#but goes under long gloves

[ohproserpine]

i. deer dolly

part i | part ii | more | ao3 tags: fem! reader, reader is a performer in a speakeasy, human! possibly ooc! alastor so he's a bit more "tame" here, allusions to murder and such, unsettling & obsessive behavior, written before episode 7; may become inaccurate, gorey-ish descriptions of love

"So what?" Angel Dust hummed, drumming his nails on the counter. "You and Alastor are like... friends?"

"Oh, well, that ain't the word I would’ve used, but it's something like that!" Mimzy chirped, reaching for her drink and downing it in one go. "He used to frequent the club I had! In fact, that’s where he met his wife—"

“Wife?!” Angel Dust cut her off, jaw dropping. “Freaky face is married?”

“Oh yeah,” Mimzy hummed, waving her hand around. “Under all that murder and cannibalism, he’s a total sap! Can't blame him, I mean—his wife is a doll! Me an' her used to perform together!”

"An’ how come I never heard of this? People ain't told me shit!" Angel Dust grumbled, turning to Husk behind the counter. "You knew 'bout this, whiskers?"

"Yeah. They were together back in the living. But don't even think of bringing it up in front of Alastor. He gets all heated," Husk grumbled, grabbing a towel to wipe down Mimzy’s now-empty glass. The cat then turned to grab another bottle off the shelf, a grimace on his lips. "I would know."

Angel Dust leaned forward, resting his face on his folded hands. "Well, ain't that something. Never knew he even had one of those."

Mimzy cackled, her voice a raspy melody that echoed through the smoky air of the bar as she snatched the bottle of liquor away from Husk’s paws. "Oh, honey, you wouldn’t even know how deep it goes. They go way back."

"Spill," Angel Dust grinned, curiosity getting the better of him. 

Mimzy leaned in, looking both ways to make sure Alastor or his shadows weren't around before lowering her voice. "It was back in the day, at my joint. Alastor dropped by for the bootlegs, you know? But then he caught sight of her. She was singin’ and dancin’ on stage, a real heartbreaker. He couldn't resist the charm, and boom, he was struck on! Ever since then, he came around as frequently as he could. Made me so much money~" 

Angel Dust raised an eyebrow, his long lashes fluttering as he squished his cheek against his palm, a coy smirk playing on his lips. "And you were part of this love saga?"

Mimzy shook her head, a wicked glint dancing in her eyes before she lifted the bottle to her lips and downed its contents in one swift motion, her throat working as she swallowed. "Oh, sugar, just a witness to the drama. Those two lovebirds had their own dance going on. I just spiced things up."

Angel Dust chuckled, shaking his head. "Never thought smiles had it in him."

"Again. He likes to keep his shit private. So, don't go running your mouth unless you wanna be on the receiving end of one of his… episodes," Husk interrupted, his gruff voice breaking through the conversation as he leaned over the counter and reclaimed the bottle from Mimzy with a low growl.

Angel hummed dismissively, his golden tooth catching the glimmer of the bar lights as he spoke. “Anyone could've guessed that. Where is she, anyways? I haven't seen or heard of her since day one."

"Busy," Mimzy snorted, her finger lazily tracing the rim of her glass. She leaned back in her seat, the dim glow of the bar lights casting shadows across her features. "That's where."

“Really?" Angel's brow lifted in skepticism, his boot lightly kicking against the base of Mimzy's chair. "Busy? That’s it?”

Mimzy shrugged, her lips curling into a sly smile. "Can't tell ya much. Y'know Alastor doesn't like sharin'. Secrets and shadows, that's his game."

“Aww c'mon, tits,” Angel grinned, his golden tooth glinting beneath the bar lights with each word. “You gotta know more than you let on. It'll be our secret.”

"Well," Mimzy drawled, savoring the suspense as she tapped a gloved finger against her cheek. "I guess I can tell you a lil’ something about how they met…”

.

Alastor found himself standing in the heart of a secluded corner of town. 

A desolate, dimly lit street stretched out before him, raindrops rhythmically tapping on the worn concrete beneath his feet.

It was something he had never imagined—searching for a speakeasy in this far-off locale. Rarely did he have time for himself. Most of his days were dedicated to caring for his mother, his job as a radio host, and any free time he had was reserved for his… hobbies. But he supposed a change of scenery wouldn't hurt.

Adjusting his glasses, he gazed up at the timeworn, ragged sign of a barbershop that read, "Chum’s Clippers." 

Charming. 

With a roll of his eyes, the radio host stepped into the worn-down establishment, visibly grimacing at the shop's decrepit condition. His eyes surveyed the room, settling on a young blonde woman. 

Perched on the edge of the registrar counter, a cigar dangled between her cherry-red lips, the tendrils of smoke curling upwards in lazy spirals. Her legs crossed provocatively, causing the fabric of her dress to ride up her thighs, revealing more skin than what civil society would allow. 

As soon as she caught sight of Alastor's silhouette, a spark of excitement lit up her features, and she greeted him with an animated wave.

"Hey there, mistah! Names Mimzy!" she chirped with a friendly lilt. Her crimson-painted nails plucked the cigarette from her lips, trailing a wisp of smoke as she gestured toward Alastor. "Whatcha here for?"

"Pleasure to meet you," Alastor smiled back and stepped closer, offering her a bow of his head, “Quite a pleasure. You see, I was just strolling through these darling streets, and wouldn't you know it? The whispers in the wind pointed me straight to you, the gal in the know when it comes to bootlegs. Care to confirm?"

‘A potential client?" Mimzy thought, her smirk hidden behind her hand as she took one last puff, the cherry of her cigar glowing brightly before she flicked it into an ashtray. 'Straight to the point.'

"Well, well, mistah," she drawled with a playful twirl of her finger through her blonde curls. "You've got a nose for sniffin' out the good stuff, huh? Well, we might have a few things tucked away for the right kind of folk. But, sugar, we don't just give 'em to anyone.”

Alastor's smile widened as he smoothly fished out his wallet, giving it a theatrical wave. "I do have a penchant for fine libations, my dear. And I assure you, I'm just looking for a little taste of the local flavor, nothing more."

Mimzy's eyes sparkled with mischief as she perked up, eagerly hopping off the counter. The click of her heels echoed against the worn floor as she approached the tall man.

"You're in luck, then! Follow me, and we'll talk business in the back," she said, gesturing toward a concealed door at the back of the barbershop.

Alastor followed her through a narrow passage, which unveiled another door leading to the very speakeasy he’d heard talk of. The atmosphere changed instantly, lively jazz music filled the air, and the dimly lit space was alive with laughter and clinking glasses.

Mimzy guided Alastor to a private booth tucked away in a corner, where a polished bottle of bootleg whiskey awaited their arrival.

"Here's to unexpected encounters, mistah," she beamed, the words dripping with charm as she poured a generous measure into his glass. Alastor raised his glass in acknowledgment, his eyes glinting with amusement.

"To unexpected encounters," he echoed before taking a deep sip.

The whiskey was bitter and strong, yet there was a subtle sweetness that danced on his tongue, leaving behind a tantalizing warmth. It had been increasingly difficult to find such fine brews ever since the prohibition hit, making each sip all the more precious.

Seating himself comfortably, Alastor swirled the glass in his hand, mesmerized by the way the golden liquid caught the flickering candlelight. Beside him, Mimzy continued her lively chatter, her words accompanied by the persistent clinking of ice in their glasses as she refilled his drink, hoping to stack his bill higher with each pour.

As the room hummed with the soft, easy notes of a piano and the clinking of glasses, a sudden hush fell over the crowd as an announcer's voice sliced through the air.

"Ladies and gentlemen, put your hands together for the enchanting Dolly!"

Mimzy's excitement bubbled up even more, and she leaned in toward Alastor. "That's my sister! Well— not by blood, but you know, me and her are real, real close. One of my best performers here at the bar!"

"Is that so?" Alastor hummed, his eyes now alight with curiosity as he shifted his focus toward the stage.

In that moment, you stepped onto the platform, grabbing a hold of the standing microphone. With a subtle flick of your wrist, you directed attention to the dark-haired pianist, his fingers poised above the keys. A nod from you and the jazz ensemble sprung to life, setting the stage for your performance. As the spotlight enveloped you in a warm glow, a hushed silence fell over the speakeasy.

Folks, here's a story 'bout Minnie the Moocher She was a red hot hoochie-coocher She was the roughest, toughest frail But Minnie had a heart as big as a whale

The lyrics flowed easily through Alastor's mind, carried by the smooth, buttery tones of your voice that filled the air. The radio host found himself utterly hypnotized, his gaze never tearing from your form.

He could stare for hours, unabashed by any sense of shame—though, truth be told, he didn't possess much of that quality to begin with.

She messed around with a bloke named Smokey She loved him though he was kokey He took her down to Chinatown And he showed her how to kick the gong around

As Mimzy began clapping excitedly and waving her arms to beckon you over, Alastor's attention shifted. The final notes of the song echoed in the room, snapping him back to reality. In the haze of your performance, he hadn't even realized that the song had come to an end.

“What a gal!” Mimzy cackled, joyously wrapping her arms around you as you approached.

Alastor took a moment to study you with keen interest.

The dim lighting of the speakeasy lent a soft, ethereal glow to your figure as you moved, casting long shadows across the floor. A slender dress, shimmering with golden sequins, hugged your figure, shimmers and glitters catching the light. The dress boasted a daring low neckline, while its swaying boxed skirt gracefully fell just above your knees, accentuating your every movement. Complementing the ensemble were black kitten heels, their clicks and clacks adding a subtle rhythm to every step you took. Your hair, styled into a sleek bob, framed your demure features perfectly. Adorning your head was a headpiece adorned with golden yellow feathers and dark lace.

"Dollface, I want ya to meet Alastor!" Mimzy exclaimed, pulling you along and positioning you in front of him. “He’s new!”

With a wave of your hands and a warm smile, you tilted your head up to meet Alastor's gaze. The man standing before you was tall and slim, boasting broad shoulders. His white button-up clung perfectly to his frame, sleeves rolled up to his elbows, revealing toned forearms adorned with scars, cuts, and prominent veins.

‘Must be a hunter or a butcher,’ you noted heatedly.

Short, side-swept brunette hair framed his face, adding a touch of rugged charm to his appearance, while rectangular glasses perched on the bridge of his nose lent him an air of intelligence. As he smiled, a chill crept down your spine, and an odd sinking sensation settled in your stomach.

There was an unsettling nature to him, a subtle aura that left you uncertain of whether your reaction stemmed from the eerie quality of his smile or if it was simply a flustered response to his strikingly handsome features. 

“Pleasure to meet you, cher,” Alastor purred, turning on the charm. He delicately took your hand, pressing a kiss against your knuckles. In a subtle move, the radio host let his fingers linger over your skin, subtly checking for any sign of a ring. Noticing the absence, he filed the information away with a sly smile. 

“It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance as well, sir,” you smiled, tucking your face behind your hand. Alastor observed with delight as a subtle blush painted your cheeks, a tacit acknowledgment that his presence had left an impression.

"Al here knows his way around a glass of whiskey like nobody else in these parts! Ain't that right, Al?" Mimzy chattered, her voice bubbling with familiarity as if she had known him for years and hadn't just met him one song and ten drinks ago.

Alastor chuckled, a low, melodic sound that sent your stomach doing flips. "

"Well, I do have a certain fondness for…" The radio host paused, his sharp, gaze raking up and down your form, his words trailing off. "…finer things in life."

A silence lingered in the air, and Mimzy, always attuned to the mood of a room, shot a knowing look between the two of you.

"Well, don't cha?" Mimzy exclaimed, her hands clapping with excitement. "If that's the case, then I'm sure Dolly would love to show you around here!"

"Is that so?" Alastor, maintaining that devilish smile, turned his attention back to you. "Well, what do you say, cher?" he questioned.

Tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear, you met his gaze with a coy smile. "I'd be delighted to show you around. There's a lot more to this place than meets the eye."

Mimzy clapped her hands together. "Perfect! Now, why don't you two enjoy the rest of the night? I'll be right here waiting."

“Shall we?” Alastor offered his hand, gesturing to the dance floor.

With a small nod, you graciously accepted Alastor's outstretched hand, leading the way to the lively dance floor where the band played an upbeat tune. Around you, couples twirled in a dizzying dance, with heels tapping, shoes stomping, and skirts gracefully gliding and twirling. Alastor wasted no time, pulling you in and molding your form against his.

Looks were indeed deceiving, as despite his lean appearance, Alastor had no issue effortlessly tossing and spinning you round and round, lifting you as if you were as weightless as a feather. Each spin and dip was executed with skill, his footwork was a blur and soon enough, you found yourself willingly surrendering to the rhythm of his lead. 

This man could fucking dance.

As the music gradually slowed, Alastor guided you to the side, providing a moment to catch your breath after the energetic routine.

"Thank you for the dance, cher! You are quite quick on your feet," Alastor chuckled, his voice low, blending with the fading echoes of the music.

"You're not too bad yourself," you managed between breaths, a raspy laugh escaping your lips. "Nobody's ever been able to keep up with me," you continued, running a hand through your tousled hair and adjusting your dress. "I think I was the one who had to keep up with you."

After ensuring you were presentable, you lifted a hand to fix Alastor's slightly damp locks, adjusting his glasses and tie. Alastor froze, a foreign sensation enveloping him. Despite his typical aversion to physical contact, there was an absence of the usual recoil in disdain this time.

"Looks like we're both a bit of a mess, aren't we?" you chuckled, a wry smile playing on your lips as you gracefully brushed away a speck of dust from his shirt.

Alastor blinked and eventually relaxed, allowing you to proceed without any resistance. "Quite."

