#but the when the clocks rolled over to 2000

[marlynnofmany]

You know how in stories where the heroes save the world from some magical apocalypse, a lot of the time the general public has no idea? They just go about their lives afterward, not even realizing how close they came to disaster, much less that there's someone to thank for that?

Picture how those heroes feel.

That's how the programmers who stopped the Y2K bug most likely feel.

Thanks for saving us, folks. I just heard the song "Party Like It's 1999", and thought of you.

[plutotheplum]

Socks and Kisses

leon kennedy x fem!reader

summary: a spontaneous shopping trip has leon re-evaluating his friendship with you.

cw: nsfw (18+) - mdni!!, smut, p in v, spanking, oral sex, praise kink, fluff, friends/roommates to lovers, fantasizing

wc: 3.7k

also posted on ao3!

There’s a shriek leaving you when you trip over a bundle of shoes in the doorway. It nearly sends you hurtling towards the floor, but there’s an arm curling around your waist, tugging you up before you can fall. Leon.

You glare up at your roommate, shoving at his chest so it sends him stumbling.

“Seriously, Leon? How many times have I told you to put your shoes to the side of the doorway?” you snap, crossing your arms over your chest.

He winces at your shrill voice, his hand rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly.

“I was busy,” he says, his eyes pleading with you, “you know with… with work.”

You’re shooting him an unimpressed look, pushing past him to put the groceries on the kitchen counter. It was your day to collect them anyways. Living with Leon had happened entirely by accident. One shittily written apartment listing later and the poor guy was standing outside your door, begging you to let him move in. It hadn’t been so bad. Leon had been nice, and you two had gotten along well, becoming friends even. The only thing you couldn’t stand was how messy the man was.

Empty boxes from delivered packages, stray parchment sheets from when he’d bake himself something and socks strewn haphazardly across the floor, much like his shoes. Leon had practically turned your apartment into a deathtrap. 

You don’t get to reminisce for much longer, not when he’s reaching for the pack of popsicles you’d bought. Leon lets out a low whine, like a kicked puppy, when you swat his hand away and shoot him an irritated glance. “I’m putting my foot down,” you tell him firmly, “no more unorganized socks, shoes or- or anything for that matter!”

Leon only tilts his head, blinking over at you. You glance towards the clock before your eyes are flitting back to meet his.

“Ikea,” you explain, “we’re going to Ikea to get you some organizers or whatever.” 

“ Now? ” Leon asks, raising his brows “but I was going to go to the gym with Chris and-” he’s shutting up when he sees your hardened glare.

Leon lets out an exasperated huff, and you’re smiling over at him, happy you’ve won this argument. Just to reward him, you’re digging out a popsicle from the pack and handing it to him. “So stubborn,” he mumbles under his breath, freeing the popsicle from its wrapper. 

“I heard that,” you reply, sticking your tongue out at him.

You both finish up your popsicles, and you’re tossing him his car keys while you pull your shoes on again. 

“Why do I have to drive?” he complains, leaning against the doorway.

“Because it’s your mess,” you retort, rolling your eyes, “and you’re paying as well.”

Leon lets out a scoff, “oh, fuck you.”

You smile back at him, patting him on the shoulder for some comfort. You manage to annoy him a little more during the drive to Ikea, and Leon’s contemplating whether he should just stuff your mouth with the rolled up catalog you’re currently holding

It’s when you both get to the kitchen area that Leon realizes something’s wrong. His eyes are watching the way you bend over the model kitchen counter, gaze trained on the way your skirt rides up slightly, exposing the backs of your thighs. He swallows harshly, wondering what it might be like to come up behind you, grab your hips and grind his cock against your ass. 

Your voice breaks him out of his dazed thoughts, your hand waving him over as you point to the price tag.

“Don’t you think this is a catch?” You ask him, head tilting back to meet his eyes.

“A catch?” He echoes, raising his brows, “it’s $2000 . Do you even have $2000?” 

You roll your eyes, elbowing him in the stomach. “Don’t be such a jerk, Leon. I think it’d look good in our apartment.”

There it is. Our apartment. The words are so comfortably domestic that it has Leon’s knuckles squeezing tight around the basket he’s holding. He’d be lying if he said he hasn’t imagined you two dating. Especially after that time he’d come home drunk one night. You’d taken care of him so sweetly, despite all of your grumbles and chastisements, that Leon felt like he was falling in love.

That had only happened once though, and Leon wasn’t prepared to make a big deal about his feelings so he buried them deep down and carried on with his life.

He doesn’t have time to dwell on his little crush any longer, brows furrowing when he feels the basket in his hand grow heavier. You’ve been milling about, dumping various little trays and organizational tidbits into the basket.

“At this point, I think you’re trying to max out my card,” he drawls, trailing after you.

“I’m helping you, Leon” you shoot back, bringing a candle up to your nose to smell its scent.

It’s not until you both get to the bedding area that Leon realizes he might actually be losing it. 

He’s sitting down on the edge of one of the beds, the basket settled on the floor with how heavy it’s become. 

You’re fluttering about, checking out the duvet covers and pillow cases. His eyes watch over you, letting you take a seat beside him on the bed when you find a duvet cover you like.

“Pretty, right?” You ask him, showing him the design.

“I guess,” he murmurs absentmindedly. 

He thinks you look prettier though. Besides, it’s not like he can tell you that he’s imagining taking you on this very bed. Your face pressed into the pillows, his cock stuffed into your pussy. You’d probably make cute noises too, clench around his cock while he thrusted into you. He’d let everyone watch, he thinks, make sure everyone knew that you were his. 

You’re snapping your fingers in his face, trying to get him to pay attention to you.

“Are you okay?” You ask, staring into his eyes “you keep getting distracted.”

“What?” Leon flushes, clearing his throat “yeah- yeah I’m fine… just had enough of you is all.”

You swat his shoulder and he rolls his eyes. Both of you manage to get to the checkout without any further bickering. Leon’s card doesn’t max out thankfully, but you wince when you see the total, ignoring Leon’s glower as he tears the receipt from the machine.

To make up for the spontaneous shopping spree, you buy him a soft serve and hand it to him with a smile. 

Leon takes it with a grumble, his eyes dropping to the way you lick at your soft serve. The icy treat smudges across your lips, and he’s reaching out before he can stop himself, his thumb swiping at the corner of your mouth to clean the mess. 

“Think you might be the messy one,” he mutters gruffly, drawing his hand back. 

“Your socks alone have nearly crippled me” you reply, nibbling at the cone to try and quell the race of your heart at his unexpected action. 

Leon lets out a loud sigh, shaking his head. The drive home is quiet, the soft sounds of the radio filling up the car’s space.

You help Leon with the stuff you bought, leaving the goods in his room before letting out a satisfied nod.

“There. Now you don’t have an excuse for being messy. Better start cleaning up, Leon” you chirp, giving him a snarky smile before tugging his door shut.

You sigh happily, mind feeling at ease. You’re sure that your apartment won’t be so messy anymore. The sounds of Leon rummaging inside his room almost make you feel bad, but this had been going on for months and you were glad you had done something about it. 

Deciding to grab some food, you reach for the can of peaches on the kitchen counter. By some misfortune, your hand accidentally knocks the can, sending it rolling towards the edge. Letting out an irritated huff, you’re reaching across the counter to grab the can before it falls off. 

While this happens, you’re blissfully unaware of the fact that your skirt is riding up. Leon feels his heart nearly jump out of his chest at the sight when he had wandered out of his room to grab a garbage bag. 

He can see the swell of your ass, your cheeks peeking out from your panties as you’re bent over, grabbing the can of peaches. 

“Have you made it some sort of mission to bend over every kitchen counter you see?” he asks dryly, his arms crossing over his chest.

You squeak in surprise, body jolting. The can of peaches slips from your hand pitifully, landing on the floor with a loud thunk .

“Why are you sneaking up on me?” You whine, turning to give him a glare.

Leon doesn’t reply, coming to a stop in front of you. His blue eyes are dark, dirty blonde hair hanging over his forehead.

“Um… Leon?” You wave your hand in front of his face. 

“I’m starting to think you’re doing it on purpose,” he murmurs, his hand catching yours.

“Hm?” he squeezes your hand, his head lowering so he can stare right into his eyes, “bending over every kitchen counter so I can see your pretty ass?” 

You manage to gather your wits, letting out a loud scoff and push at his chest.

“You’re such a perv, Leon!” you accuse, narrowing your eyes and placing your hands on your hips. 

“I’m not a perv if you keep bending over like that!” he shoots back, his hands grabbing at your forearms to tug you towards him. 

You swallow harshly when his calloused hands drift past your wrists, finding your hands and lacing his fingers with yours. The warmth of his body seeps into yours and your head is tilting, eyes finding his.

“We- we are not fucking,” you whisper, shaking your head.

“Who said anything about fucking?” Leon asks, his head lowering again. 

His body presses against yours, causing your breath to hitch. You’re biting your lip at the way it feels, the hard planes of his body molding against yours.

“One kiss,” he whispers, peering into your eyes, “please? Just one kiss and it’ll be over.”

You’d be doing yourself a disservice if you denied his request. Leon was stupidly handsome even if he was a little annoying at times, and you had maybe masturbated to the thought of your roommate before.

“Did you happen to forget that we’re roommates?” you raise your brows, trying to voice your concerns.

“Roommates kiss all the time,” he says, his nose nudging against yours gently, “now c’mon, gimme a kiss.”

You don't know what sort of roommates he’s been hanging around, but you’re almost certain that roommates don’t kiss or do whatever the hell you two are doing right now. 

Leon doesn’t know what he’s doing either. That one shopping trip had seriously messed up his brain, but he was here now so there was no going back. Your lips look so pretty, your eyes all starry. He wants to kiss you senseless and bend you over that stupid kitchen counter while he fucks into you until you’re crying on his cock.

As if to encourage you a little more, he nudges his nose against yours again. You send him a glare, eyes slipping shut as you rock up on the tips of your toes and brush your lips against his. The kiss is fleeting, a mere touch of your lips against his, and it’s safe to say Leon is not impressed.

“There,” you say, trying to hide the smirk that spreads across your face, “you got a kiss. Now leave me alone.”

Leon lets out a low groan, his head falling against your shoulder, “you’re a fuckin’ tease, you know that?”

You hum, pushing at his chest, taking the opportunity to free yourself from the confines of his grasp.

“Not so fast,” he murmurs, his hand snagging onto your shirt, “c’mere baby.”

His low voice has the butterflies in your stomach fluttering, your eyes widening when his hands cup your cheeks and he presses his lips against yours.

It doesn’t take you long to respond, arms wrapping around his neck as he kisses you fiercely. He groans into your mouth, his arms winding around your waist to pull you closer. 

You’re both flush against each other and you let out an irritated noise when he shoves you up against the kitchen counter, feeling the solid surface dig into your back.

“Drove me crazy at that Ikea,” he whispers against your lips, his hands sneaking under your skirt to give your ass an appreciative grope, “thought about fucking you on one of those beds.”

The idea of it is so obscene and indecent that you find yourself moaning out loud.

“Yeah? You like that, baby? Me fucking you in front of everyone, letting them know that you’re mine?” 

You’re nodding desperately at his filthy questions, trying to tug his shirt off so you can see his chest and abdomen. He obliges you, quickly shrugging off his shirt. Your teeth sink into your lower lip at the sight, eyes half-lidded. 

You can’t help the way your body leans forward, lips pressing soft kisses across his chest and his pecs. Leon sucks in a sharp breath, his hands moving to cradle the back of your head.

“Just kisses, huh?” he murmurs.

You nod, peering up at him “no fucking, remember?”

He hums, tilting your head so he can kiss you again. Leon kisses you over and over until you can’t breathe. You’re feeling so dazed that you don’t even notice he’s spinning you around, bending you over the kitchen counter. There’s a soft whine escaping you when he flips your skirt up, his hands squeezing at your ass before his fingers slip under your panties, tugging the fabric back and letting it snap back against you.

Your fingers are scrabbling at the counter top when you feel him drop to his knees, his lips pressing against the skin of your ass. He kisses your body so reverently, you think you might actually pass out.

“Wanna kiss your pussy too,” he mumbles, tugging your panties down. You shudder when you feel his breath hit your sensitive skin, hips swaying back to meet the kisses he places on your clit.

His tongue lolls out before long, lapping at your cunt, collecting the slick that drips from you. 

“That- that is not kissing,” you whimper out, head falling against the coolness of the counter.

“Sure it is,” he whispers, burying his face deeper into your pussy, “just dirty kisses, sweetheart.”

The way he eats you out is messy. Leon’s trying to shove his face deeper between your thighs, his lips suctioning around your pussy. You mewl when he draws back and spits on your cunt, his mouth latching on soon after. You’re not sure how much longer you can hold on, knees beginning to shake. Leon delivers a particularly toe-curling suck to your clit and you’re shuddering, letting out whines and whimpers when he lets out a low laugh, his tongue swiping over your cunt repeatedly.

“Leon- fuck! Leon, ‘m gonna-” you can barely speak properly. 

“Then come , baby,” he whispers, his tongue pressing into your fluttering hole.

You squeal at the unfamiliar sensation, knuckles turning white as you come on his tongue. He licks up your slick eagerly, his wet lips pressing soft kisses against the swell of your ass as you pant.

He stands up, tucking his face into the crook of your neck. You press your back against his chest, turning your head to kiss along his jaw. His eyes flutter shut, his hands smoothing along your back to undo the clasp of your bra. 

Your arms lift and Leon helps you take off your shirt and bra, letting out a soft sigh as your head falls back against his shoulder. Leon’s hands are restless, reaching for your breasts. 

He hums at the sight of your hard nipples, pinching and rolling them between his fingers before letting go to squeeze your tits. 

“You’re real pretty, sweetheart” he whispers, kissing your cheek.

You mewl, cheeks flushing. You hadn’t expected him to talk to you so sweetly. Leon feels your body lurch forward, tits pressing against his palms. He laughs, giving another firm grope to your tits and finds your lips to give you another filthy kiss. While he kisses you, Leon grinds his hips against your ass, and you gasp into his mouth, feeling the outline of his cock through his shorts.

“Think my cock wants to give your cute pussy some kisses too,” he says, his mouth pressed against your ear, “you up for it, baby?”

You could be a bobblehead with how fast your head is moving up and down. Leon grins against your ear, placing another kiss to your cheek before he’s bending you over the counter. The coolness of the counter startles you slightly, but Leon’s hand rubs up and down your back, warming your skin. 

Tits squished against the hard surface, your feet on the tips of your toes, pussy glistening with his spit and your arousal, Leon can hardly believe his fantasy has come to fruition. He wants to take a picture, keep it safe and jerk off to the sight of you when he’s alone. There’s no pictures taken though, instead Leon’s hand delivers a heavy slap to one of your ass cheeks.

You moan, back arching slightly as you try and chase the feeling. It hurts and you can feel the sting of his palm prickling across your skin, but you want him to spank you again so badly.

“L- Leon, want more,” you mumble, looking back at him.

Leon takes your request in stride, his hand coming down on your ass repeatedly. Your body slumps against the counter, soft noises escaping you as he rains slap after slap onto your reddening skin. 

“Shit, sweetheart” he whispers, his hands smoothing over the damage he’s done to your ass “so fuckin’ pretty.”

There’s a babbled noise escaping you. Mind feeling like mush, all you can think about is Leon. He smooths his hands over your sensitive skin a few more times, trying to soothe the pain before you feel him squeeze gently as he presses the head of his cock against your aching hole.

Leon pushes into your pussy with a groan, his hands squeezing at your hips. It almost feels like he’s trying to ground himself.

“Fuck-” he hisses, drawing his hips back to thrust back into you again, “ fuck - you’re so tight, baby.”

You whimper at the feeling of his cock stretching you out. Leon’s thrusts are beginning to pick up in speed and you’re whining, the force of his thrusts making your body rub against the kitchen counter.

“Leon, Leon, Leon,” you chant his name and his body is draping over yours, lips pressing kisses to your shoulder and back, “feels so good,” you slur. 

His hips are rutting against your ass, cock stuffing you full. You’re moaning so loudly that Leon has to slip his hand over your mouth in an effort to quieten your noises. His balls are slapping against your clit and the combined stimulation is making your head spin.

Soon, his hand is leaving your mouth to grip your hips again. 

“Take my fucking cock,” he grunts, each word punctuated with a harsh slap to your ass. 

“It’s too much!” you wail, nails clawing at the counter to try and crawl away.

He growls, grip tightening as he keeps you in place, “don’t you dare run. Take my cock like a good girl, baby.”

“You’re insane,” you cry, but there’s a cockdrunk smile spreading across your face as he fucks into you. 

“Yeah,” he whispers, his head lowering so he can whisper into your ear, “and it’s all for you, because- because I like you.” 

There’s a loud whine ripping out of you at that, wet heat clenching around him. No one’s confessed to you before, like ever . You suck in a sharp breath, trying to calm your heart and stop the excited flipping of your stomach that comes with his confession.

Leon moans when he feels the clench of your walls around his cock and he’s fucking into you with renewed fervor. 

“I like you,” he whispers again “like you so much, sweetheart. Always taking care of me, looking out for me, makes me feel special.” 

“Only do that ‘cause you’re an idiot, Leon” you mumble, swallowing back another moan that threatens to spill out. 

“But you do it anyway,” he murmurs, driving his cock into you.

You gasp, eyes squeezing shut as his fat tip grazes the spot deep inside of you. He grunts when he feels you getting tighter, feels you clenching hard around his cock.

“You gonna come for me?” he asks, sucking little love bites onto your neck, “hm? Can feel you clenching around me, baby.”

“Wanna- wanna come at the same time,” you babble “right, Leon? Since- since you like me, we gotta come at the same time.”

He’s letting out a hoarse laugh, kissing your shoulder again, “yeah baby, I’m right there with you.”

All of a sudden, he’s burying himself to the hilt inside of you and your mouth drops open, a sharp noise leaving you as you both come. Your body is limp against the counter, body covered in a thin sheen of sweat as you pant. Leon kisses your neck, letting out a whine as his cum spurts into you. It’s warm and thick, filling you up so perfectly that it has a serene smile settling on your face.

He helps you onto your feet, his hands rubbing up and down your sides to soothe your shaky legs. You feel him press a soft kiss to the side of your head and you’re rocking up on the tips of your toes, returning a kiss to his cheek.

“I like you too, Leon” you whisper, arms wrapping around his neck to pull him down for another kiss. 

You can feel him smile against your lips and he’s kissing you back sweetly. Leon keeps you there for a while as you both kiss, his hands petting across your tired body.

He takes you to his room later, his hand encasing yours. The moment is almost perfect, if not for the sock on the floor that sends you careening into his desk. “Leon!” you grit out.

He only laughs, his arms wrapping around your waist as he picks you up and tosses you onto his bed.

“Sorry, sweetheart.”

[chelseeebe]

all outta’ luck

18+. smut. exhusband!eddie, this is set sometime in the early 2000s but it’s mentioned once so who really cares

a/n: thank you anon for inspiring me to write another part to the exhusband!eddie series! this is a just a lil something to show that he doesn’t get his way all the time hehe. i’m so tired, please ignore any mistakes

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗

the repetitive clanging sounds of the garage ring through eddie’s ears, murmured profanities and a chorus line of huffs fill the space. 

he can hear that fucking britney spears song echoing from the courtyard, his colleagues choice of music made him passively suicidal. 

something’s afoot, emmanuel stops tinkering to gaze over the car out into the parking lot, glancing at eddie quietly before the rest of the guys clock on. 

“oooooh,” they ring out, “someone’s in trouble,” mocking as they stop working to stare gormless at him. 

eddie’s stands, noticing your dinged up old ford straight away, searching for the missing accompaniment of your furious face alongside it. 

“yeah, nice one boys,” he hits back, his feet scuffing the gravel as he comes around the car. 

there you are, with your hands on your hips, exchanging niceties with robert before latching your eyes onto him. 

you were here for one of two reasons, either you needed something, meaning he would get his dick wet, or eddie had done something wrong, he’d probably still get his dick wet. 

it’s difficult to hide his excitement when you’ve essentially pavlov’d him into getting hard every time he sees you. 

“can we talk?” full of scorn, causing robert to back away, rightfully so too. 

“about?” rolling his eyes at his gawking friends before slipping out of the garage, away from their prying eyes. 

“what’d you give oscar this for?” retrieving the twenty dollar bill from your bra to hold in his face. wilfully ignoring the perverse whistles in the background. 

eddie stares at the twenty, wiping his hands with the oily rag, “he said he wanted some video game so i gave it to him,” shrugging because really, what other answer could he give?

“i already told him he couldn’t have it,” your brows knitted together, “i wish you’d check with me first before just doing shit,” sliding the note back into your bra, another round of whistling begins behind him. not to mention that was his twenty. 

eddie’s dumbfounded completely, absolutely certain that you’d only made the drive up here to piss him off, “so? i can’t give my son money anymore?” 

you tut, “i didn’t say that,” blinking rapidly, he knows you’re trying to contain yoursel, “i just want you to ask me before you tell him he can have something.” 

you’re surely not serious. this must be a ploy to get him pent up so you can drag him away from work, it must be. 

