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ty-bayonet-betteridge · 6 months

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two of the transfems youre friends with have been talking to you about the clinic they got their bottom surgery done at. apparently its dirt cheap, and the surgeon - despite some oddities and, your friends admit, poor hygiene - is incredibly talented. theyre more than happy to give you her phone number when you ask, and while it sounds simultaneously incredibly sketchy and way too good to be true, at this point youre just so broke, desperate, and tired of gatekeepers that you're willing to give it a shot.

you call on a thursday afternoon, and the call is picked up on the fourth ring, when youre just gearing up to hear an answering machine. the voice on the other end sounds like a middle-aged woman with a smoking habit trying to sound like a cheery, bubbly young girl, and mostly succeeding. hiiiii! what can i do for you? she asks. you say er im looking for a surgical clinic is this the right number? she says mhm! thats me. you say okay, i just have a few questions. she says shoot. you say do you take patients who arent referred to you? she says nobody refers patients to me so yes. then she giggles. youve never heard somebody pull off a giggle in real life. you ask okay, so ive been looking for a place to get my metoidoplasty done, can you do that here? she says i dont know what that is give me like five seconds. then the line goes silent. you can hear her typing on a mechanical keyboard and humming to herself as she reads. youre now convinced that this is not in any way a legitimate medical institution.

youre about to hang up when she comes back on the line. OH you need a dick she says. sure i can do that! does tuesday afternoon work for you? i have that morning free too but i HATE getting up in the mornings so id rather not schedule it if i have to. you say tuesday afternoon is fine, how long should i expect the visit to be? she says i dont know like seven hours? you say seven hours? she says yeah give or take a few, every person is different so i dont know what itll be like until ive got your cunt opened up. honestly probably best to take the whole day off just in case it turns out to be a tough operation. you dont respond to that immediately. she says oh shoot should i not use the word cunt, is that too gendered? sorry. you say no its fine. you say i thought i was just going in for a consult? she says i mean yeah if youd rather. i dont mind doing same-day but some people like having more time to think about their options. do you have somewhere to be tuesday night or something? you say no its just... no tuesday afternoon should be fine. she says okay great!

she gives you her address. she says knock three times so i know its you and not my parole officer. parole officer you ask? she says im being good i promise but i still hate talking to him hes boring. you say if you dont mind me asking what were you imprisoned for? she says the ones i plead guilty to at the trial were a hundred and ninety-two counts of first-degree murder with a parahuman ability, two hundred and fifty-six counts of physical and emotional torture with a parahuman ability, five hundred and six counts of intentional infliction of emotional distress with a parahuman ability, four hundred ninety-eight counts of aggravated assault and battery with a parahuman ability, four hundred twenty five counts of domestic terrorism with a parahuman ability and two hundred and twelve counts without, three counts of arson, two hundred forty two counts of burglary with a parahuman ability, three hundred eight four counts of robbery with a parahuman ability, four hundred twenty seven counts of abduction with a parahuman ability, a hundred eighty six counts of human trafficking with a parahuman ability, three hundred ninety counts of destruction of public property with a parahuman ability, eighty counts of possession of a controlled substance, more than three thousand conspiracy and complicity charges in various felonies, eighteen violations of the Geneva Conventions, and the unauthorized practice of medicine. i plead not guilty to the larceny, sexual assault, contempt of court, corporate espionage, and identity theft charges and the prosecutor didnt really try to fight it since i had already earned seventy life sentences from the other stuff so im technically innocent of those.

you dont say anything to that.

after three seconds of silence she says sooooooooo i'll see you tuesday? you say tuesday, yeah. what was your name again? Riley, she says. Riley Grace Davis. you say thanks again and then hang up.

you debate constantly during the intervening days whether you should go on tuesday. youre grateful your friend group is so slutty; it means youve already seen with your own eyes that this surgery is real and not just a lure to murder you. still, you have some reservations, which you think is perfectly understandable.

you call one of your friends whos been there already. she picks up and you say if this is a joke its only sort of funny. she says if whats a joke? you say the clinic. you say you DID give me the actual number to the place where you actually had your bottom surgery done right? she says yeah, dont worry the surgeons so sweet. you say she admitted to doing two hundred murders when she was on the phone. she says i dont know anything about that but i trust her. you say if i end up dead, kidnapped, or mutilated, its your fault. she says dont worry about it.

tuesday comes. you never agreed to an exact time so you show up as early as you can and still have it be "afternoon" in your mind - 12:30. you climb the rusted fire escape to the third floor door and knock three times. the door is answered by a woman six feet tall in casual but very nice clothes with frizzy brown hair and an expression you cant read. you say er, riley? she says nope. another girl pushes past her, exasperated. she's maybe five foot two and her wavy blonde hair is worn down, with a red bow in it. she's wearing torn jeans - naturally torn, not the sort that you buy with holes in them that youve always hated but the kind that were once normal jeans and now have worn through much of the fabric on the knees. her tshirt is faded and has stains that you cant quite place on it, but youre pretty sure it was once Eidolon merchandise.

she says damnit amy let me answer the door next time. the taller woman, amy apparently, shrugs and steps aside to let you in riley claps her hands together once youre inside and the door is shut. introductions! she shouts. amy, this is, er... I never actually got your name? you tell them your name. she says right! hes one of my clients. and this is Amy, my sister. dont worry about her, shes just a little awkward. amy says can you PLEASE not introduce me as your sister. riley says make me. then she grabs amys shirt and pulls her down, standing on her tiptoes at the same time. they kiss in a very un-sisterly way. you clear your throat politely.

riley breaks away and says right, yeah, sorry! i get distracted easy. youre here to get a dick right. you splutter a bit, both at the bluntness of the question and the fact that amy is still standing right there. riley follows your gaze. she says oh dont worry about her! sorry, i wouldve run her off earlier, i thought you wouldnt come by for another few hours. you say sorry. she says dont worry, its her fault. amy says you didnt tell me you had a client. riley says you didnt ASK. you clear your throat politely again. you say er yes, i did come in for metoidoplasty. she bites her lip and furrows her brow. she says metoido... oh right. well i dont really do that here but i can give you a dick. you say uh im not really interested in phalloplasty. she says whats phalloplasty? amy says its the construction of a penis, usually via tissue flap taken from another part of the body, often followed by the insertion of prosthetics to allow the constructed penis to achieve erection. riley says oh, huh. yeah i dont do that either. i can give you a dick though. she takes a second then puts on an exaggerated scowl. who would want that she asks? amy says lots of people prefer it to metoido for aesthetic reasons or because they dont think theyll be large enough for penetrative sex with metoido. riley says but it wouldnt feel like a dick! man, some surgeons are talentless hacks.

you clear your throat again. you say so if youre- riley says youre clearing your throat a lot, are you okay? you say im fine, its just- she says oh duh were being so rude! why are we all standing around here. come sit down in the living room, do you want anything to drink? she leads you into the living room. it has the unmistakable air of a room thats been cleaned recently, with vacuuming marks present in the carpet and the unmistakable scent of air freshener. the sofa that you're gestured to sit on is, by contrast, unbelievably filthy. stains of every sort are visible on it - some of them are obvious, like the patches of blood and vomit or the ring of a coffee mug. others take you a second to place, like the crusty streak along one cushion that you realize all at once is semen, or the sticky yellow parts that you hope to god are honey. some of them, like the muddy green handprint along one arm of the sofa or the deep black smudge along a seat, are completely foreign to you. you can smell it from several feet away.

amy notices your hesitancy. she says i keep telling her to throw that thing out. riley says and i keep telling HER that its a relic from earth bet! its an antique and itll be worth millions soon. it just needs a good deep cleaning. amy says what that sofa needs is a bullet, not a deep clean. you sit down. drink? riley asks. you say er what do you have? she says water, diet coke, vodka, coffee. no more beer though, SOMEBODY drank the last one. amy says you never said they were off limits! riley says they arent, im just teasing. you say waters fine. riley says aaaaaaaaaamyyyyyyy, could you pleeeeeeaaaaaaaase go get our guest a glass of water and me a diet coke? oh and can you grab the pill bottle on the second shelf of the spice cabinet. amy says sure, i'll be right back.

riley sits down next to you. she says sooooooo what do you want for your dick? you say sorry, if youre not doing phallo or metoido then what exactly are you offering? she says no offense but it would take like literally eight years to give you enough background info for you to understand my explanation, and i dont have that kind of time. im not getting any younger. except for when i am. she laughs louder than you thought a human could. you have no idea how to describe the sound of her laughter. she says just tell me about your dream dick and ill give it to you. trust me, im a doctor.

except that youre not, amy says, returning with glasses and pills in hand. she sets the water down in front of you and you immediately take large gulps, feeling very much lost right now. riley says am TOO, accepting the pill bottle and diet coke from amy. she frowns. why is it can diet coke, she asks? she says glass bottle is so much better. she says why did i even BUY can. amy says they are literally the same liquid, what do you mean its better. riley says theyre not the same, stop deluding yourself. amy says which of us is the REAL doctor? riley says both of us! the PRT finally issued me an equivalency. youre talking to doctor riley davis, MED. amy says oh really? congrats she says. riley beams. then she unscrews the lid of the unlabeled, dark brown glass bottle, grabs three pills, and pops them into her mouth.

what is that you ask. ectasy she says. you want some? you say no thanks. she says you sure? you say i probably shouldnt take drugs before an operation, what if it interacts with the anesthetic? riley says dont worry, i made my own anesthetic that has zero drug-drug interactions. amy says except with sudafed. riley says ok YEAH except with sudafed, how was i supposed to know? she glances at you. you dont take sudafed do you she asks. you say no. she says good. it was such a bitch cleaning the pus off the ceiling she says. you say huh? she says dont worry about it, you dont take sudafed. she says are you sure you dont want any ecstasy? i promise its pure. you say i dont want to get addicted. she says i can surgically remove the addiction pathway from your brain if that would help. amy says riley, no means no. riley says fine. do you want any ecstasy babe? she says no thanks. riley frowns. she says you guys are a bunch of squares. she pops a fourth one and starts chugging diet coke.

she slams the can down after drinking what must be half of it, wipes her mouth with her arm and grins. sorry, we keep getting distracted! she says. she says im getting into the start of a manic episode and that always makes me roll right over people in conversation. what do you want for your dick? you say um. i hadnt really thought about it. its not normally a choice beyond the type of surgery, you sort of just end up with whatever the doctors are able to make work? thats lame she says. why are normal doctors all so lame she says. ok, rude amy says. OBVIOUSLY im not talking about you babe riley says. and stop distracting me from my client! amy holds up her hands in mock surrender, an easy smile on her face.