While you continued to fix him up, Alastor couldn't help but feel a sense of bewilderment. He felt as though coils had entwined themselves around his heart. Slowly constricting, they didn't just tighten but twisted, sharp edges digging into muscle, squeezing his emotions into a thick syrup that spilled beyond the confines of his ribs, seeping out in a haunting shade of crimson through the cracks in his chest.

As the seconds passed, he paid no mind to your touch, shifting his focus to instead dissect you with his eyes. He scrutinized the subtle reactions playing across your face—the delicate twitches of your brows, the soft pout of your blood-red lips, and the scrunches of your nose. 

What were you doing to him?

"There you go!" you announced, a note of satisfaction in your voice as you finished your task, your hand coming to rest briefly on his chest before retreating. "Ready to head back?"

Snapping out of his obsessive trance, Alastor emitted a soft hum, offering his arm to you. You gracefully accepted, intertwining your arm with his. The energetic atmosphere from the dance gradually subsided as you and Alastor made your way back to the private booth. Mimzy's mischievous grin awaited you as she rejoined your company.

"Looks like you two had quite the time!" she exclaimed, a twinkle in her eye.

Alastor quickly composed himself, nodding with a grin. "Indeed! It was quite a delightful dance."

Just as Alastor turned toward you, the insistent dings of a nearby clock echoed through the room. His expression shifted, a fleeting shadow of disappointment and ire crossing his face. The hours had danced away quicker than he had anticipated.

Undoubtedly, the night was still young for you, given that speakeasies often extended their festivities until the early hours of the morning.

However, as much as Alastor would adore the idea of continuing to enjoy your company, the weight of responsibilities at home tugged at him. He had his elderly mother waiting, relying on his care for her well-being, as well as an upcoming morning shift at the radio station.

"It's later than I realized, my dear," he admitted, his voice carrying a touch of regret. "I'm afraid I can't stay any longer. Duty calls, and the dawn awaits for my return."

Something twisted and snapped in Alastor's gut as he observed the unmistakable disappointment etched across your features, evident in the downturn of your blood-red lips. His fingers itched with an impulse to claw your mouth back into a smile, to dig his nails into your skin and carve your lips into a grotesque display of happiness, all in a desperate attempt to restore the radiance of your joy.

Meanwhile, Mimzy sighed in disappointment, yet Alastor discerned that beneath the theatrics, she was indifferent to it all, evident in her thinly veiled disinterest.

"Aww… That's too bad, sugar! The night's just gettin' started!" Mimzy exclaimed, shaking her head with a pout. 

"But I get it! Some folks got places to be," Mimzy waved it off. There was a sudden twinkle in her eye as she pulled out a tab from her dress pocket. "Anyways, 'bout those drinks you had, they weren't exactly on the house, sooo..."

Alastor chuckled and pulled out his wallet. "Of course, my dear! I apologize, it must not have crossed my mind!"

He settled the bill and threw in a generous tip, for both you and Mimzy. His job as a radio host was quite the money-spinner, affording him the pleasure of treating others to the finer things in life. Mimzy practically glowed with satisfaction, her blue eyes sparkling as she snatched the tab. Swift and efficient, she flipped through the bills, before pocketing the money.

"Thank you, love!" Mimzy chirped, already moving away from the table as she waved him off. "You're welcome anytime!"

“I’m sure I am,” Alastor responded flatly, almost mockingly, with a roll of his eyes, pulling a laugh from you. As Mimzy made her way off backstage, both you and Alastor were left alone.

“It's a shame you have to leave so soon. I've got more songs up my sleeve for later. I would have loved for you to stay and catch the performance,” you sighed, turning back to him.

Alastor's eyes sparkled with genuine interest. "Songs, you say? Well, cher, that does sound like a delightful experience. Perhaps I can catch your next show some other time."

You smiled, appreciating his enthusiasm. "I'd love that. I perform here regularly, and your company would be more than welcome anytime."

Alastor's gaze intensified, fixing onto you with a magnetic pull that seemed to draw you closer despite yourself. His eyes, pools of darkness, held an unexplainable intensity. As his lips curled up into a grin, there was a hint of something more primal than human lurking behind his charming facade. A shiver traced its way down your spine, leaving behind a lingering sensation that unsettled you to your core.

"I'll definitely make it a point to come by," he finally said. 

Scrambling for a response, the only sound that reached your ears was the rhythmic thud of your own heartbeat as your blood rushed through your veins.

"Y-You too! Don't let the night slip away too quickly," you stammered.

With a nod, Alastor bid you a final farewell, weaving through the dimly lit space towards the exit. 

Yes, he shall see you very soon.

Cher - Louisiana Creole term meaning "darling," "sweetie" or "honey."

#sephiewrites #hazbin hotel x reader #alastor x reader #hazbin hotel imagine #alastor imagine #hazbin imagine #hazbin hotel x you #alastor x you #hazbin x you #hazbin x reader #hazbin hotel #alastor

[visionsofmagic]

day 10: bruce wayne [car sex]

࿓ synopsis • bats fucks you in his batmobile to teach you a lesson after you disobey his order.

―❦ nsfw, autonomous driving, one has clothes on one hasn’t, suited!bats, batmobile, markings, car riding, possessiveness, jeaolusy, pet names, swearing, master kink, rude!bats, identity dilemma, inner toughts, spanking, begging, brat taming, clothes full on/off, kissing, ‘is all I guess. • 1.9k • thought comic bats while writing but you can imagine this with any version of batman as you like of course. enjoy the beginning of the second week of kinktober event, hope you will like this week too! [kinktober m.]

“bats – please –“ as the gotham’s city’s night lights pass behind the black windows of the batmobile you’re in, your own voice gets silent by the loud sound of the road, yet, they reach to his ears that are covered with his black batman mask. “it’s too much –“ 

the man under you stays still even when his actions don’t stop – fingering your clit, he seems like he doesn’t care about how you’re sitting on his lap, soaking onto his black bat suit, getting wetter each passing time – having no dress on you makes the situation more sinful, especially when he has his own armored suit on, even the mask is still covering his face and ears – his bat ears is a source of balance for you to hold onto while taking his fingers as if it’s the first time he does this.

you have no idea how this man makes you feel stranger to being fucked by him whenever he has you like this – weak yet so powerful because of the whole situation.

it should’ve been a peaceful night, a simple mission – yet, it turned into something more, and you were the one to blame the moment you began to flirt with one of the guests to distract him. you were doing what he told you to from the other line of the call, giving instructions one by one with the help of the device on your ear. it was going all right until the man got interested in you, buying you drinks, joking around, and asking if you would like to follow him to do upstairs. 

you didn’t yet you had to act close to the man to get rid of him because bats told you to leave his side immediately. your mistake was taking that decision; putting one of your hands on the man’s shoulder, raising on your feet, and whispering something into his ear before leaving. apparently, this made bruce go mad – causing him to give you a lesson that you had to learn right away.

the moment you entered the batmobile, he took you onto his lap, taking all your clothes from one to another, looking darker than ever – hands fast, lips kissing yours so passionately that you believe your lips begin to bleed, the suit remains on as he begins to finger you – he just opens the zipper of his armored pants, leaving his hardened cock visible to your eyes.

wanting to touch him, your hand goes to his cock, yet, it is stopped in mid-air. he doesn’t waste any more seconds, slapping your clit, he adds, “you had to earn it. you will not get it until you beg for it.”

now here you are; already cum for one time, its hints still on your thighs and his pants, however, he doesn’t stop – you know he waits for you to beg – you try not to beg, stubborn, believing you did nothing wrong, but, it’s too much – he knows every point to make you beg – the vigilante know your own body more than you do.

when he hits your g-spot with only his gloved fingers, again and again, you cry out loud, “bruuuce – aggh – please -!” the words go out of your parted lips on their own as your hands grip his bat ears strongly, bouncing on his fingers when he doesn’t move them. the knowledge of making a mess out of you doesn’t reach into your brain, so, you continue fucking his fingers – his dark-colored eyes look up, a smirk position on his attractive masked face, mocking you. “please! I need youu – aggh!”

“pathetic,” he remarks, “bouncing on my fingers as if they’re my dick,” a chuckle breaks the lewd sounds – the outworld out of the batmobile is long forgotten. “want it so much? want me to bend you over, fuck you in this car?”

without thinking, you nod rapidly, eyes half-closed, your second cum drips onto his fingers, high hits the body, feeling a bit exhausted yet ready to take his thick cock now. 

your mind can’t comprehend what he’s doing but in a moment you find him lowering his seat, opening enough gap between your bodies and the batmobile’s front. 

afraid of falling into the surface, you try to hold his shoulders – still can’t believe you fucked yourself on his fingers and cum onto them when he talked dirty. the power – the effect he has on you is incredible! the mind is so dizzy because of him that you realize what he has done after a moment, your widening eyes look at the front mirrors of the car, seeing the road in front of you – the scene changes faster than you think – you swear the car moves like a lightning. 

the reality hits your face similar to the feeling of cold water washing your body over on a hot day. however, you can’t focus on it when bruce’s gloved and wet hands position on your waist, highering your ass up, pulling your body closer to his face.

when you hold onto the wheel to stay still, excitement and shock blurring the last cramps of your mind, fear of going in an extremely fast batmobile makes your blood boil – yet the trust you have for bruce is there, strongly holding you. his low voice reaches your ears after a while, and his hot breaths wash your pussy and ass holes that clench around nothing, making you jump in pure pleasure. “you disappointed me,” he says, “you disobeyed a direct order from me. that man meant nothin’ to me but disobeying – oh – what a bad choice y/n.”

you couldn’t wait any longer, knowing his one step away from licking you, lust takes control of you, and you begin to say how sorry you’re – how you didn’t mean to – both you and bruce know you did mean to, to get his attention, to get this side of him, because you’re a brat of him who he will tame.

“keep your begs for forgiveness for later. you have to prove to me that you’re capable of obeying me, you pretty brat.”

“anything, I will do anything for you bru -!” a slap to the ass, a slap to the pussy – scream escapes from your lips. “bats! just give me an order, will do it – just please – please fuck me already!”

“in that case,” he says, not licking you, making you pout in disappointment but when he lowers down your body, his cock’s tip meets with your aching pussy’s folds, he clicks a button, the engine slows down a little bit, the wheel of the car gets closer to you. “hold the wheel.”

you try to understand what’s going on, “what are you doin – aggh!”

his left-hand grips your neck, holding it tightly, closing the gap between your face and his, he points to the wheel that stands right in front of you. “hold the fucking wheel if you want to be fucked, y/n.”

swearing lowly, your shaking hand finds the wheel, holding it strongly, waiting for bruce to push a button – when he does, the engine starts moving faster than before. unlike the previous situation, this time, it’s you who drives the batmobile.

“bruce – how – “ your words are cut off by his deep voice.

“don’t take your eyes off the road. you will take us to the home without an accident. if you turn even a little bit, I will stop fucking you my love.” the difference in his words and voice make you go crazy, and that craziness doubles up when he lowers your body down enough to make him thrust his thick cock into your pussy, filling you up.

screaming with sudden pain and pleasure, your eyes roll over for a second before looking right at the road in front of you – gotham city still stays under the darkness of the night, the only voice that world excepts is the powerful sound of the batmobile riding on the endless looking road, the moans coming from you and swears from bats mixing with the flesh hitting the flesh can be heard by only you and bruce – the sin you commit cannot be known by another.

the focus you put on the road gets distracted whenever bruce shoves his dick into your wet clit. back of your thighs hitting his clothed thighs sends pain through your body, leaving red marks on your flesh – the balls that meet with your ass cheeks increase the sensitivity you have, making you cry as you clean them rapidly to see the road.

his name comes out of you over and over again, the brain is too occupied to drive, the mind is too crazy to function, and the body is too full of him, the man who wants to devour you, and doing it right now – using your body as he pleases, not moving his hips greatly, instead, he makes use of your body by lifting it up, then, pulling it down until his dick fills your walls deeper, harder and rougher.

“fucking brat,” he says, a poison that his voice holds captures you – you feel so pathetic as if you’re his fucktoy now. then why do you feel so high like the most powerful drug in the whole world gets into your veins with the maximum level, you ask yourself, then the answer travels to your mind after he adds, “can’t obey her master? what a pretty yet mindless girl you are, don’t you think?” oh, right, he’s the most powerful drug on the whole world, and now, you’re at his mercy.

“u-huh – agghh – oh myy – bats! please, please, please –“ you have no idea what you’re pleasing for, but he knows – he chuckles lowly, having fuck great entertainment thanks to you that you feel a kind of pride in an instant.

“u-huh?” he mocks, fucks you still, close to the edge, just waiting for the right moment. “too cockdumbed to even understand what I’m saying. but you do good my good girl, keep going, we’re close to the cave.”

the new information makes you happy, smiling widely, and looking outside clearly, seeing the cave’s entering. with the relief, you begin to drive the car more carefully than before, hands getting stronger, losing yourself in the pleasure of being fucked by bruce in his damn batmobile.

finally reaching your destination, you slow down the engine, the cave’s front door opens, and pushing a button, bruce hugs you from behind, making you sit down on his cock with an instantaneous speed, earning the loudest moan out of you.

the mouth standing beside your ear says, “cum. cum on my cock.” and you who doesn’t know she’s waiting for him to allow her – to order, do what he tells, cum on his cock as his hot semen hit the deep inside of you in sync.

kissing your shoulder, he holds your shaking body because of both the coldness of the cave you have entered and the opposite sense of warmness that bruce gives – the smell of highness on the air, chests getting up and down, breaths rapid and low, lust ends – its place gets completed with the affection of love.