“i’m his dad,” getting louder, making sure that anyone eavesdropping could clearly hear this pathetic argument, “you remember that? if he wants the game, he can have the game.”

your eyes trail from his to the gallery of blinking eyes behind him, “can we do this somewhere else?” 

there it is. 

your plan unfolding right in front of his eyes. 

eddie exhales, playing into the little act you so desperately wanted, tossing his rag to the floor, “i’m taking lunch now,” announcing his plans to the entire audience, stomping from the garage to your terribly parked car. 

they’d all be talking about you no doubt, hushed whispers about eddie being weak or a pushover, whatever. if they only knew what was really about to go down, they’d have far worse to say. 

he gets in without ever looking back at them all, concealing his smirk rather unsuccessfully, “happy now?” he remarks snidely. 

you shift the car into drive, looking straight ahead, “very,” wheels crunching over the gravel as you pull off, smug as you drive. 

“you don’t have to do all this shit every time, you know? i would’a just gone with you anyway,” tapping his fingers along the leather interior, waiting for his mark to touch you. he’s sure it’d come, just as soon as you were away from the crowd. 

“but it’s more fun this way,” turning off to your usual desolate spot, hidden away from passing cars or peeping people. 

his hand braces your knee first, watching your face for permission to move upward, which he does with glee, slipping underneath your skirt, “no panties?” hardly surprised by the lack of fabric. 

you park, somewhere deep in the bushes, “mhm,” nodding as your legs clamp shut around his wrist, trapping his arm in the most precarious position. “you like it?” 

eddie nods, his breaths growing erratic, “fuck yeah i do,” attempting to grab a little fistful of your skin but your hold around his arm only gets tighter. 

“thought you would,” humming softly, removing his hand from your thigh to slide over the console and onto his lap, receiving a short grunt of approval. 

eddie’s practically salivating, coming to wrap his arms tight around your waist, anticipating the next best three minutes of his life. “holy fuck,” shuddering into the disappearing space between your faces as your cunt moves against his crotch, no doubt darkening the fabric with your slick. 

somethings wrong, something must be wrong.

he’d never get off with this so easily, he’s waiting for the bait and switch, for whatever punishment he must endure to come crashing over him. 

your hands snake around his neck, taking a strong fistful of his hair to tug backwards, “you wanna fuck me? hmm? d’you wanna cum?” that stupid pornstar voice you put on sometimes, low and raspy, almost making him blow his fucking load right now. 

“yes.. please,” his hips thrusting upwards for just a hint of relief, “god- fuck, please,” clawing at your skin, he’s never felt so desperate in all his life. 

you grind down against his cock, pulling a filthy mewl from his whiny throat, “what’re you gonna do to me? huh?” 

oh god. 

he can’t even think, only do. so pathetically desperate to fuck up into you a couple of times before cumming everywhere. 

“i’m gonna.. i need to feel you,” eddie mewls, grinding back against your cunt, the only thing separating the two of you were his stained work pants and his boxers that suddenly felt very sticky. 

your hips begin to bounce, his clothed cock nudging against your bare pussy with every frantic rut of your hips. “oh my god,” you cry, using his crotch to get yourself off more than anything, the denim brushing your clit just right. 

“fuck sweetheart, please fuck me,” rutting frantically upwards, latching onto your bottom lip and the skin around it. 

there’s not much longer of this he can take before he inevitably cums in his pants. you were moving too erratically, whining into his mouth in tandem with your clit catching against the tip of his erection. 

“mmhm,” barely audible over the creaking of his seat, “you’d like that, wouldn’t you?” 

“so much.. like, now baby,” grasping at your shirt, kneading the fabric through his fingers in a bid to get you to just move a little. 

“too bad,” stilling your movements completely, gazing into his eyes, an gleam of utter villainous intent behind your otherwise glossy eyes. 

sick. you must be sick in the head. 

“nononono please, baby please what’re you doing?” desperation dripping from his tongue, his grabby hands urgently trying to keep you on his lap. 

“nuhuh,” pinching his cheek, cruel and mocking with your smirk, “you don’t get to fuck me today,” climbing back over to the drivers seat, pulling your skirt back to a respectable length and running a quick hand through your wild hair. 

“what?” eddie exclaims, hands falling limp against his burning thighs, “what’s wrong with you?” you were psychotic, utterly depraved and sick in the head. 

eddie wants to cry, the tears pricking in his eyes at the longing ache still lingering in his cock, a cruel and unusual punishment for a damned video game. 

“what’s wrong with me? what’s wrong with you?” turning to him, mouth hung open in shock, “you don’t listen to me, ever. why the fuck would i let you fuck me?” 

you were serious about this. genuinely pissed off over some money he could hardly remember giving.

fuck this.

eddie pinches the bridge of his nose, exasperated and ridiculously horny, a terrible combination when he was expected back at work any minute now. “it’s twenty bucks,” he sighs, “i’m sorry i didn’t ask you, i’m sorry i’m sorry i’m sorry, can you please get back over here and let me make it up to you?” in complete despair, the man had never had to plead so hard just to touch you. 

your tongue peaks out, wetting your bottom lip, as if you were really contemplating this, “no,” before turning the ignition back on, so smug and so sure you were in the right. 

hell, maybe you were. 

but he’d learned his lesson now, he was ready to repent and make amends. 

“oh my god,” eddie huffs, pulling at the bunched up fabric of his pants in an effort to conceal his still very much raging boner. “you’re gonna make me go back in there like this?” they’d never let him live this down, no doubt about it. 

you hum with a sickening sense of satisfaction, “yeah, i am actually,” glancing down at his crotch, “maybe when you’ve learnt your lesson i’ll let you make it up to me,” turning down that gut-wrenchingly familiar road to the garage, knowing you were really serious about this, relishing in his pain. 

they’re all waiting when you pull back in, a gaggle of beady eyed freaks line the garage, just waiting for their moment to start the attack. 

eddie scoffs one final time, “you’re a sick fuck, you know that?” 

“goodbye eddie,” shooing him off, your lips twitching in excitement. 

they whoop excruciatingly loud when eddie closes the door, the scarlet hue to his cheeks and the unruly nest of hair on his head giving everything away. 

“what’s the matter? you can’t get her off anymore?” james screeches, far too old to be hazing him like some teenager. 

“tell her if she needs a real man, i’ll be right here for her,” emmanuel pipes up, clutching onto his heart. like you’d ever go for a man who was balding at 28. pfft. 

“that’s my fuckin’ wife, you degenerates,” eddie spits, watching intently as you back out of the parking lot, the boys ogling as you go. 

“not anymore,” their laughter roars through the echoing garage, reminding him that despite the ring still wrapped around his fourth finger, you weren’t married anymore. 

[reasonsforhope]

"In Cambodia, 60 eggs were found in the nest of one of the world’s most endangered large reptiles, which after hatching set a new record for an international conservation effort to save them.

It was believed the Siamese crocodile, with the distinctive bony crest running down its skull, was extinct in the wild until it was rediscovered in 2000. Almost all of the 400 animals remaining live in Cambodia.

A network of private-public partnerships have been organizing conservation measures to protect the species, including captive breeding and reintroduction programs, and village patrols to ensure their nests and habitat are not tampered with.

In May [2024], locals in the Cardamom Mountains found a nesting site in an area that crocodiles hadn’t been released, suggesting they are expanding and breeding under their own powers: a tremendous sign for the species’ recovery.

“The hatching of 60 new crocodiles is a tremendous boost,” said Pablo Sinovas, who leads the Cambodia programme of conservation group Fauna & Flora International, which has been running a captive breeding program since 2012.

They’ve successfully reintroduced 196 crocs back into the wild, and it was they who deployed a team of conservationists to the nest site found in May for round-the-clock care and observation until every last one of the 60 eggs hatched, bringing their precious cargo into the world.

Generally speaking for crocodile species, the mothers are very attentive beasts, and even the fathers will help raise young if the mother isn’t around. When hatching, the little crocs emerge from the creche of eggs chirping, calling the mother in who then excavates the nest and takes any unhatched eggs in her mouth, rolling them around to speed up the hatching process.

The young are carried to the water in the mother’s mouth, where she will watch over, feed, and care for them until the next mating season."

-via Good News Network, July 19, 2024

[silkscream]

bullfight of love

ੈ✩ choso x reader

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

ੈ✩ wc: 4.7k

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“It was already on,” you shrug. 

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

“Gotcha.”

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

“New kid?”

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

“I should be saying that to you.”

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

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

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

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

“Hey,” you deadpan. “Can I help you?”

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

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

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

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

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

“Uh, thanks,” he narrows his eyes.

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

“Yes.”

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

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

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

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

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

“Cute.”

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

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

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

“Closing time.”

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

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

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

“Getting hit on already?”

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

“Any takers?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know.”

You narrow your eyes. 

“Ha. Don’t be jealous.”

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

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

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

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

He grins when he finds you staring.

“We done for the night, then, boss?”

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

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

“Leaving already?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He has to pause it again. Jesus.

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

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

Ah, fuck it.

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

Maybe he shouldn’t.

Then again, no one has to know.

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

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

No. No. He’s not doing that.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You find that in here?”

“Uh… yeah… I, um—”

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

“That explains the selection,” he mutters sheepishly. 

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

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

“Need some help?”

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

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

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

Choso’s jaw drops. 

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

“With… who?”

“None of your business,” you chuckle.

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

“Then you… uh… want to…? With me?”

“You want to, right?”

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

“Okay. Take your clothes off, then.”

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

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

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

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

“Th-thanks…” he croaks. 

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

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

“Wanna fuck you?” you finish for him.

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

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

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

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

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

“You… you actually wanna… uh–”

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

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

“Then… do it,” he mumbles.

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

“Don’t wanna touch me?”

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

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

“Go ahead.”

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

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

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

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

“Can I kiss you?”

His eyes widen. 

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

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

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

You’ve thought about me?

“I— I am,” he grumbles. 

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

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

“Mhm.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Told you I wasn’t a kid.”

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

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

“H-Huh?”

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

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

“Ah–”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Choso, I’m close,” you whine.

“Yeah?” he rasps. “Fuck, me too.” 

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

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

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

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

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

“Jesus,” he mutters. 

“Hey.”

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

“Yeah?”

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

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

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

You chuckle.

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

“Was I as good?” 

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

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

“Oh, did you?”

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

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

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

“Just call me next time.”

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

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

You raise a brow.

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

“I mean, given how I found you…”

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

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

His pulse quickens at your smile. 

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

PART TWO

[stormyelliotwritez]

fic where ftm reader is logan’s gay (re)awakening when he sees r in his 2000 pickup truck blasting old rock in his flannel and jeans and logan just heart eyes and needs to be with this man Immediately.

(i say reawakening bc lets be real hes like 200 he mightve already realized hes a 🚬 before but needed like. a reminder)

AAAAAAHHHHHH literally my fav trope ever - i did a similar one to this btw called logan and his hot guy friend - also i made reader a handyman type guy coz funsies

He may be a bit ooc but i ain’t sure

i need to get more photos coz i keep reusing them

Old rock and a 2000’s pickup truck? 😍

It had been a long long day and Logan was walking home from the job he’d gotten after all that multiverse shit when a 2000’s pickup truck parked at the lights. He walked up next to it and raised an eyebrow as he heard the music. It was old rock or dad rock as Wade would say. He walked past the window and saw you. You were wearing a red flannel and faded blue jeans. He’d almost forgotten what it was like to like a guy.

He wandered home in a daze, only thinking about you in that pick up truck. Wade asked him if something was wrong and he couldn’t even answer. He just mumbled a no and then grabbed a beer. You looked so good in that flannel. He only saw you for a moment but you were his type alright.

A few days later, he took the same route home, hoping he’d see you and he did. You were parked this time with tools in the backseat. Against his better judgement, he walked up to your window and tapped on it. And against your better judgement, you rolled the window down and smiled at him.

“Your truck is a beauty,” he said with a smile.

“Thanks, I fixed her up myself,” you said back before patting the dashboard lovingly.

Logan took a glance at the tools in the back of your truck and chuckled to himself. “You a handyman?”

You nodded. “Guilty as charged. You needing something fixed?”

He chuckled. “Well now that I think of it, we’ve had a dodgy tap recently, my roommate and I.”

You chuckled and nodded. “I could drop by and see if it’s an easy fix?”

“Yeah, that’d be great, bub. We just live in the top apartment at the building with the blue door just over there so feel free to drop by whenever.”

You nodded and smiled again. “Well I gotta be off. I’ll drop by tomorrow.”

Logan smiled and waved as you drove off. He pumped his fist in the air, mimicking Wade, and grinned. Hell yeah, he was gonna get to see you again.

He walked back to the apartment and this time, he grabbed a beer and joined Wade on the couch. “You gotta skedaddle tomorrow so go work or something,” was all he said to Wade before the soccer game started.

The next day, Logan stayed home and made sure Wade was out the door by 8. The clock struck 10 and you knocked on the door like well… clockwork. He quickly opened the door and let you in.

“Hey, you’re here,” he smiled, “wasn’t sure if you’d turn up.”

You smiled and held up your bag. “Well I like getting paid.”

“And I like getting my tap fixed.”

You got to work and soon enough, you’d found the problem. You fixed it and when you stood up, Logan was standing in the doorway. He had a grin on his face and a beer in each hand. You hadn’t noticed how hot he was before but now he was standing there, wearing a white singlet and a brown flannel and looking super duper hot.

“That for me?”

He nodded and handed it over. “For a job well done, bub. And I’ll pay you as well of course.”

The two of you sat down and both had a beer. A bit after Logan finished his, he grabbed the money and handed it over. You stood up and contemplated leaving before turning back to him and chuckling awkwardly.

“You seeing anyone?”

Logan smiled and shook his head. “Thought you’d never ask, bub.”

You sat back down and leaned towards him, a smile on your lips. “Would you want to be seeing someone?”

“Is that someone you because I would love to be seeing you,” he said with a smirk as he leaned towards you.

When you leaned backwards and stretched, your shirt rode up and he saw your binder. He nodded to himself and leaned in a bit closer. “Haven’t dated a guy in a while so you wanna break me in again? We could listen to some rock?”

You chuckled and licked your lips before standing up and pulling your chair to next to him. You sat back down and shamelessly grabbed ahold of his hand and ran your fingers over it. “Absolutely, handsome.”

[kezzanza]

DON'T STOP CAUSE I'M HALFWAY THERE.

Pairing: Jude x Girlfriend ! Reader Tags: First Time, Established Relationship Word Count: 4.6k Content Warning: Smut, 18+ It's a cold autumn night when you and Jude take your relationship to the next level.

It's September, and late nights in Dortmund are cold, but the living room you're in feels like a warm sanctuary.

Jude's warmth wraps around you as you rest your head on his shoulder. Your legs lie comfortably on the couch, tucked beneath a blanket that offers a warm refuge from the chill. One of his arms cradles you gently. Being inside his embrace makes you feel perfectly at ease.

The flickering images of the opening credits dance across the TV, casting a soft light throughout the room. This moment feels deeply intimate and romantic. It's as if the world outside has faded into insignificance. Leaving only the calmness of the evening you and Jude are sharing.

With your parents out of town, the house is yours for the weekend. They trust you to be responsible, knowing you've never been a troublemaker. As you glance at the time on the clock above the TV, you start to wonder if their trust was misplaced. It's late and you really shouldn't be home alone with your boyfriend. Yet, as you steal a glance at Jude, you can't help but feel that there's nowhere else either of you should be but right here.

Everything about tonight—watching a movie and spending time with Jude—feels like a balm for your soul after an exhausting week at university.

Jude's handsome face glows softly in the light of the screen. You imagine tracing your fingers gently across his perfect features, feeling the contours of his face beneath your touch.

He's dressed in cozy gray sweatpants and a white t-shirt. It's a stark contrast to the football kit you're used to seeing him in. You realize how much you've missed seeing him like this—comfortable and at ease.

There's something heartwarming about seeing him in these simple clothes. It makes the evening feel even more special. Tonight, for both of you, is a needed break from the hectic pace of life.

The movie begins with a busy city street, alive with the morning buzz. The camera zooms in on a charming coffee shop. The barista makes cappuccinos and lattes with pretty patterns on top. The protagonist, a cheerful dreamer, bursts into the café with her enthusiasm lighting up the room.

You know this movie so well that you could recite the lines in your sleep. It's your favorite—a cheesy romantic comedy from the 2000s that has been your comfort during life's overwhelming moments. For you, this film isn't just a story; it's a cherished ritual.

It's even more special because Jude is here, watching your comfort film with you. Your heart swells with affection over the little things—the way you both laugh over silly dialogue, how he playfully rolls his eyes at the more ridiculous scenes, and the intensity with which he focuses on the more serious moments.

The scene on the TV grows more heated, showing the couple entwined on a bed. Their passion is evident in the way their hands move across each other's bodies. A surge of emotion stirs within you at the scene. You find yourself yearning to kiss Jude with an intensity you can hardly ignore.

You steal a quick glance at him, and as if sensing your gaze, he turns toward you. With a knowing smile, Jude sets the popcorn on the side table. His fingers trace delicate patterns on your upper arm, sending tingles through your skin. The space between you feels charged.

"I thought you wanted to watch the movie?" Jude asks, a hint of mischief in his voice.

"Maybe later," you say, your eyes twinkling with a matching playfulness.

The film is your favorite, but it's clear your attention is elsewhere.

Jude leans in closer, his gaze never leaving yours. The silence grows more intense with each passing second. The air is thick with longing. You wanted his lips on yours more than anything else.

Jude's hand that is not wrapped around you reaches out and gently brushes a stray hair from your face. His eyes search yours for permission. When he finds it, he closes the distance between you.

The first kiss is a whisper. Soft and gentle, as if savoring each delicate moment of contact. As your lips respond, the kiss deepens, becoming more consuming. The initial sweetness gives way to a burning passion. Each movement of his lips showing his unspoken desire.

The sound of the film becomes a distant murmur, replaced by the rhythm of your racing heart. His hand glides from your shoulder to the small of your back, pulling you closer.

You'd made out with him before—in the locker room after his games, on the rooftop of his apartment under the moonlight—but never like this, in an empty house where it's just the two of you.

Every touch, every caress, feels like a promise of something more. But just as the kiss reaches its peak, Jude pulls back. You wonder for a fleeting moment if this is the end of the kiss, but you notice the remote in his hand. He pauses the movie, his eyes dark with lust. The movie, once the center of the evening's plan, is completely forgotten as he pulls you onto his lap.

The blanket slips from your legs, pooling softly on the floor. Without its shielding, your body is now fully exposed to him. The soft pink shorts you're wearing, with their delicate silk fabric, hug your hips snugly. Your white tank top clings to your body, the fabric molding to your curves.

Every movement feels intensified as you feel his body against yours. The warmth of his touch contrasts with the coolness of the room. You feel the solid strength of his body beneath you as you wrap your arms around his shoulders.

His muscular thighs are firm and warm. The fabric of his sweatpants is soft against the bare skin of your legs. The thought that only a few millimeters of cloth separates his skin from yours makes your pulse quicken.

Jude's touch was gentle yet confident. His hands explore your body with a firmness that makes your pulse quicken. His eyes, once reflecting the soft glow of the screen, are now burning into yours. The arousal you've been trying to ignore all evening unleashes the second you look at him.

Grabbing the hem of your tank top, he pulls it over your head, leaving you in just a bra and your tiny shorts. He slides his hands up the smooth skin of your waist. His touch sends waves of heat through you, leaving you gasping for more.

"Jude, wait," you breathe, your voice a mix of desire and uncertainty as his fingers trace lazy circles on your hips.

The most you had done with Jude—and any other boyfriend for that matter—was make out. You didn't have a lot of experience and you didn't know if you were ready. Jude pauses, his hand hovering just above your skin, waiting for you to continue.

"What is it?" he whispers, his voice thick with longing, but also concern.

You bite your lip, trying to gather your thoughts. "I want you but ... I'm scared," you confess, your heart pounding in your chest.

His expression softens as he wraps his arm securely around your waist. "Baby, look at me," he says gently, tilting your chin up so your eyes meet. "We don't have to do anything you're not ready for."

You take a deep breath as his words settle around you like a warm embrace. "But I want to and ... I trust you," you whisper, feeling the tension ease from your body.

"We won't go all the way tonight, love," Jude murmurs, his voice a soothing caress. "But I want to make you feel good."

He smiles tenderly, his lips brushing against yours in a delicate kiss. The warmth of his touch, so tender and reassuring, melts away your fears.

In his gaze, you find an unspoken promise. With it, the trust you have in him soothes the worries within you. His arms tighten around your waist as he leans in. The kiss is fierce and hungry. Your heart races as his hands explore the curves of your body, sending shivers down your spine. You become lost in the intensity of the moment. Your fingers tangle in his soft, short, curly hair.

It feels wrong to be doing this in the house your parents entrusted to you. But you've both danced around the boundaries of your physical affection for too long. Tonight would be different, marking a turning point in your relationship.

In the heat of the moment, his thigh pressed between yours, brushing against your core through the thin fabric of your shorts. A jolt of electricity shot through you, making you moan into his mouth. He pulled back slightly, his eyes questioning, dark with a mix of curiosity and desire.

