a friend.

From what she could gather, the poor guy had very few friends, if any at all. If he wasn’t communicating to her properly, maybe isolation from his vigilante work was to blame, rather than a fault of his character.

Gwen propped up her chin in one hand and ruminated on all of these thoughts, arguing with herself over whether she should stay or go. She glanced at her cobbled-up watch, a permanent reminder of her best friend Hobie Brown, and laid on her back to mess with it one more time.

Her thoughts sunk down into the bottom of her stomach as she fiddled with it, continuing to get error messages as she tried to scroll through the various dimensions she knows she’s saved to her little watch, coming up with nothing even when she dared to try and open a portal in the middle of the vent shaft.

Nothing, nada. No dice. No portal whatsoever happened to materialize. It gave small sad beeps instead, really hammering home that… she really was on her own this time.

Damn.

Gwen didn’t know why, but this thought kind of depressed her.

At least on previous missions and patrols in her dimension, she was always acutely aware of how much rested on her own shoulders. She always went in with confidence and some sort of game plan, content enough to just let her quick thinking and powers get her out of any fight, any problem.

But ever since landing here on earth-42, she seemed… discombobulated, not entirely in her element. Everything in this dimension seemed to work against her at every single turn.

She’d have to bring that up to the other Spiders, ask if they’ve ever felt anything like she was feeling before.

If she could get out of this building in the first place, that is…

A loud, jarring alarm jolted her violently out of her wandering thoughts, and she almost hit her head on the ceiling of the vent, rolling over quickly to peer down into the room below her.

The guards were pulling helmets and masks on, scrambling up from their previous positions and pouring out of the security room door as quickly as they could.

In the midst of the sudden chaos, Gwen’s wide eyes honed in on one particular screen, which was pointed directly at the collider room’s interior…

... And directly at earth-42’s Miles Morales himself.

[zuzuzuko]

Honestly zdarsky’s run just upsets me because I see glimpses of things that could be good if they were just done a bit differently

[theriverdalereviewer]

just remembered how in the sixth grade there was a fucking riot in the cafeteria that ended in the entire grade getting silent lunch for like 3 months

[foldingfittedsheets]

Every sales job I’ve worked has that one item. The white whale. The biggest ticket you can sell. The sale you brag about when you’re chatting with other industry people.

When I sold mattresses it was a split king adjustable base. That’s two twin extra long mattresses next to each other to make a king, but each side can move independently. They’re insanely expensive and honestly kind’ve impractical but it was the biggest ticket thing to sell.

When I sold sex toys though our white whale was the 20lb ass. It was a female pelvis, a cut out from the waist to the tops of the thighs. It was hyper realistic material and cost about $500. I definitely had bigger tickets but not in one item typically.

In my time at the sex shop, I sold three. Each time was completely different in terms of how the guy acted about buying it. The first man was a little embarrassed and shy about it. I was professional and supportive as I rang it up. Once I handed him the receipt he looked at the box. Then he looked at me.

If you’ve ever wondered how big a box has to be to fit a 20lb ass let me just tell you: it’s pretty damn big. It’s an uncomfortably large armful of box and every side has a picture of the sex toy inside on it. It’s not subtle.

“Could I get a bag….?”

There was no bag that existed that could possibly contain all that ass. “Hang on,” I told him.

I got scissors and tape and covered the box in cut up black bags. Looking relieved he picked up his purchase and left.

The next man to buy one carried it proudly to the counter; self assured and not embarrassed in the least. When I said I didn’t have a bag, but I could wrap it for him he gave a hearty shrug and hefted it into his arms, marching out the door with the butt on full display.

The last man to get one was just kind’ve an odd guy. Not creepy, but eccentric. We got along great, and as I rang him up I said, “Well one guy wanted his taped over, and one guy carried it out. What would you prefer?”

“There’s no bags?”

“No store bags. I think our jumbo trash bags in the back might fit it….?” It seemed rude to suggest putting a $500 item into a trash bag, but he wasn’t bothered.

He considered this then said, “Bring me the trash bag.”

When I delivered it to him he still managed to surprise me. Instead of shoving the huge box into it he opened the box. He took out his new $500 sex toy, and all the little things it came with, tipping them unceremoniously into the trash bag.

“There! Now I don’t have to deal with the box later!”