“did so good,” the car’s door opens, bruce takes your body in bridal style after wrapping it with his cape. his gentle lips put kisses on your face as he walks into the bathroom of his room, watching your soft features, eyes closed to sleep. he smiles fondly, proud of you. “let me take care of my pretty girl now.”

❦ tagging: @lilvampirina & @snowprincesa1 & @dookiemeshibear *lots of kisses!*

#🔥 kinktober 2023 second week #kinktober 2023 #dc #dc comics #dc x reader #dc smut #bruce wayne #batman #batman x reader #bruce wayne x reader #bruce wayne smut #batman smut #robert pattinson!batman #comic!batman #bruce wayne x f!reader #bruce wayne x you #bruce wayne x y/n #batman x you #batman x y/n #batman x f!reader #LET THE SECOND WEEK OF KINTIBER 2023 BEGIN! #hope you liked1 muuuah

[shotmrmiller]

simon's many things. a retired fighter, for one. he hung his mma gloves a few of years ago with the excuse of getting older. he still sticks around, though— sitting in the front, so close to the hexagonal cage that his knees can touch the steel, occasionally gesturing price over to hand him a crinkled wad of cash.

gambling's illegal, you know.

thought you were a medic not a cop, pet.

a veterinarian.

good thing we're all dogs here, then.

he's also a bit unhinged, or so price says. you had pressed your tongue against the back of your teeth to keep from asking him if the hits simon's taken to the side of the head knocked a few things loose or if he was simply born that way. you'd be thoroughly unsurprised by the latter.

seen 'em take a man out with one ferocious hit— dislocated his jaw and retired him all in one second— all over cigarettes.

what, did they guy like steal them or something?

no. the prize for the winner of their fight was that pack of smokes.

incredible. (that's insane.)

he's also unrepentantly forward and a bit of a pervert, to boot. no explanation is needed.

lemme take ya out, love—

don't call me that.

and wear a pretty dress with heels. bet you'd look real good in—

stop talking, simon.

and now, you're about to find out that he's also, apparently, magnanimous.

a friday night's hustle and bustle has come and gone, as has the crowd that was in there earlier to watch a fight. the air smells of cheap alcohol and even cheaper cologne. the lighting inside is dim, casting a dull, almost sickly glow over wooden stands and the bloodied arena. the floor, once dry concrete, was now mud-slicked; drinks, urine, and spilled blood staining the surface. betting slips stick to your sneakers as you walk. (trudge, more like.)

with your worn medical supply bag around your shoulder, you tiredly head towards price's office whose metal door is being held open by an old barstool, and gently rap your knuckles on the frame. "i'm leaving, john."

he looks up at you, soft blue eyes crinkling over his glasses as he smiles. "sounds good, love. see ya later. want me to walk you out?"

always the gentleman. "no, i'm alright. i'm sure simon's out there waiting for me any—"

the metal entrance door slams open then, causing you to jump at the startling noise. you whip your head around and a resigned groan escapes your lips. it's simon and he's got bruised company. very bruised.

there's never any rest for the wicked.

"who's that?" john calls from behind you. "he lost?"

the guy whose arm is slung around simon's shoulders looks relatively young. thick, straight eyebrows, a swollen broken nose, and thin blood-crusted lips. the last time you saw a mohawk on someone, it'd been in the early 00s.

"somewhat but it's a good thing i found 'em," simon grunts. his eyes flash over to you. "can ya patch him up f'me, love? i'll go on tha' date you've been beggin' me for."

you ignore simon as you approach them both and tip the guy's head up with your fingers under his chin. searching in your front pocket, you tell him to look at you. "open your eyes as best you can, alright?"

his eyes are like sparkling blue gems— bright like the sky on a clear summer's day. he winces at the blinding white light emitting from the flashlight. "tha' necessary, lass? ah'm not seein' double, if tha's what ye lookin' fer."

he gives a pained grunt before simon tells him to stand still. "my girl here's the medic and what she says goes. clear?"

"crystal, sir." purple bruises are blooming like dark flowers around his left eye and right cheekbone, and the blood that oozed from his split lip long coagulated. his nose, however, continues to languidly drip crimson.

"not the worst break i've seen," you mutter.

the pair shuffle behind you quietly as you head toward the dedicated medical room. the sharp, clinical scent of antiseptic wafts through the air as the door swings open.

"sit, please," you gesture to the well-worn chair in the corner.

black latex gloves squeak in protest as you slide them on. "wanna tell me what's going on, simon? i'm not gonna fix the nose of a wanted murderer, am i?"

simon chuckles under his breath. "no. unlucky bloke chose to mug the wrong person. johnny here is real good at fightin', though, for someone with no real proper trainin'. figured i could give him a way to earn his money instead of stealin' it off of hard-workin' folk."

you hum and press your thumbs as gently as you can where the nasal fracture is. johnny hisses sharply and grips your wrist tightly. "easy. i barely touched it." you quickly tap the back of his hand with your knuckles. "let go, please. last thing i need is you tensing and breaking my arm."

he slackens his fingers and sits on both of his hands. "sorry, lass. ah'd never hurt a bonnie lass like ye. say, how'd ye even end up in the bowels of the city?"

his talking re-opened the cut on his upper lip, blood streaking his teeth pink. "i'm a charity case, just like you, i reckon."

johnny means to continue the conversation, but you take advantage of his distracted mind and push to the left, the sickening crunch of cartilage follows the adjustment. he curls in on himself and lets out a guttural noise that bounces off the white walls. "i'd be sorry but..." you trail off with a casual shrug.

pulling a clean rag from a basket nearby, you order johnny to sit up straight. "look up for me." he leans his head back, adam's apple bobbing as he swallows. "hold this there," he squeezes his eyes shut when you firmly press the rag under his nose, "you'll stop bleeding soon enough."

you swivel on your stool, turning your attention to simon who's been silently watching you work by the door. "any injuries on you?"

he pulls his balaclava up, revealing a blonde stubble and scarred lips. "i got an injury right," he points at his mouth, "here tha' you can kiss—"

"stop talking, simon."

johnny's laughter emerges from behind the crimson-stained cloth.

--

this is the first time you've ever seen simon in the ring.

simon, even while 'retired', fights with a viciousness that borders on primal. his snarl— a ravenous wolf's— bare crooked teeth that hunger for victory, for dominance.

even when he's merely teaching johnny how to survive in this subterranean battleground.

"there's no room for mercy, soap!" he bellows. his eyes are sharp as blades, holding an edge of madness. he charges forward with fists like sledgehammers, delivering blow after punishing blow; johnny's body paying the price for his mistakes.

pain is the currency in that pit of despair, laswell had once said.

simon is a beast in human skin, ferocity incarnate...and you don't remember the last time you were this aroused by such a brute display. if this is what he looks like now, after years of being the spectator and not the spectacle, you can only imagine him in the zenith of his strength, his power.

heat licks up your cheeks at the mere thought.

he looks like he was born and bred to fight. his crib must've been the stained mat he's dancing on, his lullabies the sound of fists making contact, forcing flesh to yield. his broad back bears the weight of history— jagged flesh that stretches taut with each swing.

"fight smart! rules dissolve once tha' bell tolls, mate. many come here for glory, others come for an escape but some--" simon ducks the undisciplined punch johnny throws and gives him a ruthless jab to the ribs once then another to the side of his cut jaw.

johnny falls like a tree that's been cut at the trunk, the sound his body makes on impact with the canvas echoing in the empty basement. his breathing comes in ragged bursts, sweat and trickles of blood mingling on his face. simon kneels next to him, grunting as he goes down. "some are only here for their next meal and those are the most dangerous."

he is in his element, all bruised flesh and bloodied nose.

oh no. johnny's nose is bleeding too. "simon!" his head snaps to you when you scream, eyes wide and unfettered. "i just fixed his nose, you dolt!" his expression softens then— furrowed brows and taut lips relax.

"he'll be alrigh'. even my nose whistles when i breathe," he remarks.

simpleton. nothing but fighting and gambling in that big head of his. "that doesn't mean that it's okay to break bones i mended a few days ago." you keep your eyes fixed on johnny, ignoring the way the heat that's radiating from simon's sweat-slick body seeps into your chilled skin. "why he call you soap, anyway? good at cleaning dishes?"

he slurs a little, blood dribbling from the corner of his mouth. "'cuz ah'm a shlippery bashtard."

you bite on your tongue, hoping that his slurring is because he's still mildly dazed from the punch and not something worse.

"wha' about me, love? i've got a beaten face too, y'know." you look at him then, narrowing your eyes as you take his bare face in. the bridge of his nose is pretty swollen, and you can see the onset of bruising already happening. it's also freely dribbling blood.

"shit, let me go get my medbag."

he hooks his fingers around the loops of your jeans, keeping you in place. "'fraid of a little blood, are ya? i think you'd look real good with me on you."

a jolt of arousal shoots up your spine unbidden, blooming desire, focus wavering. your breath catches and pupils dilate as they lock with his rich, brown ones.

"oi, get a room, aye?" johnny's hoarse voice snaps you back to the present, your thunderous heartbeat ebbing away like a tide from shore.

"whenever you want, sweetheart," simon purred. the lump lodged in your throat makes it hard to respond. "get the bag 'fore i bleed out. price will have my head if i drop dead on his mat."

you blink and scramble away on shaky legs and weak knees.

#call of duty #simon ghost riley x f reader #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley #cod mwii #cod mw2 #simon riley x reader

[ceilidho]

prompt: blue collar worker ghost knocking reader up in a gas station bathroom on a whim. (nsfw, 2k)

-

Just to look over at him on the driver’s side drives you crazy.  

His buzz cut uncovered by a hood or balaclava is the new normal. It makes your blood rush to think of dragging your fingers across it, never long enough to really grip; heats you up faster than sitting by a fire or plunging into warm water. It’s the same new normal as the bristly, naked skin of his jaw, which flexes under scrutiny. He hadn’t gotten around to shaving earlier—rarely does these days as long as he can keep to a five o’clock shadow—and it makes you shiver when you think of the raw tenderness on your inner thighs, a consequence of that decision. 

These are the consequences of trust and loyalty. Not long ago, you wouldn’t have expected more than a glimpse of dark eyes behind a mask. 

The window is cracked open just enough to let the smoke from his cigarette out. Black fingerless gloves, nails bare and trimmed, dirt and ink trapped always in the grooves of his fingers. Eyes heavy lidded as always from poor sleep, shot nerves the takeaway from an old life of brittle thin sleep. His cortisol levels, to this day, must ride high in the bloodstream. You’d give anything to ease it at a touch, but that’s not how things work. 

“Keep lookin’ at me like that and we’re gonna have a problem,” Simon says when you glance over at him for the fifth time in as many minutes. 

“A problem?” you repeat. You’re not trying to be coy—you’re really not—but it comes out that way regardless. A bit breathlessly too, you realize with a small degree of embarrassment. You’ve got no shame these days. 

He grunts instead of answering. Your fists close over your thighs as you dry to concentrate on the road ahead of you instead of the persistent ache between your thighs. It’s not his fault that your pussy picked now of all times to get desperate. 

You peer over at him again out of the corner of your eye. 

“Bird,” he growls. Doesn’t even have to look over at you to know that you’re staring. Just another weird six sense from another life. It’s a warning though, one you hear loud and clear. 

“I didn’t say anything,” you say in a huff, turning your head fully away from him now to stare out the window. 

Only a handful of minutes tick by with you watching the brown patches of grass and the trees lining the motorway before you shift in your seat. Acutely aware of the wet spot between your legs, the way Simon’s fingers curl over the steering wheel loosely when he drives one handed, the smell of smoke on the upholstery, the grimy spots on the windshield where the wipers don’t reach, the moment he shifts and the weight of him makes the leather squeak. 

You peek over at him again.

He doesn’t bother signalling before veering into the rightmost lane, ignoring the furious honking from the car right behind you. You yelp when he takes the exit at a breakneck speed, fingers gripping the underside of your seat before whipping your head around to glare at him. 

“What’s the matter with you?” you scream, spine stiff from the sudden lane change. 

Simon doesn’t answer you, but you notice that the exit leads to a rest stop just off the motorway. It’s one of the less frequented ones—just a cluster of fast food restaurants and a gas station. He pulls into a parking space and practically slams on the brakes, making you jerk forward in your seat. Simon’s never been the most cautious driver, but this is a whole new level for him.

“Simon—Simon, what are you doing—” you hiss through clenched teeth, but he’s already up and out of the car, circling around to your side. 

Your heart goes hummingbird quick in your chest, stomach in knots. When you pant out a breath, it comes out shaky with nerves and excitement. You toy with the idea of pressing down on the child lock when he comes around but think the better of it. There’s already a twitch in his eye. 

You look up at him through your lashes when he opens the door and leans in to release your seatbelt. 

“Get out,” he orders, and yanks you out before you can reply. 

The walk to the gas station is tense and you struggle to keep up with him. He walks too fast and expects you to keep up, growling down at you to move it, but you drag your feet a little. It’s shameful how even that gets you worked up. 

“Are we gonna—?” you ask breathlessly, irritation seeping out of you. Simon doesn’t answer, just tightens his hand around your wrist. 

A chime above the door jingles when the two of you walk in, heading straight for the back. You catch the attendant staring at the two of you with open contempt and give a tight, embarrassed smile back. Simon doesn’t so much as glance over. You think he’d let the man call the cops if it came down to it. 

The gas station bathroom is one of the crummier bathrooms you’ve ever been in, but you hardly register that with how Simon hauls you up against the door he just slammed shut and kisses you within an inch of your life. His kisses are ever slick and wet, dangerous for you—drugging when he drags his tongue over yours and a hand cups your head to angle it just right. You want to give as good as you get, but it’s easy to let yourself get swept away and open your mouth to let him in because you feel his hunger. 