Jude's eyes flick down to where his thigh is pressing between your legs, then back up to your face. A knowing smile played at the corners of his lips. He shifted his thigh upwards. The pressure and pleasure increases and your breath hitches.

"You like that?" His voice was a whisper, a tease that sent a warm shiver down your spine.

The fabric of your panties grows wetter with your arousal, a silent confession to the heat building between you. You nodded, biting your lower lip, unsure how to proceed but unable to stop the wave of arousal that was building inside you.

"Touch me," you plead, your voice barely above a whisper.

He kisses you then, a slow kiss that speaks of all the passion and tenderness he had for you. His tongue tangles with yours, igniting a fire within you that burns hotter with each passing second.

As the kiss deepens, his hand moves from your waist to your bare thigh. His fingers slip beneath the hem of your shorts. You gasp into his mouth. Your body trembles with need as his fingers dance higher, inching closer to the heat between your legs.

"Jude," you moan, hips instinctively pressing towards his hand, begging for more.

"Are you sure, baby?" he asks. His voice is strained with the effort to hold back, but ensuring you were comfortable was more important to him. "Want me to make you feel good?"

"Please, Jude," you breathe, your voice filled with determination.

Jude lifts you off the couch effortlessly. Your legs instinctively wrap around his waist as you let out a soft, surprised sound at suddenly being airborne. His strong arms encircle you, pulling you close to his chest. You feel his warmth seep through into your bare skin as he carries you out of the dark living room and into the well-lit hallway.

"Jude, what are you doing?" you say, looking up at him. Huffing out a laugh at his spontaneous actions.

"Taking you somewhere," he replies with a mischievous smile.

The stairs creak softly under his weight.

You feel the reassuring thud of his heartbeat, a steady tempo that calms your own racing heart. As he ascends the stairs, you find yourself relaxing into his embrace, your head resting against his shoulder. He pauses at the top, giving you a tender look before continuing down the hallway to your bedroom.

He enters and you're met with the darkness of your bedroom, the only light coming from the faint light of the hallway. Inside, Jude carefully lowers you on your plush mattress. The bed dips slightly under your weight and you sink into the soft, inviting comfort.

With a soft click, Jude switches on the bedside lamp. Its warm, golden light gently spills across the room, illuminating the space with an intimate glow.

He takes off his shirt, leaving his muscled torso on display, then kneels between your legs on the bed. Gently, he pushes your legs and brings them up to your chest. His touch is careful and affectionate. With brown eyes filled with affection, he looks at you and brushes your hair away from your face.

Jude leans in, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead. His lips lingering for a moment as if to savor the connection. The soft light wraps around you both as you share this tender moment. In his presence, everything else fades away, leaving just the two of you, entwined in each other's embrace.

Jude's eyes never leave yours as he reaches for the hem of your shorts. His touch is tender as he begins to peel them away, revealing your bare skin to the cool night air. He drops the pink fabric to the floor and runs his fingers up and down your thigh. You watch as his gaze traces the path of his fingertips, his eyes dark with a mix of passion and admiration.

The sensation of his touch sends shivers down your spine. His hand lingers for a moment, as if memorizing the contours of your thigh before it travels up to rest on your waist. You hold your breath, unsure of what's to come, but knowing that with Jude, it will be nothing short of perfect.

Jude looked at you with eyes that seemed to hold the warmth of a thousand sunsets. His hands, gentle yet firm, reached around your back as he unhooked your bra with a touch so deft it was as if he had done it a hundred times before.

As he pulls the garment off you, the cool air whispers against your skin, leaving you feeling both exposed and incredibly alive. In his expression, you saw a mix of admiration and desire that made your heart flutter like a caged bird being set free.

He takes a moment to appreciate the sight before him. His gaze lingering on the soft mounds of your breasts. Then, Jude's palms meet the tender flesh. His thumbs circle the skin before gently taking your nipples between his forefingers and thumbs. He rolls them softly, watching as they respond to his touch, becoming taut and sensitive as a soft moan escapes your lips.

"You're so beautiful," he whispers, his voice low and husky, filled with sincerity and adoration.

The words hang in the air, a tangible weight that presses against your chest. You meet his gaze, your heart pounding in sync with the rhythm of his breath.

Your voice is a soft whisper as you reply, "I need you, Jude." His name lingers on your lips, a silent invitation.

His brown eyes are filled with a hunger that mirrors your own. You hold his stare, letting him see the truth in your eyes. The air is thick with anticipation, and every beat of your heart feels like it's echoing through the room.

Jude's eyes darken with desire as he traces the waistband of your white panties—the only clothing left on you—with his fingertips. His fingers move over the soft fabric, stopping when they feel the dampness that has gathered between your thighs.

"You're so wet for me," he says possessively, making you moan.

He hooks his thumbs under the fabric and begins to slide them down your thighs. His gaze never leaves yours as the material glides over your skin. A soft, needy whine escapes your lips—you had never been this turned on in your life.

Your underwear is pulled off you, leaving you completely exposed to his gaze. Jude's eyes fixate on the prize that lay before him, caressing your most intimate parts with a hunger that was almost tangible. The heat of his stare is enough to make you quiver. Your legs part involuntarily, a little wider to give him a better view.

His hands glide up your thighs, petting the sensitive skin. Sliding up the smooth skin of your legs before hovering above your exposed flesh. You bite your lip with nervous excitement.

A smirk plays at the corner of his lips, the kind that makes your heart race and your breath hitch. His touch is feather-light, a whisper of a promise, as his fingers dance closer to the place where you crave him the most. The anticipation is exquisite, a sweet torture that has your body arching towards him, begging for more.

"Do you want me to touch you here?" he teases, sending shivers down your spine.

His gaze searches yours for permission. The question hangs in the air. Your eyes lock on his, you nod, a silent plea for the contact you both knew you needed.

"Say it, baby," he demands. "Tell me how much you want me to touch you."

With a quiver in your voice, you whisper, "I want it more than anything, Jude."

The admission seemed to charge the air around you, sparking a fire in Jude's eyes that sent an intense wave of heat through your body.

His hand hovers for a moment longer. The anticipation, a sweet agony that made your skin ache for his touch. Then, with a gentle yet firm pressure, his thumb grazes the sensitive spot of your clit, sending a jolt of pleasure through your core.

You gasp softly as his gaze holds yours. His hand moves with purpose, sliding on the wet aching center of your core slowly. Your eyes flutter as you moan desperately. Your body arching in response to his touch.

You close your eyes, letting the sensation wash over you. It felt so good, so forbidden, yet you couldn't bring yourself to ask him to stop. Instead, you roll your hips, pressing yourself closer to his touch, silently begging for more.

"Jude," you whisper, your voice barely audible above the sound of your heavy breathing. "More."

His movements become more deliberate. Each stroke of his finger against your sensitive spot sends waves of pleasure coursing through your body. You moan softly. With your mind beginning to blur, you focus only on the feel of his touch, the warmth of his body against yours.

Jude lowers his head, capturing your lips once more in a possessive kiss. His free hand rests beside your head. Your hand grips his strong bicep for support. The pleasure is intense, pushing you closer to the edge with each passing moment.

His fingers, now slick with your arousal, move with renewed vigor against your clit. Each stroke is a symphony of pleasure, building upon the last, until your body tightens like a coil about to spring. Suddenly, the crescendo of sensation crashes over you. Your orgasm rolls through your body like a tidal wave.

Your back arches off the bed. Your grip on his arm tightens as the spasms of pleasure overtake you. Your eyes squeeze shut as the pulsations grow stronger. Your breaths come out in ragged gasps as your hips rock against his fingers.

A long shudder runs through you as you ride out the waves of pleasure, moaning his name into his mouth. You cling to him, your face buried in the crook of his neck as you try to catch your breath.

When you finally look up, his eyes are fixed on you, a mixture of awe and satisfaction reflected in their depths. You pant softly, still recovering from the intensity of the experience.

As the orgasm subsides, Jude's voice breaks through the haze of pleasure. "You're so beautiful when you cum." His words are a gentle caress, soothing your overstimulated senses.

And just when you think you can't possibly take any more, he starts to kiss you, his lips soft and tender as he tastes the salt of your skin. You kiss back, still too overwhelmed to speak. Wrapping your arms around his shoulders, you pull his body closer to yours. His hips press into you as he lays on top of you. You feel his hardness against your thigh, a stark reminder of his own needs.

With the intensity of the moment still palpable in the air, you decide to take things to the next level. You roll the two of you over until Jude's back is on the bed. You sit up and straddle his thighs. With your eyes locked onto his, you grind your ass over the hard length in his sweatpants.

Jude's eyes become half-lidded as he takes in the sight of you. He lets out a low groan, his hands instinctively gripping your waist as you begin to move in a slow rhythm. His breath grows ragged, matching the tempo of your hips.

"You're so fucking good at that," he groans, his hands tightening around you. His eyes burn with a possessive hunger as he watches the sway of your body.

Your heart races as you realize the power you hold in this moment, the power to give him pleasure, to make him groan your name. Leaning forward, you kiss him again, this time with a newfound confidence.

Your breasts press against Jude's clothed chest. His hunger for you is palpable, and it fuels your actions. Your hand reaches down, gripping him through his sweatpants, squeezing gently, as he curses into your mouth. With the heat of his arousal between your fingers, you feel his pulse in your hand through his gray sweatpants. He feels huge even without seeing his erection.

Jude's eyes bore into yours with a fiery intensity that sent a shiver down your spine. With an eager hunger, you slide down Jude's body, your kisses trailing from his mouth to his chest to his happy trail. You lower yourself until your face is eye level with his hips. For a moment, you're not quite sure if you have the confidence to continue.

"Take it out, baby," he commands, sensing your trepidation.

The heat in the room seems to spike as you feel the weight of his words. Suspense is heavy in the air. Your heart races as you obey his instruction. A lustful eagerness building inside you with every passing second.

His eyes, full of demand, pierce into yours as you slowly pull down the waistband of his sweatpants and briefs. His erection springs free, thick and tall. The sight of it makes you ache with want. Jude's eyes never leave yours as you take him in your hand.

"Suck," he says, his voice low, leaving no room for hesitation.

Jude's dominant demeanor washes over you like a wave of heat. You feel a mix of arousal and submission as you follow his command. His hand lands gently on the back of your head, guiding you closer to his length.

You lean down, your lips brushing against the hot skin of his shaft. He curses as your mouth meets his erection. His grip in your hair tightens as you begin to kiss his tip softly, sending pin-pricks of pleasure and pain across your scalp.

His manhood grazes your lips and you part them eagerly, allowing him to slide in. His groans fill the room as you savor the taste of his arousal. Jude fills you completely, stretching your lips. He moans lowly, a sound that sends a thrill down your spine and tells you that you're doing exactly what he wants.

With a gentle suck, you begin to take him deeper, feeling the softness of his skin give way to the firmness beneath. It's wet, messy and also incredibly intimate. You can feel his heartbeat through his shaft, thumping in rhythm with your own. The wetness spreads, coating your lips and fingers, making everything slick.

He groans, his hand on the back of your head guiding you to take him deeper. You obey, working against your gag reflex. Your eyes water as you try to accommodate his huge length. It slides to the back of your throat and makes you gag before he pulls your head up. Your inexperience shows, but the passion in your eyes tells him you're eager to learn, eager to make him feel good.

You moan around him, the vibration sending waves of pleasure through his body. He tastes salty and slightly bitter, a taste that only fuels your desire to serve him. He whispers your name, a rough command that sends a shiver through your body. You respond by sucking harder.

His grip on your hair becomes more forceful. His groans grow louder, his breaths quicker, and you can feel his thighs tensing around your face.

You look up at him through teary eyes, watching the pleasure marked across his chiseled face. His hand guides your movements, setting a rhythm that you struggle to match. You're determined to make him feel good, even as your jaw starts to ache and your gag reflex flutters. Each time he hits the back of your throat, you fight the urge to pull away, focusing instead on the way his fingers tense in your hair.

"That's it," Jude murmurs, his voice thick with lust. "You're doing so good." The way he says it sends a shiver down your spine, making you feel both vulnerable and powerful.

You can feel the tension coiling in his body as he nears climax. The thought of making him come sends a thrill through your own body. You want to do this for him. To show him that you're willing to explore these new, intimate territories together. You keep going, your eyes watering, your cheeks hollowed out, trying to ignore the way your throat burns.

His breathing grows ragged, his hips buck upward, and you know you're getting closer to what he wants.

You look up at him, eyes wide and questioning, seeking reassurance. He meets your gaze, a smoldering heat in his own eyes.

"Keep going," he commands, his grip in your hair tightening slightly.

You take him all the way in, your nose pressing against his pelvis. His breathing becomes ragged, his abs clenching with each deep thrust. The room is filled with the wet sounds of your mouth working his shaft as he hits the back of your throat.

And then, just when you think you can't handle anymore, he comes. You're unprepared for the hot rush of his release. But you keep going, eager to swallow every drop, to show him that you're willing to be everything he desires. It doesn't matter that the taste is foreign, a little salty, and a little bitter.

You watch him, your own heart still racing. Jude's eyes are closed, his chest heaving with deep, ragged breaths. He opens them to meet your gaze, and the love and adoration in his expression sends a warm rush through your body.

"I love you," he whispers, his voice hoarse from passion.

Your heart skips a beat, and you can't help but smile as he pulls you up to him to kiss you, tasting himself on your lips. The kiss is tender and lingering, filled with the promise of more moments like this to come.

You gently pull away from the kiss, your eyes lingering on him with a tender smile. "I love you, too," you whisper, your voice soft and filled with affection.

He pulls you into a warm embrace, your bodies tangled together on the bed. You feel his heartbeat slow to a steady rhythm against your chest, and you can't help but feel a sense of accomplishment.

This was your first time performing oral sex, and from the sounds of it, you did pretty well. You snuggle closer to him, enjoying the feeling of his skin against yours, and let out a contented sigh as his arms tighten around you.

The room is filled with the scent of sex and love, and you realize that this is what you've been craving all along—this intimate connection that goes beyond words.

His hand rests on your back, stroking gently as you both drift into a peaceful silence. It's a moment of pure contentment, a moment that feels like it could last forever. 

As you lay there, basking in the afterglow, you can't help but think about how far you've come in your relationship. From shy glances and stolen kisses to this raw passion, you know that you've found something special with Jude. And still, there are many more experiences waiting for the two of you to explore.

[lightwing-s]

𝐇𝐄𝐋𝐋𝐎 𝐎𝐅𝐅𝐈𝐂𝐄𝐑

pairing: dick grayson x fem! reader

summary: as an intern at the police department you should know how to separate work from personal life, but when officer dreamy comes after you, you can't help it but mix them together

rating: 18+ (MDNI)

word count: 6,2k warnings: unprotected sex, cum eating, handjob (f receiving), slight overstimulation, a lot of pinning for each other

a/n: i gave up proof reading halfway because i was sleepy, so it might be okay at first and then become messy. sorta base on my experience working at a police precinct earlier this year, but not faithful (at all) to reality.

reblogs and interactions are always appreciated ! ♡

⌜masterlist⌟ ⌜requests⌟

Jumping off the last step down the bus, you rush into the streets, swerving through the crowds, bumping against people, getting sworn at by some, and somehow managing your way through the busy mess that was Gotham’s early mornings.

The headphones glued to your ear were the only thing trying to distract you from all the chaos that was the start of your day, but as the shuffle merged bossa nova into 2000s punk rock, you felt your body react and jump into a faster pace on your way to work. Within each step, the Greek columns of the old imposing building of the Gotham City’s Police Department grew bigger in the horizon, letting you know your commute was close to its end.

Beep beep, your watch announced the start of your shift. Damn it, you were late again. Trying to speed up your steps, you felt your calves start to burn, but the building soon was right in front of you, a couple of steps separating you both.

“Good morning, Yn.” greeted one of the officers, as you passed by him in a rush, as you made your way up the large steps without somehow managing to trip as he was bound somewhere else, already deep into the rash routine of being a police officer at the country’s most dangerous city.

Bursting through the doors, you look around to see if your supervisor, officer McCaffrey, was anywhere near. He hated you and had been on your ass since you started arriving a bit later than you were supposed to, a move further away from the precinct ruining your commute times.

Not seeing his growing bald head anywhere around, you jump ahead and find your way to your desk, stacked with piles and piles of papers, old cases handed to you to be typed and launched into this new software funded by Mr. Bruce Wayne.

Interning at a police station wasn’t exactly a part of your meticulously drawn up plan to get into law school, as law enforcement was on the far bottom of your list of possible careers to choose for your future. However, from day one you were surprised by how much you enjoyed working at the department, by how much you enjoyed the people, both your co-workers and, weirdly, the criminals you got to meet on a daily basis. 

Sometimes it was too much, juggling school work and the internship, plus all the side hustles you had to take just to make it through college without starving to death. But it all had its good sides. Sometimes, some really good ones.

Placing your bag over the pile of cases, you were about to go around your desk and sit down on the rather uncomfortable chair to start typing those damned cases away, when the rough voice of the main antagonist of this current season of your life reached your ears. 

“Miss, Ys,” your supervisor called. Rolling your eyes, you forced yourself to remain still, a lot of effort put into not throwing your head back in defeat as you turned around to meet face of your tormentor for the first time that day. “Thought you started your program at…” he dragged himself out, looking at his clock. “Exactly fifteen minutes ago.”

“Hello, officer McCaffrey.” you forced out a smile while greeting him. “Well, I was here fifteen minutes ago, you must have missed me.”

You confidently tried to lie, hoping the time spent with suspected criminals had taught you something, but being sure your face must have told him the opposite of what you meant. “I’m pretty sure I looked all over for you.”

“Are you sure?” you feigned innocence when trying once more.

“Miss Yn, this is a serious institution and if you’re not going to cooperate by doing your job properly I’m sorry to inform you that…” 

“You won’t need it, Christian.” a deeper voice cut your supervisor off as he started to scold you again. The voice, a tone you could easily identify from how much you’d heard it and dreamed of it in the past few months. “I stopped Miss Yn outside for a talk. I did not think there would be any problem.”

Sounding much more confident in his lie than you did, you were sure you could’ve fallen for it if it wasn’t of you he was talking about.

“Officer Grayson, Miss Ys has got a job to finish, she doesn’t need to go around having conversations with what I imagine are busy policemen.” officer Tormentor replied, not even caring to turn around and face the other voice’s owner, disdain covering each and everyone of his words.

“We were just discussing a case, it’s not that big of a deal. Right, Yn?” Officer Grayson called you by your first name along with a wink, the remaining energy left from not rolling your eyes at officer McCaffrey earlier keeping you from melting at how sweet your name sounded coming out of his mouth. 

McCaffrey finally turned to face your white night in a white button-up, only his back in your line of view now as you were still paralyzed in your spot, the image of Officer Grayson trapping your attention from anything else in the precinct.

“Dick,” your supervisor continued, the name sounding off of him like an annoyance. ”You’re not supposed to share confidential information with the students.” He told him bitterly.

“Aren’t they here to learn about our job, Christian?” Officer Grayson replied, the same annoyance playing on his tongue, but at the same time full of an uplifting fun only Dick Grayson could master and that you were sure only annoyed Christian more.

Facing the sudden silence between you three, you noticed Officer Grayson’s eyebrow raising, challenging his fellow officer to complain about you one more time.

“Sure, but…”

“I was doing just that, making sure Yn’s internship actually brings some value to her future.” Grayson cut him once more. “No sensitive information was shared, just the look of an investigation through a detective’s eye. And even so, miss Yn is one of the most competent interns we’ve had in a while and I’m sure she would’ve been able to keep any information she might’ve gotten. I’m sure talking with actual officers is much more beneficial than typing old cases into a system.”

Silence overcame you three again, Grayson’s words having a certain impact on you. Your shoes, stained and in desperate need of a wash, suddenly became interesting as you lowered your face to hide the burning red on your cheeks. The insides of your lips were chewed on, stopping the smile from spreading on your face.

Finally looking up, your eyes briefly met Officer Grayson’s, but you moved away quickly, afraid of what they might’ve done to you. 

Officer McCaffrey opened and closed his mouth a couple of times, his mind certainly trying to muster a comeback to Grayson’s defense of you but clearly failing to do so. His eyes moved from you to his coworker, and you wondered what was going through his head.

Whatever it was, it would never live up to Officer Dick Grayson. He just never would.

“Very well,” McCaffrey finally spoke, turning to face you with a displeased expression. “Get on with your typing.”

Turning on his heel, McCaffrey walked away from the two of you, the hardness of his hips making his walk look funny and with the bald spot growing in his head the both of you let out a soft chuckle.

Resting your butt on the desk behind you, the need of formality gone with your supervisor, you took this time to eye up the man left with you. 

That man didn’t have a bad looking day, showing up like a greek god every single day at work. He wore his usual white button-up shirt, rolled up to his elbows and exposing his thick forearms, built effortlessly at the gym - you were sure -, and decorated with veins you secretly wanted to map with your fingertips. 