you didnt bring a toy with you did you, riley asks. you say huh. she says sometimes people bring a toy that they want me to model it after and that makes everything a lot easier. you say no you didn't. you say i hadn't really thought about my preferences, can we go dealer's choice on this? amy pipes up. she says you REALLY dont want riley to go dealers choice. riley says shut up and get me another diet coke, i just finished this one. amy says yes princess. you honestly cant read whether it was meant to be mocking or endearing. riley turns back to you. ok, she says, lets start with basics. primate? canid? equine? suine? dolphin? i could give you a hyena pseudopenis but i dont know if that would be offensive. you say human is fine. she says please dont tell me you're gonna just be boring this whole time. you say define boring. she sighs deeply and starts massaging her temples. amy, having stepped into the room in time to hear the last bit of conversation, tousles rileys hair. she says sorry babe, customer's always right.

you work out the appearance of your soon-to-exist cock this way. riley asks questions about length, girth, hair, amount of semen generated, percentage growth when erect, and you try to give what you think are average answers every time. amy watches, bemused, the whole time. halfway through she leaves to get the bottle of vodka. she drinks five shots in fifteen minutes. you say i didnt think the human body had that much capacity for alcohol resistance. she says it doesnt. riley swats playfully at her arm.

eventually, riley grabs a set of crayons and a cocktail napkin. she says ok, i think we got it, scribbling furiously. she shows you a crayon drawing of a dick. this look good she asks? you squint at it. there are no measurements given and the medium does not allow you to make out any fine detail. you say yeah thats fine. amy tries and fails to hide a smile. riley chucks the napkin aside and rubs her hands together. boring parts done! she says. time to get messy she says. amy pours a sixth shot of vodka. she says dont forget the anesthetic first. riley rolls her eyes. she says OBVIOUSLY i didnt forget the anesthetic. she says ill be right back. as soon as she leaves the room, amy knocks back her shot. she turns to you. she says you mind if i stay and watch? she says i dont want to make you uncomfortable, but i like watching her work. shes cute when shes working. you say at this point youre not sure you would mind anything at all. you say at this point you dont think you would be fazed if she came back with a fully-formed dick wriggling around in her hand like a fish and sewed it onto me. she says dont tempt fate.

riley comes back with a black bag the size of her head, which she sets on the coffee table with a thunk. she points at you and says okay, clothes off. or pants off i guess. you can leave the shirt on. or take it off. i dont care. you take it off. she tells you to lie down and starts pulling things out of the bag. amy stands up from the sofa to give you the space to stretch out and sits on the coffee table instead, one leg pulled up to her chest with her chin resting on her knee.

riley pulls out a syringe from the bag, filled with pitch-black fluid. she says okay this will hurt for a second but only for a second. you say huh? she flips you over onto your belly and jabs the needle against your lower back, into your spinal column. it hurts like a bitch for all of two seconds and then you stop feeling anything at all in your lower body. you also cant move your legs, you realize. what just happened you ask, as she flips you onto your back again. she says i just killed all the cells in the nerves in your lower spine. she says its the easiest way to make sure none of the pain signals slip through, and she'll just replace them with living ones when she's done. you don't know how to respond to that.

she pulls more things out of the bag. a cartoonish array of different cutting implements come out. most of them are various sizes of medical scalpel, ring cutter, or saw, but you also see a pair of chunky pink safety scissors, a pizza cutter, a serrated bread knife, an x-acto, a drill with a comically long bit, a pair of wire cutters, gardening shears, and an awl. she says okay im gonna start operating so look away if you dont wanna see how your crotch looks while its being rearranged. especially if you think you might puke, i hate having to stop to clean up puke in the middle of surgery. you look away. you notice amy is watching transfixed.

for a couple of hours things go on like that. amy and riley make light conversation, with riley filling any silence by humming a wordless tune you dont know. the sounds and smells youre getting are enough to make you slightly sick; you continue not looking.

in the middle of hour two, riley stops. oh goddamnit, she says. what amy asks? riley says she forgot that shed need extra meat. amy says you started a surgery to give somebody a whole new organ and forgot youd need more tissue to do it? riley says shut up, im dumb. amy says no youre not babe. riley says ughhhhh now what. amy says just get his stem cells to grow the tissue you need. riley says nooooooo thatll take forever, and i have places to BE tomorrow, and if i stop putting pressure on him here hes going to bleed out through his cunt. you say wait, what? amy says well i dont know what you want me to do about this situation, i gave you my solution. riley says baaaaaaaaaaabe. amy says whaaaaaaaaaaaat. riley says i think we have some bacon in the fridge, will you pretty please with sprinkles on top go get it? amy says and what do i get in return? riley says a kiss. amy says id get that anyway. riley says my undying love and affection. amy says i have that already. riley says not making me angry at you so you can sleep under my roof without having to worry that ill turn your sweat glands into acid glands in the middle of the night. amy says that, plus i get to top tonight. riley says fiiiiiiiiine, just go get the bacon. amy gets up.

you say look uh i know you said not to question what youre doing but i kind of dont want a dick made of bacon, not to sound ungrateful. also did you say something about me bleeding out? riley says dont worry, if you bleed out ill put the blood back in, im a professional. you say thats not as reassuring as she thinks it is. riley says whos the doctor, mister? you say technically both of us. i have a phd in social sciences you say. she says wow, theyre just giving out doctorates for anything these days, huh? you say hey, rude. she says only teasing. you say anyway, uh, you didnt address the bacon dick thing? she says oh dont worry about it, my amys amazing, youll see.

amy comes back in with the package of bacon. do you need this in any particular shape she asks. riley says nah just give me a good amount of it. and make sure its spongy, so when he gets hard the blood can- amy cuts her off. she says dont worry, ive given you enough penises at this point that i think i know what penile tissue is like at this point. you say given her enough penises? what the hell does that mean? riley says hey, dont kinkshame! she sounds legitimately offended. you say sorry. amy pulls the bacon out of the package, holding it aloft in her left hand. you watch as the familiar look of a half-pound of bacon shifts and warps into a strange lump of fatty, spongy tissue of a waxy color. she hands it to riley. riley says thanks sis youre the best, love you! amy says no problem. riley says id kiss you if i wasnt elbow deep in this guys cunt right now. amy says kiss me after the surgerys done.

another two hours go by. the sounds of flesh being chopped, sawed, and stitched underscore riley and amys meaningless conversation about whether they HAVE to attend their acquaintance lisa's birthday party. riley says lisa probably wouldn't throw a birthday party if there wasn't some sort of scheme going on. amy agrees but says that doesnt indicate whether they should get involved with the scheme or not. you wonder dimly if you will ever feel your lower body again. you wonder if this is purgatory, an endless afternoon of lesbians bickering affectionately while one of them does surgery on you. you turn your head enough to look at the clock. its 5:26pm. where the fuck did the time go?

another hour passes. riley stands up. she is soaked up to her elbow in various bodily fluids - mostly blood, but youre not looking too closely. she says finally! she says just need to regrow your nerve cells now. you say is that going to take long? she says like twenty minutes maybe as she flips you over. you say ok. she jams a different needle into the same spot, injecting a strange yellow paste into your spine. she then flips you onto your back again. you feel brave enough to finally look at your crotch.

there is a completely normal human penis of average size there. you reach a hand down and touch it. you dont have any sensation in it yet since your nerves are all still dead, but it feels warm and soft under your hands. you smile, feeling tears come to your eyes. its over.

rileys talking. she says i followed your specifications except i had to cheat a bit on the nerves, you actually didnt have very many in your clit for whatever reason so your glans has maybe eight thousand fewer nerves than you wanted, sorry about that. she says i gave you balls in your scrotum for shape but since you said you didnt want kids they dont produce sperm. let me know if you want that changed she says. she says it should be fully functional in every respect, but if you notice any erectile dysfunction, incontinence, discoloration in urine or semen, priapism, or any other issue come back and we'll sort it out. if you notice it bleeding in ANY capacity, call me immediately. if im not answering call Amy, ill give you her number. if SHES not answering either then you can start seeing normal doctors, not that those idiots will know how to help you probably. if you want any changes to it call me and ill pencil you in to get it adjusted. get all that she asks. you nod. she says cool. she says itll be like $200, no rush if youre not able to pay right now. you say it might be a bit since youre still trying to pay interest on your student loan debt. wait, she says, they have student loans again? you nod. she says the world ended like thirty years ago, when did they set up student loans again? fuck, how much do you owe? you say a little under eighty thousand. she says jesus fuck, nevermind, its free. goddamn. you say thank you so much. she says yeah of course. do you want us to dress you or do you want to wait until you can move and do it yourself?

#wormblr #parahumans #worm spoilers #riley davis #riley grace davis #bonesaw #nsft #amy dallon #panacea #MY BELOVED GIRL. IS BACK #our writing #dr riley davis mde

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nothingweirdhere · 2 years

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bro i was trying to reblog that post about tama the stationmaster cat/god and her successors, but my phone died and i’ve spent over an hour trying to find it again and i CANT 😫😫😫😫

if anyone has the version of the post about tama that includes nitama, sun-tama-tama, and yontama, PLEASE send it. i have important information to add

#i’m so mad ok i spent a lot of time searching the info i was adding to that post #this happens to me constantly and it’s still the most aggravating experience ever #(my phone is always on low battery xP)#(tumblr and reddit should have autosave smh)#jx.txt

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bakugoushotwife · 7 months

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kinktober day four: voyeurism kink

>>> guys can you tell i have a choso fantasy or do i need to write another five thousand word fic to prove it i'm sobbing and actually in love with him fr. it took me days to write this bc i was just too feral.

>>> starring: choso kamo x curvy!fem!reader >>> cw: roommate choso, hung like a horse choso, virgin choso, voyeurism clearly, petnames, masturbation, cowgirl, implied multiple rounds, choso whimpers you're so welcome, choso smokes a blunt grow up >>> wc: 4.8k >>> event masterlist

this whole roommate ordeal seemed easy enough. you had a spare room in your condo, yuji had a spare brother that needed a place to stay after graduation. it worked out perfectly, as you weren’t too keen on having a rando move in. though the half-curse was little more than that, really. you had only come in contact with choso briefly, seeing him move through the halls of jujutsu tech in search of the very brother that recommended him to you. he was intimidating, tall and broad with a look of disinterest across his face every time you ran into him. yuji had told you that he wasn’t necessarily unfriendly, just unsure, so you were weary to approach him once he moved into the spare room. you didn’t want to overdo it, you would hate to make him uncomfortable with all these changes he was getting accustomed to. so for the first three months or so, you two would only exchange pleasantries and nod respectfully, two strangers sharing an address and lingering curious stares. then, one morning you offered to make him breakfast, and you two settled into a comfortable friendship after that.