“That cunt never gets tired of me, does she?” Simon mumbles into your mouth. He steals your words from you when he slots his lips over yours again. Only gives you enough space to drag in a sharp breath. 

It’s in your best interest. The only words available to you are pathetic little pleas, desperate fingers digging into his jacket and trying to pull it off so you can feel the muscle underneath. Trying to get as close as possible to him, to wrap yourself around him. A needy, pitiful thing. 

“Poor thing,” he sighs, pulling away from your mouth and laughing when your lips chase after him. Standing up on your tiptoes to kiss him again and kiss, hands tugging him down by the back of his neck. “So horny that you nearly made me crash the fuckin’ car.”

“Couldn’t wait,” you whine, peppering his neck with kisses when he draws up to his full height, nearly dizzy now. “Sorrysorrysorry, please—please fuck me, Simon—please—”

“Not here, bird—want you to see how desperate you look.”

He drags you over to the other side of the bathroom and makes you stand on his boots and face the mirror covered in lipstick and sharpie and god knows what else—“c’mon, up you get”—while he rucks up your dress. The stark contrast between the two of you in the mirror makes you baulk. Like you haven’t slept with him before and lived to tell the tale. He’s all dark clothing and mountains for shoulders, mouth always set in a flat line of impatience that would make anyone else turn the other way. 

You, however, press yourself back into him. 

Rough fingers tug your panties to the side, not bothering to check if you’re wet. Assuming that you are—that you always are with him, eager to cant your hips and offer yourself up to him.

You try not to think about how your pelvis is already tilted towards him.

Simon holds your head up with a single hand under your chin, squishing your cheeks a little. “Fuckin’ hell…look at that,” he rasps, eyes almost black with lust. 

“You’re being mean,” you whine, pushing back against him and wiggling your hips. 

“Doesn’t matter how many times I give it to you—always whining for it. Cock hungry bird.”

It would hurt if you didn’t already know how much he wants you too, the deep rasp in his voice betraying an aching, insatiable hunger. An arm locks like a bar across your chest to hold you in place, his hand fitting over a breast just to have something to hold. He can tell you again and again that it’s just you, but you know that he wants it just as badly as you do. 

He reaches around to undo his pants and then you feel a familiar cock bully its way into you, a tight fit only eased by the wetness almost glistening on your inner thighs. He grunts when his cock pushes into you, the same hand reaching around to rest low on your stomach, pinkie brushing the top of your mound. 

The first thrust jostles you, forces your palms to slam down on the mirror even though the arm across your chest keeps you tight to his chest. It’s sticky under your fingers. You wince when you think of how much Purell you’ll need after this, but the thought melts away when he pulls his cock almost all the way out of you before slamming back in. 

“Yes, yes—fuck—” you gasp, staring at your reflection in the mirror. After a couple hours on the road, you’re not exactly in tiptop shape—sweaty and in need of a shower and coffee—but any timidity evaporates under Simon’s hot gaze. It eats you up. 

His jaw flexes with each thrust, eyes flitting between your tits bouncing under your dress and your face until it stays there, devouring you in a single heated look. Every time your shoes almost slip off his boots, he pulls you tighter into his chest; you couldn’t get out of his hold even if you wanted to. The thought makes the blood rush through your ears. 

“Almost need someone else jus’ to take care of you when I’m not around,” Simon growls. He gives your breast a rough squeeze, an admonishment. 

“No—no one else—” 

“Jus’ me then, pet? No one else can take care of this little cunt?”

You shake your head, maybe nod, maybe sob a bit. It’s hard to tell. The hand on your low belly grips into the flesh, holding you in place while he rails you over the sink. Impossible to look away from the man towering over you, a man you’ve let willingly bend you over and get between your thighs. You wouldn’t even if you could. He’s the summation of everything you’ve ever hoped for, packaged in the too big body of a gun for hire, riddled with nerve damage and a nasty temper. You wouldn’t trade him for anything in the world.

Your eyes slip shut.

“Tell you what,” he breathes into your ear, the burr of his stubble rubbing your neck raw. “I’ll give you somethin’ else to keep you busy.” 

Your eyes spring wide open.

He shifts his stance and drives into you with renewed vigour, muffling your sounds with a hand over your mouth. The mirror fogs up through the gaps between his fingers, the room damper and stickier now than when you entered it. Tears build in the corners of your eyes. 

When he goes quiet, you know what’s about to happen. Your toes curl in your shoes when he exhales a ragged breath, gritting his teeth when he meets your eyes again in the mirror. Something about his gaze alone makes you come, like a deep press into your soul. The fat cock stretching you out is just a bonus. 

The come down is harsh, laboured breaths panting out of you until your chest finally settles, until it feels safe enough to move. You lower one foot from on top of his boot just for Simon’s arms to constrict even more, holding you fast to his chest. He can probably feel your heartbeat against his wrist. 

“Quit squirming,” he scolds, giving you a little warning squeeze.

“‘M sweaty,” you complain.

“We’ll towel off at home,” Simon says, rolling his eyes. “Don’t bitch.”

“I’m not bitching, I’m hot—” 

He lets you carp and moan about your inner thighs being covered in beard burn and come while straightening out your dress, pulling your panties back into place. He’s quicker with himself, doesn’t even bother grabbing a paper towel to wipe himself off before shoving his cock back into his pants and zipping up. When you ask him to hand you one, the look he gives you scorches you right to the bone. 

“Wait ‘till we get home,” he says, hand on your back when he unlocks the bathroom door.

“Like you aren’t gonna do it all over again the second we get there,” you mutter.

His smirk isn’t smug, but it’s a near thing.

#ceil writing #cod mw2 #cod x reader #simon ghost riley #ghost x reader #cod simon riley #ghost/reader #ghost cod

[rileysluvr]

simon riley has a thing for lips. your lips, more specifically.

whenever you’re with him, he can’t help but have his attention focused entirely on your pretty lips. stationary or not, smiling or frowning; tunnel-vision takes over and everything outside turns to muffled ringing and blurry objects. they’re just so sweet and full, and the different glosses you coat your lips in throughout the many days at work all have low groans threatening to spill over his own, each and every time he lays eyes on you. though, the only word that comes to his mind as his gaze is tracing over every curve and divot when he knows you aren’t looking, is fuckable. and he knows it’s wrong, but…

your lips would look so, so good wrapped around his cock. as far as the head goes, anyway; he knows just the tip would suffice in filling that tiny mouth of yours. still, his mind runs rampant at the thought of seeing just how much you can take. how long he can use you until you’re absolutely writhing and crying under him, begging for a break.

the way your lips would stretch and turn swollen in a way only he could give you, the prospect has him reeling. he’d turn a perfect, clever thing such as yourself into a fucked-out, ruined little toy. drool pouring from the corners of your mouth, nodding your dizzy head and smiling for more despite already taking everything he gave you.

unfortunately, simon riley doesn’t think his morals could become any more corrupt when he backs you into a corner and discovers you’ve never taken a cock in your mouth, ever.

the smirk on his face grows at your confession, and even more when he sees how flustered and embarrassed you’re getting under his stare. you had no choice but to tell him, you think. he takes your face in his big hands, mumbling something along the lines of, “poor thing…it’s alright, love. i’ll teach ya.”

and before you know it, mental entrapment becomes reality when he’s pushing you to your knees, back against the cold wall as you watch him pull his hard dick out from the confines of his cargo pants. big and mean, just like the rest of him, and you whimper at the lone sight of it. he’s pulling the tactical glove off his burly fist and throwing it somewhere off to the side as you watch dumbly, and wrapping his fingers around the throbbing veins and sheer width of his shaft.

you can’t say you’ve ever been this intimidated by anything, but you absentmindedly lick your lips with hunger as you await whatever he’ll give you, watching him slowly fist his fat cock right in front of your worried face. he snickers at the sight, mumbling more to himself: “i’ve finally got you on your knees, and you still manage to test me.”

“open up, baby, that’s right. stick that pretty tongue out, just like that. i’ll go easy on you,” he huffs, and you listen instantly.

“fuck. watch the teeth, watch it,” he tisks, and when you can’t listen—because, well, who could while being this dumbified on cock? it’s your first time, you can’t be blamed—he’s forced to shove a thumb in your mouth, right beside his cock to hold your jaw down. it’s a tight fit and your lips sting and jaw hurts from the further strain, but a few words can cure all. “that’s right, pretty girl. just lemme use this mouth like we both need, and i’ll reward you soon enough.”

“y’know how long i’ve been meanin’ to do this?” of course, you can only respond with muffled gags as he shoves himself deeper, back of your head pressing up against the wall behind you almost painfully, testing your limits. tears blur your vision but you keep your eyes on him because he told you to, and you’d be crazy not to listen to your lieutenant, even if his ethics have strayed to nothing short of utterly debauched.

“always teasin’ me with those fuckin’ lips, like you knew i’d be watching, eh? that was your goal, yeah, to get me t’teach you how to put them to good use? ‘cause it worked, lovie…doin’ so fuckin’ good for me already… ‘nd we’re gonna make you even better.”

you rub your thighs together and even try to rock your hips a bit, searching for any semblance of pleasure that’s equivalent to his, but it wont come. he laughs at you again, that fucking laugh that shouldn’t turn you on as much as it does. “isn’t that right, princess?”

afterwards, he’ll shove his spent cock back in his pants and redo his buckle as he watches you, desperately panting on the ground in front of him and catching your breath. grasping at your throat, shoulders heaving, beautiful. he’ll join you in kneeling on the floor, frowning sarcastically when you’re barely able to meet his eyes while his are fixated on yours. and christ, the way your saliva and his cum drips over the edges just like he had imagined— no, even better. tears are permanently welled at your waterline and it’s no less than a gorgeous sight. he’ll study your every feature, every detail on your face that can give him any insight to what you’re thinking, feeling, wanting.

rather, it’s the way you shift in your uncomfortable spot and your thighs are squeezed together in his peripheral that has one corner of his lips curling, a scoff of amusement leaving his lungs. oh, he’s got you. his bare hand comes up to cup your face and the thumb that was once prying your jaw apart for his pleasure now caresses the apple of your cheekbone, almost lovingly, like he really cares.

“is my pretty girl wet?” he teases, giving you no time to compute the happenings of before your throat was tainted with the bitter-sweetness of his cum. he pushes a knee between both of yours, ignoring your groggy pleas of embarrassment, and shoves his other hand down your pants. he delves a thick finger in your cunt without any warning, and then another, effectively hushing your babbles and turning them into a strained hmph and bashful whimpers.

“tight little cunt’s practically soaked, and all from suckin’ your lieutenant’s cock?” you open your mouth to explain but a soft moan comes out before any words can, which might’ve been for the best. what could you even say in this moment? “christ, you’re a dirty fuckin’ thing, aren’t ya? and y’won’t even try to deny it… bet y’just love being treated like this, all mindless and stupid for your boss.”

he’s laughing at you, again. “we can’t just leave you like this, now, can we? are you gonna let me help you out, sweetheart?”

and with pinched brows, glassy eyes, and a quivering, alluring bottom lip, you can only think to nod your head, yes, sir.

#cod mw2 #simon ghost riley #simon riley #ghost x reader #simon riley x reader #ghost x female reader #simon riley x female reader #simon riley smut #ghost smut #ghost cod

[munsonfamilyband]

I have no time right now to elaborate too deeply on this thought but I just had a brain worm and I need to write it down before I forget. Who knows, I may elaborate and make this a whole thing with dialogue tonight, we’ll see. TW for depictions of Steve’s injuries post s4, vomiting, gore(?)

Steve refuses medical treatment at the end of s4, they drop off Eddie and he hides in plain site until it’s time to take Dustin and Robin home.

They stop at Dustin’s first, both he and Robin getting out to get Claudia Hugs (I just know she gives INCREDIBLE hugs). He drops Robin off at home with her promising to keep her walkie on their frequency. And then he goes home alone.

He tries to shower, it hurts his feet and back too much. He tries to change the “bandage” but just gently tugging almost makes him black out from pain. So he collapses on his bed and passes out.

Days go by, he’s trying to act normal, like he isn’t always running a fever and his sides are itching and starting to smell under the cologne he practically bathes in. It works for a few days at least, but Claudia gets suspicious by day 3 post earthquake when Steve shows up for lunch with flushed cheeks. 2 days later he doesn’t show up.

She drives over alone, Dustin is at the Wheeler’s, and she lets herself in with the key Steve gave her and Dustin after last summer. She calls his name, doesn’t get an answer but something smells off. She’s a nurse, she recognizes the scent of disease.

She hurries upstairs and finds Steve in bed, only wearing boxers and the filthy scrap of cloth wrapped around his stomach. He’s sweating and has vomited on himself at least twice, recently too. She immediately knows that he is what smells, she can see the pus and blood on his abdomen. He’s delirious, mumbling to himself and part of her wants to shut down and cry, to go cradle this boy, her son in all ways but blood, but she can’t. She steels herself and walks to his bedside to feel his forehead, almost recoiling from how hot his skin is.

As she keeps checking him over, she grabs the phone on his bedside table and calls 911, cradling the phone between her ear and shoulder to keep working. When the operator answers she explains who she is, where she is and what’s happening.

It’s a blur after that until she’s sitting in the hospital waiting room and she realizes that 1. her shirt and her hands reek of Steve’s blood, and 2. she’s completely alone in the waiting room. Swallowing her tears, Claudia goes over to the payphone and fishes out some coins to call the Buckely’s. Robin’s father picks up but quickly hands it over when Claudia mentions Steve.

She will never forget the choked off sound of pure distress Robin makes when she hears what’s happening.