He wore gray pants today, a color he often varied with either dark blue, black or beige, but the latter, thankfully, becoming rarer with each passing day. It didn’t compliment him, making his look rather boring in your opinion, nor did it match well with any of his shoes, probably more expensive than anything you owned. 

His badge and gun hang on his hips, held on the black belt made of the most sophisticated leather in the world, or so you’d bet. He seemed to take good care of himself, as not only his skin glistened like a glazed donut, but he exuded a strong woody smell, following him along to every room he entered.

However, the lack of a tie and the untidy hair signaled to you he might’ve been just as late as you were. And still, he looked majestic. The highlight of your long hours at the precinct.

“Hello, officer Grayson.” you greeted him shyly. You certainly should not have spent too much of your days simply just watching him go on about his work, but it was a habit you had created and that was hard not to do, his simple presence was enough to overwhelm you.

“Good morning, Yn. Haven’t had an easy morning, I see?” he raised his eyebrow at you this time, a playful smiling playing on his face. 

“You too, right?” slipped out of your mouth quicker than you’d wished, almost slapping your face out of sheer frustration.

His head bent to the side, a question forming on his eyes, eyebrows furrowed, but soon returning to the playful expression you were used to. “I see your detective skills have been improving.”

“I-I just noticed you’re not wearing a t-tie like you usually do and your hair seems messy, that’s all.” you said without pausing for air and his smile only seemed to grow.

“Relax, Yn,” he dragged out. “I just had to stay up till late last night. What’s your excuse?”

“Commuting has been hell. I just moved to a new apartment.” you told him, nodding for absolutely no reason. He didn’t seem pleased with your answer, eagerly waiting for you to continue. “At the Amusement Mile.”

“Amusement Mile?!” he exclaimed. “That’s basically on the other side of the city.”

Yep, you worded, or not. You were not sure.

“And really dangerous, Yn.” he sounded worried. “Make sure to not leave too late, okay?”

“I’ll try.” you replied, but he still didn’t seem pleased. “I promise?”

You were not sure what kind of tone this conversation had. You and Officer Grayson had always been friendly, as he always came by your desk to wish you a good day or night, to bring you coffee as he did with his coworkers, or to ask you about how classes were going and if the internship wasn’t getting in the way of your studies.

It all sounded friendly to you, as if he only saw you as a younger sister or something like that. Sadly to you, that seemed to be a reality. But today, the friendliness sounded less friendly, for some reason, or maybe they were just the voices of hope playing with your mind.

“Good, I’ll have to work now, and I think so do you. Having fun with typing?”

“It really could be worse.” You joked, bringing out a laugh from him, filling your ears and making your heart pump faster.

“Have a nice day, Yn.” 

“You too, officer.” you eagerly replied, watching as he too walked away from you.

Finally sitting down on your chair, you let out a huge sigh, Officer Dreamy, as you kindly nicknamed him to yourself, stuck in your head. You knew it was inappropriate to harvest a crush on a superior at work, but gosh was it hard to.

“And Yn?” his voice startled you. 

“Hmm” you managed to hum as you found his head poking out from behind a wall.

“Call me Dick.”

Lights went off one by one around you, as you still sat on your desk, files of cases long forgotten, while you typed in a class project you were due very soon. 

As life worked conspired to put you down, your laptop had given up on you, deciding that the smokey life was the way to go now and simply choosing not to work ever again. So, you had to stick around the precinct or the library till the wee hours of the night if you wanted to get any uni work done.

“Yn” a voice called you, starling you out of your seat. “Still here?”

Officer Grayson, looking as tired as you must have looked, made his way to your desk. In his hands, some papers you’d come to know were cases he took frequently to study at home.

“I have to finish an essay.” you informed, voice almost not making it out, as you had neglected your health and hadn’t gotten a single sip of water all day.

“What happened to your computer? I remember you bringing one before.”

“Decided to give out smoke signals, I guess.” you joked, managing to steal a smile from him. “It broke, and I’m too broke to fix it, so I have to stay here if I want to finish this essay tonight.”

Your eyes itched from the extensive exposure to the computer lights, your back also causing you discomfort. But you still had work to do, so there was no way you were leaving any time soon, and quickly you returned your attention to your essay ignoring, for once, your favorite male presence in the precinct as you didn’t want to miss the peak of energy and creativity you had gotten to.

As you typed unaware of his lingering presence, Officer Grayson stood by your desk for a while, watching as you swiftly typed word after word of your homework. “You aren’t going to stay here till too late, right?”

“I’m not sure.” you moaned, rubbing your eyes with the palm of your hands. “I really have to finish this but I’m not even close.”

Returning your gaze to him, you found his eyes and they bore into your, making your breath get caught up in your throat and your heart to skip a beat. You wanted to focus on your school work and go home, get some much needed sleep before starting your routine all over again, but Dick’s mere presence  pushed away all your academic thoughts.

It was like his body irradiated an energy, a gravity field, that pulled you in from wherever you were. That trapped your attention, leaving you breathless even though you hadn’t run, leaving your head heavy as the most painful headache, leaving you completely, deeply, under his spell.

As you focused on him, you noticed the bags forming under his eyes and his much messier hair, as if he had, and he did, spent hours running his fingers through it as an attempt to concentrate. His clothes were ruffled, and you swore his belt seemed to have been loosed at some point during the day. 

To you, he was like a painting at an art gallery. Exquisite, expensive, beautifully breathtaking… and forever unreachable.

On a scale from one to ten, you were minus forty in the levels of importance inside the department. Nobody really cared for the interns. They were nice and all, but they knew they wouldn’t last long, so why bother connecting, why bother giving them too much attention. And yet, officer Grayson would come over to you, every single day, saying his “his” and “goodbyes”, wishing you a good morning, a good night, a great weekend.

He was truly a being out of this world. A gentleman amongst mere humans, too kind, too sweet for this world, for this city. You often wondered how the hell did he, the son of a billionaire, end up working with the police, and the answered you always came up with was that he must have been the only truly good and altruistic person alive, opting to care for the people instead of being a pretentious heir like many others.

If he had looked over at your computer screen, he’d have found a soup of words that together made zero sense, as your mind couldn’t only write Dick Dick Dick Dick, in both meanings of the word.

“A-hem.” he coughed breaking your awkward stare competition. “I have to get going, Yn. Please don’t stay up too late, and message me when you get home.”

“I don’t have your number.” you mindlessly blurted out.

“I have yours,” he stated, catching you off guard. “I’ll text you. See you tomorrow?” he asked, seeming actually interested in a positive answer.

“Uh-huh.”

“See you, then. Goodbye, Miss Ys.”

“Goodbye, officer.”

It was past midnight when you eventually turned off your computer and headed out of the police department. Sleepiness weighs your body down, making each step a harder task than it should've been.

Saying your goodbyes to the officers working the night shift, many of those telling you to be careful as they feared the dangerous Gotham nights would turn you into one more of its victims, you made your way down the large set of steps, an activity much easier than climbing them in the morning.

As you step into the sidewalk you’re embraced by the darkness. The cold breeze hitting you, making you wrap your jacket tightly around your body, a shield from the freezing weather and the demons of the night. Your bag is glued to your hips and your eyes scanning the area for any strange movement.

You’re glad some of those police officers had been kind enough to teach you how to realize some signs before anything bad happens, applying it to your everyday life as you could never be sure of your surroundings in this city.

When you turned right on the first corner, a moving shadow had your neck hairs up and a shiver running up your spine. Your fight or flight instincts overcoming you as your steps grew faster and faster.

“Yn, wait!” you heard the shadow owner scream, your heart skipping a beat before your mind could make up the situation. It took you a while to figure out who the scream belonged to, the fear blinding your senses and preventing you from forming any type of judgment, but something in you clicked and upon turning around it everything was all made clear.

“Officer Grayson?” you questioned, confused by his appearance as he had gone home almost two hours earlier. He now wore a pair of dark gray or black sweatpants, the faint light hindering your perception, a black t-shirt and a thick overall to shield him from the cold. The tips of his hair dripped with a few droplets of water, and even in the darkness you could make up his red nose gifted by the freezing weather. 

He looked cozy, huggable, like a plushie pillow you hugged to go to bed. This look on him made your chest warm up and you swore you wouldn’t need a jacket soon.

“Why are you following me? Why are you here?”

“I’m sorry if I scared you, Yn. I thought it’d be better if I didn’t scream, but maybe I was wrong,” he apologized, rushing the words out of his mouth.

“I just didn’t expect to see you here.” you smiled, unable to hide the joy from seeing him again. Your smile made him feel less bad for scaring you, but his eyes still looked into yours like he apologized for it. 

“I didn’t get your text.” he said, his statement confusing you a little. “That you were going home?”

Oh, that! It was your turn to feel bad, your cheeks, if possible for him to see, painted red but not from the coldness.

“I was expecting your text and didn’t get it, so I showered and came here to see if you’d gone home and I found you still in your computer. I was waiting for you to come out.”

YOU WERE WAITING FOR ME?!, you wanted to scream, his words making your head spin, trying to work out the reason why they came out of his pretty lips. The idea of him waiting for god knows how long till you finished your essay making you dizzy.

“It didn’t feel right letting you go home alone at this hour.” he continued to explain, seemingly aware of the questions inside your head. “So I came back after taking a shower to pick you up.”

HE CAME BACK. HE WENT HOME. TOOK A SHOWER, A SHOWER HE PROBABLY, DEFINITELY, TOOK NAKED. AND CAME BACK TO PICK ME UP????

Oh lord, your head was truly spinning and you hoped you weren’t dizzy enough to end up falling and making a fool of yourself. No single sentence was merged in your mind, your lips blurting out whatever overcame them without any filter: “The subway isn’t empty.”

He chuckled at your silly response and reaching for his coat’s pocket, he picked up his car keys, shaking them in front of your eyes. “Are you declining a ride home? Thought you’d love to ride in a Porsche tonight.”

At the sound of “Porsche”, you let out an excited giggle. You always wanted to find out what car Dick drove, a man’s choice of vehicle being a way into understanding his lifestyle and tastes, and not only were you finding out now but you were also getting to ride in it with him.

“I think it’s an offer I can’t really let pass.”

Showing you the way to his car with his head, he let you walk past him, and when you did his hand met your waist as he guided you in its direction. 

It was like you entered into another reality when you crossed the Police Department’s doors, meeting an Officer Dick Grayson that you always dreamed of but never expected to become a reality.

The warm touch of his hand on the small of your back gave you shivers along with a sense of safety not even a room full of police officers had given you. It was different, somehow, in a way you found hard to explain, but that made your heart beat nervously, your breathing to get hectic and your stomach to take turns.

Soon, the silvery car was beside you and the man opened the passenger door for you with his free hand. You thanked him and slid inside the car, the warmed leather seats a comfortable welcome after hours spent on the painful cheap chair by your desk, and when he closed the door you took the few seconds until he was sat beside you to at least try to recollect yourself.

Richard John Grayson isn’t just giving you a ride, he came all the way from his home to do so. You didn’t know where he lives, but it couldn’t be too close. He went out of his way to do that for you, and what that meant frightened you a little.

The warmness of the seats couldn’t compare to what his touch had made you feel. As his hand slid off of your skin you let out a low moan you hoped he didn’t have the time to listen to, already missing the feeling he had given you.

It made you both afraid, nervous and excited, and you couldn’t help the smile from spreading on your lips, even when biting down on them or chewing the insides of your cheeks. You sat still, spine straight and hands resting on top of your bag laid up on your lap, while he calmly walked to the driver’s side, the opposite reflection of how he made you feel.

“Amusement Mile?” he looked at you for confirmation, the engine of the car warming up. Your eyes were glued to his every movement, admiring every single breath he took.

You simply shook your head to answer, biting on your bottom lip in contemplation.

“It’s gonna be a long ride, so make yourself comfortable.” he told you before continuing. “And I almost forgot…”

Reaching for something behind your seat, you felt his breath on your neck, sending more shiver up your spine, a recurring thing tonight. “I got you some soup. To warm up.”

“Wow. Thank you, officer.”

“Yn?” he called you and you hummed, letting him continue. “What did I tell you to call me?”

“I’m sorry.” you apologized, remembering the moment you’d shared earlier. “Thank you, Dick.”

“Perfect.” 

Turned just enough to face you, it was his time to bite on his lip, the sight sending your hormones to overdrive. 

The ride was mostly silent, as you both felt comfortable in just each other’s presence. You drank your soup and he drove carefully to not make it spill. He left his playlist on shuffle and you commented on a few surprising tunes.

“I didn’t take you for a reggaeton kind of guy.”

“Hey, I appreciate the sounds of many different cultures!”

 And faster than you had wished for, you two were parked by your front door.

“Thank you, offic… Dick, really. I would have taken at least double the time to arrive by subway, so I really cannot thank you enough for this, you really didn’t have to.”

“Nonsense, I’m always here to help, and I wouldn’t sleep well knowing you could be in danger.”

For the 1000th time tonight, your cheeks grew scarlet and you avoided Dick’s eyes. The yawn coming out of you the perfect getaway from the situation you didn’t not know how to handle.

“I better get going, or else I’m just gonna take a nap before having to go back to the precinct all over again.” you sent him a smile before opening the door, but before you stepped outside you felt his hand touch you again, this time reaching for you tight.

“If you want to, I can pick you up tomorrow morning.” his thumb lightly drew patterns in your jeans, and you could feel a hit of sweat on the palm of his hands and the spot on your tight grew humid.

“It would be asking for too much.”

“No it wouldn’t.” he didn’t wait for you to finish. “I’d love to.”

He had your full attention, his eyes trapping yours in a drunken haze. The air around you got thicker, warmer, too hot, as if the winter night was just a mere illusion outside the car. You had sat back in your seat, not sure if the door was open or closed because only him mattered now, only his eyes drifting from yours to your lips, only his tongue moistening his own, only the slow movement of his head getting closer to yours.

You wouldn’t remember the next few seconds even if described to you in the smallest details, you just remember meeting his lips halfway. At first, a hasty kiss, your lips barely moving but already igniting you with an electric feeling. His teeth pulled on your bottom lip, causing a moan to escape off of you.

His hand went to your neck and the kiss deepened, his tongue immediately sliding inside your mouth, playing with yours as your hands found his waist in search for balance, even though you remained at your seat.

“We shouldn’t be doing this.” you cut the kiss, your own mind betraying you with the words that flew out of your mouth. “But I really want to.”

“I don’t see why we shouldn't,” he said, connecting your lips once again. 

He sucked and nibbled at your lips, certainly leaving small bruises on it, but who were you to complain. All night, your anxiousness tried to get the best of you, but his kiss and his touch held you hostage in a passionate haze.

“It’s dangerous to be on the streets this late.” he told you between kisses.

“We can go upstairs.” you offered, wanting to extend the moment as much as you could.

“I wouldn’t wanna bother your roommate.”

“I don’t have a roommate.” you informed, eyes meeting his once more in search of confirmation.

Kissing where your neck met your ears, he whispered. “I’ll park the car.”

“You can leave it right here.” you moaned, desperately wanting to move things inside. He chuckled, pulled you in for another kiss and then quickly jumped out of the car. He followed you as you climbed the stairs to your floor, managing to control himself and stay far enough as to not throw you against the walls and fuck you right then and there, but the gentleman inside of him held him together and he anxiously watched you unlock your apartment door.

You threw your bag somewhere, and walked inside your home aimlessly. You didn’t bring many guys over, so you always struggled to figure out what to do at this point.

“Yn.” you heard Dick calling, spinning on your heels to meet him. 

Throwing his key on a table, he came over to you without wasting time, hands grabbing your face and smashing your lips together for a hotter, wetter, dirtier kiss.

His tongue sucked you yours as your hands traveled on his chiseled torso, sliding inside his shirt for the full experience. You scratch the skin with your nails and he quivered under your touch. “Fuck.” he let out, pushing you against the head of the sofa.

Wrapping your arms around his neck, you shortened the distance between your bodies even more and his hands moved down your body, from your back to your ass, to your tight where he grabbed and entangled them around his waist. He placed you on top of the sofa, magically not letting your lips grow apart.

You could feel the bulge on his pants hardening with each touch, so you lowered one hand to cup his member in it’s entirety, but not managing to get a hold of half of it. Shit. You tried to pull at his waistband, but he pushed your hand away. “I’m not wasting time.” he said, taking you off of your seat. “I need to be inside you.”

Shit, shit, shit, shit. The thought of his words becoming a reality soaking your panties more than they already were, as you had to grind on his clothed crotch to get the friction, the sensation you so desperately needed. You wanted him inside of you now, not a minute later.

“Your room?” he asked.

“First door to the right.” you said, gasping for air between his kisses.

With ease, he walked to your bedroom as if he knew you home by heart, and as if he didn’t carry a girl but just a stuffed toy. His only struggle came at the door handle, but reaching behind you you managed to open it up for him, a group effort for a group pleasure.

Dick let go of your legs, letting your feet hit the floor once again. His hands were quick to find the hem of your shirt, tugging at it before you broke the kiss to allow him to pull it over your head, your bra being ripped off your skin not much later. His shirt and sweatpants flew behind him too in just a few seconds, and he soon had you pinned on the bed, hands trapped by his on top of your head.

Dick had an urgency in him you’d never seen before, more used to his calm demeanor. He grunted on your ear as he sucked on your neck, leaving marks you knew you wouldn’t be able to hide at work, and he grinded his clothed dick on your bare pussy.

“You don’t know how much I’ve been wanting this.” he groaned, one hand grabbing tightly at your boob. “Some days beside you were pure torture.”

You couldn’t imagine an Officer Dreamy having dreams about you, just like you did with him, but from the sound of it, he had plenty. All you could do was moan out his name, his mouth doing magic on your neck as his hands finally reached where you needed him more.

Rubbing slowly at your clit, you tried humping it, wanting it faster, wanting release, but his movements remained slow, torturous. 

“D-dick.” you cried out his name, begging him to speed up his touch.

“Say it again, darling. Say it.” he requested. “Let my fucking name slip out of your dirty little mouth.”

“Dick. Dick, please!” you obeyed, little the silly little slut you were for him. If your friends or coworkers found out about this, they’d be very disapproving, they’d tell you it was wrong to fuck your superior, but fuck it, fuck him you will.

He moaned loudly in your ear and his movements gained speed. He rubbed at your clit harshly, making it bruise, but the pain only added to the growing sensation on your core. He lowered his head and his lip grabbed your nipple, and his sucks were enough to bring you to the edge.

“You came so hard for me, darling.”

Moving away from your skin, setting your hands free, he admired your cum glistening on his hands before bringing them to his mouth and licking it off his finger. “I knew you’d taste fucking delicious.”

This idea of him wanting to fuck you for so long did wonders to your ego and booted any confidence you still had. The man you so desperately wanted for so long had wanted you as desperately for just as long. Your heart beat so fast you were sure he could hear it, but you wanted him too, no secrets lying between you two anymore.

Without you noticing, his boxers were gone and his hard dick bounced on his crotch, the rosy tip, dripping with precum, staining his stomach. Lining up outside your entrance, rubbing his tip on your clit just to tease you a little more, his eyes met yours. They trapped you as they did inside the car, but now they didn’t stare at you with simple desire. It burned, it consumed him and needed to find a way to release it. And his way was you.

With no warning, he thrusted into you, his size ripping you open and you let out a scream as you prayed your neighbors were heavy sleepers. Dick, as soon as his member was fully within you, let out a guttural groan, the sexiest moan you’d ever heard come out of a man.

“F-fuck you’re so tight.” he moaned. “Just like I imagined.”

Lying on top of you, he met your lips, he wrapped your fingers in his and slid your hands to the top of your head again. His thrusts were fast, hard, reaching you deeper and deeper, taking out of you a scream louder than the other, only muffled by his mouth that refused to leave yours.

You wrapped your leg around his waist, wanting him to go deeper, if it was even possible, so consumed with lust that all logic melted out of your mind.

It wasn’t a fuck, it was love making, sensual and nearly animalistic love making, and the idea of it made the butterflies in your stomach go feral just as you were. If he loved you or not, even it was even something else more the pure lust, was a discussion for later, but he fucked you like no one else did, and you only hoped it was a sign he was not like the others. That he wasn’t just a single page in a large book.

The wet sound of your skins meeting each other filled the room, but only because your mouths were glued together, all sound not allowed to make it out.

“You’re taking me in so good, aren’t you Yn?”

“Yes, y-yes. You’re filling me so good.” you cried back.

“Are you gonna come on my dick, Yn? Are you gonna let me feel you coming?” he teased, nearly as desperate for your orgasm as you were.

“Yes.” you replied, louder than you’d wished. With a few more thrusts, you came all over his hard dick, your body shaking ferociously, reaching a high you’d never reached before. “Uuh, yes!” you screamed, as he continued to pump into you, his own orgasm imminent.

“I’m gonna come, Yn.” he announced, thrusting once more before taking his member out of your pussy and stroking it up and down with his hands. His milky load hit your belly, painting you in sin, as your tongue extended out for a little drip of it.

Exhausted, Dick threw himself on the bed beside you, both your breath audibly out of pace. Your body was covered in sweat, your bed sheet sticking to your back as you tried your best to recollect yourself.