Nowadays, nearly a year later, the living area was actually used and shared. you watched recommended shows together, introduced each other to your favorite movies, and oftentimes just sat in each other’s presence on the couch; on your phones, playing nintendo switch games, or passing choso’s best attempt at a blunt between you while shit talking your neighbors with your legs in his lap. you even encouraged him to invest in a real gaming setup, where he plays a host of different games for hours while you sit contently in the bean bag chair stationed nearby in his room, reading or crafting or just watching from time to time. the more comfortable he became, the more fun he was to be around. he was no longer shy to ask you to sit with him while he plays or to inquire about your latest book and his smiles and conversations flowed more freely.

he enjoys your presence. it’s easy to be around you. he wonders why. even with all the progress he had made with you, he was still terribly awkward around new people and his social battery was limited. he never got tired of hanging out with you though, in fact, he craves it always. yuji says that it’s because you’re pretty, which choso can’t disagree with, though his brother’s statement irritates him for no good reason.

he finds himself wondering if his brother knows you the way he does, silly things about you like which animal crossing character you would reincarnate as or the fact you hate grape flavored anything—it all tastes like cough syrup!--he can hear you say. no, he gets to see the real you, the one you reserve just for him. so yuji can think you’re pretty all he wants, but he’s the one who gets to see your breathtaking smiles in reaction to something he said.

“bro?! still there–or are you too busy being jealous?” yuji snickers, relishing in the match he made. he knew choso would wake up with a babe like you walking around.

“you’re a child. and a dick.” he huffs, aggravated by his spacey sibling’s acute sense of his feelings. “goodbye.” he taps to end their weekly gaming marathon facetime two hours short out of annoyance, confronted with the silence of his bedroom and his questioning thoughts about you. jealous? as much as he hated to admit it, maybe he was. he couldn't even picture the thought of you being with someone else, try as he might. did that mean he wanted to be that person? your person? he’s so confused, but he knows even if he’s embarrassed he can talk to you about it. you could help him work through his feelings and come to a solution. even if the feelings were about you, he knows you would always be honest with him. he sighs, deciding to make his way to your room down the hall.

you two didn’t spend a lot of time apart now that the bond had been created, and you were more than alright with that routine, because on fridays, choso holed up in his room for five straight hours to facetime yuji and play video games giving you some much needed time to yourself. you always started with a long and intricate shower, doing all your different exfoliants and masks. then you’d touch up your nails and give yourself a total spa treatment, finishing up by putting on your cutest little panties and releasing some of the pent up sexual frustration for your roommate that you keep under lock and key for the same reasons you were hesitant to cross into friendship territory all those months ago: you don’t want to scare him away.

so you settle for your own small hands cupping your chest and pinching at your nipples, trying to picture him. It’s choso’s large and veiny hands that run down your sides and spread your legs instead of your own toying with your underwear. you can smell the versace eros cologne he wears wafting through your nose, almost able to hear his gravelly voice in your ear praising you for doing so good. it’s almost embarrassing how easy it is to conjure the image of him sinking between your thighs, lust pooling in his violet eyes. you’re soaked already, feeling the fabric of your panties sticking to your cunt just at your active imagination. you peel them off, hissing as cold air blows across your middle, but your fingers quickly find the heat of your hole, gathering that natural lube to flick your clit with. your eyes are closed—whining helplessly already at the sensation you bring yourself with him in mind. it’s nowhere near the real deal, but the bliss is good enough to lull pants of his name from your mouth, body light as air.

choso doesn’t think anything of your closed door. you told him you keep it closed to let him have his space, not wanting him to feel like you’re watching or eavesdropping on him while he’s on the phone. especially as he got close enough to reach for your door handle, hearing you call his name. you sounded…strained? in all honesty he was worried. so he doesn’t hesitate to push the door open a bit, peeking to check. his heart drops into his stomach at the sight of you naked on your bed. you’re stunning. he’s seen pictures of other women—and yuji showed him a few websites—but your body was second to none. his hand flew to cover his immediate hard on, shocked you hadn’t noticed him yet. fuck, you are gorgeous, one hand squeezing at your breast, the other playing around in that squelching noise he hears between your legs. he fights the urge to moan aloud or announce his presence, and he’s ashamed of himself. he feels like he’s betraying your trust, but his dick keeps growing in his pants at the chants of his name spilling out of your lips. he watches as your legs jerk and your head falls back against your pillow, making him think you were almost done. he had to get out before you saw him or felt his unique energy so close to you. he’s panting as he shuts the door quietly, turning the knob just so it wouldn’t alert you.

his dick hurts as he makes it just one room down—the bathroom. perfect. he turns the shower on immediately, stripping his clothes off like they were on fire. he had set out to talk to you, to be completely honest about the thoughts he had been having, but seeing you like that did things to him words could not. he’s been horny before, of course, and dealt with that the way single human men do. but this—the desire coursing through his veins—this was different. so different. everything was clear now, he needed you. he stands with his back under the water, whimpering as his dick throbs to the mental image of your glistening pussy and blissed out face. he can’t help but close his fist around the his wide shaft, stuttering out a sigh in relief. he strokes himself to the same rhythm you moved your fingers, imagining how that pace would feel with your wet and warm cunt hugging him in instead of the rough surface of his hand. his other hand keeps him braced on the shower wall, steadying him through the searing heat the promises of your touch seem to be; to think that you were calling for him, thinking of him in the way he thinks of you now felt like a dream. he had to be hearing things, that’s the only excuse the man can summon. water beads down his biceps and chest, and it just makes his dirty deed all that much more so, fucking into his fist until his load is running down the side of the tub, the pearly beads getting swept away in the water and carried down the drain. he tosses his head back in the shower stream, his long black strands sticking to his face and neck as he tries to rinse away his shame.

that night, choso doesn’t come out of his room to watch a movie with you before bed. you pout, but try not to linger on it too long. maybe yuji took a lot out of him today, or they didn’t have a successful time on and he was moody. either way, you weren’t going to bother him. you hang out on the couch like usual with the hopes that he would emerge soon, but as your bedtime nears and everything remains still, you slink off to your room with a sour mood to end an otherwise normal day.

as the days pass, choso’s behavior gets weirder and weirder. it’s almost as if he’s completely reverted inside his shell he made when he moved in, only emerging to get food when he had hoped you weren’t around. the times in which he did inevitably run into you were dealt in nervous laughter and denials that anything was wrong with him. it didn’t take a genius to figure out that he was lying, hiding something from you even. you were slightly hurt that he didn’t trust you enough to talk to you, instead of going backwards and shutting you out. you wanted to wait it out, but as the days turned into a full week, you feared losing him altogether.

you stewed over the situation the entire time you were at work. you couldn’t even get anything accomplished because you were too preoccupied wondering what you had done to wound your connection. spending your days alone was maddening. a little over a year ago, you would have relished in the peace and quiet, but now it was unwelcome. you only wanted quiet if it was filled with the subtle sounds of pages turning or the buttons of a controller smashing or shared breathing during the climax of a show. this was haunting, and you knew you had to do something. you left work early, faking a stomach ache in order to get home and corner choso into relenting. no more miss nice roommate. you were tired of letting him be all weird and distant. so you walked in unceremoniously, not necessarily out to scare him. you shake your sandals off by the door and walk towards his room, noting that his door was actually open for once.

that was only because you weren’t supposed to be home for three and a half more hours, giving choso plenty of time to relive his dirty fantasies of you with the least amount of guilt possible, though he could barely look you in the eye these days. if you weren’t home, he could at least not worry about you catching him in his perverted acts, only dealing with the shame that flows in after he’s came for the millionth time to the image of your legs quivering and mouth parting in pleasure. he didn’t hear you sneak in–didn’t hear you shuffle down the hall to poke your head around the doorframe. he was dead to the outside world, his hips stuttering into his hand, thumb swiping the pre-cum that beaded there around his slit, stroking himself with whimpers of your name tumbling out, his eyes scrunched tight in concentration.

your jaw was on the floor, never in a million years imagining that he even knew how to touch himself like that, not to mention the prayers of your name on his tongue, mirroring the ones you make for him on fridays. he was massive, it had you covering your mouth in shock. even with his huge hand, it seemed like pumping himself was a tall task. you couldn’t imagine trying to do it yourself, you’re not even sure two hands would do the trick— you must have gasped aloud or something, because suddenly his head snaps toward where you stand in the doorway.

“y/n–you’re–” his dark eyes are wide, his lips parted in realization that you had really caught him jerking off and mewling your name like a helpless perv. as the guilt starts to creep in, the haze of need and desire clouds his mind. he never lets go of himself, all too aware of your lip between your teeth and your hardened nipples poking through your top—no, you shouldn’t be seeing this, you shouldn’t even be home yet! not to mention how ashamed you should be of your own roommate rutting into his hand.

“...i’m home.” you whisper back, a slight smirk creeping onto your face. despite the red blush spreading across his cheeks, he keeps fucking up into his hand. it’s salacious, and you can feel your body responding to the sight, unsurprisingly. you’ve been picturing him naked for months, and not even your lewd imagination gave him justice. every plane on his body was sculpted and defined, thick veins running down his arms and thighs and cock. he left his hair down, some of the strands tucked behind his ear, some of them hung over his brows and cheekbones. he gulped when he noticed your stare, your eyes locked on the thick cock in his hand, curved with an angry and needy tip.

“y/n, i’m so so sorr–” he scrambles to sit up, the heavy reality finally sinking in. he was awful, sick in the head, you were going to have him pack his shit immediately, and he’d have to tell all his friends why you had gotten rid of him.

“need some help?” you spit out, unable to tolerate the pounding in your chest and pussy. his eyes grow impossibly wider, blood rushing in his ears. did he understand you right? he couldn’t possibly.

“wh-what?” he sputtered, sitting up slightly to try and hide himself from view a bit, as if you hadn’t seen every bit of him already.

“i asked if you wanted my help. you were saying my name, weren’t you?” you tease gently, stepping further into his room, your hands innocently folded behind your back. now that you know your desire is shared, you felt confident enough to push your relationship further yet again. he nods hesitantly, watching you stalk over to the bed like a lioness about to pounce.

“i–yes, it’s not what you think. i know it looks–”

“like you were jacking off and thinking about me? is that not…what you were doing?” you hum, pausing by the foot of his bed. you look so cute, he has to believe you know what you’re doing, folding your arms under your voluptuous chest just to taunt him a bit more. you have him backed into a corner, and he either had to admit the truth or come up with a very clever lie. and he is not a gifted liar.

“i–yeah…” he looks away, feeling the shame weighing down on him now that you had confronted him with the undeniable truth.

you chuckle warmly. “i do the same thing, ‘cept I’m thinking of you.” you shrug, the smirk growing on your face as realization seeps into his. he didn’t misunderstand you that day or even earlier in this conversation. you want him too. he swallows thickly again, remembering the day that started all of this.