Hours pass, Robin had arrived shortly after the call and her and Claudia have been curled up together in the waiting room every since. They haven’t called anyone else, haven’t even thought about it, too worried about Steve. Later, Claudia will remember the other kids who adore Steve, Hopper who treats Steve like a son. But in that moment, still not knowing if her boy is okay, she can’t.

Finally, a doctor steps out, clearly fresh from surgery, to speak with them. She explains that Steve had a very severe infection in multiple wounds, especially the ones on his side. They had to debride the wounds, which is what took so long. He was lucky that she found him when he did and that he hadn’t picked up any truly terrible bacteria. He hadn’t gone septic, thankfully, but he was going to be on seriously strong antibiotics for a while. She explained that he was in the ICU and they aren’t supposed to let anyone but family see him.

Claudia wanted to scream and sob and go find the Harringtons and get them to come see their son, but before she even says anything Robin explains that Steve’s parents had all but disowned him and her and Claudia were both in his emergency contacts, not his parents.

The doctor lets them see him. They have to wear face masks and gloves, but they can see him. Claudia had never seen him look so small. And there, in that ICU room, her and Robin both broke and started crying. That was how Jim Hopper found them when he arrived shortly after, the nurses having called him. He’s wearing a mask and gloves but his eyes are wild and scared. He nearly falls over when he sees Steve.

Steve is unconscious for almost two weeks, though the first four or five days or so were due to sedatives - the doctor wanted him to rest and let the antibiotics work. After he was taken off the sedatives he was moved out of the ICU, to a regular room where other people could visit. The kids came and decorated his room, even brought something Eddie had “commissioned” from Will (it looked like Steve ripping one of those creepy things from that alien movie apart, which she really didn’t get). Joyce brought him the quilt from her couch that he always enjoyed at movie nights and Robin came in every other day with his shampoo and conditioner to wash his hair for him (on days she didn’t come to wash his hair, she would come do something else with him. One day Claudia walked in on her painting his nails and her heart felt like it was melting).

The day he finally woke up was the first day Robin hadn’t been able to come. Her parents had forced her to take a break and get some sleep, so Claudia was there on her own just reading a book. She was so engrossed in it that she dropped it in shock when she heard the person on the bed in front of her make noise. Her eyes instantly went to Steve and she could see him scrunching up his face and groaning.

Claudia was by his side in a heartbeat, gently grabbing his hand and brushing a hand over his cheek, speaking softly to let him know she was there. His eyes slowly squinted open, clearly struggling to get the energy to move at all. Their eyes locked and his mouth twitched, like he wanted to smile at her. Then, as she was watching him with tears in her eyes, he opened his mouth and spoke for the first time in weeks.

“Mom….”

#stranger things #steve harrington #platonic stobin #steddie #(hinted at just a little) #CLAUDIA HENDERSON #SHE GETS ALL CAPS BECAUSE I LOVE HER #parental jim hopper #robin buckley #just had this idea of steve waking up in the hospital and seeing claudia and calling her mom and UGH

[simplyreveries]

hi sorry for my English, but can I ask the boys to overblot with a s/o who likes to mark their face with lipstick marks please

lipstick marks; overblot boysss

aaaaa i love this idea so much, thank you 😭😭

this is perfect because i have an obsession with lipstick<3

riddle rosehearts

it doesn't matter how long you two have been together he still gets so flushed after any kiss from you. you have such an effect on him, it's crazy. so, he doesn't even notice the lipstick stains left on him- he only learned when he heard ace snickering about something and commenting on his left cheek.

he was so flustered by that and learned to always check his face after you kiss him, he has a status to keep up as dorm leader!! he doesn't want to be improper or anything...or hear all the teasing from the others. but he does secretly enjoy it that you love to give them to him.

whenever you pepper his faces with kisses and he has to use something like a handkerchief to rub it off, he'll be all red in the face and mutter something like "oh dear..." under his breath as he worriedly goes to a mirror. but you've sworn you've caught him smiling a little, on multiple occasions.

leona kingscholar

when you come up to him and press kisses on his face whenever he’s asleep and trying to nap- he’ll groan tiredly and tell you not too because he’s too tired to wipe off all your “damn lipstick” right now. (let’s be REAL leona) you usually see a small smirk on his face with his eyes closed though. leona will seem even irritated if you'd stop.

he’ll roll his eyes when he wipes his lips with the back of his hand and sees it stained with the color of your lips and pull you back in for another. by the end of it his lips are smudged around with the shade of yours. its definitely a sight to see if it's a pinkish color.

leona doesn’t actually really care, I mean a lot like the others he’ll make sure to get it off before going out or something… though there may have been a few times he’s forgotten or missed it because he is usually half-asleep when you’re smooching him.

azul ashengrotto

every time you kiss and smooch him, he's so smitten, his brain cant function and he can't think of really anything or anyone else. in the privacy of his office are his favorite moments when you come to check on him and give him affection. this man is putty in your hands idc!!

so needless to say, the first time this happened to him- he doesn't even notice, like riddle. he'll be in such a dreamy mood and state while he does his paperwork. when jade comes to him about something, he immediately covers his mouth with his gloved hand trying to hide the amusement he clearly is feeling when seeing azul like that. he doesn't even tell him because he thinks its funny, jade only said "ah i didnt notice (name) was here earlier..."

azul was confused but brushed it off because he deemed this behavior normal from the twins. azul only learned the hard way when he heard floyd who couldn't keep it to himself.

every time you kiss him azul tries to remember to, but once again he's stuck on thinking about you. when he looks at himself in the mirror to wipe it off, he's got such a stupid grin on his face. his favorite spot to see where its left is right under his mouth where his beauty mark is.

jamil viper

he feels the lipstick left on his face usually and places his fingers against it and has the smuggest smile... he loves it honestly. within the privacy of him in you, when he feels it smudged and left on his face it makes him weak. he pretty much doesn't forget to rub it off still, but sometimes you may see the reminiscent color left on his face.

he oddly enjoys putting your lipstick on for you, jamil would do it for you if you ask him. he likes choosing his favorite colors that you have to put on you. i mean, there's also the perk of him getting kissed as a thanks so he's not complaining.

if you did it out in public, well he will let out a small huff and discreetly tries to wipe it off hoping no other dormmates or god forbid kalim saw him with it, he'll only tease him with mushy things about how cute him and you are together. he pretends like he doesn't like them, so it is rather funny to see. he just doesn't want to appear like that in front of others.

vil schoenheit

he literally does the same thing to you ALL the time. only he chuckles and coos while rubbing it off of your face gently. whenever you two are done kissing both of your faces are covered in each other's lipstick. he personally really likes the look of you like that.

he usually looks into his compact mirror from his uniform, he laughs saying something like "oh my, look at what you've done, dear." like he just didn't leave the same exact thing on your face as well.

vil 100% buys you more and more lipstick... like literally pick what you want. he'll give you the best and prettiest brands, he loves seeing you in them anyway. he'll be amused and point out its a brand he bought for you as he wipes it off his cheek carefully. he also knows exactly what colors would suit and compliment you the best.

idia shroud

idia was a huge ball of nerves when it came to kissing you at first, he's had zero experience, and he feels insecure about his lips- as they're chapped and scarred a bit from him biting his lips out of anxiety. you got him some vaseline and flavored lip balm for him, but he only likes it when you put it on his lips for him.

the tips of his hair always gets all pink, like his groovy card in the ghost marriage event- when you kiss him, and he sees the lipstick stains imprinted on his skin. he is flustered beyond belief, but he always craves more from you- once you start, he cannot seem to get enough of you. idia gives you this toothy grin and wipes them off with the sleeve of his jacket but whenever you get red lipstick on him, and he does that it just ends up looking like blush on his pale skin.

love love loves any flavored ones like lip gloss you use that taste sweet. definitely use them because it'll always work on idia. you literally make this man dizzy and lightheaded with your lips- he doesn't seem to care about the lipstick getting on him one bit when it's the two of you. he'll only feel embarrassed if you give him a small one if you're out and cover his face nervously.

malleus draconia

malleus kisses you so much that his own lips turn the color of your lipstick. not only does it attack his whole face, but you've got his lips in that shade too, he only notices when you point it out and laugh. he'll smile and hum, only to lean in for more from you.

its funny because if you're trying to give him a kiss- with your height difference you'd end up getting a stain on his neck- at best. he thinks it's amusing as he chuckles. he'll give you a real kiss then. malleus is honestly lowkey proud to have them on him, he sees it as a sign of your affection and love from you so why wouldn't he like it? he has this dumb smirk on his face when you've got the darkest shade and you kiss him, it's the most visible on him of course.

like vil, he'll happily supply you with however many you want. malleus loves seeing you wear lipstick, it's really his favorite thing. but as i've mentioned he prefers dark shades on you the best out of them all, for sure.

#disney twst #disney twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #twst #twst x reader #twst wonderland #twst headcanons #twisted wonderland #riddle x reader #leona x reader #azul x reader #vil x reader #idia x reader #malleus x reader #jamil x reader

[workingbynyx]

Hi! I was wondering if you'd be interested in writing headcanons of Jason Todd as the reader's boyfriend? Probably like the general dynamic of the relationship, love language, etc. Whatever you think goes best! :)

of course! i can finally use my hcs of boyfie jason to good use oml i have so much in store for you loves 😚

(this has been sitting in my drafts for so long and now that its almost v-day i think its pretty fitting to post this <3 also pls remember that these are my personal hcs so some may be entirely ooc but this is how i imagine him to be okay 😭)

Very affectionate behind closed doors

Jason wasn't a very clingy person to begin with. in fact the first time you held hands you swore you saw drops of sweat drip down the side of his face, it's hilarious. it took him a while to get around giving physical affection but once he did, hugs and kisses are non-stop. he'll either give you quick or aggressive but gentle kisses or would simply ask you to climb onto him on your shared bed and lay your head on his chest as he sleeps. he'd search for your hand and give it a squeeze when the both of you are in a big crowd (ex; galas, parties) or just rest his hand on the small of your back— as intimidating he might seem, he's just a big baby in your hands.

A pretty decent cook, to say the least

Could be an unpopular opinion but i'd say Jason isn't all too bad in the kitchen, he can pretty much fix up a simple meal if he wants to. The man could either fuck up the microwave or invent a whole new recipe just to fit your cravings, there's no in between. He doesn't want to admit it but he has a secret folder in his phone of all the recipes to your favourite dishes from lunch meals to deserts; so now on every occassion, you can expect waking up to the fresh scent of your favourite food set on the table <3

Midnight joyrides are the best

Do y'all know those tiktok accs that own a motorbike and just drive around with their partners sitting behind them? That's exactly how i imagine what it would be like to be Jason's partner 👊👊 literally like; "bubs put on your helmet" "are we going out? at this time?" "what, you don't want to?" "well, yeah i do..." "good, i'll have the bike out front then" then you guys just drive around on his bigass bike zooming through the city. He'd also have his hands run down your leg that's straddling him from behind at every stoplight possible wkehwjhejwhd

Getting out of bed is almost impossible

The first time you two moved in together was really exciting, waking up finding yourself beside the love of your life sleeping peacefully to eating breakfast and dinner with them too. But as time went by, it became almost your mission everyday to get out of bed without being held back by Jason pulling you back under the sheets. You'd have to be sneaky to move his arm that's wrapped around your waist before his reflexes react soon enough; "mmh, going somewhere?" "jay, i gotta get to work" "10 more minutes love, i promise. I'll just drive you there it's much faster" "you said that 5 minutes ago— i'll be late again!" "are you saying you'd rather leave me alone?" "jace i–" "mhm exactly, so stay a'ight? you could just tell them you caught that flu" "i already did...two days ago..."

Absolutely adores your eyes, hands and waist

I'm a firm believer that Jason is a certified waist-grabber !!! you can expect the rough tips of his gloves glide over from your back all the way to your waist once he comes home from work. He also looooves looking into your eyes and see his reflection in them, the same eyes that showed nothing but pure love and kindness to him. And he also likes your hands; the size difference when you compare them, how they wrapped around his own, and how they cling onto him every chance you get. He thinks it's such a cute mannerism (if you have them too)

He asks for fashion advice, sometimes

Jason'll probably throw on a shirt, jacket, pants and boots then call it day before he met you— but he's even conscious of how colors looked on him now. You were his stylist, often picking out clothes and giving him new looks that you think looks best on him just because he once saw a photo of him and thought the shirt and pants he had didn't match at all. Jason always thought clothes only consists of hoodies, sweatpants, shirts, but now even knows what 'preppy' clothing is after you explained it to him.

His love language is words of affirmation and physical touch

This may vary to some people but i do hc Jason's love language to be words of affirmation and physical touch. Words of affirmation; only because he absolutely loves it when he tells you what he genuinely thinks of you at the moment. "You look great in red", "i'm proud of what you did there", "i love you, y'know that right?", "you look so gorgeous, i'm lucky to have you" and physical touch; because he's totally convinced he can't live without you by his side. Jason would want to be next or near you at any given chance, he'll have you scooted beside him while he reads a book or gently rub his hand against your thigh when he's focused on a movie. Your presence alone gives him the comfort he's always longing for in nights that he's away from home, and you'd glady give it to him.

Very protective over you

It's probably a known fact that Jason is a protective person but when it comes to you he can be over the top in making sure you're okay (especially when you're also a vigilante/hero working with him.) You'll always have to assure him that you're fine and not bleeding to death with a papercut or when you accidentlly stub your toe against the bed. But when you're also a crime-fighter like him, best believe he'll always have you stay and guarded behind him. You had to explain so many times that you could also take care of yourself like he can, though it's understandable why he acts that way most of the time.