“Officer McCaffrey would be so disappointed.” you joked, getting a loud laugh out of the man beside you. Crossing his arm over your waist, he pulled you closer to him, kissing the wet baby hairs at your temple.

“Wanna disappoint him again?” he asked, turning your face to meet your eyes, his new found favorite thing to look at.

“All night?” you asked in return.

“All fucking night.”

It was safe to say you were late for work again the next morning, and would be late a few more times, as Officer Dreamy would gladly keep you up for as long as you wished.

[starryhutcherson]

━━ BED HEAD

author's note: my christmas gift to my lovely followers and viewers <3 yes i am aware i've been M.I.A for the entirety of the second half of the year. forgive me! when the jhutch nation died a piece of me died with it. pls enjoy this apology fic, made it nice and sweet for my mike lovers (cough cough for me). enjoy!! ps. this is my personal favourite that ive written, boyfriend mike just hits different so expect a lot more of him coming soon wink wink! i mean it this time

'୧ ‧₊ pairing: boyfriend!mike schmidt x reader warnings: 18+ sexual content! oral sex (f!receiving), p in v, unprotected sex, dirty talk, swearing word count: 2000+ ⋆ ✩‧₊

Early mornings make for soft kisses. Outside, the streets are licked with hazes of morning fog, sprinkled with droplets of dew and not even ghosts wander the empty streets. In here, in Mike’s house, there’s no need to worry about the world beyond his peeling windowsill. You’re cradled into his chest, his arms which encircle your torso and his legs which tangle into a web with yours. The mornings are just for you. 

And Mike always wakes up before you. It’s not something he does intentionally, but rather the blessing of his eternal clock, stirring his soul before the sun has so much as nipped at the horizon – and yet he reckons this is the best part of his day. It’s the part where he gets to see you at your most vulnerable, your most unaware. Your lips are parted, carrying an imprint of yesterday’s smile, and your hair is sprawled around you too deliberately– like you were made to be perfect, even in your imperfection. 

He likes to trace each fault and flaw that may linger in unsuspecting places with the plush pad of his calloused thumb, to explore the way your body dips at its own will, to memorise each pathway of skin that leads to your heart, a map that’s solely his. He might pluck an eyelash oh so carefully of your cheek, he’ll watch as your chest greets his with each soundless inhale, only to part momentarily when you breathe out again. He likes it best when you’re slotted right between his heartbeat. You’re a dream he’s afraid to wake up from. 

Of course, these moments are only beautiful because of their status as moments. They aren’t eternal, they were made to be preserved. They fade when you wake up; when your big eyes blink up at him like a heedless doe. Like now. When you start to stir, your face scrunching up in a sleepy frown, Mike immediately closes his eyes. He rolls onto his back, one arm draped over his face like he’s shielding himself from the non-existent sunlight, like he hasn’t been watching you for the last ten minutes.

You crack an eyelid, admiring his figure as it soaks up the beginnings of a sunrise. “Morning bedhead,” you tease, grogginess and all. He grunts in acknowledgement, not shifting from his position of comfort. 

“Morning,” he grumbles back, not appreciating the teasing but not having the energy to send anything worthy of offense back at you. Your eyes trace over his messy hair, wild unruly ringlets of chestnut licking at his temples. 

You shuffle over to him, wading through the sea of tangled bedsheets, and ruffle those curls, making his face bunch up like crumpled fabric, in mild irritation. “You look like you lost a fight with a lawnmower,” you snort. He catches your wrist with a solid grip; sturdy as a tree is, down to the root. “Don’t even start. Pretty sure you’ve got me beat.” His voice is a baritone grumble as he references to your own head of locks, knowing full well that the cascading waves of pure velvet that are sewn into your head aren’t even close to looking messy. He teases anyway. 

“I dunno about that,” you murmur. Cocking a hesitant brow, watching his body flex into the sheets as each limb slowly begins to arise from slumber at it’s own snail pace. It’s then you pad out of bed, to go attempt to start the morning━ and he stops you. A dull grunt sounds from his lips and he tugs at your arm. 

“No,” he mumbles━ broken by a dull yawn. “C’mon. You can… you can stay. S’still dark. Nothin’ to do yet.” The sort of puppy-ish pleading that swallows his irises is too strong not to resist to. So you let him have his little ritual; he tucks you into his shoulder, thumb circling supple skin. You let him smell behind your neck and nip at the junction where your collarbone becomes your shoulder becomes your arm. Suddenly it’s turned into lazy tastings of your body. He’s drinking you in in the morning light, rolling you down and deep onto your back to make sure you’re imprinted on his fabric for later, lonelier nights. 

“Mike━” He cuts you off. He has a habit of doing that, when he gets like this. All agitated and croaking, like you are his eternal life source. 

“Shh, no, let me━ let me have this.”

And he’s trekking lower, still. Warm hands planted on your knees, he’s opening your thighs for himself with that look in his eyes. He’s a paradox, greed and yet utter selflessness as he buries his body right where you want him, idly tugging at the waistband of your cotton pajama pants.  

“Gonna make that bedhead worse.” He mumbles almost comically to himself. “Gonna, gonna give you some bed head.”

You roll your eyes, heat of the moment evaporating as you erupt in stupid giggles. “You’re such a dickhead,” you tell him, admiring the smug expression that spreads across his features. He looks like he’s where he belongs, nestled comfortably in that gap he’s made just for him, cradled by your legs. 

“Maybe.” He mumbles with a stupidly self-satisfied grin, delving into you like he knows best. He rolls the cotton comfort of your legs and exposes you to the chilly bedroom air, and knowing it must be unpleasant to be so cold when it’s so early, he’s latching onto you as quick as he can to try and maintain heat pumping through your system. 

And he’s a cocky motherfucker who knows that it works; molten fever rushes through every aching crevice of your figure and pushes to the surface as he flicks his tongue with expertise. He knows every spot, every stroke, every single way that makes you tick. He’s spent a lot of time practicing, exploring, just so he can be perfect. 

Every. Single. Time. 

You’re writhing already, with each motion. Calling his name out to nothing and nobody, the silence of the morning suddenly so obnoxious when it’s broken by the cracking chorus of your moans. Mike. You cry. Mike, Mike, Mike. 

And he’s all entranced by you, you, you, as you quake right into his palms, just how he wants. The perfect way to start the morning is by breaking you apart and dealing with the mess. He admires, awfully, every tremor, every sob, every time your eyes lock with his and you watch him worship you, even if just for a fragile second before they roll back into your skull. 

He plugs you up with one thick finger, reeling in the wet squelching suction of your cunt around his digit. Another follows, curling beside the first, resting snugly inside you. A few testing movements as he tries to find that place, and then finally you double over into yourself mewling like a lamb for slaughter. 

“Oh, that’s it? That’s the spot?” He mutters, baritone voice just so sexy when it’s the only melody spilling into your ears, your brain, you soul. You answer with a little hum, and he coos as your hips buck to meet his palm; catching your weight as you grind your clit into the heel of it. You need more━ you need so much more. 

So he mutters a brief apology as he severs your orgasm; saving it for later, the upcoming future. And leaves you for just a moment, carefully maneuvering himself free from his sodden boxers and pumping his angry length a few times, convulsing as he does so. He’s more sensitive in the mornings, every single goose-pebbled part of him. You bite your lip in anticipation, pink flesh billowing white under the force of your teeth. 

His eyes glance up to you; coffee and caramel stirred with a copper spoon, awaiting your command. “You... you want me, right?” He breathes gently. Shuffling himself closer, hoping to meld a piece of his soul into yours. To secure you to him, through and through. And of course you nod, with ego-inflating eagerness. 

“Course I do. And how about━”

It throws him off when your tender hands grip onto his shoulders; like a turning tide your body steers him of course, pummeled over so he can drown under your current as you position yourself ontop. “Let me,” you whisper, holding his cock so gently in your hands, a contrast of efforts in the way you stroke so slowly, so patiently. In all honesty, he hasn’t got much of that left. 

A salacious groan slips free from his throat. “Shit, can you just, uh, can you please put it in, I can’t━ I’m gonna blow right now.”  

He expects another mocking comment but all he gets is compliance. A gentle kiss, fanning across his freckled cheeks that glow so red in the heat of the moment, a slow and calculated sink of your pelvis against his, and a juggled handful of shared rugged breaths as the feeling of fullness branches across the pair of you. He’ll never get over your fit, it’s too hand-crafted, too cunningly created. His hands shakily struggle to make their way onto your hips, not so much for control as it is to keep himself grounded. Skin to skin to skin, as though to prove you aren’t just a fabrication from his desperate, delusional morning mind. 

When your hips begin to roll, it’s lazy. Grogginess permeates every part of you and there isn’t enough strength for anything more than gentle juts; back and forth, back and forth, a seesaw of sorts, but he appreciates the movement anyway. Mike’s head falls back into the pillow, framed by a halo of his own sweat and drool as he lets you do the work. It’s his own hazy heaven, the morning he wishes he could preserve. 

You suck his cock up deeper into your hole, clamping down on him in a vain attempt to try and keep him there, tucked away inside you forever like a pocketed memory of sorts. He begins to meet your thrusts, sending sparks through each wild thrust of his flying hips. 

“Want this every day,” he whines, deep through his throat like he can’t even contain his words as they bleed all over you in a wash of near orgasmic bliss. 

“Yeah? You do, Mikey? Wanna─ wanna just wake me up to fuck me like this? Right here on your bed?”

His eyelids flutter and unfocus, blunt nails severing the skin of your hipbones as he begins to forcefully drag you across his cock, faster faster faster until the headboard squeaks along with you and he’s completely wordless and wounded. “Wanna fuck you. Wann─ needa fuck you every day, yeah, jus' like that, shit, you were made for me,” he whines, pummelling into you with purpose. Force and purpose. 

He’s spearing you open on his eager cock, nudging your cervix, coaxing an orgasm out of it’s grave, the one he ended from earlier. You can feel it brewing and bubbling inside you, erupting it’s carnal desire like acid wash across your narrow cunt as you drink him in tighter, willing him to come with you. “Mikey, mmm, come with me, c’mon, please─”

And it’s your begging that sends him over. A saccharine flush melts across his entire body, bottom to top, and he’s moaning as he tugs his length from beneath your folds and showers your sweaty torso in a creamy wash of white ribbons, spraying buckets from your belly button right up to your chin.

There is calm after the storm. A tranquil quiet falls back over his modest bedroom, accompanied by heavy breathing and the rustling of sheets. The aftertaste of the morning is careful sponge-washing and coffee. He clears you off with a damp washcloth, love ebbs from every action from him to you, like an endless chain. A circle has no end because it has no beginning; Mike thinks he’s always been drawn to you, even before you both knew it─  because he’s always been looking for this. For the gentle fleeting kisses that he’s showered in before the morning, for the bed he returns to which smells like sex and sodden promises. He can’t wait for you to get home so that he can come back to his bed-headed girl. 

masterlist

[missmeinyourbones]

TWIN SIZED MATTRESS

a part two of where love lives because i am such a sucker for rei getting those kids the hell out of that house and the todoroki fam being normies 

You would almost be drifting off to sleep—if it wasn't for the dead weight of Shouto’s  limbs on your lap and the irritating buzzing of Touya’s whines in your ear. 

“He’s out cold.”

Touya gestures to the blob of red and white hair sprawled out by your side. After one episode of his cartoon and a few head scratches from your hand, Shouto was out like a light. 

It’s been about thirty minutes since then, and the low mumble of the cartoon still humming across the dim living room speaker is driving Touya up a wall. 

“If you’re not gonna let us go upstairs, at least let me change the fuckin’ channel,” he mumbles behind a scowl. 

You roll your eyes but gently toss him the remote regardless. He hums at his victory, catching it easily and flying through countless channels, eventually landing on some poorly produced scary movie from the early 2000s—and if it wasn't for his youngest brother wedged in between the two of you like a cushion, he’d be using the film as an excuse to cling onto you.

It's not long before the sound of a key in the lock softly rattles the front door, and a few seconds later, Rei enters quietly, almost like she's not trying to make a single sound. But when she sees two (and a half) silhouettes on the couch, she tosses her keys on the counter with a bit less caution.

“What a pleasant surprise this is,” her voice is teasing, but it’s all in good fun. She’s a soft woman, in her speech and touch—and the way Touya’s eyes glass over when they’re on her.

He barely lets his gaze stray from the film to flicker her way when he mumbles half-hearted a “hey, Ma.” You decide to be the adult in the situation and properly greet the woman of the house.

Slowly and carefully removing Shouto’s limp limbs from your lap, you manage to slide out from beneath his weight and stand up.

“Shouto didn’t feel well, so we gave him some medicine and let him lay with us for a bit,” you gesture to the sofa where he still snores while your boyfriend watches the movie and scoots away from the drool now pooling on the cushion beside him. 

“How sweet you two are,” she breathes, simultaneously thanking you while cheap-shotting Touya, knowing this had to be all your doing. 

Because it doesn’t take a genius to know that while he means well enough, there’s no way in hell it was Touya’s idea to cuddle up with his brother on a Friday night. 

“Are you staying the night?” she innocently asks, her gaze flickering to the stove clock and seeing it’s well past midnight. 

You make a mental note to kill Touya later for not telling his mother of your attendence. Politely, you decide to tread lightly, “If it's alright with you, please.” 

At the same time, Touya mumbles something from his spot on the couch about it being too dark out now for you to be driving anyways. 

“Of course,” she shrugs her jacket off, laying it on the back of a chair while getting herself a glass of water, “take Touya’s room, he’s fine on the couch.”

At that, your disinterested boyfriend is suddenly extremely intruiged with this conversation.

“No,” he nearly chokes on his own disbelief, “I’m not okay on the couch.”

“Don’t listen to him, take the bed,” Rei continues, completely ignoring her eldest son practically throwing a fit as he finally stands and scurries over to the two of you.

“We’re adults,” he heaves, though his whiny tone betrays his claim, “I think it’s safe to say we can sleep in the same bed, Ma.”

Rei deadpans as blunt as ever, looking her eldest dead in the eye without a shred of shame or subtly when she sighs.

“I’m too young to be a grandmother, Touya.”

You feel your skin grow hot, and you don’t miss the way Touya’s neck flushes also red as he curses under his breath. 

“The hell is wrong with you?” he rubs his eyes in irritation. “As if we’d ever try anything with all of you fuckin’ people here.”

You bite your tongue at the lie that webs through his teeth. As if that wasn't what you were doing in the first place when Shouto decided it was a convenient time to have a stomach ache.

With a silent wave of her hand, Rei seems to send Touya up to his room to both get it ready for you and grab whatever he needs for the couch. He does so wordlessly, but can’t help the dramatic sigh and heavy footsteps up the stairs along the way.

When Rei sees your nose crinkle at his theatrical antics, she shakes her head and reassures you.

“He’ll be fine.” 

She offers you a glass of water, and the two of you sit in comfortable silence for a few moments.

It’s nice. For a house that's always breathing with hectic excitement, it’s refreshing to take in its small noises. The sound of the floorboards creaking beneath Touya’s footsteps above, the ice maker grinding and chiseling every few moments, the ceiling fan whirling against the metal of its own chain.

After a moment, Rei speaks up—and when you catch her eye, she’s admiring you with a different kind of softness you’ve yet to see on her. 

“We love having you here,” she delicately insists, before quietly adding, “all of us.”

Her comment warms you from the inside out. Like a fire in your chest, the genuity of her words spreads all throughout your veins and into each crevice of your body. It feels like home has eaten you alive. 

“I love being here,” you manage to whisper after a moment, “thanks for always having me.”

She returns easily, “Thank you for taking care of my baby.”

Your head turns to where the tiniest Todoroki quietly snores on the couch, “It’s no big deal, Shouto’s always great.”

“I wasn’t talking about Shouto,” Rei doesn't miss a beat, gently resting a loving hand on your shoulder.

Touya calls your name from upstairs, seemingly to let you know that his room is ready for you. You shoot Rei a smile that you hope does even a sliver of the happiness you're feeling justice before crawling upstairs.

Annoyance clear on his face, he points to his messily prepared bed with a mock kindness, “Your grace.”

You roll your eyes at his dramatics but accept the bed nonetheless. One you’ve been in more times than you can count, but never without him, Touya’s bed is comfortable in all of the right places. The comforter isn’t too heavy for the summer heat, and his sheets smell like the perfect balance of his cologne and lingering cigarette smoke. 

You half expect Touya to give you a proper goodnight, but you should’ve known better, because instead of coming over to kiss you, he sulks to the doorway before whispering, “The second she’s asleep, I’m coming up.”

You do your best to sound strict behind your inching smile. “No, you’re not.”

Touya merely shrugs before gently closing the door, his pillow in his hand and a flickering look in his eye.

He keeps his word because precisely eight minutes after you hear Rei gently creep upstairs and close her bedroom door, another one opens and Touya’s lanky frame scurries in.

“Get out,” you half-heartedly threaten through a sleepy rasp.

His movements don't hesitate in the slightest. He continues to close the door slowly, securing it and creeping to his bed on his lightest steps. 

“This is my room,” he humbly reminds you.

“You’re gonna get us in trouble,” you attempt to reason with the unreasonable.

“Please,” he scoffs, shimmying himself beneath the covers and onto his flattened pillow, “she knew this was gonna happen the moment she sentenced me to that fuckin’ couch.”

Touya moves to spoon you, placing his hand on your stomach before you tense up and turn around to face him directly.

“We are not having sex,” you harshly remind him in a whisper.

You can practically see his stupid smirk when he replies, “Didn’t realize I was dating a nympho.”

He hears you kiss your teeth in annoyance, but when you move away from his hands, he shushes your complaints and halts your movements with a tightening grip.

“Hey, stop,” he whines, letting you turn around but forcing his way to nuzzle into the back of your neck.

“Just wanna lay with you,” he whispers into your back before gently nipping the skin and adding a sweet, “you gremlin.”

You gently scoff at that and settle beneath his touch, and the world almost feels like it stops spinning as the two of you cram into a twin size mattress Touya’s had since he was about eleven years old.  

“Thanks,” his voice quietly cuts through the silence of his bedroom, barely louder than the cicadas that chirp outside as he continues, “for helping the little asshole tonight. Pretty sure he was faking it, though.”

He feels you laugh through a huff of your nose, “Doesn’t matter, I was happy to be here.”

 Touya softly gnashes his ankles against yours when interlocking your legs together. You feel a tiny kiss on your exposed shoulder when he groggily speaks above the sound of the air conditioner.

“Think we were all happy for that.”

[hey-august]

Waking up Buggy with morning head. It’s something you all agreed towards beforehand and he was especially exited at the prospect, so imagine his delight when he one day wakes up to gentle kisses that start at his balls and end at the head of his cock. Amazing.

He spreads his legs a little to accommodate his cocksucking alarm clock a little bit more, feeling a hand reach up to gently cradle his sack a little before taking him in deeper. His hand fists into the dishelved, slightly greasy bedhead under the cover.

He feels like an emperor. No! Like the King of the pirates himself, as he slowly starts bucking up into that warm, hot mouth. You casually light a blunt for him and hand it over. Could this morning get any-

- Wait.

Your eyes meet and you smile at him. You, sitting next to him in bed and handing him a joint, you, currently NOT blowing cock right now.

He throws away the covers to see who’s currently sucking at his foreskin oh so sweetly, only to be met by the teasing gaze of a redhead. The bane of his existence ever since they were kids, the dumbest guy he ever met, the annoyingly optimistic, affectionate red haired tomcat that somehow managed to weasel himself into his and your shared bed for a little ménage à trois ever so often.

„Shanks arrived at shore just yesterday.“ You say casually, lazily tracing circles on your clowns chest. „He said that he’d bet 1000 berries that he could make you cum before you woke up.“ the man between Buggys legs makes an exaggerated popping noise as his lips leave Buggys dick. „Yepp. Seems like I lost.“

You lean over conspicuously „I bet 2000 berries that you could make him come without even touching his dick. Think you can help me win?“

Both you and Buggy leave the bedroom 3000 berries richer that morning, along with a very satisfied captain of the red force, who somehow regained most of his stamina in about ten minutes and is now already getting on Buggys nerves. „Come on it’s not that far away!“ „Some of us have THINGS to do you burnout.“ „Come ooon, it’ll be just like old times!“ „Oh? With you not paying YOUR TAB?“ and so on and so forth.

You snort and roll your eyes as head below deck to set up a kettle for coffee. Seems like today would be fun.

WOAH. ANON.

An agreement like that really is win-win-win. And this was a possibility when everyone agreed...

WC: ~250 Warnings: nsfw, buggy x shanks x gn!reader, oral - m receiving, implied sex

Would Buggy ever voluntarily ask for a threesome with that red-headed annoyance? No, but he would be more than willing to reap the benefits. Shanks is always disgustingly eager to show how to pleasure the clown captain.

Sometimes just the memory of Shanks' hand on the back of your head, and your mouth full of dick was enough for Buggy to get off on his own.

Shanks could have definitely gotten Buggy to cum before waking up. Unfortunately, the bet did not have a clause preventing you from milking the pirate clown's balls dry the night before.