I was slightly stunned but agreed that I could easily deal with the trash. Then in a move I still think about with delight he flung the trash bag over his shoulder like a Santa with a sack full of ass and sauntered out the door.

If this or my other escapades made you laugh you could pop a tip into my Ko-fi! For more like this check my tag "ffs foibles".

[floral-hex]

Another night I feel like my world is ending, so I went for a drive. Tried to sleep earlier. Nothing doing. Took a couple antianxieties. Surprisingly, not much help. Made me a little sleepy, cried a little, maybe a little more relaxed, but still…. blegh.

So, I’ve got my beeg drink, a podcast going, and I’m sitting in the Kroger parking lot because it’s 4:30+ in the morning and I need to see actual humans walking around. I don’t know how to explain it. Seeing other people continue on with their lives helps calm my doomer anxiety.

This sucks.

[evanescencelovrr]

Part 6 of college!simon x reader 🤍✉️ god the way he does anything and breathes—okay pls comment and reblog to share love 🥺

Masterlist here ✉️

He couldn’t sleep. The memories of your kind gesture played over and over in his mind. The way your scent lingered for just a second when you leaned in to put to next to his leg—and then how you walked off, earmuffs sitting snug.

What kinda’ sorcery was this?

Simon had to ask himself, brows furrowed. An arm was flexed, hand under his head, as he lay in bed staring at the ceiling uselessly. His box fan spun loudly, sounding smooth in the dark of the night. When his eyes shifted from the ceiling, to his window, revealing the campus walkways, then his desk, there was your cup, lipstick marks slightly faded and empty.

He did drink it all.

Was it his fault the damned thing tasted so good? He didn’t even know those things tasted heavenly. Packed fulla’ sugar too. But it was fine. He trained hard and long—the sugar would be outta his system in less than a second.

When he checked his cracked phone, it was 3am. He had classes at 9am, and groaned softly. Blonde eyelashes brushed his cheek as he attempted to close his eyes, nestling in his bed. His hunky form had a hard time sleeping on it, the bed too small. Sometimes his leg would slip off in the night, or arm, hanging lazily. Blankets would fall to the floor and pillows.

Simon was a picky sleeper.

Back at base, Johnny always had been taking pictures of Simons sleeping form. He’d cackle in the morning as Simon arose, mask on, wearing all black for the briefing meeting. Making a pot of coffee—hearing Johnny’s bickering, along with Price.

“Lieutenant—this a nice sight fa’ sore eyes, aye?” Johnnys thick accent rung out like alarm bells behind Simon who remained flat faced. He sipped his black coffee.

“That one needs a swaddle—aye?”

“Shut it, not another word.” Simon said roughly at Price and Johnny who grinned silently.

Simon eventually fell asleep to the memory.

——

When he made his way out for class—somethin’ about enlightenment and Kant versus Hume—he saw your door. He shoved the key in his lock, hearing a click. His head was craned to yours—were you up?

His lip tilted in a grin for the morning as he remembered your gesture. He wasn’t sure what to make of you yet. Was he trying to make something of you? The thought shook him.

Was he attempting to get to know you?

Part of Simon wanted to reel and flee, at the idea. All he ever knew was base and team 141. It was his comfort zone. A tight knit ship at that. And you—you were like the moon beckoning the ship at night. Full of secrets.

“Huh. Best leave er’ be.” He’d mutter and walk off.

Later on, grabbing food at one of the many dining halls, Simon managed to find a seat upstairs. Not ideal, as it wasn’t close to the exit but instead by a window. He did sit angled to see the exit—as usual. He was going to lift his mask to eat the salad when a girl spoke up.

“Do you always leave that on? The mask?” When he looked up, he saw a short blondie. Cherub cheeks and big eyes.

Roughly, he set his fork down on the plate—CLANK—and sent a glare her way, muttering, “Wots’ it to ya?”

She scampered off, leaving Simon to stew for a second. Damn bloody hounds. It’s a damn mask, ensuring his privacy. What was so hard to respect about that?

And then he thought back to you. You hadn’t pressed on about the mask nor asked of his scars. It was as if you’d seen him as a person beyond it. He chewed at his salad with a glare of focus, turning his head out the window. He felt slightly guilty scaring off the poor lass, she seemed much younger than him after all.