Acts all tough, but melts when you're around

Around the times when Jason still had a lil crush on you, he'd never let his guard down and likes to appear cold or tough. But once you were dating he's an absolute shy babe even with the smallest gestures or compliments you give him. He'd only crack a smile at the side comments you make but is mentally falling apart. Or when he can't keep up the act he simply dips his head in the corner of your neck and stay there til he stops blushing like a teen getting his first kiss.

Is a part of the sassy man apocalypse

Sometimes, you question if this man is simply your bestfriend or your boyfriend of how many years. The amount of bickering the two of you end up having is like watching two friends fight over peanut butter vs chocolate. You'd suggest a book you've been reading that he absolutely despises and have a debate right there and then. It's almost like that one Friends scene when Joey and Rachel were giving spoilers back to back at each other LMAO. The man also has an unhealthy habit of popping a hip whenever he stands, your gallery would probably be filled with pictures of him in that stance alone.

#✎ ─ nyx fics ! #jason todd x reader #jason todd x gn!reader #jason todd headcanons #jason todd x y/n #jason todd x you #red hood x reader #red hood x gn!reader #red hood headcanons #dcu #dc comics #red hood #jason todd #bf!jason todd x reader

[batterygarden]

dr. suguru geto & his white-haired med student perform your check up!

cw: 18+ MDNI, afab fem!reader, dead dove do not eat! reader’s a bit naive, medical kink, dubcon because she’s under the impression it’s necessary for doctors to fuck their patients (geto convinces her she has some rare hormone disorder) also she’s kinda pressured to consent to being watched, pussy inspection, nude taking, voyeurism, protected sex, fingering, fondling, size kink with no pain. just. medical exam gone sexual and with gojo stepping in. 1.5k words

a/n: my first time writing a geto OR gojo fic and it is utterly depraved <3 .. also my first time posting a fic in so long, feedback and rbs would be greatly appreciated! xoxo enjoy

Dr. Suguru Geto has been your physician for as long as you can remember—treating injuries, prescribing medicine, performing routine physicals… You’ve come to trust him and only him when it comes to your health. You appreciate the fact that his check-ups are familiar; you’ve been attending them for years and like to think you know his office like the back of your hand. Which is why you’re startled to see someone else in his room today—a med student intending to sit in on your visit, a nice camera set beside him on the supply table.

He greets you from a seated place against the wall when you enter Dr. Geto’s room—a tall, bright-eyed man with white hair and glasses—masked in an N95 but still somehow intimidatingly-handsome. Of course, that'd make your doctor petrifyingly-handsome, the way he smiles so kindly for you, the way his silky hair looks tied behind his head, stray bangs falling loose. The way he fills out his scrubs—they’re almost too small for his muscular arms. You have to shake your head to clear it—your thoughts are veering inappropriate. 

Once you’re seated on the exam table, crinkling the wax paper, Dr. Geto snaps on a pair of blue gloves.

“You know the routine, sweetheart,” he says in that unnervingly-soothing voice of his—easily commanding your attention, a desire to please. Sometimes you imagine his voice is hypnotic. 

You nod for him—you do have a good grasp of his check up procedure by now, lifting your chin while he checks your eyes and ears and nose. He seems to linger on the inspection of your mouth and throat—making you worry; what if you have some kind of virus! You wonder if something’s wrong when he places two fingers on your tongue to encourage your mouth wider for his gaze, swiping a bead of drool from your lip with his thumb once he’s finished. Fortunately, he deems everything to be in good health—and you thank him, pleased to have such a thoughtful doctor.

Then comes the awkward part—well, awkward because of this new man in attendance. 

Dr. Geto has to perform your breast exam. 

He does this every time, he’s very thorough—something you appreciate given the unique hormone disorder he says you have. You don’t really understand it, but you trust your physician explicitly—glad that, so long as you’re under his care, you’re staying closely monitored. 

You feel your face heat once you strip today, noticing the white-haired man shifting to get a closer look. You wonder what the clipboard on his lap is even for, considering the way he never glances at it. You can feel that his gaze hasn’t left you once—you’re not sure you’ve ever felt this carefully perceived. 

You will yourself to ignore it during the breast exam, which, thankfully, also goes well. Geto assures you they’re healthy—perfect he even says while a gloved thumb runs over your nipple, and tingles go up your spine. Your doctor’s approval always feels unbelievably good, you relish in it. 

For the sake of your health, what with your hormone disorder and all, Dr. Geto always checks between your legs during your physical, too. Making sure your reproductive organs are healthy and working properly—it’s something you’ve grown used to and more than comfortable with. 

Today you can’t help but glance at the medical student against the wall when Dr. Geto asks that you remove your pants though, hesitating under his bright gaze. 

Geto gives you a patient smile, glancing to the other man. 

“Don’t be shy, sweet thing—it’s nothing we haven’t seen before. Mr. Gojo here is a talented student, in fact he’s a friend of mine—you can trust you’re in good hands.” 

You can tell Gojo is smiling under his mask with the way his eyes crinkle, nodding in encouragement.

“Of course! It’s really nice of you to help me meet my training requirements.”

You notice that the student's voice carries a similar weight to your doctor’s—oozing confidence and reassurance. 

With a deep breath you nod, ridding yourself of the rest of your clothes. Who are you to obstruct this man’s learning—you decide it’s better to just be respectful. 

You’ve got to cum at least once a day, you know—that’s what Dr. Geto recommends to stay healthy—and he always takes care of it for you when you visit. He might as well while he’s performing your check up down there anyways, and it’s useful for him to make sure you can orgasm properly—what with your wacky hormones and all. 

The anticipation has you embarrassingly wet when you pull down your underwear though, a string of arousal clinging to the fabric as you tug them off. You feel warm as both men’s eyes follow the mess you’ve made—shy in a way you aren’t usually when it’s just you and Dr. Geto. As polite and respectful as this medical student has been, his eyes intimidate you, as does the previously forgotten camera that accompanies him—replacing the clipboard in his hands. 

He notices you glancing at it and, with a gentle, informative tone, explains how it’s important he can refer back to this experience as learning material, he’s still studying in addition to residency—capturing photos of this exam will be quite helpful. And as much as it throws off your usual routine, you figure if it’s for the sake of learning and science you’d be rude to deny him. 

Geto’s gloved hand is surprisingly precise and dexterous for its large size, once your feet are in the stirrups he makes light work of you every time. 

First there’s the examination, inspecting you with a flashlight and this time a camera, and then he’s gently poking and prodding, spreading and fingering before he focuses on making you cum. It’s embarrassing how messy the latex of his gloves becomes, his blue fingers shiny and sticky once he finally removes them from inside you. His clean hand rubs your thigh reassuringly while you come down, and he smiles at you, telling you you’ve done well. You barely register Mr. Gojo sneaking in to take a photo of your swollen pussy—an after, since you know he captured a few before you came as well. 

That type of check-up wasn’t adequate today though, Dr. Geto insists on ensuring you can still cum from cock as well. He’s done this before, and it feels so nice, so you thank him for offering. You watch carefully as he discards messy gloves for clean ones before freeing his hard cock, rolling a condom down its length. It’s large—a breath-halting sight every time you see it.

You wince when a gloved hand is returned to your sensitive folds then, gathering your release to spread over himself as lube. Dr. Geto fucks into you slowly at first, working you open carefully so it isn’t painful, before finding a steady rhythm, hitting a deep spot within you that has you whining, your toes curling up by his sides. You cum on his cock twice before he’s groaning and cumming with you, the warmth of his seed spreading inside you through the thin condom. 

By this point you’re overstimulated, wincing when he pulls out, covered in a sheen of sweat, dripping onto the exam table paper. 

Still, you let Mr. Gojo fuck you then, too, even though Geto’s finished his check up—docile and easily persuaded. You reason that it makes sense he’d need more hands-on training experience as a doctor-in-training. You’re happy to help, you tell him. 

You’re a mess by the time he finishes, he isn’t quite as careful and gentle as your doctor is—pounding into you with little care for your overstimulation. You’re left twitching and mush-brained, barely feeling Dr.Geto’s soothing gloved hands rub over your sore limbs—only somewhat registering the way Gojo holds the camera before he’s even pulled out of you, snapping full body pics before some close ups of your well-abused cunt. 

You’ve passed your physical with flying colors, your doctor informs you, once he and his student are composed and dressed. Mr. Gojo thanks you for your training assistance, his voice holding a boyish charisma that has you thanking him as well. He then helps you gather your things before leaving the room so you can dress. 

Feeling satisfied, albeit a bit exhausted, you tug back on your clothes, finding that Mr. Gojo’s left his clipboard when you go to grab your bag. You don’t see the harm in peeking a bit, suddenly curious what notes he could have been referring to or taking during your exam. You're surprised when you do, though—there’s only a blank piece of paper attached. 

#geto x reader #gojo x reader #getou suguru x reader #jjk x reader #gojou satoru x reader #getou x reader #jjk fic #geto suguru smut #gojo smut #jjk smut #🐞 writes #tw.dubcon #tw.medical

[that-sarcastic-writer]

Ride it

Leon S. Kennedy x F!Reader

Summary: Leon fucks you on his motorcycle. That's it. This is just pwp

Warnings: explicit sexual content, minors dni, pwp, unprotected sex (pls wrap it), p in v, bit of fingering, bit of a handjob, exhibitionism, praise kink, bit of an innocence kink, Leon has a mouth on him, the s in leon s kennedy stands for slut, language, no use of y/n

I wrote this with vendetta Leon in mind, but it can be whichever, but older leon fits better. Reader is also at least 25.

WC: 2.1k

A/N: I'm self indulging with Leon. Also, say it blew the fuck up and I was not expecting that, so tysm!! This one is for my Leon whores. Enjoy the pure filth :)

Leon Kennedy Masterlist

Gif credit goes to this tumblr

Ao3 link (but pls still reblog and shit on here thank u)

Comments and reblogs are highly appreciated!!

You knew damn well you should have known better than to listen to him when he oh so innocently suggested you wore a dress for your date. Spring had come fast and the weather was so nice for you to show off that one pretty sundress you brought early in the fall but had never actually worn. And it drove him absolutely insane to see you in pretty dresses. It gave him more room to work, he thought.

But oh sweet, naive you. So trusting of everything your boyfriend said to you.

But the minute you realized you were getting on his motorcycle and not his Jeep Wrangler, you immediately knew you were in for a long ride. And the borderline sinful smirk he flashed you as he handed you your helmet did not help ease the twist in your stomach.

Still, you wouldn't say no to anything he asked, if he wanted to use his motorcycle you would go to your date in his motorcycle. If anything, it made you more eager. And rightfully so, Leon would move one of his gloved hands on one of your thighs at every red light or stop sign, squeezing and tracing his fingers over your bare skin. Goosebumps would rise on your skin. You would hold him tight, both arms tightly wrapped around his torso, your chest flat against his back the entire ride. He didn't mind, if anything he found it endearing that you held on so tight.

But if he was going to tease you, so were you.

You were coming to a red light, so you oh so innocently moved your hands from his front to sneak underneath his leather jacket and t-shirt, cold fingers brushing over his warm skin. You felt him flinch ever so slightly, and he sucked in a sharp breath. Good thing he was at a red light, because he had to close his eyes to keep his composure.

"What are you doing?"

You heard his low somber voice through the Bluetooth in your helmet. You bit your lip to stop yourself from giggling and simply shrugged, but your hands stayed inside his shirt, now moving down to trace over his v-line, stopping at the hemline of his boxer briefs. You heard him groan as one of his hands came to grip your thigh.

"'M not doing anything." You eventually said. You gasped softly when you felt his fingers dig into the skin of your thigh.

"You're going to stop that, right now." He breathed through his nose, using that authoritative and commanding voice that only made you wetter. You swallowed, stilling your hands, but never actually removed them from under his shirt. Another heavy breath. "Take your hands out of my fucking shirt before I park on the side of the street and rearrange your insides right then and there."

The sound that came out of your mouth right then and there was pathetic. It made Leon chuckle. Oh his sweet girl, always such a whore for him. But you did listen, and your hands immediately returned to the front of him.

"That's a good girl." He hummed in approval, the light finally turning green, and he gave your thigh a reassuring squeeze before his hand returned to the handle. "We're almost there, be good and you'll get what you want."

You had a satisfied smile on your face the rest of the ride. But you probably should've known that your little stunt was going to cost you because the next time you came to a stop you were at a cliff that overlooked the city at the end of an otherwise empty road with a dead-end.

You frowned softly, taking your helmet off your head and looked around with a confused look. Leon had already gotten off the bike, helmet off, and had kicked the stand but never actually turned off the bike.

"Leon..?"

"Y'know, I actually had a date planned. I was gonna take you to dinner, then here because I know just how much you love to see the city at night, however," he bit his lip softly, grabbing your hips and forcing you to face him, your legs dangling off his bike while you were still sitting on it. You looked up at him with big eyes, "Because you're such a greedy whore and you can't seem to wait, I'm gonna fuck you stupid on my bike, and you're gonna take it, yeah?"

God, the things this man would make you do, the things he would make you want. He was a bad influence, but fuck, you loved it.

"Yes. Yes please." There was no hesitation, just need and desperation. He gave your hips a tight squeeze, his pale blue eyes filled with the same need.

"Mhmm of course that's what my pretty girl wanted, you just wanted my cock huh?" He had this filthy grin on his face as he moved his hands down to your thighs, "Spread your legs for me baby."

You bit your lip softly and did as he asked, he wasted no time in ripping your panties down your legs until they hung from one ankle. He smiled as he gripped your jaw with one hand as he peeled the fingerless glove off the other with his teeth before slipping it under your dress. You gasped, blood rushing to your face when you felt his fingers brush over your clit. Leon opened his eyes in surprise as he dragged his fingers down to your entrance and wetness instantly coated his fingers.