As for the second bet, Shanks was more than okay forking over 2000 berries for all the sweet and salty attention he could squeeze from you and Buggy. He'd gladly listen to you goad both captains, walking the line between teasing and innocent comments. He'd take all of the delicious praise Buggy wrapped in snark.

"Ooh, listen to his voice get higher when you touch him like that."

"That's such a slutty noise. You really want me to know how good you feel, huh?"

"Mmh, you're gripping too hard, Shanks, it's coming off as desperate."

"He is desperate- Look, his mouth is busy and he's still whining."

Yup. What a good way to start the day.

Follow it with a heavy breakfast (brunch by this time) and spiked drinks, and the next few days were going to be just as messy and fun.

[eds6ngel]

✮⋆｡°✩⋆˙ a christmas miracle

a 'when i kissed the teacher' spinoff.

summary: you and steve were in a weird situation. you weren't actively trying to get pregnant, but you weren't exactly being safe either. so, how will steve react when he opens his final christmas present?

warnings: dad!steve. mom!reader. fem!reader. afab!reader. 90s!au. mentions and allusions to sex. mentions of pregnancy. pet names. kissing. tons of crying. alena being too young to understand pregnancy (kinda cute tho). alena being a cutie pie as always. some worries over steve's reaction. but mostly fluff and comfort!! [1.9k].

author's note: hi everyone!! i am back!! my first semester of uni is finally over, so i can get back to fic writing a little more! i couldn't neglect my happy family like this, so i've tackled a pregnancy fic! i've never been pregnant, but i do wish to be in my life, so all of my research has been for my own benefit and utilised in this fic. if i'm inaccurate in any parts, please let me know for the benefit of the readers and myself!! ♡

It was hard not announcing the news to Steve. Having to attend your first scan without him was heartbreaking, but the look upon the nurse’s face after you told her you were going to wrap up the ultrasound photo, along with a card saying “Merry Christmas Daddy” and a pair of small, cream, woolen socks, just confirmed your decision was the right one.

You and Steve were in a sort of weird situation. You had stopped using protection, but weren’t in a position were you were actively trying to get pregnant. You agreed that any time from now was an okay time for the two of you to have a child, but also weren’t bothered if the pregnancy tests came back negative.

But, a little Christmas miracle decided to form inside of you, the test showing two lines on December 11th, 1999.

Steve and Alena had gone grocery shopping for an hour, the perfect opportunity for you to wrap Steve’s gift.

Rolling out the wrapping paper, you placed a grey, fluffy blanket in the centre, before laying on top the Christmas card which read:

Hi Daddy.

I’m six weeks old today!

I can’t wait to meet you soon! I’m planning to enter the world on August 20th, 2000.

My mom is keeping me very safe right now as I grow, but I’ll still be listening out for you from inside my home.

See you in nine months.

Love, your future child <3

And as you were about to place the ultrasound photo next to the cream baby socks you previous put underneath the card, your eyes started welling with tears once more.

Was it the hormones? Maybe. But, something in you felt this was all natural. You were growing a human life inside of you, one that has half of your DNA and the other half the love of your life’s. That was something to bask in the intense emotion of.

With everything laid out neatly, you reached over for the sellotape, folding over the edges and carefully sticking them in place.

Wrapping the gift in a pretty cream bow, matching the socks inside, and adding a label reading “To my darling Stevie,” you added it to the pile of increasing gifts in the corner of yours and Steve’s bedroom.

Now, just a week to go until he gets his surprise.

You cradle your stomach, despite the size not increasing at all yet, and whisper to your unborn child “A week and he’ll know, my love. Your beautiful existence will be known.”

“Mom! Dad! Wake up! Wake up!”

You are awoken by the sound of your bouncing ten-year-old, aggressively rocking your fiancé as he groans loudly, his eyes adjusting to the light peaking through the window.

“Mornin’ pumpkin,” he murmurs, you opening up one eye as Alena’s full set of brand-new adult teeth smile right at you.

“And what are you doing up so early, missy?” you ask, the clock on the bedside table next to Steve shining a bright 6:00 in the morning, illuminating the room in a red glow.

“Mom” she drags out, rolling her eyes playfully, “You know what day it is!”

You tap your chin lightly, playing along with the joke, “Hmm… I feel as if I may need a reminder.”

“It’s Christmas Mom! And I may or may not have seen all the presents you left underneath the tree…” her vocal pitch increases, looking away in a guilty look as Steve reaches up and pulls her down into his body, the girl screaming as he ruffles her hair.

“Did someone be naughty and peak underneath the tree?” he grits through his teeth, Alena shouting in a reply, “I didn’t mean to, I promise! I saw it on the way to your room!”

You begin to tickle her sides as Steve holds her in place against his chest, making the girl scream in delight loudly, “Is someone now on Santa’s naughty list?”

“Mom…” she pouts her lips, a grumpy expression adorning her face as you sigh sadly, “I know sweet cheeks, you don’t believe in him anymore.”

“I’m sorry…”

You hold out your arms as you wrap her in a warm hug, “Don’t be sorry, baby. I knew you would realise eventually. You’re getting too old!”

She gasps and looks into your eyes, crossing her arms over her chest, “I am not old! You and Dad are old.”

You start giggling in shock as Steve just opens his mouth wide, “You better watch yourself, pumpkin.”

“Yeah,” you hold up a finger in warning, before pointing it over to Steve, “Dad doesn’t like being reminded he’s in his mid-thirties.”

And now it is Steve’s turn to attack you, but instead with aggressive kisses, littering them up your neck and across your face lightly, Alena now old enough to understand the playful love between the two of you. “You’re almost thirty as well, you know.”

“Two more years to go, babe. I’m still in my prime development decade,” you smirk at him.

And it wasn’t just you who was developing.

A loud gasp can be heard along with the shredding of paper as Alena holds up her latest gift, “You actually got me it?”

For such a small gadget, the Barbie Digital Camera cost you $70, the most expensive gift yet, but maybe not the one which will cause the biggest reaction.

“Of course I did! It’s the one thing you kept pointing at in the magazine!”

She giggles with a bright smile, “Thank you! Thank you!”

She launches herself at you, the motherly instinct in you clutching onto your stomach to protect your unborn child, hoping Steve didn’t notice the movement. The surprise would be known in the next half an hour.

“And after you’ve taken your photos, we can connect it to Dad’s computer and see it come to life! How cool is that?”

“Can I take it to school?” she asks, clutching the box in her hands.

“I assume you can! But, just ask Mrs. Critchley before you take it in, okay?”

“Okay!” she smiles, plopping herself back down on the carpet to open the rest of her gifts.

Your hands began to sweat. Alena was all done opening her presents, patiently waiting for you and Steve to unwrap yours.

Steve let you attend to your gifts first. Everything from a brand-new necklace designed with a rose quartz, matching your engagement ring, to the latest Nokia phone, you were thankful for everything he had bought you, praising him with many gentle kisses and warm hugs.

Now, it was Steve’s turn. You specifically told him to leave one present until last, leading him to give you an eyebrow raise and a shrug before simply agreeing, used to your weirdness by now. You got him everything from a new cologne to a new pair of Nike shoes, the soles of his old pair wearing thin from how much he was working over the Christmas holidays.

But, after one final kiss, it was finally time.

“Can I open this now?” Steve jokes, the nerves deeply settling in your stomach. You don’t even know why you were worried, you had stopped using protection in mutual agreement, knowing kids could be a possibility from that result. There was just a voice in your head trying to convince you an awful reaction would occur.

“Uh, yeah… Yeah, you can.”

“Hey,” he puts an arm on your shoulder, “Why are you so nervous?”

You lightly chuckle, “You’ll find out once you open the gift.”

Even after all of these years, Steve still wasn’t the smartest. Verbal cues were not his strong suit, but my God could he read body language like a champ.

He gives you a confused look before unwrapping the cream-coloured bow, delicately tearing apart the paper as his eyes immediately notice the ultrasound scan.

He may be oblivious, but he isn’t that oblivious. He has one very similar in his bedside table drawer of his sweet ten-year-old daughter sat next to him.

The tears form at his eyes before he can even recognise them. Small sniffles enter the atmosphere as his hazel eyes make contact with you, “Are you serious?”

And the tears follow suit for you, nodding frantically as he leans across the floor to collect you in his arms, crying into your shoulder.

“How far along?” he mumbles into your shoulder, tears dripping onto the red fabric of your dress.

“Read the card and you’ll find out.”

Steve was too drawn into the ultrasound scan to even notice the card you had gotten him. Releasing from the hug, he keeps a gentle hand on the small of your back, picking up the card and carefully opening it, reading the words you had written, the tears increasing as he noticed it was from the perspective of his baby.

“Wha— How? When did you get this done?” he stutters out, still in complete shock of the entire moment.

“Pregnancy test has been in the bathroom trash can for two weeks. I was scared you were going to notice it for a while, but then I remembered it’s you, and you don’t notice anything,” you giggle, Steve not even bothered by the joking insult, too caught up in his own emotions, “And two Thursday’s ago, I didn’t go to work. Went to the hospital and got the scan, and just hung around Starcourt until the time I would normally come home.”

“Well, you fooled me,” he chuckles, leaning in for a kiss which you gladly accept, cupping his cheeks as you smile into it.

“I love you so much, beautiful girl. And I love the baby who is growing inside of you. You’re so strong. Your body is so strong. I just— I can’t wait. I can’t wait to meet them.”

His hand had migrated down to your stomach, gently cradling the unborn child inside of you.

Alena had finally looked up from her Etch-a-Sketch, noticing the tears falling down both yours and Steve’s cheeks, your hands holding tightly onto each side of his head as your foreheads were leant against each other, kneeling on the soft carpet of the living room.

“Mom? Dad? Why are you crying?”

Steve turns around to face his daughter, you looking softly into her eyes, “Because Mom is having a baby, sweetie.”

Steve passes her the ultrasound scan, her face scrunching up in confusion as she points at it, “Why is it just a black blob?”

Steve begins laughing as his head falls onto your shoulder, sweetly rubbing up and down the sides of your waist.

“Because when a baby is first made, it starts out as a black blob and then grows into the full size baby we all know and love,” you explain gently to her.

“Hmm…” she takes in, before asking her next question, “But how did it get there?”

Your eyes widen as Steve’s hands stop on your waist, refusing to lift his head and look at his daughter.

You smile through the awkwardness, remembering that her sex education lessons would start in a matter of months, “You’ll find out soon, baby.”

thank you ever so much for reading!! do you guys want any more pregnancy related fics? i really want to do some research into post-partum for myself, so do you want me to skip straight to that, or tackle other things like morning sickness, gender reveal, baby shower, stuff like that? feel free to let me know!! ♡

taglist: @livsters @bakugouswh0r3 @nix-rose @ihatepeanutss @suitelif3 @clincallyonline17 @crowssixof @starkeylover @eris-rose-86 @frostandflamesfanfic @tlclick73 @steveshairspray @superlegend216

[drabblesandimagines]

Dove (part four)

Leon Kennedy x female reader Part one. Part two. Part three.

The time for Leon’s next perimeter check comes and goes, yet he remains in place on the sofa, you cuddling into his chest. He knows he could try and shuffle along a little bit, get you to lie down, but he doesn’t.

You must be exhausted, both physically and mentally, to have fallen asleep on him after all. He doesn’t want to risk waking you up when it’s the first time he’s seen you properly relaxed in the last 24 hours. It’d be more awkward if he did try to move and woke you up, too. Plus, if he did successfully pull it off, it’s not the widest of sofas either - what if you rolled off when he was outside and damaged your shoulder even more? You’re already bruised and battered from your encounter with the Lickers and he’ll be damned if he’s gonna let you get hurt again under his watch.

It’s everything to do with that and nothing to do with the fact that he can’t remember when he last held a woman like this, content in his embrace. He’s not a big one-night stand guy – won’t deny he’s had them, but they’re not a preference - so intimate moments like this are few and far between. Besides, you’d asked him for a hug, you’d fell asleep in his arms. It might not be proper, but he’s not overstepped professional boundaries by reassuring a victim in their moment of need.

Just like he totally hadn’t overstepped when he helped you undress last night.

God, when you’d asked for his help with your bra… Memories of awkward fumbles with girlfriends under covers had flashed through his mind, still isn’t sure how he pulled it off one-handed.  

Leon swallows as you unconsciously nuzzle your cheek up against his chest, bringing him back to the present moment. He chides himself for the distraction, shouldn’t be thinking about that when he should be thinking about the job at hand. There’s been no reply from Hunnigan, though he wasn’t expecting one unless there was any sort of development. She’s probably waiting for his full report before she’ll give him a crumb of anything in return.

He looks at the laptop sat open on the coffee table, though it’s long gone to sleep. He was maybe a little ambitious with his timeframe of having it in her inbox by 2000, as now he’s going to have to type it up, listening to the audio, all in the same room as you as he does.

Problem for later, he decides, as is you being asleep on his chest preventing him from doing his perimeter check. His hand remains on the small of your back - keeps you steady against him, whilst he compromises for scrolling round the camera feeds a few times one-handed.

There’s nothing to note visually from his last outing - though he definitely wants to be able to double-check with his own eyes rather than put his full trust in pixels on a 3.5-inch screen. There’s been no motion detected either, so it’ll do.

It’s turning into a nice evening, he muses, warm enough to be out without a jacket. It’s a shame he can’t take you outside for some fresh air, stretch your legs with a walk around the perimeter – after he’d checked it first, of course – and maybe make you feel less like a prisoner. Knows from experience that it won’t be long until the frustration of being restricted to three rooms is going to surface. Always does. You’ve already shown some over the medication being locked up last night.

He also knows how much the restrictions and protocols seem overkill, but if anything were to go wrong on this mission, all his actions are going to be scrutinized under a microscope, discussed at length by a panel who will either sign him off for active duty or accuse him of being a traitor to the good old US of A.

You jerk almost violently on his chest then, nearly clocking him in the chin, your good hand scrunched up in the fabric of his shirt – all tell-tale signs of a bad dream. Leon begins to rub slow circles with his hand on the small of your back, hoping it’ll be soothing enough to stop the dream progressing, perhaps enough to draw you out of that REM state but not enough to wake you up entirely.

He slips his phone back in his pocket as he continues to rub large circles on your back, can’t help but smile as he watches you settle, your face relaxing once more.

Leon closes his eyes, then, relishing the weight of you on his chest. It’s not selfish, he reasons, no, because although those sleeping pills work wonders, they can never replace a true night’s sleep – again, he knows that from bitter experience. It’s enough to shut your brain down for a solid eight hours, but it’s never going to be a restful sleep when it’s synthetic.

Not in the way you’re napping right now, safe in his arms.

God, Kennedy, pull it together – you just met the girl.

Still, doesn’t open his eyes though.

He’s about to drift off himself when you whimper and he swears it breaks his heart. Your grip tightens on his shirt, face twitching once more, now alongside furrowed brows and hitched breaths as you face invisible demons. He strokes your hair with one hand, still rubbing circles on your back with his other but it doesn’t have the same effect this time as your restlessness continues.

“No…” You whimper again, nails digging in his chest from your grip and he admits defeat. He sits up slowly, stills his hand on your back and moves his other to rest lightly on your arm to give the most gentle shake.

“Dove, it’s okay.” Leon says, softly. “You’re all right. It was just a dream.” He moves his head down, in dangerous territory of being headbutted, speaks a little louder in the hopes the movement and his voice will break through your slumber. “I’m here, Dove. You’re safe with me, okay?” Your eyes shoot open and you lift your head off his chest but his reflexes don’t fail him as he moves his head back from the collision. You emit a sharp gasp from your mouth, catching your breath and look at him briefly in alarm, feeling entirely disorientated and confused, heart pounding.

“Hey.” He smiles.

It takes a beat for you to properly gather your bearings – never been a fan of napping during the day, always made you feel worse more than anything. You’re in the safe house, in the living room, with Leon – the kind DSO agent who made you oatmeal and sandwiches for lunch – whose warm palm still is pressed solidly against the small of your back…

“You fell asleep. I… It seemed like you were having a bad dream, so…”

You remembered asking him for a hug, how nice it had felt in his embrace, how you thought it would be fine to close your eyes for just a moment. Afterall, they were so dry and tired from all that silly crying and how nice and warm Leon felt, with your cheek pressed up against his chest.

Yes, you were just going to savour all that for a couple more minutes and then you’d sit up.

But it hadn’t happened that way, waking up whoever knows how long later, holding onto him for dear life.

“I fell asleep… on you.”

It’s a statement, not a question.

His smile turns somewhat bashful. “Yeah.”

You realise then that your hand is flat on his chest, right over his heart – you can feel it pound underneath your fingertips and you snatch it back into your own chest, sitting up poker straight, looking embarrassed.

“Sorry.”

“It’s fine, Dove. I can add emergency pillow next to the first aid qualification.” He teases, relieved it seems to make you relax a little by the way your shoulders drop. You smile, placing your good hand back on the sofa for balance to shuffle back along. A little reluctantly, Leon brings his hand back to rest on his thigh.

“Do you, er, want to talk about it?”

“Not much to tell.” You shuffle in place again, trying to get comfortable as your injuries begin to ache. “I was being chased… But that’s all I can remember.” You shake your head as if you could shake the uneasy feeling out of it. “How long was I asleep?”

“Not long.” Leon shrugs, though he knows exactly how long it was. Doesn’t want to say he let you sleep on him for over 90 minutes because he liked the human contact.

You look up at the TV, not knowing what to say, and see it’s still on at a low volume – the channel unchanged and the house renovation show ongoing. Must be some sort of afternoon marathon.  

“So, I need to do my, er, perimeter check. I won’t be long, but can I get you anything before I go?”

“Can I have the next dose of painkillers?”

Leon checks his watch and frowns - you’re over an hour away from the next dose. Maybe he shouldn’t have let you sleep in that position after all, torso twisted to lie across his chest – the fall down the stairs had to have a done a number of your ribs. “I’m afraid not for another hour or so, Dove. Is the pain really bad?”

“No, I’m just starting to ache a bit. I’ll be all right.”

“We can arrange a call with a medic if the painkillers aren’t bearing up, see if we can get you on something stronger.” He offers, getting to his feet.

Your stomach flips. There it is, that horrible niggle of doubt in the depths. Leon seems sincere enough in his offer – hell, this is the man who prepped your toothbrush for you this morning, made breakfast and lunch, let you sob and then nap all over him. That’s surely not how a government agent who suspects you’re a bioterrorist is going to treat you, yet you can’t bring yourself to fully relax around him, painfully aware that he might be feeding back everything you say or even do to superiors.  

Is this a trick or a test, to see if you’ll take up stronger pain medication after you insisted yesterday that what you were given had been adequate? Oh, you lied about that, did you? Did you lie about your whole statement too, Dove?

“No, that’s not necessary.” You’ve taken too long to reply, so time to try and deflect. “I’m just being a baby.”

“No, you’re not.” He replies, firmly. “Have a think about it, okay? You’ll have been running off adrenaline for a while, might have numbed the real extent of the pain when you were being assessed. Been there a few times myself.”

You nod, unsure of what else to say, still feeling a little awkward in the way you’d woken up.

“Okay, I’m heading outside. See you soon.”

You lean forward and grab the remote control. “Take care.” It comes out before you even think about what you’re saying and you turn up the volume on the TV, as if it could drown out what you’d already said.

Leon smiles as he picks up his duffel bag, slings it over his shoulder – he’s locking it in the garage on his way out. If you’ve noticed he keeps it in his line of sight at all times -besides the time it was behind him but you had been very snug in his arms - you’ve been polite enough not to mention it, or maybe you just don’t want to hear the answer. He wishes he could make the call, but until those above him officially deem you as a victim who needs protection and not a suspect under surveillance instead of the hybrid moniker you’re under, he needs to keep you and the weapons separate.

Like you could do any damage to him with your arm in a sling, bruised, grazed and sore, all whilst on sleeping pills and painkillers for God’s sake. If you were faking all of that, call the Academy cos there’s a new Best Actress in town.

---

Part five.

Masterlist . Requests welcome . Commissions/Ko-Fi

Comments, follows, likes and reblogs make my day!

[ladamedusoif]

Long Distance - Marcus Pike x F!Reader

Pairing: Marcus Pike x F!Reader

Rating: Explicit; 18+ MDNI

Word count: ~2000 

Warnings: SMUT; Established relationship; Reader lives in Europe; No physical description of Reader; Older!Marcus; Marcus with a PhD; FaceTime sex; masturbation (F and M); oral sex (F receiving); unprotected but safe PiV sex; dirty talk; come (cum) play

Summary: Happily settled with you on the other side of the Atlantic and now working primarily in consultancy, Dr Marcus Pike sometimes finds himself travelling back to the US for work. But there’s always video calling, right?

A/N: I got...carried away. Ahem. I'm not really using taglists any more so follow my writing blog @ladameecrit and turn on notifications. Thank you @agentjackdaniels for previewing this smutty little story.

You never really sleep easy when he’s not here. Strange, after all those years on your own, comfortably splayed out across your large mattress. A year of sharing a bed with Marcus, though, and you feel unsettled without him.

The display on your sunrise alarm clock reads 1.30am when your phone lights up with a message.

You still awake? x

Your fingertips tap out a swift response.