“i–i know, i saw you, last week.” he chokes out as you take your top off, revealing yourself to him. He’d noticed your lack of bra earlier, but didn’t expect to be blessed with the sight of your body again, especially as you bend at the hips to wiggle out of your pants. Your laughter surprises him again, like he had intentionally made a joke. but it was only because he had solved the mystery that led you to his room in the first place, and that would potentially resolve any secrets you had been keeping from one another.

“so that’s why you’ve been avoiding me?” you scrunch your nose at him adorably as you crawl onto the bed, his eyes glued to the body that had him locked in his bedroom day and night. “oh choso, i wish you would have interrupted me…i surely woulda let you help me.” you purr, so close to him that he could reach out and touch you now, and he definitely thinks about just grabbing your hips and pulling you down on him, finally feeling that glistening pussy for himself—to hell with his imagination, but your voice interrupts his thoughts again.

“so, do you want me to help you, baby?” you glance from the hard length in his hands to his deep purple eyes, swirling with something you recognize very well to be deep desire.

“please–” he whimpered and let his hand fall away from his pelvis, looking to you like a pathetic boy getting his teenage dreams fulfilled. Your grin grows wide, and you lean closer to brush your hand across his toned abdomen. he lets out a pleased little grunt and his cock jumps at the simple touch

“you’ve never been with anyone, have you?” you asked, faces so close he can see every freckle and dimple and scar on your skin. he shakes his head. you peck the tip of his nose. he’s already shivering, the feeling of your body leaning over his was exhilarating. your kiss was so simple and sweet, but it stopped all the thoughts in his brain. he was just malleable now, ready to let you make him feel good, finally shifting from imagination to reality. “need you to talk to me, so i can know where you’re at, cho.”

“no, no..never.” he shakes his head again, eying you with excitement and nerves all at once. he wants to touch you, and you’ve already stripped naked and kissed him, so surely there was no going back now, so he reaches up and places his hands on your hips—so light like he was afraid to hurt you.

you grin at both his answer and his courageous touch, nodding your encouragement, “that’s fine, i’ll help you…just do what feels natural–you can go as hard as you want., and tell me if you want to stop.” your eyes blink at him sweet he realizes he would trust you with his life if you asked.

“okay.” he lets your words wash over him, nodding as he grips your hips a little tighter. he’s more than embraced his fate, his mouth watering a bit at the idea that you were in his bed and offering to make all his fantasies come true. you were expecting him to keep that deer in a headlights look, but when you rake your fingernails across his chest, you watch his eyes darken a bit more. “kiss me?”

choso looks so cute, you couldn’t deny him if you wanted to. his eyebrow raised with innocence, but his eyes shrouded in arousal. you giggle softly and lean up, sliding your hands over his pecs and shoulders and into those dark locks calling your name. you tug, and he gasps softly. you take that opportunity to cover his parted lips with your own, his head falling back to accommodate you as you fully crawl into his lap. he melts, you feel and taste so impossibly good he’s concerned he may bust over the kiss. your tongue moves so expertly against his, twirling around and sucking on the muscle in a way he didn’t know people employed. then you’re sitting on his abs, and he can feel so much at once. his eyes blow wide in the kiss, and he has to pull away to gasp again and see what you’re doing to him.

you’re simply sitting, your pretty shining pussy rubbing against his core and his dick teasing the crack of your ass. that must be what’s driving him insane, the warmth and softness providing some but not enough friction. you wiggle your ass a bit to tease him, and he whimpers. the sound is so sweet and low you know you can’t handle playing with the shy little virgin much longer.

“i–is th–that sup’posed to f-feel that go–ngh, good?” he stammers, the hold on your hips bordering bruising. he doesn’t even realize, and you certainly don’t mind, so you only smile and nod down at him, reaching for his chin with your fingers. he makes you look so small without even trying, the broad expanse of his body, wide jaw and thick legs—not to mention the monstrous cock rocking against your behind, your own need soaking his happy trail to the skin beneath. you move his gaze from your sensual movements back to your sultry gaze. yuji was wrong. pretty was such a mild way to describe the woman on his lap. you were more a kin to a goddess, something not fully human like him.

“i was hoping to give you the full treatment, but i don’t think you’ll mind if i skip to the main event?” you bite your lip, your other hand scraping at his scalp a little bit. no, of course he didn’t mind. sometimes you were so silly. he nods fervently, remembering that he needed to find his voice, to not seem like such a coward when he wanted this so badly.

“no—please,” he whimpers again, feeling the drip of your liquid on him. it dawns on him then that you’re just as needy, and you still wanted him even though you’d have to teach him what to do. you didn’t seem worried, maybe it was easier than he thought. but all he knows is that his balls are starting to hurt and he had never felt more buzzed in his entire life, sensitive to every move you make. “i need you so bad, oh sh–”

you scoot back, lifting yourself up a little to align him with your entrance. his whimpers and begs were so fucking amazing, you wish you had it in you to milk it. you make the mental note to keep him begging when you show him what it feels like to have his dick sucked or whimpering when he eats your cunt for the first time. he’s so heavy in your hand, and you can’t even close your fist around him. it makes you shudder, knowing that you’re going to make him fit inside you no matter the stretch. his tip was so red and irritated, oozing pre. you swiped it over his head, humming in amusement as he jerks and whines at the feeling.

“you’re massive, d’you know that?” you pout, sinking down a few inches. he moans at first, feeling like his cock was fit into a perfect sleeve. it’s unreal, the heat he feels in his gut as you rock further down on him, whining at how huge he was. he watches the pained faces you make halfway down, the concern clear on his face. he didn’t know he was that big—he hadn’t really been comparing, but if it was hurting you, he wondered what he could do. he remembers watching you play with that sensitive spot at the apex of your thighs, using your own slick to glide around. he thinks he could replicate that, so he sticks his fingers in his mouth, spitting a bit to make sure they were just as wet as you were. you take more of him, almost to his base all while panting and bracing yourself on his chest with your eyes screwed shut. he reaches toward you, swiping his fingers around the place he watched you toy with. you gasp out and sit all the way down, the noises you make as he touches you make his eyes widen again.

“god—i’m so full, baby.” you nod, your hips moving forward automatically, searching for more of that searing feeling he brings to your clit. he surprises you, moving his digits in slow circles as you get accustomed to his size. he chokes slightly when you squeeze him, his eyes zeroed in on your face.

“are you alright?” he asks softly, feeling your nails dig into his chest as your hips move faster now, any other words he had wanted to say sucked from his brain like he had no thoughts at all, nothing other than that vice-grip of a pussy you have locked around him, bouncing softly and leaving little half-moons in his skin.

“mhm, just had to stretch a bit t’fit you, are you alright?” you grin as you ask, knowing he would struggle to respond—in the best way possible. he nods eagerly, eyes flickering from where you swallow him up to your soft face of bliss.

“are you kidding? i’m—” you rock on him a bit faster, the feeling of wet and choking walls rubbing every possible spot had him sputtering, unable to speak. he’s only able to watch you run a hand through your mane, keeping it out of your face and away from your bouncing tits. he’s in heaven. being with a woman, no, being with you, was as all the eternal bliss he cared to know.

his hips start to move, the hold he has on your hips trailing up to the curves of your waist to better hold you down. he didn’t realize how much more intense he would make this feel for the both of you, grunts and whines spilling from his lips as you begin to cry out and yell. it’s heavenly, the way you let him drive into you, leaning forward with one hand on the headboard and the other tugging his head towards your chest. he contains his pathetic pants by sucking your nipple in his mouth, laving his tongue over it, mind so drunk and hazy he can only be driven by his primal instincts, flat footed on the bed to plow into you from below.

it’s so perfect. you scream his name way better than he ever imagined, and he doesn’t mind to bear the scratch marks of your passion. you keep squeezing around him, and it drives him crazy.

“i–i love when you do that—clenching down on me like that, fuck.” He grunts, slowly getting his knees under him while you sloppily keep the pace. he uses the leverage to ease you to your back, though you don’t have the luxury of pillows or a headboard, only the mattress beneath you as choso realizes this positioning lets him piston his hips without you having to do any work at all. you’re wailing, nodding to keep him from worrying about you as you continuously claw at his back and shoulders.

“choso baby—” you whine in such a way, he knows he’s going to bust in seconds. “you’re gonna make me cum, please–doin’ so good, ngh—ack!” you cry, legs tightening around his waist as he feels a significant increase of your fluids. feeling and watching you cum by his doing was the nail in the coffin—the way your face screwed up in pure pleasure brought him his own, his pelvis stilling against the mounds of your backside, cock twitching against your womb before your vision is blurry, and all you feel is warmth seeping out of you. his load leaked out around him inside you, his cock still pulsating with no signs of dying down.

he smiles at you a little shyly, his cheeks rosy and eyes hazy with the aftershocks of such a gripping orgasm. he watches your chest heave as you calm down, your eyes fluttering open and a smile spreading across your face as you look up at him.

“what do i do now? to take care of you?” he asks, absentmindedly stroking the creases where your thighs meet your hips. you giggle and shake your head, knowing it would take multiple rounds for his erection to die down.

“i show you the full treatment now, baby.” you grin, wiggling your eyebrows.

choso found himself immersed in exploring himself and your body, discovering several new kinks to enjoy with his sweet little roommate turned lover.