"Oh sweet girl, you're already so wet for me." He chuckled softly, leaning down to crash his lips against yours, capturing the moan he pulled from you as he slowly pushed in two of his fingers. "Mhmm."

"Please Leon. I want you so bad. Please." You mumbled against his lips, fingers gripping his hair as you bucked your hips against his hand.

"I know, baby. I'll give you what you want, don't worry." He hummed as he continued to work you with his fingers as he undid his belt with the other. With shaky hands, you helped him unzip his jeans and pull his cock from the confines of his boxer briefs.

With a soft hiss, he removed his fingers from you and pumped himself a couple times, coating himself in your slick before he hiked up one of your legs over his torso, spreading you out for him as he slowly slid into you. You eyes instantly fluttered shut and your head felt back as he slowly buried himself to the hilt, making sure you felt every inch.

"Mhmm fuck…" A soft whimper left your mouth as you threw your arms over his shoulders in an attempt to keep yourself upright, and then as you opened your eyes, you remembered you were in fact, out in the open, "Fuck. Shit, Leon. Do you think someone will drive by?"

"So what? I'm deep enough for you to feel me in your stomach and you're worried someone will see?" He laughed mockingly, not in the slightest bit worried about it. If anything the idea of getting caught made him want to fuck you even more. He brought his hand to the back of your neck, pulling your face close to his as he snapped his hips forward, "Let 'em see."

God, you'd be lying if you said the idea didn't make you wetter. Leon definitely felt the way you squeezed around him when he said it. He moaned in response, fingers tangling around the hair at the back of your head as he gave you another punishing thrust.

"Mhmm yeah, you'd like that wouldn't you? You'd like it if someone saw you all sprawled out on my bike, dripping wet, and getting fucked stupid by your older boyfriend? Yeah you would." He was pounding into you harder and harder, each word spoken in between moans and groans.

"What would they think huh? Such a sweet innocent girl letting her older boyfriend use her like this? Goddamn baby, I've ruined you." He pulled your face close to his, foreheads touching as he watched the utterly fucked out look on your face and the sound of your dripping cunt slapping against him.

"Yes! Fuck yes. Only you can do this to me." You cried out, any and all worries about getting caught long gone, and all you could think about was the aching feeling in your belly, and the flash of heat that was rapidly approaching.

"Mhm, that's right, pretty girl. Such a greedy whore, just for me." He moaned the praise, free hand scrunching up your dress to your waist as he held you on the seat that still vibrated through you as he kept pounding into you. And you happily took everything he had to give you like that was all you were meant to do in this world. Be at the mercy of your gorgeous boyfriend.

"Please Leon," You were holding on to him for dear life, nails digging into his leather jacket and hair, voice weak and broken in between moans. God you were so fucking close. "I want to come. Please."

Leon moaned at your weak pleads. You were so sweet, so desperate and at his mercy. He could never deny his sweet girl anything.

"Mmm yes. Let go for me baby, I got you." His thumb found your swollen clit, he rubbed harsh circles that matched his harsh thrusts, while his other hand kept a tight grip on your hair and he pulled your head back. "Look at me baby, keep those pretty eyes on me when you come."

You fought the urge to roll your eyes back as a flash of blinding heat ran through your body, but you managed to keep your eyes on his pale sapphire ones as you came around him, a pathetic moan falling from your lips as your whole body trembled. He held you on the seat, his body pretty much preventing you from falling.

"Mmmm fuck, good girl. Agh—" A moan caught his throat as your walls squeezed his cock and a gush of wetness seeped around him. He pulled you against him, mouth crashing against yours as he snapped his hips with urgency, his own release quickly approaching. "Fuck, fuck baby. You're squeezing the shit outta my cock. Shit, I'm so close. Fuck."

You held on to him for dear life, just letting him use you to chase his own release, your weak moans in his ear, your high pitched gasps and your weak mumbles of his name, fuck, it didn't take him long before he was pulling out of you. But he quickly grabbed your hand and wrapped it around his slick cock.

"Mmmm fuck baby— hah— yes, fuck—" He guided your hand on his cock, using your hand to pump himself, his face on your neck as he moaned, "Yeah just like that baby. C'mon pretty girl, make me come. C'mon, fuck, yes. Yes, good girl. Shit ugh—"

Strings of his come shot into your hand and the seat between your parted thighs as he came with a guttural moan that made you wet all over again. You hummed softly, leaving kisses over his face as he panted. His eyes were closed and he had the side of his face pressed against your neck. He left wet kisses along the exposed skin of your neck as he breathed heavily.

"You did such a good job, baby. You're always so good for me." He hummed against your neck, moving up to capture your lips into a softer, slower kiss before he was pulling back.

You sat on the seat, making your best effort to stay upright, legs wide open as you waited for Leon to clean himself up. You tilted your head at him with confusion, just now realizing what he had done.

"Why did you—" You frowned softly as he took your hand, cleaning his mess with an old bandana before wiping the seat in between your parted legs.

"I'm still taking you to dinner. Unless you wanted to sit through dinner with my cum inside you all night." He chuckled softly, face flushed red, hair disheveled and jeans still undone as he tossed the bandana into one of the compartments. When he looked at you, you had this sweet look on your face, a tiny smile on your lips and your head tilted. God you were so adorable, it made him want to ruin you all over again. "Although you probably deserve it. But I'm not that mean."

A small perverted smirk made its way to your lips, and it made Leon groan as he grabbed your chin and placed a rough kiss to your lips.

"Don't give me that look or you won't make it to dinner."

#leon s kennedy x reader #leon s kennedy x you #leon s kennedy smut #leon kennedy x fem reader #leon kennedy x you #leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy smut #leon s kennedy #leon kennedy

[a-dauntless-daffodil]

is it gay to collect lots of lore on your new girlfriend, make it into a binder, and then hide it under your shared bed where she will absolutely never find it???

Vaggie: "Charlie? Uh, quick cleaning question."

Charlie: "Hmmmm yeah??"

Vaggie: "So I was looking under the bed-"

Charlie: "Under the b-" (LEAPS across the room) "-NO WAIT LEMME DO THA-"

Vaggie: "-and there's this binder, with my name on it."

Charlie: "AHH!!"

Vaggie: "In your handwriting?"

Charlie: "AAHHHH!!!!"

Vaggie: "It's about the size and thickness of a telephone book-"

Charlie: "AAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHH....!!!!"

Vaggie: "Babe. Do I wanna know."

Charlie: "IT'S NOTHING CREEPY OR WEIRD I SWEAR!!!!!"

Vaggie: "... that honestly just makes it weirder. What's even left?"

Charlie: "Normal stuff! Just, normal everyday Vaggie-related observations! In alphabetical order. And. Cross filed by category and sub grouping, for quick reference."

Vaggie: "..."

Vaggie: "You've made a reference book on me."

Charlie: "Okay, now when you say it like THAT it sounds WEIRD!"

Vaggie: "Any, uh, particular reason you're doing this?"

Charlie: "My brain likes knowing things about you. I mean, I like knowing things about you."

Vaggie: "What... kinda things?"

Charlie: "Can I see the binder? Thanks." (pages through) "Ah-hem. Things Vaggie doesn't like! Not having wings, back pain, back pain from not having wings anymore, people being rude to me, not stabbing people who're being maybe a bit rude even though she really wants to, leaving her spear at home on dates so she doesn't stab people with it, stuff being messy even though she tries to hide how grumpy it makes her when I don't fold the towels up again, guitarists, swords, angels, any mention of heaven-"

Vaggie: (sweating) "H-how 'bout some examples from another category, sweetie?"

Charlie: "Right! Ummm- okay. Things Vaggie likes! High places! Backrubs- especially after she's slept wrong again because we cuddled the wrong way during the night oops- the way her hair looks now it's growing out long! Long gloves and thigh high stockings! Cleaning! Doing stuff together- like tidying up our room! Buying me binders so I can keep my notes together instead of stacking them piles in our room! Threatening people! Threatening people specifically with-"

Charlie: (growling) "Her. Spear."

Vaggie: "What?"

Charlie: "Nothing!" (goes back to smiling) "Holding hands!- with me. Snuggling!- with me. Kisses!- again specifically with me. Staring up at the light of heaven from high places-!"

Vaggie: "And you."

Charlie: "-and me! ...And me?"

Vaggie: "I like staring at you, too."

Charlie: "....."

Charlie: "Can you- hold on just ONE moment I- I need to make a note and, for that I need a glitter pen..."

Vaggie: "You're writing all this down in glitter pen?"

Charlie: "I want it to be cute! Like you!!!"

Vaggie: "And I kinda wanna kiss you."

Charlie: "You- because of the, weird non-creepy binder thing??"

Vaggie: "Yep."

Charlie: "....Noted!!!" (snaps binder SHUT) "I can totally make the actual notes later though, you know, if you want to do the kissing thing right now inste- Mmf!"

#hazbin hotel #charlie morningstar #chaggie #vaggie #incorrect quotes #silly headcanons #charlie generates a lot of thoughts and insights #what if vaggie “doesn't like messes” introduced her to the idea of organizing all those notes and thoughts #and it was super effective? #and maybe they kissed about it a little? #(and charlie looks back on her notes later like HER SECRET WAS THERE THE WHOLE TIME ARE YOU /KIDDING ME/?!?!)

[cultrise]

nsfw ahead !

prowler!hobie who sees you, his girl, walking home after a night out with your girls and wants to make sure you’re safe as you step out into the cold night.

but also prowler!hobie who’s been so busy with his vigilante bullshit he hasn’t seen you in so long, hasn’t touched you in so many weeks… and he misses you so fucking much he can’t help but drop down behind you and wrap a clawed hand over your waist.

and surprisingly enough, you don’t flinch. you’re used to him following you around. prowler!hobie is a little bit colder than usual hobie but he’s also way more protective. the minute you heard the shifting behind you, you knew damn well your masked boyfriend was behind you, watching your every move. and the minute the cold metal claw touched the skin of your waist, sending shivers to your spine, you felt his smell hit your nostrils and your suspicions were confirmed.

“aren’t you supposed to be on patrol?” you ask softly, not turning around as you earn a distorted groan. prowler!hobie can’t help but spin you around, the pixelated eyes watching you. somehow, even behind his mask you could see the intent in his eyes “you sayin’ you didn’ miss me?”

you smile as you hand smooths his jacket out firmly, making him tense under your touch “no. i just thought you were busy” and his hands grab you closer, making your body press against his “never too busy f’you. need to make sure you’re safe”

and your finger hooks around his necklace, pulling him closer “come home with me tonight” and it breaks him. whatever restraint was in his body is long gone. and before you know it you get dragged into the nearest alley, your panties to your ankles as he buries himself into you.

prowler!hobie who wants you, needs you, craves you so badly it makes his skin ache and he doesn’t even have the patience to take his gear off. his clawed hand holds one of your thighs up as his cock works it’s magic deep inside your cunt, hitting your g-spot just right. his other hand is pressing on your lips, muffling the noises you’re making so people don’t stop by.

and ragged breaths are coming from behind the mask, which he hasn’t even bothered to take off so you can look at him — damn this man, he’ll never let you have it your way. and he’s not gonna let you complain either with the way he so aggressively ruts his hips into you, making you drool all over his glove and making your eyes stare back into your skull.

prowler!hobie who even with a mask and a voice filter hiding his identity is going to talk absolute filth to your face as he carries you to your orgasm “ya’ like gettin’ pounded by the prowler like that? fuck… being my favourite slut as always.. gonna fill that greedy lil cunt up” he chokes out as he goes faster, deeper. and what use is holding his hand over your mouth, really? because nobody in their right mind would consider the sounds of his pelvis slapping against your asscheeks as random clapping in an alley in the middle of the night.

but maybe prowler!hobie doesnt care that people hear him. maybe they should. especially when with a grunt he half-yells into your ear “fuck yeah, doll. cum on the prowler’s cock like that” as your body shakes and trembles and you violently spill your juices on his lengthy dick.

and prowler!hobie doesn’t stop until he’s bursting into you, until his cock is coated with you guys’ orgasms and he presses the top of his mask against your forehead, panting heavily. that’s finally when he decides to click the button that moves his mask’s face plates to the side, revealing your sweaty boyfriend that looks at you with piercing eyes.

prowler!hobie who instantly captures your lips, tasting the inside of your mouth as his hands move along your body. and he groans into your mouth because “fucking hell, you taste divine”. and you can’t help but pull away, a small pout on your lips as he eyes down the mess he made (which he’s definitely proud of).

“oh, now you kiss me?” you scoff as he turns his gaze back to you, a grin appearing on his plump, glossy lips “would you rather i didn’t?” you sigh, rolling your eyes “i’d rather you came back home with me tonight. i miss you” and he helps fix your clothes as you attempt to stand straight without holding the wall, your legs shaking from the whole ordeal.

“i am. and don’t roll your eyes at me, princess. if ya’ wanna roll your eyes, ‘m sure i can get you to do it again” prowler!hobie whispers as you push him away, your face heating up at his words. and you try to take a step forward but shit.. your legs aren’t working properly anymore.

prowler!hobie who laughs at your disheveled state, one hand on his hip as he stares down at you “need a hand? or a leg, if y’will?” he teases as you slap his shoulder “stop being an asshole and help me walk. it’s your fault i’m like this” and even if he laughs and makes fun of you about it, he indulges. after all, he has to make up for the past few weeks for being away, doesn’t he?

© cultrise | don’t steal, copy or translate my works.