Very much so. x

You settle yourself and your phone as the call comes through. A moment of connection, and there he is: Marcus. Your Marcus, looking so very distinguished with his wavy, silver-streaked hair, warm eyes, and mischievous, boyish smile. He breaks into a wide grin as you appear on the screen.

“There you are, baby.”

"Here I am, love. How are you doing?” You cast a glimpse over the schlubby old FBI t-shirt he sometimes wears lounging around the house. “Are you in bed already?”

Marcus groans and rolls his eyes. “Yup, pretty much. I’m so tired, the clients all want to start at the crack of dawn. Why are they all so obsessed with breakfast meetings here?”

You chuckle. “Sweet man, you’ve become Europeanised.”

"I mean, you do have the better coffee.” He props himself up, resting his chin on his hand. “I miss you so fucking much. It’s only been three days and I’m going crazy.”

"I miss you, too. But what is it - tonight, and then two more nights? And then you’re all mine again.”

Marcus’s chocolate-brown eyes soften as he smiles softly, taking you in. “God, I can’t wait. Fuck, you look so good. Is that the, uh… that nightdress?”

You preen a little for the camera, innocently moving your body ever so slightly. You’re confident that he’s now got an even clearer picture of your tits, nestled in the burgundy lace of your - and his - favourite strappy chemise. 

“This old thing?”

He shakes his head and bites his lower lip, grinning. “You are a tease. You know exactly what you’re doing.”

"And what am I doing, Dr Pike? Use all that agent training, tell me. Decipher me.”

He licks his lips. “You’re showing off your beautiful tits, knowing perfectly well I can’t stand not being able to touch them right now.”

You keep eye contact but trail a finger along the soft line of your cleavage, slipping it under the lace to flick gently over your nipple. All the way across the Atlantic, Marcus groans on his DC hotel room bed.

"Oh, I see. You liked that, hmmm?”

He nods. “You know I liked it, baby. Fuck, you are gorgeous, you know? Just…perfect.”

You notice his right arm moving a little, working at something off-screen. 

“Are you hard, darling? Are you touching your cock?”

"Mmmm. Yeah, just - just through my shorts.” His gaze flits from your tits to your eyes and back, his breath a little laboured. “You turn me on so much, feel like I’m going crazy.”

“Will you jerk off for me, Marcus? Let me see how hard I make you. Please.” With a flutter of your eyelids you slip down the spaghetti straps of your chemise to reveal your breasts, nipples hard and soft flesh spilling over the lace cups.

"Fuck. Oh, fuck. Yes. Hold on -“ He reaches for his phone and angles it just so, so you can see him tugging down the dark grey sweat shorts and his hard, thick cock springing free against his tummy. He wraps his right hand around it, gently pulling back the foreskin to reveal the head already weeping with pre-come. 

Now it’s your turn to whine as your pussy clenches around nothing, reacting to the sight of his cock ready and waiting and so far away. Marcus grins as he continues to stroke himself.

"Think you need to play with your pussy, too.”

You nod and slip a hand between your legs, gathering some of your growing wetness and displaying it to him on your fingers. “See how much I miss you, love?”

He speeds up a little, fucking into his fist and never taking his eyes off you. “Fuck, I wish my mouth was on that pretty little cunt of yours. Wish I was eating you out right now, baby.”

"And I wish I had your gorgeous, hard cock in my mouth, darling.” You start to rub harder, insistent circles over your swollen clit and moan as you listen to the sound of your boyfriend jerking off. 

He moans and closes his eyes. “Talk to me. Tell me, what would you do?” 

“I’d use my tongue - lick the shaft, first, the way you like it.” The sound of your wetness is lewd and arousing. “Then - oh, fuck - take you into my mouth, suck the head, stroke you with my hand…”

Marcus pauses to spit into his hand, a poor substitute for the lubrication offered by your slick. “Keep going. Keep fucking going, love.”

“Fuck, I wish I had that gorgeous cock inside me.” You slip a finger inside your pussy and whine at the sensation as you press on the sensitive spot he knows exactly how to work. “M’finger is nothing, need you.”

Marcus pants as he continues to stroke his cock, and pulls up his t-shirt to expose his belly. He’s getting close. “Wish I was fucking you, too. Feeling - oh, fuck - all of you on my cock, pulling out and…” He screws up his face and groans and your cunt aches for him. “Fuck, I want to come on your tits.”

Your free hand finds your breast as you continue to rut against your hand, fingers pinching the nipple and massaging the flesh. It’s your Marcus. He deserves a show, and you’re only too happy to deliver. He grunts and groans, never taking his eyes off you. 

“I’m really close, Marcus.” Your hips buck upward as you near your peak. “I’m gonna come for you - fuck, gonna -“

He strokes himself furiously, desperately, as he watches you reach orgasm - and talks you through it.

"Jesus, look at you. Coming on your own hand - oh, fuck - getting yourself off for me. Good girl. Good - fuck, gonna come - fucking good girl.”

He comes hard, angling his cock so that the white, viscous come hits his bare tummy. Your cunt still aches for him. 

“I wish I was there to clean you up, Marcus.”

He chuckles and lies back on the pillows, curls damp with sweat and a huge smile on his face. He grabs his phone so you can see him. “Right back at you. Bet you’re so wet now, huh?”

“Soaked.”

“Fuck. Hope you’re ready for when I come home, baby.”

In the early morning, your sleeping form rests peacefully in your large bed, an arm cuddling a pillow to your torso for comfort. When you’d set your alarm the night before, you reminded yourself that you just had two more nights before he was home again. 

Two more nights. Two more sleeps. And then: him. Him. Only him. 

A shifting weight on the mattress stirs you, still halfway between waking and slumber. In the hazy half-light, you turn your head and find a beautiful, familiar sight. 

“Hi, baby.”

“M-Marcus? What are you - did I get my dates wrong? I thought you were back tomorrow…”

“I was supposed to be,” he says softly, pressing a kiss to your shoulder. “and I took an earlier flight because I just missed you so much. Hey - is that my shirt?”

You nod, turning your body wholly towards him and nuzzling against him. “It is. Your Georgetown T-shirt, I just - it feels like you.” He pulls you close and kisses the top of your head. “Marcus - what about the work?”

He hums happily. “The clients were happy, and there isn’t much more to do that I can’t do from here.” 

He moves his lips to your neck, softly nipping and licking the delicate skin as his big hands work their way under the T-shirt and up to your breasts. 

“I have been thinking about this the whole way home.”

You giggle. “Oh really? And you were able to keep yourself under control?”

Marcus kisses you on the mouth as he nods, fingers kneading your tits. “My self-discipline was tested, I admit, but oh, fuck, baby…”

Your hands are on his crotch, feeling the growing hardness under the grey sweatpants he likes to wear on long-distance flights. You lean into his ear as you tug down the sweats and his boxers, taking his cock in your hand. 

“Why don’t you see if I’m still wet from the other night?”

With a groan, Marcus slips his hand between your legs and finds the wetness already pooling at your core. “Pretty fucking wet, baby.” He sucks his fingers clean of your slick before shucking off his sweatshirt and tee.

“Good.” You sit up and quickly straddle him, his thighs between yours as you peel off the old T-shirt so you’re completely bare for him. “I’m going to make you feel so good, darling man.”

You gather some of your own slick across your palm and fingers before taking his cock in your hand, stroking the velvet skin of the shaft and gently bringing your palm over the head in a fluid motion that you know drives him wild. Marcus watches your hands as you pleasure him, little animalistic noises issuing forth from his beautiful mouth as he grows ever harder under your practiced touch. 

“Do you want me?”

He nods furiously and you lift yourself up to shift forward, notching the head of his cock at your entrance. 

“Tell me, Marcus.”

"Need you so fucking bad, baby. Please.”

You take him inside you in one stroke, your wetness easing his thick cock into the tightness of your pussy. Marcus cries out as you begin to ride him, hands pressed into his broad chest. 

“Better than the phone sex, huh?”

“Oh, fuck yeah,” you hiss, hips rolling in a well-established rhythm as you fuck him. “Liked watching you jerk off to me, though.”

"Me too, baby.” Marcus grips your hips and grins as he admires you: your body, your curves, the way you’re letting yourself go as you ride his cock. You bite your lip and roll back your head, lost in the sensation of how your man stretches and fills you so perfectly.

When you slip a finger against your clit, he practically growls, meeting your rhythm as he starts to fuck up into you.

“‘M not gonna last, baby,” he pants, fingers pressing into the flesh of your hips and ass. 

“You want to come on my tits, like you said?”

His desperate nod is your cue to lift yourself off his cock, glistening with your slick and his pre-come, and shuffle down the bed a little. You press your breasts together as Marcus wraps his broad hand around his cock and pumps it quickly. 

“Fuck, your tits are pretty. So fucking soft and perfect and -“

He stutters and cries out as he comes, his release hitting your breasts and gathering on the hard peaks of your nipples. 

You gather some of it up on your finger and suck it clean. 

“Jesus, baby. That’s so fucking hot.” 

You release your finger with a pop. “Thank you, love. Can you get me a cloth?”

He wanders off and returns with a washcloth, gently cleaning your body and his cock before returning it to the bathroom. By the time he gets back, you’re tucked under the covers again. He grins as he joins you, pulling your naked body to his. 

“Missed you.” You wind an errant, silver-streaked curl around your finger. “It feels like there’s something missing when you’re not here.”

Marcus kisses your forehead and you nuzzle up against his chest. “Don’t I know it? I felt exactly the same in DC, wondering where you were. Missed going to sleep beside you, waking up with you.”

You chuckle against the warm, sweat-damp skin of his chest, pressing your lips to the freckles dusted across his golden body. “And fucking me.”

He laughs, and the sound makes your heart soar. “That, too. But trust me - I’ll make it up to you.”

"Oh you will, huh?”

His coffee-brown eyes are as sincere and honest as ever. “Always and forever. Even with jet lag.”

dividers by @cafekitsune

[rhiannonsknife]

── ❆ DAY 23: wrapping presents with shauna shipman

— summary: wrapping christmas presents with shauna.

— warnings: fluff. established relationship. gn!reader.

— a/n: some unnecessary background lore: it’s set in the early 2000s. the plane crash never happened. shauna has a daughter & is raising her with r. callie is jeff’s biologically (with shauna and him having broken up long ago) the casting, whether you imagine teen or adult shauna, is up to you, which is why there’s no picture in the header!

the house is quiet, except for the faint creak of the floorboards as you shift under the blankets. you had taken callie to bed not long ago; she had fussed more than usual, her small hands clutching at your sweater until you hummed her favorite lullaby, your voice barely above a whisper. you can still feel the faint imprint of her weight in your arms, the warmth of her little cheek pressed against your shoulder.

now, lying in your own bed, you should be drifting off too, but sleep doesn’t come.

you glance at the clock on the nightstand, the soft red glow of the numbers marking just how late it’s getting. it’s well past midnight, and still, shauna hasn’t come to bed.

frowning, you sit up, rubbing at your eyes as you listen for any sound that might give away where she is.

a dim light spills into the hallway from the living room, faint and flickering like the glow of the christmas tree. slipping out from under the covers, you move carefully, your steps light as you tiptoe toward the door. you glance back once to make sure callie hasn’t stirred before pulling the bedroom door open.

the light grows brighter as you make your way down the hall, pooling onto the hardwood floor just ahead.

peeking around the corner, you spot her. shauna is sitting at the dining table, a glass of wine at her elbow and a roll of wrapping paper sprawled out before her. the warm lights from the tree cast a soft glow over her, her head is slightly bowed, brows knit together in concentration as she carefully folds the edges of the paper, running a finger along the seam to make it neat.

she’s so focused that, for a moment, you just lean against the doorframe and watch her.

it’s an image that feels achingly domestic: the way she tucks a strand of hair behind her ear, her lips slightly pursed as she struggles with a stubborn piece of tape.

the floor creaks beneath your step, and shauna’s head snaps up, startled.

“you’re supposed to be sleeping,” she whispers, her gaze flicking down the hall to make sure callie is still asleep.

“so are you,” you counter, crossing the room and leaning against the back of the chair beside her. “what are you doing?”

shauna lets out a soft, sheepish laugh, glancing down at the half-wrapped gift in front of her. “just…finishing up some last-minute wrapping. i didn’t want to wake you”

you glance at the wine glass and the small pile of unwrapped gifts still waiting. “looks like you’ve been at this a while”

“i wanted to get it all done before morning,” she admits, her voice quieter now as her fingers fiddle with a ribbon.

you smile, pulling out a chair to sit beside her. “well, you don’t have to do it alone. scoot over!”

shauna hesitates, but when your hand brushes hers, she exhales and smiles at you. “thanks,” she murmurs. then, as you reach for the nearest roll of wrapping paper, she adds with a smirk, “but if you mess up the wrapping, i’m redoing it”

“oh, wow,” you say, shaking your head with a mock sigh. “such faith in my abilities.”

she grins and nudges the scissors toward you, her knee brushing yours under the table. “earn it!”

“you’re such a perfectionist”

“someone has to be,” she retorts, “especially with you here. i’ve seen how you wrap presents“

“excuse me?“ you say, feigning offense, “my wrapping skills are perfectly average, thank you very much.” you reach for a nearby box, carefully cutting a piece of wrapping paper that’s a little too small but still manageable.

shauna laughs quietly, standing up to grab another wine glass from the kitchen. when she returns, she pours you a a one as well.

“if you’re going to keep me company, you might as well enjoy yourself,” she says, carefully sliding it towards you across the table top.

you sip the wine, the warmth spreading through you as you watch shauna work. the table in front of you both is filled with ribbons, bows, and scraps of paper.

when you start wrapping your own first box, it becomes painfully clear that your skills don’t match hers. your paper doesn’t fold quite right, and the tape sticks to your fingers more than the package. you glance over at shauna, who’s trying (and failing) to hide her amusement.

“that’s…ambitious,” she teases, biting her lip to keep from laughing outright.

“hey, i’m trying here,” you protest, holding up the package. “it’s the thought that counts, right? it’s not like callie will know how to unwrap it!”

shauna shakes her head, grinning as she reaches over to fix one of the corners. “lucky you”

as you work, your eyes drift to the baby monitor on the table, smiling as the steady sound of static reassures you that callie is still sound asleep in the next room.

you look back at shauna as she ties a ribbon into a delicate bow, her movements unhurried. you smile, thinking about the way shauna had fussed over every little detail of callie’s first actual christmas: her tiny stocking, the carefully chosen christmas ornament, the soft holiday pajamas already tucked under the tree.

you lean your chin on your hand, watching her smooth out paper for a moment. “you really did go all out this year,” you tell her, gesturing to the growing pile of already wrapped gifts.

shauna shrugs, her smile softening. “i just…she should have the kind of christmas she deserves. even if she’s too little to remember it, we will”

“she’s lucky to have you”

she looks up from her work for a moment, her eyes searching yours. “us,” she corrects before the two of you fall back into your gentle rhythm.

eventually, the last gift is wrapped, and shauna sits back with a sigh, draining the rest of her wine. you reach for the empty glass, brushing your fingers over hers as you take it. “i’ll clean up,” you say, standing and gathering the scraps of wrapping paper and stray ribbons.

“you don’t have to-“

“shauna,” you cut her off gently. “you’ve done enough”

she hesitates, then nods, a small smile tugging at her lips. while you tidy up, she lingers by the table. the exhaustion in her posture is clear, but so is the quiet pride in her eyes as she takes in the stack of presents. you catch her gaze as you come back from the kitchen, wiping your hands on a dish towel.

“come on,” you murmur, stepping closer and gently placing your hands on her shoulders. you rub small, soothing circles with your thumbs before leaning down to press a kiss to the back of her neck, just below her hairline. “let’s call it a night”

shauna takes your hand, her fingers curling around yours as you lead her back toward the bedroom. she pauses by callie’s crib, peeking inside to check on her. “she’s still out,” she whispers, her voice barely audible. she lingers for a moment longer, gently brushing a hand over callie’s tiny blanket before turning back to you.

when you finally crawl into bed, shauna slips under the covers beside you. she curls close, her head resting against your shoulder blade as her arm drapes over your waist. you wrap your arm around her, pulling her even closer, her warmth seeping into you.

“you really didn’t have to do all that tonight,” you murmur, pressing a kiss to her knuckle.

“i know,” she says quietly. “i wanted to. for callie. for… us”

her words linger in the air for a long moment and you squeeze her gently, letting the warmth of the moment settle over you both. shauna presses a soft kiss to your shoulder, her lips curling into a small smile against your skin. “merry almost christmas,” she says.

“merry almost christmas,” you echo.

[silkscream]

bullfight of love (part 2)

���✩ choso x reader

ੈ✩ tags: 2000s au, coworkers, workplace relationship, film bro stuff, pining, car sex, oral sex, fingering

ੈ✩ wc: 5.1k

ੈ✩ a/n: sorry for the lack of proofreading also i feel like the references r annoying. just ignore them bc in this fic both of them are annoying <3

PART ONE

Choso does not call you. 

He does text you, occasionally, to talk about work and movies. Sometimes books and music, swapping recommendations. 

You notice that he reads at the register when the store’s empty. As the weeks pass, he runs through paperbacks like lightning. 90s manga, Ryu Murakami novels. He had a pensive reading face, dipping between serene and morose depending on the page. It was oddly fascinating. Brows knitted, nose twitching in a way that reflected light on his scar tissue.

He never says much. Barely greets you when he clocks in, opting for something of a nod and a noncommittal noise. He always smells like tobacco and incense.

You try to outdo each other when it comes to putting something on the big screen. Maki let you put on any tape you wanted as long as it wasn’t too graphic, which was the one rule the two of you ignored considering how often there were afternoon dry spells. 

You’d put Japanese New Wave, New Hollywood. 90s American trash when Choso could score edibles. He’d never tell you where he got them, always tight-lipped about sources. It annoyed you to no end.

“Nice shirt,” he drawls.

“Huh?” You look up from your stack to see Choso staring at you, gesturing to your chest. 

“Your shirt.” 

You look down at your oversized Deftones tee.

“You’re not gonna ask me to name five of their songs, are you?” 

He shakes his head, laughing. The fluorescents make his irises reflect hints of violet, you notice. He’s less dead-eyed today, which is saying something.

“Which album’s your favorite?” he asks.

“Around the Fur.”

“Basic.”

You frown, reaching over to press the price tagger against his chest. You pull the trigger. He laughs again, looking down.

“I’m only worth ten dollars?”

“Yes.”

He scoffs and returns to the register when he sees a girl waiting with a copy of Clueless. You watch as she twirls a braid around her finger, stumbling over her words as she tries (and fails) to make small talk with Choso. He’s stone-faced again as always – nothing like the feigned sneers shot at you – the poor girl.

You notice him stealing glances at you while you continue to stock. There’s a perpetual hint of a tiny smirk as he continues to be the cashier for the night. You smile at him and wrinkle your nose when you look his way and find him staring at you, goading your reaction on whatever stack of DVDs his customer has in hand.

The two of you decide to close out for the night an hour early. It’s dead in the store. While you vacuum, your ears perk up to footsteps on the main floor. You see a teenage boy with pinkish hair and bright eyes.

“Closing shop, kid,” you say. “And I’m not in the mood for a stray.”

“I’m looking for my brother!” he beams, blatantly ignoring your crabbiness.

You pinch your brows together. Did he mean Choso? The two looked nothing alike and sure as hell didn’t share a personality.

“You mean —”

“Yuuji? I thought I told you I’d meet you at the arcade.”

You raise a brow at Choso appearing from the back room door but decide to leave him and his… brother to their own devices. You watch them from the corner of your eye, noticing that despite Yuuji’s boyish face, they’re slightly similar in build. He must be adopted or fostered, you think. Played the part of a little brother like a sitcom favorite from how Choso looked at him.

“You’re not coming with me, then?”

“Nah. Fushiguro and I were gonna see Human Earthworm 5 but then he told me hasn’t seen the first four! So I came by to pick them up.”

“It’s a good thing you came before we closed,” Choso rolls his eyes. 

“Don’t you close in like an hour?”

“Finishing up early. Her idea.”

You scoff under your breath. There’s a pause.

“You weren’t exaggerating, man,” Yuuji mutters, barely hiding his voice. “She’s really pretty.”

“Dude.” 

You almost laugh. Your smirk fades when you realize that your heart is beating a bit faster.  Liking Maki back then was stupid enough – a terrible cliche to fantasize about. Storage room fucking, sneaking around on the clock. How tacky. And you already checked off one of those fantasies.

The drama wasn’t worth it. It’s absurd to know that you had done that with Choso. It was why you avoided the back room at all costs. After you two had fucked, neither of you spoke of it again.

“Sorry,” Yuuji says, smiling sheepishly. “I’ll see you later, man!”

“Onii-chan,” Choso reminds him.

“Onii-chan.”

“Do you mind if I take the car?” 

“What– then how am I supposed to get home–”

“Pleaaaaase, Onii-chan? Fushiguro lives far from the bus stop!”

Choso grumbles as he fishes his car keys out of his pocket. Yuuji nearly vibrates from excitement as he takes them.

You wait until he leaves to flash a grin. Choso makes eye contact with you and groans.

“Don’t.”