#kyleewritesjjk #kylee's kinktober event #kinktober 2023 #kinktober #choso x reader #jujustsu kaisen x reader #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen smut #choso smut #choso x voyeurism #jjk choso #choso kamo #choso

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sophsicle · 3 months

Note

im not being mean or anything and not judging u at all but why don’t u like taylor??? im just curious bc there is some reasons why u could not like her

I MEAN okay. first things first. taylor swift is fine. like she is totally fine. i don't think she's a villain or anything. she has a fan base that is loud, and obnoxious, and currently dominating the public sphere and so if you are someone who doesn't WORSHIP her (hm hm *me*) it gets to be just a little annoying.

like there are t swift songs i bop out to. i don't have a fundamental problem with her. it is more the way she is spoken about that starts to get on my nerves.

and like. y'know. i don't think her winning album of the year again is something to celebrate. she's grammy bait. pretty lil blond girl who makes palatable pop music. im with jay-z on this one. in general i think she is someone of mediocre ability who has received praise far surpassing what she deserves which, is not her fault, but i find the god-like status she has acquired aggravating

the other thing is that taylor swift has a tendency to adopt political causes exclusively to the extent that they financially benefit her.

she presents herself, especially in her netflix documentary, as someone who wants to be an activist for causes, but she is quite frequently silent about things that she could clearly have a huge impact on *cough cough* Palestine*cough cough*

AND BEFORE someone comes at me with the whole "why do you need celebrities to speak about political issues blah blah blah" two things

like i said, taylor swift has specifically placed herself in this conversation

she doesn't HAVE to do anything, im not saying throw her in jail, but, you know, when you have all the power and all the money and you consistently choose not to use it (except, again, in very specific situations that benefit you) i don't respect you

taylor swift's carbon footprint just from her private jet, not her whole lifestyle, but just her private jet, is unconscionable and that is a specific her problem, like the negative impact she is having on the environment is extreme even when compared to other celebrities, which I’m so sorry, makes her an asshole

taylor swifts specific brand of uneducated white feminism that she tends to weaponize against, usually other women but, people in general, who she just feels are being mean to her is annoying and not helpful to anyone but her

her pursuit of a sexual harassment case as a spring board to launch a new album, just to several years later publicly associate with a man charged with aggravated sexual battery feels hypocritical

LIKE there are worse people in the world

but she does not have the talent or the moral fibre of someone worthy of the adoration she receives

#soph rambles

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shattersstar · 10 months

Text

jealousy.

pairing: bodyguard!jason todd x reader

prompt: you’re mine by phantogram

a/n: 2/3 <33 enjoy

—

The hum of the bathroom fan seemed to echo in your ears as you watched Jason behind you in the mirror. His fingers toyed gently with the fabric of your dress, trying to free your long sweeping necklace from the fabric. It had gotten caught, pulling tight on your throat until Jason unclasped it. It left no mark, but it seemed Jason couldn’t help himself when his thumb smoothed over the side of your neck before taking you by the elbow to the secluded washroom. The stalls were empty, but he still locked the door. Perhaps embarrassed by his display of affection, his lack of professionalism partially exposed to the bustling room. You twisted around to look at the chain now dangling from the back of your dress, huffing at the sight. Jason didn’t say anything as he shuffled you to the sinks, the lights around the stretching mirror were much brighter.

“This is probably the most aggravating thing I’ve ever done.” He mumbled, quickly meeting your gaze in the mirror with a warm grin. You returned it with an airy laugh.

“On the job or in life?”

He paused for a moment, “Maybe both.” You laughed again.

The sounds of the party livened up at that moment, a flurries of claps as the band swung into a faster paced song. You turned your head to the door, but did not miss the excitement. You were content with your quiet moment, Jason’s hands toying and tugging on you with care. He let out another huff before squatting beside you, you looked down at him, wondering how the chains looped themselves into the fabric like so, but appreciating the care he took in not to ruin the dress nor the necklace.

“You can just break it y’know.” You decided suddenly, watching him peer up at you with a confused expression.

“Okay, I’m not that aggravated.” He reasoned before standing back at his full height. You hummed, looking back to the mirror and taking in your appearance. You were tired, legs aching from standing around all night talking with people you only half cared for. The small group of friends you had come with vanished an hour earlier, and while you were content in Jason’s company, the night itself was dragging on. You were ready to head home, but appearances had you here for another two hours at least. And Jason might have been hired as your body guard, but he was also getting paid to make sure you attended events on top of keeping you safe. Normally it was easy to bear the smiles and mindless chitchat, but Jason had been so bold tonight, you knew it the moment his grin turned wolfish at the sight of you dressed for the casino event.

While he often lurked in corners, against walls and surveying the crowd while you mingled, he had no issue keeping himself close by tonight. Always in distance to reach over and graze the curve of your elbow to get your attention, or send you glances when someone said something of note. You were sure Jason’s close proximity was partially because on top of the fundraiser, the casino floor was open to their usual patrons. Slots singing and voices calling cards turned to dull chatter, as drunk bodies flowed through the sprawling space. He was on edge, but you knew it wasn’t just the event. From the moment he picked you up from your apartment and ogled at you without a care, to his brave touches, thumb brushing against the overheated skin of your neck and all, but dragging you to the bathroom to fix something so minute—Jason wanted a moment alone with you as badly as you wanted one with him. It made you smile, wishing the ache in your legs or the pounding starting to grow in your head would vanish.

It was a hectic space that had drained your social battery like no other. You huffed, bending at the hips to rest your elbows on the counter while Jason let out a low sigh that almost sounded like a whistle. “Hey, watch it.” He muttered, hands noticeable not tugging at your dress any longer. You dipped your head forward, nose almost pressing to the cool marble before you tried to sneak a glance at Jason in the mirror. You locked eyes immediately and a small smile pulled at the corners of your mouth. You were never one to challenge his professionalism so boldly, but you two were locked away from prying eyes, and you both couldn’t deny his composure was faltering earlier.

“My feet hurt.” You reasoned, earning a quick dry laugh. Did it really call for you to be bent over in front him when you could just take off your shoes or sit on the counter, no of course not, but Jason didn’t seem to be in an arguing mood with your flimsy logical as he shifted to your side. One of his hands smoothing over the curve of your hip before the other roamed over your partially bare back, flattening his palm against the skin. He pressed his thumb to the centre of your spine, glancing sideways at you in the mirror with a glint in his eyes that was anything, but angry. It was teasing and warm because while you both knew he did enjoy his job, Jason loved breaking rules more than anything. At his heart, core level—whatever—Jason loved forgetting his role as solely a protector, and being something more when no one was around. He wanted to indulge in a life he didn’t have access to for so long, as well you. Indulge in your beautiful body and dangerous scheming eyes. You felt so real and good under his fingertips, even if his touches remained innocent.

He squeezed your waist before his fingers brushed over the chain, “This goddamn necklace,” He grumbled, yanking on it lightly before you leaned into the movement. “Fuck.” He breathed even quieter and you grinned a little wildly against your forearm before pushing yourself back up. You stood at your full height and shook out each of your ankles before Jason managed to unloop the last link.

“Thank you.” You said as he placed it in your hand. Jason only leaned his forehead into your shoulderblade, lips pressing a kiss to the bare skin as a response. You were about to lean your head against his when Jason bit down on your shoulder for a quick second. You yelped and slapped his arm while he mended the bite with another kiss. You only waved him off with an amused grin, tossing your bothersome necklace into your bag before letting Jason lead you out of the bathroom.

Your quiet moment was over, senses overwhelmed once you stepped back onto the casino floor. Your friends were finally in sight, calling you over with laughter bubbling from their mouths already. You turned around to let Jason know where you were headed when you realized he wasn’t behind you. You felt lost for a minute, struck with a minor sense of panic before your eyes fell on him. A few paces behind and arm being held by an older woman who seemed rather friendly. Any thought of reuniting with your friends vanished as you found yourself being compelled towards the duo. Jason caught sight of you in his peripheral, sending you an unreadable expression that had you stop a few feet away. The woman seemed to notice your presence only then, glancing over at you which seemed to snap Jason out of whatever revere she had put him in.

“This is an old client—“

“Don’t call me old!” She teased, slapping the arm she held playfully and making something in your mouth go sour. “Jason was just telling me about his work since coming back to Gotham, you don’t mind if I steal him for a few minutes more? Old friends catching up and all that?”

You blinked between the two of them, half waiting to Jason to interject or someone to shoot you dead, “Uh—no, its no problem.”

“I’ll walk you to your car, you said you were heading out right?” Jason urged, any boyish charm from your private moment gone as he spoke in that calculated voice you had grown used to.

You stood there for a moment, nodding to yourself before boycotting a formal goodbye and heading back towards your friends. You did glance back over your shoulder, expecting to find Jason watching you, but he was leaned in close, speaking into her ear as they headed towards the exit. It made your jaw click, something inside of you turning icy cold. You didn’t know why that made you feel so strange, so possessive and annoyed. She was just someone he used to work for, and you were bound to run into an old employer of his. It all made logical sense and yet you were so undeniably jealous, your friends could read something was wrong clearly on your face.

“Hey, is everything okay? You look pissed.” One of them asked, you couldn’t even tell who in the sea of voices and thoughts rushing your head.

“Yeah, some old client was just all over my bodyguard it was weird.” You explained, trying to sound more confused than hurt.

“Oh we saw that, are you like gonna be okay? Safe I mean?” You only nodded, it was too much to explain all the levels of protocol and security Jason established for moments he couldn’t be near by.

“Well at least its out in the open now.”

“What is?” You asked, still reeling when their next words broke something inside of you.

“I mean c’mon, your bodyguard is so fine, like holy hell he’s unreal.” They all erupted with laughter, agreeing with the statement while you were surprised this had never come up before. Though, stating the obvious—that you were now accompanied by a gorgeous man—would bring up questions, raise things you weren’t ready to lie about. You didn’t even know if you could, let alone wanted to lie to your loved ones. And for how long? Your throat felt thick, too many variables swirled around your head to think straight. You needed air, water, your bed—anything.

“Yeah, I get that a lot—I’ll uh be right back I need a drink—“ You left without another word, leaving a piece of honesty with your friends before the conversation could devolve into anything more. It was true that so many middled aged women fawned over how handsome Jason was, how lucky you were too. Your parent’s friends were particularly insufferable in that regard, but it had always been innocent. Funny even, but knowing your friends had an eye on him, and old clients jumped at the chance to touch and talk to him made it harder to hide your jealousy. The possessive side of you that wanted to scream that no one would ever get to see the side of Jason you did, no one brought that out of him like you did because he told you so. You were the only one Jason’s ever been more than just a bodyguard for, and you know if you stopped paying him, he wouldn’t only stay with you romantically, but he’d still protect you.

You wanted to throw that in everyone’s face, but as you weaved through the crowd towards the second floor bar, you wondered if Jason felt any of this too. You knew what he had told you, and what you felt, but did anger and jealousy toil in him at the secret you two were bound to keep. Was it hard for him to see you dressed up and flirted with, to always be kept at a distance. You were always able to give more of yourself to him, the job demanded that, but did it bother him that boundaries he had to keep? You felt so incredibly selfish and blind for being so upset with him, for being so enraptured in your own feelings you felt wildly inconsiderate of Jason’s. You were beyond distracted, unaware of Jason’s presence catching sight of your figure at the top of the steps, or the fact you were stepping on the hem of your dress. You didn’t fall, but stumbled forward, one of your knees hitting the carpeted floor with enough force it could bruise.

You cursed, hands pressing into the ground as you tried to push yourself up before you even really finished tripping. One of the bartenders had made their way over, but you didn’t even acknowledge the hand extended out to you before another grasped your elbow. You nearly jumped at the touch of their cold hands on your bare skin, but when Jason’s concerned expression fell into view, your angry crumpled almost entirely. He helped you stand to your full height, keeping his hand on you while you kicked the fabric from underneath your feet. His free hand gathered the excess fabric of your skirt, lifting the hem to your ankles while linking your arms. He sent a nod and thanks to the bartender before turning to you.

He led you towards the bar, nose brushing your hairline, “Are you okay?” You pulled away, only minimally to take in his expression, find what you had refused to see before. Jason’s brows furrowed at your action, “What?” He asked, stern, but earnestly confused.