Kids. He had to remind himself. He was much older and all age ranges existed. He forgot not everyone was a war criminal at the age of 33 and 50, scarred.

Not everyone was a war princess.

When he turned his head over, he saw a fluff of hair sticking out. Then ear muffs, trailing down to a red soft leather jacket. It was worn and faded, giving it that vintage look. There you were. Sitting back facing him, eating just a salad and off to the side—pasta.

He didn’t say anything, but just watched for a minute. He then turned back to his plate, finishing off the scraps as students poured in. As usual at this hour. His eyes shifted to glance particularly at a rugged boy, holding his backpack strap with a sleazy walk in your direction. His grip tightened on his fork.

He then heard a plate clank behind him, and a voice rang through the air, “You got that work done I asked for?”

When his eyes glanced to his rear flank, he saw the rugged boy leaned over the table, fingers splayed on the table over you.

You cut into your chicken, not sparring him a glance. “I said I’d have it done, didn’t I?”

Clearly the rugged puppet didn’t enjoy that response—because he leaned closer and his shaggy hair blew slightly, revealing narrowing eyes. You glared.

Simon knew something was wrong. He already sniffed the bullshit a mile away. He got up, smoothly, resting his fork and stood behind you, hand resting on the edge of your chair. He felt you stiffen up in confusion—turning to look at him. But he never removed his eyes from the skimpy lad.

“Simon—“ You said.

“You got a problem, boy?” Simons guarded voice rang out, and the students watched on. Some went quiet, and all he could head were subtle forks clanking—slurping. It was like tunnel vision—everyone focused on you.

The boy leaned up, swallowing and shaking. His eyes were narrowed and Simon didn’t like that one bit—so he leaned forward, hands bracing on the back of your chair, looming over you just to get a closer look to him. Almost like a silent threat.

The entire time your heart was pounding a million miles, face heating up. Attention was drawn to you and you didn’t want it. You had half a mind to run—but Simon held your chair there.

“She said she’ll ave’ the work done, yea? So off wit’ it.” Simon said, not leaving room for argument.

The boy ran off, not even bothering to pick up his plate which made Simon scoff. He then sat next to you, plate landing beside yours. He shoved away the boys plate, quite roughly at that—he wasn’t going to leave you to the wolves. Everyone went back to their food, muttering.

When you found your breath you spoke, “I had that handled, you know.”

“Did ya’?” Simon said gruffly, hunched and picking at his chicken to bite. He didn’t sound rude, just slightly amused and still ruffled from the situation.

Your brow cocked and you looked at him. You looked confused—not sure of what to think when it came to him, and his intentions.

“He looked like he was gonna bite ya.” Simon added, although he knew the boy was skin and bone. He just wanted you to understand. His head lifted to pierce his gaze into yours.

You caressed your fork for a moment, thumb stroking.

“I would’ve bit back. I got some spunk in me after all.” You scoffed and shook your head, although grinning slightly. You bit into your pasta, which was mediocre for university food.

“I’d like to see ya put em’ in its place.”

“It?”

“It. Not even a man, balls avent’ dropped yet. Damned dog just breathin’ down on women.” Simon muttered, cup raising to brush his lips.

You had to bite back a laugh at his roasts. He was right though. Damned boy clearly didn’t know his place. You ears warmed slightly under the muffs and you could’ve sworn it was from the muffs itself.

Simon finished his food and then looked at you, leaning back in his chair. Arms crossed round’ his broader chest, blue eyes not leaving you. He then remembered how the boy demanded for work to be done—not that he gave the boy his mind—“What kinda’ trouble found ya?”

“I—“ You began. You chewed before speaking., eyes shifting away, “I just get payed to do…people’s assignments.”

Simon tutted and shook his head slowly, then leaned forward, bracing his elbows on the table to gaze closely at you. You could make out his pupil, blonde thick lashes curling out, the eye bags from under the mask—and wrinkles. “Out here doin’ gods work, aye?”

“Damn right. But if I’m caught that’ll end badly for me.” You scoffed, rubbing your wrist in a self soothing manner.

“You’re desperate aren’t ya?”

“I need the money—“

“Then come work with me.”

You froze. You jerked your head up at his smooth request, tongue poking at your cheek, pondering.

“Work…with you?” You then repeated.

“It ain’t a request—I’m telling ya.”

[shoveitevil]

god. why does no one care about me in this damned house