“Onii-chan, huh?”

“Shut up.”

Your grin only widens. 

“He’s cute. Looks nothing like you, though.”

“We’re, uh, half-brothers,” Choso mutters. “And he’s off-limits.”

“Wasn’t interested,” you scoff. “He’s gotta be in high school, right?”

“And you’re not?” Choso raises a brow. 

He laughs at your expression immediately souring and you hate that the sound makes your heart flutter. 

“I’m kidding,” he snorts. “I’d be in jail if that was the case.”

You blush, remembering the last time you were intimate. You huff.

“You know Fushiguro? That’s Toji’s son.”

“Oh shit, really? I never met the kid’s family, I guess.”

You notice Choso checking out a copy of The Ring.

“Is that what you’re getting up to on a Friday night?” 

“Yup. I haven’t gotten around to seeing it yet.”

“Dude, seriously? S’a classic. One of my favorites.”

“You’re welcome to join,” he shrugs. It’s nonchalant. Given his brother's previous teasing, you’d think there would be an air of eagerness around him. The fact that there isn’t only makes your stomach lurch.

“Maybe,” you mumble. “Got some errands to run.”

“It’s cool.” He hikes up the messenger bag he brings to work over his shoulder. It’s right then that you notice how broad he is. Built well, almost like an athlete. Collarbones like a Greek god and a face as pretty as the J-pop idols you used to like. You think back to your past tryst, how his muscles rippled in the dingy office lighting. The sweat on his brow when he moaned.

He leans in to poke your arm to grab your attention.

“Huh?”

“I said, are you ready to lock up?”

“Oh. Uh, yeah,” you mutter. You grab your bag and follow him out. He helps you drag the security gate down. 

“Text me if you change your mind.”

“Yeah. For sure.”

–

You do not change your mind.

Not yet, anyway. You sip a milkshake in the food court, people-watching to pass the time. You couldn’t think about being alone with Choso right now. 

It takes you a bit to muster up the energy to leave. For some reason, you feel exhausted despite closing early. Your shifts were relatively easy, and it helped that being on shift with Choso was usually entertaining. The banter never got old. 

Fuck, you needed to shake the thought of him out of your head. The sex was a one-time thing. His nonchalance made you sure of that.

When you make your way to your car, you see him. He balances a cigarette between his lips as he laughs, surrounded by the usual mall rats you see on nights like these. Some of them you had recognized from high school. They were drop-out skaters who liked to flirt with you sometimes, their toothy grins stained yellow and their tiny waists drowning in cargo pants.

You watch one of the girls flirt with Choso. She’s blonde and thin, and you wonder if she’s his type. Despite the clashing of styles, they look good together. You pretend it doesn’t make you bitter. There’s no reason for the sight to make you bitter. You shouldn’t be staring at him at all — you’re supposed to be walking to your fucking car.

It starts to drizzle, but the crowd doesn’t move. You watch them and convince yourself that maybe he’s isn’t that attractive. But the cigarette in between his lips looks enticing. He probably tastes like tobacco. Mint and eucalyptus like the way he smells. You briefly remember the kisses you shared in the backroom and your stomach clenches with want.

“You,” he beckons to you. You freeze. “Thought you left already.”

You try to ignore all the eyes on you. Your tunnel vision only focuses on him, anyway. 

“Told you I had, uh, errands.”

“Right.”

“Uh-huh,” you clear your throat. “Can I bum a cig?”

He reaches into his pocket for a pack of red Marlboros, handing you one and waiting until it’s between your lips to light it for you. You chuckle lightly when you see it’s a white lighter.

“What?” he grins. 

“You don’t know about the white lighter thing? So many members of the 27 club had a white lighter on them when they died.”

“Like who?”

“Hendrix, Cobain, Morrison…”

“Then it’s an American thing,” he laughs. “I’ll survive.”

“I hope you do.”

He smiles back at you sheepishly, fixing his hair with his hands. He’s almost bashful for a second, but he’s too good at acting casual for you to catch him completely off-guard. 

Before he can respond, a hug of thunder booms above you. Distracted by the frenzy of everyone scrambling to head out, grumbling about the looming storm.

“Do you want a ride?” you blurt out.

He looks at you carefully, then cracks a smile. “Sure.”

___

Much to your annoyance, Choso is a little high, meaning he has no problem turning the dial on your car radio the whole time he’s in the car.

“You’re picky,” you mutter.

“I have taste,” Choso murmurs. “The radio does not.”

“I have like, a billion CDs in the dashboard. Go crazy.”

He smirks, amused, opening the drawer to flip through the albums you have in a thick CD wallet. They’re mostly your mothers – 90s Shibuya-kei and some early city pop you grew up on, along with a fair collection of Western music you’ve acquired over the years. To your surprise, he picks a Faye Wong CD.

“Good choice,” you mutter. He hums in response.

The ride to his house is quiet despite the album. You almost regret your offer, embarrassed about the slight panic you feel as the rain hits harder than expected. You never fucking liked driving anyway – it was why you wanted to move closer to the subway.

The only sounds in the car are Faye Wong’s haunting vocals and the pitter-patter of the rain. Choso glances at you, his expression stoic and unreadable as he watches you drive, but there’s a hint of something else in his eyes. A mix of anticipation and something else that you can’t quite pinpoint. After a few minutes of driving, Choso finally speaks up, his voice low and almost hesitant. 

“Turn at the next exit—” he mutters, breaking the silence that had fallen between the two of you.

“I know,” you chuckle.

“Choso pauses for a moment, a hint of mild surprise on his face. He had expected you to ask for directions, but you seem to know where you’re going without further instructions. He lets out a low scoff, his expression relaxing slightly. 

“You know my neighborhood?” he mutters, a hint of amusement in his voice. “Stalking me, boss?”

“I read your application, dumbass. Plus, I used to babysit around here.”

“Oh. Which family? I might know them.”

“The Fushiguros, actually. Toji used to live around here.”

“You used to babysit Megumi?” Choso asks in surprise.

“Mhm. I thought I heard your brother talking about him in the store.”

“Yeah,” he nods. “They’re best friends. You used to babysit him, huh?”

You hum. “Mhm. Cute kid. Quiet.”

“Still quiet. Though Yuji never shuts up about him.”

“It’s nice that he has friends. Toji used to say that I was the only one Megumi was never nice to,” you chuckle.

“Kid’s got good taste, then,” Choso mutters.

He points you towards his street. The closer you get to his neighborhood, the more residential it gets, and it’s oddly barren. Quiet and suburban, with no one other cars passing you.

As you take a turn, the rain gets even heavier, obscuring your view. The windshield wipers fight against the torrential downpour as the tires slide to the right.

“Fuck,” you curse under your breath. You clutch the steering wheel tightly with paling knuckles. Your piece of shit car could barely handle snow, but it survived in the rain, at least. Right now, you aren’t so sure. The car seems to skid into something that makes one of the tires pop.

“Shit," Choso mutters, gripping the door handle. "You okay?"

You nod, trying to slow your breathing. "Yeah, I'm fine. Just...fuck."

The car lurches to a stop at the side of the road. You turn off the ignition with shaky hands and sit back, exhaling slowly.

"Looks like we popped a tire," Choso says, peering out the window. "And this rain isn't letting up."

You groan, letting your head fall back against the headrest. "Great. Just great."

“Do you have a spare?”

“No,” you moan, pinching the bridge of your nose.

"Hey, it's alright," Choso says, his voice softer than you've ever heard it. "Let’s wait out the storm here. I can call my brother.”

He reaches over and gently pries one of your hands off the wheel, giving it a reassuring squeeze. The unexpected touch makes your breath hitch.

You know he's right, but the thought of being trapped in the car with him makes your stomach flutter nervously. Still, you nod in agreement and watch as he calls Yuji. The phone goes to voicemail immediately, to both of your dismay. He shoots a couple of texts and locks his phone in a huff.

An awkward silence falls between you as the rain pounds against the roof of the car. You're hyper-aware of Choso's presence beside you, the warmth of his hand on yours moments ago still lingering on your skin.

The silence stretches on, broken only by the rhythmic drumming of rain and the occasional rumble of thunder. You steal a glance at Choso, catching him staring out the window with a furrowed brow. His usually composed demeanor seems slightly shaken.

"Some road trip this turned out to be," you joke, attempting to break the tension.

Choso turns to you, a wry smile playing on his lips. "Not quite the adventure we had in mind, huh?"

You can't help but chuckle. "Definitely not. Though I suppose being stranded in a storm is pretty adventurous."

"True," he agrees, his smile widening. "Though I'd prefer less life-threatening adventures in the future."

The casual mention of a "future" makes your heart skip a beat. You try to push the feeling aside, reminding yourself that he probably didn't mean anything by it.

Suddenly, a crack of lightning illuminates the sky, followed immediately by a deafening clap of thunder. You jump, inadvertently grabbing Choso's arm.

"Sorry," you mumble, quickly letting go and feeling heat rise to your cheeks.

"It's okay," he says softly, his voice barely audible over the rain. "I don't mind."

The rain continues to pour, creating a hypnotic rhythm on the roof of the car. You find yourself relaxing slightly, the initial panic of the situation fading into a strange sense of calm. Choso's presence beside you is oddly comforting.

"You know," Choso begins, his voice low and thoughtful, "I used to be terrified of thunderstorms when I was a kid."

You turn to look at him, surprised by this sudden admission. His eyes are fixed on the raindrops racing down the windshield, a faraway look in them.

"Really?" you ask softly, encouraging him to continue.

He nods, a small smile playing on his lips. "Yeah. My mom... she used to tell me that the thunder was just the sky's way of singing. Said the lightning was its dance moves."

There's a tenderness in his voice that you've never heard before. It makes your heart ache in a way you can't quite explain.

"That's… cute," you murmur. "Did it help?"

Choso chuckles, the sound warm and rich. "Not really. But it made me feel less alone, you know? Like the sky was putting on a show for me or something.”

“Toji’s kids used to be scared of thunderstorms too. I used to make blanket forts with Megumi and his sister and put on movies to distract them.”

“What movies?” Choso grins. “Chucky?”

You snort. “No, asshole. Kids’ movies. I’m not evil.”

“Sure, you’re not,” he says teasingly.

“Do I seem evil?”

“No. But you’re a bit… uh…" Choso trails off.

“A bit what?” You furrow your brows.

“A bit... intense sometimes," Choso finishes, his eyes flickering to yours. "In a good way, I mean."

You raise an eyebrow. "Intense?"

He shrugs, a hint of a smirk on his lips. "Yeah. You've got this... energy about you. Like you're always thinking about ten steps ahead of everyone else. You’re intriguing."

You're not sure how to respond to that. Part of you wants to be flattered, but another part feels oddly exposed.

"Intriguing, huh?" you murmur, your voice barely above a whisper. "Is that why you've been watching me at work?"

Choso's eyes widen slightly, a faint blush creeping up his neck. "I... didn't think you noticed."

"I notice a lot of things," you say, leaning in slightly. "Like how you always smell like cigarettes and incense. Or how you bite your lip when you're concentrating on something."

“You've been watching me too, then."

You smile, feeling a surge of boldness. "Maybe I have."

Choso hums, his eyes linger on your mouth for a beat longer than you expect.

“I can never tell what you’re thinking when you look at me,” you say before you can stop yourself.

Choso's eyes flicker back up to meet yours, a hint of amusement in them. "Maybe that's the point," he says softly.

You feel a shiver run down your spine that has nothing to do with the cold rain outside. The air between you feels charged, like the electricity crackling in the storm clouds above.

"And what is the point, exactly?" you ask, your voice barely above a whisper.

Choso leans in closer, his breath warm on your cheek. "To keep you guessing," he murmurs. "To make you wonder."

Your heart is pounding in your chest now, so loud you're sure he must be able to hear it. 

"Wonder about what?" you breathe.

You turn to look at him and your breath catches in your throat. Even in the dim light, his features are striking. His long eyelashes frame his sharp eyes, and a few strands of damp hair stick to his forehead. You have a sudden, overwhelming urge to brush them away.

Choso's eyes meet yours, and for a moment, time seems to stand still. You're acutely aware of how close you are, the confined space of the car suddenly feeling much smaller. His gaze flickers to your lips for a fraction of a second before returning to your eyes.

Your heart races as you realize he hasn't moved away. If anything, he seems to be leaning closer. You swallow hard, trying to find your voice.

"Um—"

Another flash of lightning cuts you off, but this time you don't jump. You're too entranced by the way it illuminates Choso's face, casting shadows that accentuate his jawline and the curve of his lips.

He reaches out, his hand hovering near your face for a moment before he gently tucks a strand of hair behind your ear. His touch is feather-light, but it sends shivers down your spine.

"You were saying?" he prompts, his voice low and husky.

Your heart beats fast. What the fuck were you even going to say?

Do you want to watch a movie sometime? Do you think about that night as much as I do?

You take a deep breath, trying to calm your racing heart. "I was just thinking...mabout that night in the store. Do you ever think about it?"

Choso's eyes widen slightly, but he doesn't pull away. "Yeah," he admits softly. "More than I probably should."

His honesty catches you off guard. You expected deflection or maybe even denial. "Really?"

He nods, a wry smile playing on his lips. "It's not every day you get caught jerking off by your hot coworker who then proceeds to fuck you senseless."

You can't help but laugh, some of the tension dissipating. "Fair point."

"What about you?" he asks, his gaze intense. "Do you think about it?"

You nod, not trusting your voice. The air between you feels charged, electric.

Choso shifts slightly, angling his body towards you. "Can I ask you something?"

"Sure," you murmur.

"Why did you do it? Was it just… I don't know, pity? Horniness? Boredom?"

You're taken aback by the vulnerability in his voice. It occurs to you that maybe he's been dwelling on this as much as you have.

“I don’t know. Kind of thought it’d be funny.”

“You thought it’d be funny?”

“What? It was like a bad porn plot.”

“Wow, okay,” he scoffs. “I almost thought maybe you liked me or something.”

"I— I do,” you mumble. “I did it because I do. Because I… wanted you.”

Choso's eyes darken at your words. "And now?" he asks, his voice low and husky.

Your breath catches in your throat. "Now?"

He nods, leaning in closer. "Do you still want me?"

The air between you feels electric, charged with anticipation. You can feel the warmth of his breath on your skin.

"Yes," you whisper, your eyes flicking down to his lips.

There's a beat of silence, the only sound of the rain pounding against the car roof. You're acutely aware of how close you are to each other in the confined space of the car, the sound of rain creating a cocoon around you both. You look away from him shyly, which makes him touch your cheek to turn your face towards him.

“Do— do you—”

Choso cuts you off and closes the distance between you, pressing his lips to yours in a kiss that's both gentle and urgent. You respond immediately, your hands coming up to tangle in his hair as you deepen the kiss. He groans into your mouth, the sound sending a jolt of heat straight to your core.

His hands roam your body, reacquainting themselves with your curves. When he palms your breast through your shirt, you arch into his touch, breaking the kiss to gasp.

"Fuck," Choso mutters, his voice rough.

He leans in again, this time trailing kisses along your jaw and down your neck. When he reaches the sensitive spot just below your ear, you let out a soft moan. You feel him smile against your skin before he nips gently at the spot, soothing it with his tongue.

Your hands roam over his chest, feeling the hard planes of muscle beneath his shirt. You tug at the hem, suddenly desperate to feel his skin against yours.

Choso pulls back, his eyes meeting yours as he quickly pulls his shirt over his head. The sight of his bare chest, adorned with intricate tattoos, makes your mouth go dry. You reach out, tracing the lines of ink with your fingertips.

He shudders at your touch, his eyes fluttering closed for a moment. When he opens them again, there's a fire in his gaze that makes heat pool in your belly.

"Your turn," he murmurs, his hands finding the hem of your shirt.

You lift your arms, allowing him to pull it off. His eyes roam over your exposed skin hungrily, and you feel a blush creep up your chest under his intense gaze.

“Jesus. I still can’t get over how hot you are.”

You roll your eyes before leaning in to kiss him again. This time, it’s all teeth and tongue. Messy. Choso tastes even better before, you think, but you don’t quite remember. You’ve been chasing that taste for weeks now and here he was – all tobacco and mint in your mouth.

He pulls you to the backseat, sets you down on the leather. Legs hiked up around his waist, your sneakers up on the window. He can feel his dick jump in his pants when he hears you mewl into his mouth like a kitten, his hand flicking the peak of your breast.

It’s a struggle for him to take off his jeans with how tight the backseat is. Your breath hitches when you feel his cock settle in between the crease of your bare thighs. It’s different, having him this close, bare skin touching. 

He sucks a mark on your collarbone that almost feels loving. You feel drunk from his touch, from his fingers toying with your clit. You need him embedded into your skin. Tattoo crush.

“Feel good, baby?” HIs voice is low, nearly purring.

You hum in satisfaction. “Need you in me.”

“You sure?” The expression on his face is genuine, tender. You respond with an incredulous look. He chuckles.

To spite you, he leans and kisses over the skin between of your breasts. Descending licks, tasting the salt of your skin until he’s curled up, pushing your thighs forward so he has enough room to put his face full in your cunt. You moan at the feeling of his tongue, hot and warm against you. 

His fingers split you open in tandem with his tongue fucking you. You wanted him deep, imprinted in you. You gasp as you come, his fingers reaching somewhere yours could never touch.

He kisses you messily, grinning into it.

“Tastes good.”

“Shut up.”

You want to jump his bones, make a home from his lap. But he’s so big, his hands grasping the silk of your thighs with intent. You groan when you feel his tip prodding you, slowly sinking until he bottoms out. Choso represses any noise from his mouth, biting his lip hard enough to bleed.

“Don’t do that,” you huff. “Wanna hear you.”

He sighs, gripping you tightly, warm-bellied. Tight in your cunt. It feels crazier to him now than before – the spontaneity had driven his lust the first time, but now, it was all built-up emotion. Weeks of yearning and playing it cool, his stomach collapsing in on itself whenever you even looked at him. 

And now, you’re moaning from him like you want him. You do want him. Choso has always found it easy to get laid, but with you, he felt like he was walking on eggshells. Like he could’ve fucked up at any moment, that the time in the back room was just a fluke. The look in your glassy ways say otherwise. 

His pace moves faster and your eyes roll back like he’s knocking the stars out of you. An angel falling. You can barely keep your eyes open and your mouth shut with the way he feels inside you, hitting every spot that has your whole body feel like it’s levitating. 

Choso’s fingers thread through your hair as he kisses you. He marvels at the softness of all of you – your mouth like melted wax, hair knotted in daisy chains underneath his fingertips. Precious.

“Fuck,” he breathes. “You’re so fucking pretty.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah – feels so… shit—”

The desperation is getting to him from the way he ruts into you. Desire leaves his nerves on fire. The kisses you litter on his neck from below certainly don’t help. He’s weak to all of it – all of you. You moan loudly after a particularly hard thrust and he feels himself on the edge already.

You whimper. “Don’t slow down–”

“Gonna cum if I don’t,” Choso groans.

“I’m so close, please,” you beg. “Come with me—”

“Shit—”

“Choso, Choso, please—”

He lifts one of your legs over his shoulder and you nearly scream. He’s deeper — you feel him everywhere, up to your stomach, your heart. He pushes a palm lightly on top of your stomach and you can feel yourself ready to cry.

“I’m gonna – oh, fuck,” he gasps. 

“Me too,” you whimper.

He looks at you like he’s lovesick. Your nails dig into his broad shoulders as your eyes shut tightly, your mouth fallen open into an “O” as you mewl like something wounded. Your orgasm hits you like a tidal wave, washing all over you. He groans as his thrusts gets sloppier, until you feel his warmth fill you.

He keeps rocking into you, nose in your neck as he rides out his high. Thunder booms above you.

Once he’s spent, he pulls out of you, fumbling with some napkins he pulls from the seat pocket to clean up the mess. There’s a buzzing – his forgotten phone is on the floor, lit up with Yuji’s name. He curses under his breath.

You look at him, amused, as he stares at the thing.

“Pick it up.” You nudge his stomach with your foot.

He huffs, but obeys. “Hey, man. What? I didn’t have… service. That’s why. Yeah, I– uh, got a ride home and her tire blew out…”

You snicker as you pull your clothes back on, which earns you a glare. You watch him hang up and sigh. 

“Your brother coming to the rescue?” you ask.

“Yup.”

“What a good boy.”

He narrows his eyes at you, but doesn’t say anything else. He pulls his clothes on and sits beside you, examining the shadows on your face as you both listen to the rain.

“That was good,” you mumble.

He laughs dryly. “Yeah… it was.”

More seconds of silence. Choso clears his throat.

“Do you want to go out with me?” he blurts out.

You raise your brows and try not to laugh. “Aren’t we a little past that?”

“You know what I mean. Go on a date with me. Come over and watch The Ring with me.”

“Are you sure you’re not just trying to coax me into a round two?” you grin.

Choso studies you for a moment. Looks at you with a deadpan expression in his eyes. “I absolutely am trying to coax you into a round two.” A pause.

“But also, I want your company.”

Your face warms up with a smile. You feel overripe, sweet and slightly bruised. Wanting. Your lashes flutter at him.

“Deal.”