Nervous even.

You looked away, unable to find your voice as he let go of you. He pulled out one of the bar stools for you before taking a seat in the one next to you. He sat facing you, long legs brushing the fabric billowing down the side of your chair.

“Did something ha—“

“No, nothing like that. Nothing to worry about.” You found yourself speaking, hand darting out to rest on his knee as you did. You didn’t want him to be focused on work right now, and you knew you couldn’t ask that of Jason, not here, but making him worry pointlessly was just cruel. “Who was that woman?” You asked instead, testing the waters. You didn’t want your jealousy to bleed into your voice for the sake of your embarrassment and Jason’s emotional burden. He didn’t need to grapple with your somewhat unbridled anger at a person you had met once and one he seemed to have a good relationship with no less.

“An old client, like I said.” He huffed, the irritation lacing Jason’s tone didn’t help quell the anger he had nearly extinguished with his mere presence earlier.

“Oh…kay.” You responded tentatively, letting your hand slip from his leg as you turned your attention to the bar top.

He huffed again, “What?”

“I dunno know, thought you would have more to say. Explain.” You shrugged, trying to keep Jason out of your periphery, but he beckoned you with his intense gaze alone. The quick look you sent him made your heart rate pick up, anger rolled off of him in waves as your approach suddenly blew up in your face.

“Explain? Explain what? Myself? Did I do something where I have to explain myself to—“

“No, no, no thats not what I meant Jay.”

“Then what did you mean? Hmm?” You groaned in the back of your throat before turning to face him properly, your legs pressed into his as you looked at him straight on.

“She seemed really possessive over you and it bothered me. I wanted to know if you had anything to say about that and I’m sorry I asked like an ass. It was just…weird for me.” You explained, doing your best to hold his gaze and honour his anger. “I’m not saying I’m justified in how I feel, but its just how I feel.”

“What do you mean?” He asked quieter, leaning forward. Your brows twitched at the question before Jason specified, “How do you feel?”

“Oh, yeah, well, y’know…” You gestured vaguely, making him breathe out a laugh that brought a smile to your face before embarrassment started to settle in. “Sort of, equally or more so possessive of you.”

“Jealous?”

You cringed a little at the sentiment, but nodded nonetheless. “And I know I shouldn’t be, but my friends said something stupid too and its just like…your you and I’ve known that, but it was just like that reality kept slapping me in the face.“

“And then you tripped.” Jason added.

You laughed this time, “Yeah, then I nearly ate shit on the stairs.”

“Are you worried about me—us?” He mumbled after a beat of silence that felt like peace slowly returning to your chest.

“No, I honestly felt shittier for feeling jealous than actually feeling it. It doesn’t happen often and its usually not that serious, today has just been a lot, but I don’t know how you feel about all of this.” You wanted everything swirling around your mind to be aired out now.

“How I feel?” Jason echoed, something surprised hidden in his tone. It made your heart break from him just slightly, bleeding for him as it often did. “You mean jealous?”

You nodded, wanting him to have the space to say what he wanted to say. Instead Jason barked out a laugh, almost surprised you were bringing this up. Your brows twitched and you were worried he was mad again. You opened your mouth to speak, but the glint in his eyes mirrored the one he had wore all evening. Jason was pushing out of his chair and helping you out of yours before you could comprehend, letting him lead you deeper into the casino it seemed, some hallway you were sure was reserved for staff, but deserted nonetheless.

You leaned against the wall, while Jason hovered in the centre of the hall. It seemed like the distance was calculated, purposeful. You gestured for him to speak, but all Jason did was let out a low chuckle, gaze falling to the ground between your bodies while he shook his head. “Jay we don’t have to talk about this—“

“But you want too?” God—he was full of questions today. He still wouldn’t look at you and for the first time ever you couldn’t read him. It was what had drawn Jason to you, how quickly you saw through him and all his shit. It made him smile when he thought about it, but you wouldn’t be able to see that anyways.

“I wanted to be honest, it crossed my mind heavily that I was being kinda inconsiderate towards you and your feelings. Sure I hate the…distance between us sometimes, but I never thought about how it difficult it is for you.”

He was silent, the tense air swollen with your palpable anxiety as a long moment passed. Jason stood staring at the floor, while you reeled, had you pissed him off, had he never considered this, had you misread something?

And then he spoke, low and slow, like he was unsure how the words fit in his mouth. “Baby I spend every second jealous at these fucking events. Every person who gets to be around you for longer than five minutes is someone I hope tests me—and that woman? Don’t ever be jealous of her, or any client that I used to work for, their the reason I left Gotham and,” He took a breath, shifting closer while you stared at Jason with wide eyes. “And you’re the reason I stay.”

You opened your mouth once, than twice before realizing you didn’t have the words to respond. Only a saucer eyed stare, and heavy breaths were offered. Jason took that as an invitation to keep going, his dress shoes nudging yours as he moved closer. “And its sweet—so fucking sweet—you’re worried about me, about how I feel, but sweetheart, as long as I’m the person taking you home—I don’t care,” Jason crowded your space, nose brushing yours as your hands found the lapels of his suit. You smoothed over them, trying so hard not to wrinkle the fabric in yours fists as his nose brushed your bottom lip.

“No one gets to see the side of you that I do.” You murmured, urging his eyes back up to yours. They were alight with something dangerous, but his grin, crooked and conniving told you enough. You had hit the mark, had understood what he felt so clearly because you felt it too.

He breathed out a chuckle, “Exactly.”

Then Jason kissed you, and while you two had kissed before, this was something else, something words felt too simple for. It was a travesty to have to keep Jason at a distance when he felt so real under your palms and his mouth tasted so good against yours. His hand found its way to your jaw, tilting your head back as his fingers massaged the skin there. You were pressed into the wall, but didn’t mind the cold against your back as he continued to kiss you open. His teeth found your bottom lip, tugging before he mended his harshness with an opened mouth kiss. He licked his way into your mouth then, his hold on your jaw tightening ever so slightly as he let himself explore, kiss you without inhibition or care. You knew this moment wouldn’t last, that the job would come first and you’d spend another hour miserable and wanton.

The thought threatened to sour your mood, but you were to wrapped up in Jason’s mouth moving against yours to let it. You fumbled with your clutch as he continued his assault, pressing softer kisses to your lips before trailing to where his fingers held onto you. His tongue slid over your jaw, making your knees shudder before he left a wet kiss there. You managed to open your bag without sight, Jason preoccupied with his ministrations to notice you wound the long chain of your necklace around your hand a few times before yanking with the other one. The twinkling sound of gold loops raining onto the marble floor broke Jason out of his revere as your necklace seemingly shattered. He stepped back, as more fell, splayed out on the floor and individual or broken sections of the chain now caught in the skirt.

Jason’s gaze snapped from the ground to your eyes. “You didn—“

“I did, lets go tip whoever has to clean this an obscene amount of money and go home.” You stepped over the mess, trying not to laugh as more loops rolled over your dress. Jason stayed silent as he wrapped his hand around your arm before following diligently behind you as you made your last rounds of the night. Pointedly avoiding your friends who you just needed a breather from before apologizing to the casino manager for the mess. You played your part perfectly, garnering all the sympathy and sad farewells before deflating into Jason’s car. You glanced over to him as he got in the driver seat, wasting no time before his hand found your thigh and the car was cruising down the highway. You placed your hand over his and felt all the tension drift from your shoulders as Jason’s words rang through your head. This was all he needed after every night, you real underneath his palm and next to him in his car, spending the night god knows where, together.

#yikes this one is long #jason todd x reader #jason todd imagine #red hood x reader #red hood imagine #dc x reader #dc imagine #writing #bodyguard au

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sevcasejay1chicago · 5 months

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I gotcha Partner- Jay Halstead

Summary: After chasing down a suspect, you have a bad asthma attack.

Warnings: none that I know of.

Authors note: Jay’s installment in the platonic asthma fics. ❤️ Enjoy!

—————————

You have been Jay Halstead’s partner since Erin Lindsey left 2 years ago. You had been friend prior to this partnership, having met at Molly’s as well, so the partnership was easy to fall into. You knew each others quirks well, but you also knew each other’s medical history very well given all the near deaths you two have experienced since being partners. You have never experienced more near death experience on the job before working with Jay Halstead.

Today, you and Jay, along with the rest of the intelligence unit, are sitting on a suspect’s house. This individual has been indicted for multiple counts of aggravated assault and battery, leading the unit to believe that he is involved in a string of assaults at a few night clubs he has been known to frequent. He’s smarter than most criminals. He makes sure not to hit the same club multiple times, but to randomly jump around to throw off any suspicion.

You and Jay were sat in his truck, idly chatting about Matt’s move into the apartment with you and Kelly, when the suspect pulled into his driveway. You both straightened up as Voight began to speak.

“Suspect has landed. Suspect has landed. Use caution. Don’t spook him.” Voight instructed through our radio.

Jay grabbed our tac gear from the backseat and handed me my own. We suited up before slowly pulling the truck to block the end of the driveway. Burgess and Adam came up one side while Voight and Atwater came up the other. You noticed blood on his door handle and quickly jumped out of the truck and rounded it to grab the guy.

“Chicago PD!” You yelled, announcing yourself before moving to grab the suspect. Unfortunately, he was quick to react and shoved you into Kim before running down the small alley way next to his house. “Rabbit Rabbit Rabbit!” You yelled, quickly standing to your feet to pursue. You were the smallest and the fastest, next to Kevin.

You heard Jay flip the sirens and say he was going to cut him off. Kevin was on your heels, cursing about how the perps always run but they can’t run from you all. You shook your head, pushing through the burning in your chest. You were still recovering from your attack a few days prior, so you definitely weren’t in top shape.

You saw the end of alley way, thanking God that this run was coming to an end. Just as the suspect reached the end of the alley, Jay pulled the truck to block it and held the suspect at gun point through the window.

“Put your hands up.” Jay growled, seeing the blood on the suspect’s shirt and knuckles.

You stopped running, coming to a halt at the back of the truck with your hands on your knees. You were having trouble catching your breath as an audible wheeze left your body. You dizzily grabbed the bumper as you sunk to the ground. Jay saw you and quickly jumped out of the truck as Kevin cuffed the perp.

“Y/n?!” Jay yelled, crouching down in front of you. “Jesus. Your blue.” Jay muttered, taking your face in his hands for a second. You were ice cold. “It’s okay. I gotcha partner. Up we go.” Jay muttered, pulling you into his arms and rounding the truck.

“She okay?” Voight asked, coming to open the door for Jay.

“She will be. She’s having an asthma attack.” Jay said over your wheezes. He dug around in the glove box until he unearthed your inhaler. “Alright sweetie. Let’s do this.” Jay shook the inhaler before helping you squeeze the trigger as you attempted to breathe.

“Here. I got a pulse ox from the first aid kit.” Kim said, jogging back from her and Adam’s car. She handed the device to Jay before moving back to give you and Jay some room.

They all waiting on baited breath as the pulse ox read. High heart rate and oxygen level fluctuating between 83-85. Their eyes grew wide at the reading, concerned given that your inhaler should have opened you up by now.

“I’m taking her to med.” Jay said, buckling you in and shutting the door.

“I will give you an escort.” Voight said, quickly running to his SUV that Kevin pulled around after placing the suspect in the back of a patrol car.

“5021 George to Med” Jay said into his radio, lights and sirens blaring as he drove.

“Go ahead for Med.” April said.

“April. Y/n is having a bad asthma attack. Cyanotic, high pulse, O2 is low to mid 80s. Rescue inhaler administered and not helping. ETA 5 minutes. ” Jay reported, glancing over at you as you shook. “Shhh. I gotcha partner. I’m gonna get you help.”

“We will be waiting at the door. Med out.” April said.

Jay put his radio back on the dash before reaching out to take one of your shaking hands in his own. “Almost there. You are doing great.” Jay encouraged, trying to hide his worry.

Tag list:

@treehouse-mouse

@shadowmeadowsworld

@sorry-i-spaced

@zephyrmonkey

@allisonargent144

@amie134

@lane-rodgers-barnes

@pensfan5871

@dumb-fawkin-bitch

@marvel-and-chicago-fan

@daggersquadphantom

#one chicago #one chicago x reader #jay halstead #fluff #comfort #jay halstead x reader #kim burgess #hank voight #kevin atwater #adam ruzek #asthma attack #platonic

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eleanor-bradstreet · 1 year

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Locked Out (Anthony Bridgerton x Reader)

Anthony Bridgerton x fem!Reader Modern AU Rated: 18+, explicit sexual content, language, mentions of blood Word count: 4.2k

Summary: When you find yourselves locked out of your house in the middle of the night, Anthony has some ideas for how you can kill time.

Author's Note: Inspired by true events that involved all the frustration but none of the fun 😜 This was just an idea that rooted itself. A silly little fic outside my usual style. Thanks to @faye-tale for chatting with me while I waited for a locksmith. 😊 And thanks to @colettebronte who always has the right JB pic for the job. 💜

You knew this would happen. You had never trusted the smart lock ever since Anthony had installed it. Either some criminal masterminds would hack the whole network of them, or the battery would die and leave you precisely where you were now, standing on the stoop in the chilly air as midnight approached, the moon and your phone as your only light sources. Again you wondered what was so bad about traditional locks as your phone flashed the error message. But Anthony had to get his way, as usual. One news story about a burglar three towns away and the next day he had bought every ‘smart’ home security device on the market.

Well now the stupid lock didn’t work. The first time you had pressed the button you assumed you had tapped something wrong, given how distracted you were. Anthony was crowding against you, one hand slithering over your backside while the other moved to wrap lightly around your throat. He was breathing heavy in your ear, licking your neck with his untamable tongue, a move that always made your eyes cross a bit. But now you had tried three times to unlock the door and it clearly wasn’t working.

“Anthony…”

He just rumbled in response, biting your lobe.

“Anthony!” You nudged him back with your hips, trying to snap him out of it. “The damn lock is broken.”

“What?” Of course he then had to inspect it himself for a full five minutes, trying every trick on his phone that you had, to no avail.

You stood with your arms crossed. “Where’s the spare key?”

Even in the dim light you could see his jaw set with aggravation. “Inside.”

You scoffed, “You didn’t hide it outside like you said you would?”

“I don’t want to leave a key to our property lying around for anyone to find. This thing was supposed to be top-of-the-line.” He growled.

You couldn’t help your eyes from rolling. “Anthony, that’s why you hide it…”

“Let me try the back.” He jogged off the steps and around the house through your garden gate. You both knew full well that he had rigged your back door with the same space age lock as the front and wasn’t likely to have any success. All you wanted was to get inside, to get warm and have a glass of wine. You looked up at the glare of the full moon. That must be to blame for your misfortune.

You weren’t going to wait forever and searched the number for a 24-hour locksmith. You were just about to dial when the sound of shattering glass echoed over your lawn followed by a loud curse. Oh good lord…

Before you could even detect which side of the house it came from, Anthony stepped out of the shadows, holding a forearm aloft.

“Anthony Bridgerton, what the hell did you do?” You hissed as loud as you dared, mindful of disturbing your neighbors.

But you knew exactly what he had done when he drew closer and you could see the bloody pulp that now constituted his knuckles. More alarming was the long, jagged tear in the sleeve of his shirt through which you could see the matching slice on his skin, blood already seeping out to darken the fabric.

“Broke the side window,” he grumbled.

“And how did that work out for you, genius?”

His eyes flashed. “The damn latch is too high. I couldn’t reach it inside.”

Excellent. Now you would need to replace your window as well as hire a locksmith. Your simple date night was turning into quite the misadventure. The cold was starting to seep in. Not expecting to spend time outside, you wore only a dress and no coat. You were so tired and irked you were bordering on a tantrum. But your husband was bleeding, quite a lot, and you couldn’t bring yourself to ream him out while he was injured.

“Jesus,” You huffed, taking his good arm and pulling him over to your car in the drive. Fortunately this piece of your property had a keyfob, making it your only form of shelter at the moment. “Sit down,” you ordered, opening the driver’s side door and pushing him into the seat. You crouched next to him and turned his wrist to inspect the damage. It was ugly, the whole sleeve from the elbow down stained red already.

Before you even suggested it, he tugged the cuff of his other sleeve with his teeth, slipping his whole shirt up and over his head until it hung only on his bloodied limb.

“Haven’t you ever watched movies?” You chastised as you began to wind the fabric around the gash. A gorgeous knit shirt ruined forever. “You wrap your arm with your shirt before you punch through glass.”

“Well I’m sorry for trying to solve our problem.” He snipped. You responded by pulling a tight knot, causing him to hiss.

But your frustrated energy threatened to redirect into something else entirely as you surveyed him. Even after all this time together, you went a bit speechless whenever you saw him shirtless. It really was obscene for someone to be so attractive. Broad-shouldered and muscular, with the most perfect patch of soft hair across his chest. Running your hands over him had reached the level of compulsion, beyond mere desire. Seeing as his torso was streaked with blood from his haphazardly bandaged arm, you gave in under the pretense of tending to him. You drifted your fingers up his carved abdomen and onto his chest where his movements slowed under your palm, his breaths deepening.

“I don’t have anything to clean you up with.” You were more agitated than apologetic. How fast were you going to devolve into naked, bloodied neanderthals all because you didn’t have a house key?

“It’s fine.” He laid his good hand over yours, holding it in place. You could feel the strong thrum of his heart. He knew what he was doing. Trying to dissipate your anger by turning himself into a distraction. But you wouldn’t let him. Someone had to remedy this situation.

You quirked a brow. “Should I call the paramedics or the locksmith?”

His pursed-lips look of annoyance was one you saw often and always relished. It was usually the only way he admitted you were right in a spat. Nudging him a few inches, you perched next to him on the seat.

“How long will they take?” he asked when you hung up.

“Half an hour.”

“What are we supposed to do until then?” You knew that silky edge to his voice and turned to look at him. His eyes, always dark, glinted most dangerously at night. Darkness suited him much more than daylight and even though you knew your husband was putty in your hands, one flash of those eyes made you feel like prey.

You shivered, due to him as much as the wind. “Whatever we do, I’m staying in here. It’s too cold.” You wouldn’t give in that easily. You stood and moved to walk to the passenger side but an arm curled around your waist and tugged you back onto his lap, then the door was pulled shut beside you.

“Imagine how cold I am without a shirt on.” His low voice reverberated through the enclosed space and soft lips landed on your shoulder. His arm was still banded around you, holding you tight. The devil.

You twisted to face him again, already knowing you would lose this battle. He smirked, just a glimpse of teeth in the blue glow of the fading dash lights lending fangs to your predator. Wasn’t he the wounded one? How did he gain the upper hand so quickly? You rested your hands on his chest again and knew he was lying. He was warmer than you and heating up by the second, his breath gusting over your forearms as you stared each other down. Each time you touched one another in places otherwise typically clothed, it brought out your animalistic tendencies. But seeing him like this, cast in shadow and roughed up, was causing something especially carnal to simmer inside you.

“We can turn the car on for heat.” You argued, never wanting to grant him the last word.

But then he pressed himself against you, hands spreading wide to grasp your bottom as he nuzzled his jaw against your cheek. He knew all of your buttons. One pass of his short beard across your skin and it was over.

“Mmmm…” he hummed in your ear, the baritone he reserved to devastate you. “Bad for the environment. We can keep each other warm.”

Then his tongue resumed its journey up your neck, leaving you gasping until he traced it into your waiting mouth.

Damn him. You hated and loved how easily he made you go to pieces. If you were being honest, the feelings worked in tandem. It was often when you were the most aggravated with him that you reached the highest peaks in your lovemaking. As your tongues swirled around each other, you knew this would be one of those times. But you’d have to be quick unless you wanted to put on a show for the locksmith. This was reckless, juvenile, but you didn’t care.

“I suppose you’re right.” You murmured over his lips then pushed him roughly back against the seat. His eyes lit with excitement as you maneuvered to straddle him, hiking your skirt up your thighs, kicking off your heels and underwear as you went. His splayed hands ran up to your back and crushed you to him for another hungry kiss. You moaned into one another, overcome with the rush of it all, with the risk you may be seen. As you held his jaw possessively, you wormed a hand down to the seam of his trousers.

“Do you have enough blood left to power this thing?” You smirked, nipping at his lower lip.

“See for yourself,” came the husky reply. Pressing down, you felt the bulge and rocked your palm against it. His responding noise caused a familiar jolt of desire to shoot through your every cell. You knew you were already soaking, aching and ready for him. In a flurry, the two of you fought off his belt and buttons and shoved his clothes down his thighs until his cock sprang free, rigid and hot in your hand. Positioning yourself, you swiped the head across your entrance, gathering the slick then swirling it around your throbbing clit. Anthony groaned, biting his lip and gripping you tight by the hips as you lined up and sank down onto him, your cry seeming all the louder in the small, insulated cab.

There was a reason you had given him the private nickname ‘Logsplitter’. Getting far too candid over too many drinks one night, you had told him how fantastically split open he made you feel. Had described that meniscus seal between pain and pleasure and how his body drove yours to it perfectly and kept you dancing upon it until it fractured and plunged you into liquid bliss. The next day you had been mortified but he eased your anxieties by making it the most enduring joke in your relationship. The bastard had even woven it into his wedding speech, announcing that he would still find joy in life’s mundane tasks with you, whether it be laundry, dishes, or log splitting. Public mentions of it sent heat rushing to your cheeks, but in practice behind closed doors it sent heat rocketing under every inch of your skin. He was so stiff and formidable, stretching you so splendidly. You began to move so that you could savor every inch.

Planting your hands on his shoulders for leverage you began to ride him at a steady clip, reminding yourself that you couldn’t dally. His fingers pressed deeper into your hips as his breath turned staccato with whispered curses. You gave a passing thought to the fact that his injured arm was probably streaking blood across your dress, but thankfully it was black and therefore might be saved.

As much as you were enjoying yourself, this was still a ridiculous situation. Bleeding and rutting in the driver’s seat of your car like you were criminal lovers on the lam and not just idiots who hadn’t kept a spare key to the house. And you were on a timeline. Fueled by a potent blend of frustration and arousal you began to move faster, pistoning on your knees as the leather squeaked. There wasn’t much extra space on the seat for your legs and your increased pace made you slip, pitching forward as one shin fell off the side.

Anthony caught you, hands moving up to your ribs as he chuckled. “Woah. Do I need to strap you in, baby girl?”

You could have slapped him. He only used that name for you when he really wanted to get you riled. Clearly he was enjoying your little tryst, finding the fun in this mess that he caused. You’d like to see him try and fuck you in the front seat. Glaring, you stepped on the recline controls and he stuttered in surprise as he sank backward until he was supine beneath you. Steadying yourself again you doubled your efforts, riding him hard as you held him pinned at the chest.

“You’re enjoying this too fucking much.” You ground out.

“What?” He played the innocent.

“We could be inside,” You panted, every word bouncing with your movements. “In bed. Uninjured. If you had just hidden the key…” Your breath caught as you tilted your hips and felt him strike against the deepest part of you, a twinge that increased your ache. “...and not changed the stupid locks.”

“So this is my fault?” His voice was all seduction, no remorse to be found. His eyes, what little you could see of them, gazed up at you as a hand moved to knead your breast.

“Yes.” You moaned, starting to climb the ladder as his fingers and his cock simultaneously found all the right spots to make you mindless.

“And you’re mad at me?”

“So fucking mad.” You gasped, leaning forward into his palm and angling yourself just so, feeling the ridge of him deep inside start to massage your center of sensation.

He craned his neck to ghost his lips over yours and whispered, “How can I apologize?”

Then his hand moved below your skirt and his fingertips found your clit. Pierced with sensation, you screamed some garbled syllables of his name.

He chuckled, warm and dark. “What was that? I didn’t hear you.”

Oh, he was awful. Driving you to delirium even when you were the one on top. You had found your rhythm, rolling your hips to sink him perfectly into place over and over. Coupled with the press of his circling fingers, you were shooting up the ladder, your blood beginning to hum with anticipation. Maybe you could pull this off in time after all.

“Fuck you…” you hissed.

“You certainly are.”

“Anthony, shut up!” You clamped a hand over his mouth, bringing the other to claw into his shoulder. You had assumed Anthony Bridgerton, man of refined tastes, would have found this all as debased as you did, but he was evidently having the time of his life. Maybe the laugh riot was precisely because he knew you were so flustered, which just made you angrier. But the anger was consigned to your mind only, as your body delighted in him. Warm and firm beneath your palms, he started to move with you, thrusting ever so slightly while his mangled hand pulled you down at the hip, slamming your bodies together as tight as he could on your every descent. His fingers swirled faster, just where you needed them, and soon enough you reached the top rungs, everything surging within.

Anthony mumbled something against your fingers, his breath hot and short, matching yours as you hovered over him. You released him, your mind too clouded with pleasure to fight him anymore. Your thighs began to quake while the rest of you started to tense.

“It feels like you’re about to forgive me.” He purred, and all you could do was whine, squeezing your eyes shut as your hips bucked against him desperately. “Come on then,” he coaxed. “I think I’ve earned it.”

One more thrust and circle of his fingers and you peaked, crying out as your nails sank into the flesh of his shoulder and your other hand scrabbled for purchase in his thick hair. Release radiated out from the epicenter of his touch, spasms clenching around his cock which now felt impossibly huge, fanning out through every muscle. You writhed, circling your pelvis against his as you rode it out and moaned.

“Oh, fuck yes,” he growled from the darkness. “That’s my girl.”

Gasping, you collapsed on top of him, basking in the warmth of his bare skin and the caresses of his hands across your back as aftershocks curled your spine. As you floated, you trailed your fingers into his chest hair. You contemplated extending your forgiveness verbally too, but when you propped up to look at him you saw a flash of headlights through the back window. A truck was turning down your street.

You cursed under your breath and glanced a kiss across Anthony’s lips before pulling yourself off of him and opening the door, stumbling out into the driveway, your mind still swimming. You tugged your skirt down and tried to smooth your hair as Anthony scrambled to hitch his clothes back over his stark erection.

“Stay here,” you cautioned and closed the door.

The truck was indeed the locksmith, a very beatific fellow named Lumley. He didn’t cast any judgment as you explained your situation. He professed to having seen it all and you believed him. But you might have been added to his list of unusual encounters after he deftly popped the door lock and let you in to turn on your lights. That’s when his eyes widened and he asked if you were alright. You looked down and realized he was gesturing to the blood streaks on your exposed arms. The way he fixated on your chin, you suspected you had a streak there too.

You laughed to calm him, explaining that your husband had cut his hand (you elected not to tell him how) and that you were both perfectly fine and would clean up now that you could get inside. A little shaken, he politely wrapped up your transaction and drove away. You were too relieved to be embarrassed and went to collect Anthony from the car.

“Come on, let’s get you inside.” You swung the door open to find him still reclined. His trousers were back on thankfully, but he was slumped, eyes closed, cradling his raggedly wrapped arm. “Anthony?” You put a hand on his shoulder. “You alright?”

He blinked his eyes open and looked at you blearily. “Feeling a bit woozy.” He mumbled.

Fantastic. Not only had he lost blood, he had sent whatever remained shooting down to his cock and now there was none left in his brain. You didn’t think you were strong enough to carry him indoors if he collapsed, but you wouldn’t leave him in the damned car any longer. Tugging him by his good arm to slowly stand, you then draped it over your shoulders and steered him inside. He could walk just fine even if his head was drooping a bit.

You kicked the door closed behind you and walked to the sofa, easing him onto it.

“Aright, sit down. I’m going to get the first aid kit.”

You turned but were immediately halted by a hand around your wrist.

“There’s only one thing that’s going to make me feel better.”

The next you knew, you were on your back on the sofa, Anthony pressing you down as his lips consumed yours. He vocalized his want down your throat as his beard rasped against you. What happened to woozy? Maybe being horizontal was the only way he could function at the moment. He rocked his hips between yours, his unsatisfied stiffness insistently seeking entry. Within seconds you were ignited again, helpless against the weight of him, the taste of him, the smell of him.

“Anthony, if you stain the couch too, I swear…” You mumbled as he sucked at your neck. Tallying the cleanup that remained between the shattered window and your ruined clothes, you would not sacrifice your plush upholstery too. Reaching behind your head, you dragged the throw blanket from the arm of the sofa and quickly bunched it under his blood soaked shirt bandage. He didn’t seem to have heard you, or perhaps he just didn’t care, as he balanced on that elbow and used his other hand to tear open his trouser buttons. You lifted your skirt and helped him, as eager for this as he was.

You groaned in stereo as he sank into you once again, the sensation more overwhelming now that he was on top of you. His tongue dove into your mouth as well, the most delicious parts of him penetrating you as deeply as they could simultaneously. Vanilla as this position may have been in comparison, you loved it. Being completely underneath him, crushed, consumed and controlled by him. You had taken your pleasure and now you wanted to be a ragdoll in his arms. You didn’t know if your desires were romantic or perverse, but you didn’t care. The feeling of being filled and surrounded by the man you loved made you wildly aroused.

With no pretense, Anthony went to work pummeling you, chasing his release as urgently and selfishly as you had chased yours. You opened your legs wide, locking your ankles around his back and letting him plough even deeper. You still found this entire ordeal comical, but the man deserved some relief. In the span of an hour he had been chastised, injured, exposed and now blue-balled. This was his only reprieve until you had to undertake the ghastly business of dealing with his wound. And he was bringing pleasure to more than just himself. Predictably, his every thrust teased your clit, his sizable cock pulling all of you so tight that every feeling was heightened. While he panted harsh in your ear, you ran your nails down his rippled back and pert bum, leveraging with your wrapped legs to push up into him, the two of you grinding into one another as you whispered encouragements.

He was splitting you, sending you back to that place where all of your focus zoned in on the feeling of him inside, the relentless pounding of his body into yours that promised to quell every need of your flesh. Your whispered filth turned into small cries and then into silence as he drove harder and harder, his movements frenzied as he started to growl, pushing for the finish. All you could do was hold on as your whole body shifted beneath him, wearing tracks into the upholstery under your shoulders. You held your breath as your mouth fell open, unfailingly stunned at how he could propel you to the edge so easily. He shifted to look down at you. His hair was growing damp with sweat, a chestnut curl falling beautifully across his forehead. His dark eyes locked into yours, molten. You could read it in each other’s faces - you would come undone together.

Sparing Anthony the balancing act, you brought your hand between your legs and in seconds were breaking, tossing your head back as you succumbed. While the rest of you trembled, you clung to him with your limbs, luxuriating in all the hallmarks of his orgasm, triggered by your own. The way his back arched under your hands as his hips stuttered between your thighs. You loved how his whole body went rigid just before you felt the pulsing inside. He made the most beautiful gasping sound, so contrasted with his animalistic growls leading up to it, his mouth hanging open against your cheek, hot breath stirring your hair.

Absorbing each other’s tremors, he melted into you, resting his head in the crook of your neck and going full dead weight. You tightened your hold around him before he rolled onto the floor. You wound a hand into his hair, tracing patterns across his scalp as you both caught your breath. You looked over at his maimed arm and grimaced. It was a bloody mess. How he had been in the mood for not one, but two romps without a single complaint about an open laceration was a level of stubbornness and libido possessed only by Anthony Bridgerton. Now playtime was over. You had to be adults and handle this.

You kissed the top of his head. “Anthony.”

He didn’t move. Didn’t even grunt in acknowledgement.

You felt a stab of alarm and shook him lightly. “Anthony?”

Then he groaned, nuzzling closer into you. “I think you’re right,” he slurred against your neck. “I need stitches.”

You rolled your eyes but rubbed his back reassuringly. It appeared the adventures of the evening would continue. You just hoped he could still stumble back to the car.

“Okay. I’ll get you another shirt and then drive you to the hospital. And we are taking the spare key with us.”

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