#ahhhh im sickkkk #i love prowler!hobie fuckkkk #hobie #hobie brown #atsv #across the spiderverse #spider punk #hobie brown x reader #hobie brown smut #hobie brown x reader smut #prowler hobie #prowler!hobie #𐙚 — pages. #𐙚— dreamscape.

[visionsofmagic]

day 22: simon ghost riley [sex pollen]

࿓ synopsis • after the mission is done, waiting for trucks, you realize something is wrong with your body but ghost there to help.

―❦ nsfw, roughness, jealousy, fingering, clothes full on/off, dom!ghost, possessiveness, claiming, mentions of exhibitionism (I guess), licking, cum eating, pet names, nearly fainting, crush, f!reader, brat!reader, praising, poison/venom, flower & more in the work! • 3.9k • the longest one for the kinktober, but, who is surprised? I am on my knees for this man, so, hope you will enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed whilre writing! here’s our lieutenant, have fun & enjoy! [kinktober m.]

“copy,” ghost said, using the device on his chest as he talked with soap on the other side of the call, making a plan about waiting where you are for a while – inside a small room used as an office for information gathering, while the team secures the building entirely until the trucks come. “y/n and I will wait in here.”

hearing your name from his lips always gives you goosebumps – he has great effects on you, and you believe he knows every one of them because of how he acts around you, however, he’s a duty man, bringing no love or any affection into the field – sadly. you content yourself with the little yet effective affection he gives you though. he’s different around you – even though he will deny it right away.

as he nods to you, then, sitting down on a chair with no arms, he puts his weapon beside it – elbows on his knees, he kneels lower, taking his knife out of his pocket and cleaning it – acting as if he’s alone in the room but you can sense that he studies you.

to act calm down, you travel around the room as possible as you can, the rain washing over the window, giving a sense of coldness. holding the beautiful flower inside your hands, you smell it again because of the addicting scent it has, giving you a feeling of joy, even a highness you cannot acknowledge yet.

finally, putting it onto the table, you grab a book from the shelf, get in front of the table, and sit on it, making ghost stand right beside you as he still uses a cloth to clean his sharp knife.

blowing the dust from the surface of the book on your hands, no glove, the scent of the flower is still on there, you read the title that book has. you chuckle, making ghost look at your face for a moment under the mask, hands never stopping.

turning to him, you show the book, saying, “didn’t know there would be classics on the shelf of the bad guys.”

ghost nods, “it’s just for the display sergeant.”

“it seems so,” you say, shrugging and putting the book down beside you. then, you watch his skull-themed gloves working on the knife, signing because the images – dreams, in other words, come into your mind in which he uses his long and thick fingers to fuck your holes – how would it feel, you ask to yourself, and a deep voice answers it right away, ‘it would feel euphoric’.

when you come to yourself, you look at how his hands stopped, and his eyes directed on your face, studying you.

leaving a nervous chuckle, you hold your thighs tightly to stay still under his piercing gaze. “something wrong sir?”

he gets up slowly, taking your breaths away with each little step he takes. his knife goes into his pocket, and, his gloved hand finds your chin, rising your head up, standing a bit taller than you even though you sit on the damn table. “s-sir?” you try to ask, getting breathless at the proximity you have – it’s not the first one, nor the last, yet, it’s effective as if it is.

“your face –“ he says, furrowing, “it gets redder.”

“huh?” it takes time for you to understand what he’s saying. when it hits you, your eyes widen, thinking that the reason behind being red is him. chuckling, you wave your hand in the air as he leaves your chin, “’s nothing lt, gotta be overwhelming state of the mission we have finished.”

he doesn’t say anything. going back to the chair, his eyes never leave your body as you get up from the table, traveling around the room, and finally stopping in front of the shelf once again. your back is turned to him but you can feel his eyes on you which burns you alive.

palms getting sweaty, hair on the neck getting high, hands trembling, breathing rapidly, nose getting cold, and the whole body except it becomes warmer each passing time – making you weak entirely – it all happens in a moment, before even you know it, your body’s temperature changes from steady to warmer one – only a few places of it remain cold; your nose, the tips of your fingers, and sweats. only simon’s voice is audible as the rest of the world’s noise becomes blurry to hear – to understand. even the rain’s peaceful sound disappears.

it feels far more different than any disease or feeling you have ever felt – taking your logical side away slowly, one by one, it makes you breathe louder, taking the attention of simon to you when you turn to him, hands moving without your mind’s control, scratching your back, neck and even abdomen. “s-simon – “ you say, voice low, haskier than before, using his first name, not the title or nickname.

he stops talking with whomever he talks to through the device, looking at you as your hands find the surface of the table – to become steady, you hold its edge strongly, still looking at his worried eyes.

“is it me or – agh – is it me or the room is getting – uhm, hot?”

simon says he needs to go to soap, as you assume, then rushes to your side – hands find your face after he gets rid of his gloves – skin touching to the skin, you close your eyes and leave a whimper at the feeling of coldness his body has. “ohh – simon –“

“shit –“ he swears, letting your forehead hit his chest, holding you from the back now, he says, “damn, y/n, you’re burning as hell.”

he sounds calm, giving you the power to hold still, and having the strength to hug his arm, “simon – aggh – please, please, simon – help me.”

you have no idea how your mind works in the moment but you’re grateful.

picking you up, he sits you down on the table, holding you by the arms, he makes you look at him, “hey, look at me sergeant. listen here little one, I will go and get the medic team, got it?”

he doesn’t wait for you to answer, ready to leave you and get the others immediately because he cares about you so much that it drives him crazy to see you this weak, so red, breathing rapidly, and can’t focus anything but only him.

however, he can’t go, not when your eyes meet with his, hands finding his chest and holding him dearly – as if he’s the cure you need, and in the end, he will understand that it’s the deal – his your cure.

“don’t leave – simon, need you, only you.”

a certain time passes until he understands what's going on truly after he analyzes all the possibilities and the reason behind your state – the moment the sight of the flower on the table, behind you comes to the vision, he gets it at the exact same moment.

“hey, y/n, look at me kiddo. did you smell that flower?” his patient runs empty – turning your head to it, he asks the question again, and you finally answer by nodding.

he curses under his breath – even his breaths get rapid, how to help you without alerting others is a hard decision to make. he spends his little time thinking about it as he picks up the water bottle from your pack, giving it to you, waiting for you to drink it and get a bit of clearer mind.

“okay, okay,” you whisper to yourself, cleaning your face with the rest of the water, shaking your head, “I get it now – the whole lab, medics, scientists – it’s all because of it, right?”

he nods, calming down to see you good again, not entirely, but enough to understand it all.

“oh, how stupid I am!”

he stops you from going further and blaming yourself – he knows you like cute little things, can’t hold yourself from playing with them, being innocent, and not thinking about the consequences fully. this is why the enemies tried to make venomous yet cute-looking flowers to use against others, to get what they wanted without being caught.

“’s okay, just focus in here, tell me how you feel.”

with wet eyes, you say, “hot – it’s so hot – lt, can I take my clothes off?” you ask suddenly, the logic is long gone, only instincts remain high, and you act according to them. “gotta feel coldness.”

without waiting for an answer, you take your clothes off, not thinking about the outcomes, just doing what you think will be helpful.

staying only with the thin fabric of your upper shirt, covering your body tight, and leaving your abdomen in display, your muscles loosen up. to become colder, with the fact that the temperature lowers as the clothes leave your hot skin, you take your pants off, only leaving the little shorts hanging on your lower part – too occupied to get as naked as possible that you can’t see ghost going and locking the door with the key you used to enter in the first place.

finding himself before you once again, he reliefs when he sees the heat disappearing on you, however, the risk still is there to be fixed before anyone comes into the room, questioning why their lieutenant and sergeant stay silent.

he knows you got the flower with the poison of sex pollen segments – causing the user of it to get a high degree of warmness, especially in certain parts of the body, making the person who used it want to have intimate sessions with another one, and it all happens without their knowledge because they’re too gone to understand the situation they’re in – and that is exactly what happens with you, his delicate sergeant who he needs to take care of – to heal, to become the cure for that he will gladly agree on but first, he needs to tell you about it, retelling what soap told him before you said how warm the air was.

“hey, doll, focus on me, would ya?” he asks, spanking your cheeks lightly to make you focus on him. “you’re under the effects of a poisonous flower,” he shows it again, “the warmness, sweats, desires are caused because of it,” he tries to stay low, not giving his feelings away when he sees your almost naked body and how your eyes wink rapidly, looking at him from head to toe and mouth going dry as you do, “we need to get it out of your system.”

“I know,” you say, whispering.

“what?” he asks, sounding surprised.

you look guilty for a moment, avoid his gazes, you confess, “I read the description on the report but I didn’t know which flower was which – I thought this one was – pure, to use afterward – but it seems it’s already affected.” you sound sorry, yet, you don’t stop on your actions – picking the bottle and using the rest of the water to pour it on you. “I am so sorry, lt, I really am but I – aggh – I know what we should do –“ you look at him from the corner of your eyes, too afraid to look directly, “if you would like to help me – but if you don’t, I can go –“

“no,” he sounds as if he orders you around. he hides the jealousy rising within him as the idea of another man touching you, being the cure, hit his mind – he wants to be the only one who can have you – his good girl – well, not in the particular moment but maybe, you’re still his good girl – or else, you would suggest to go and see a doctor immediately, not waiting and asking him whether he can heal you or not and it’s even meaning that you’re giving yourself to him.

because of the effect of the venom in your system or not, he knows you damn well that you would not ask if you didn’t want it. “I will help,” he says, nodding to show how certain he is, hands slowly reaching your arms, skin to skin, the coldness flowing from his fingers to yours. eyes widen, you look so pretty, he thinks, “just tell me you want it not only because of the pollen but also because you desire it.”

it doesn’t take time for you to confess it, nodding, hands finding his chest, “I desire it,” you say, breathing louder, “I desire for you, sir.”

satisfied, he smirks, glad he has the mask on, yet, you know him, don’t you? even your gestures are proof of it – the hands gripping him by the neck, lowering him down, saying, “sir, your mask is on the way.”

“you’re a brat, aren’t ya?” he teases, not understanding how he is adapted to the sudden situation – he just gives up, giving you what you want – what you need – himself, and taking what he desires for a long time in return.

curling his mask up until it reaches half of his face, lips on sight, he nods, allowing you to move closer and kiss him, and you do it in high spirits, smiling, and connecting your warm lips with his cold ones with such passionate that he puts his palms on the table beside your thighs not to fall onto you.

warmness makes it euphoric – lip kissing lip, tongue joining the other’s mouth intensely, whimpering sounds coming out both of you in unison. hands hugging his neck tighter, you make him kneel down closer enough that he gets between your inner exposed thighs – the hard fabric of his pants touching your flesh, sending chills because of how clothed he is compared to you.

leaving for air, you feel his massive hands moving to your thighs, finding the sports’ edge from there, and pulling it down in one motion after you nod to him, moaning his name lowly, “s-simon –“

“oh,” he says, waiting for you to take your top off too, throwing it onto the floor, putting your palms on the table as you lean to behind, displaying your naked body fully to him with pride and lust – and a bit of shyness you can’t hide. “prettier than I have imagined.”

“you – you have imagined about m – mmmph!” your words are cut by his fingers entering your mouth, shutting you up as he waits for you to lick his two massive fingers. now thanks to seeing half of his face, you can witness the smirk he has, clearly enjoying how you lick his fingers with pleasure, eyes half-closed.

“wondering how you will manage when you have my dick inside you twice as big as my fingers on your mouth, doll,” he says, teasing yet having the voice of a man who tells no lie – only the truth – and just the idea makes your pussy clench around nothing as you suck his fingers, wishing they were his cock instead.

his lips find your ear, whispering, “tell me, do you think you can handle me, princess?”

not in the slightest you believe you can, but, you want to, so, you nod fast, making him chuckle – sounding so sinful and angelic at the same time that you feel warmer – hotter than any poison can give.

“atta girl,” he praises you, both for licking his fingers and nodding, “now take my fingers, need to prepare your beautiful pussy.”

waiting no more, he shoves his fingers into you in one go, making your forehead hit his chest, hands gripping his arms strongly that were he another man, he would break – but no, he’s fucking ghost, and he can receive any damage he can get from you without complaining.

you moan mindlessly, trying to swallow them – it’s too much, you think, too much to handle yet too delightful to push – so, you open your legs wider, they’re shaking already.

“simon – ohhh! yes, yes, yes!”

he chuckles again – how many times now, two? – more than he chuckles for an entire year but it’s you after all – his pretty girl who is so fucked up even with his fingers.

“unbelievable, sergeant,” he says, taking you by the chin, eye to eye, “it’s only my fingers, and you’re already cumming?”

“huh?”

he’s right – he’s so right that it hurts – seeing your cum on his finger, you feel shy, one step away from hiding your face on his chest – but you stop when you see him licking his fingers full of your juicy – a moan escapes from your parted lips.

“mmhh –“ he whimpers, “tasteful.”

it’s the only thing he says before giving you one last look full of danger – mixed with lust – something you see first, something you will beg to see again and again after this night as well.

putting down his mask, he turns your body and bends you down on the table – not too harshly, not too gently.

“simon!” you scream in shock – a shock that turns you on further – even though you cum a few minutes ago, you sense an upcoming climax after he grips you by the neck, pushing you onto the table, getting your ass up. hearing him unzipping his pants, your wet pussy clench around nothing, eyes closed, heart beating as if it will break your chest into two, set free – you know the venom eating your body alive still even after the cum – however, can’t deny decreasing power of it which leaves its place to one and only simon ghost riley who seems like he’s ready to devour you.

“didn’t though ya would get away that easily from disobeying my rules, and picking a possible venomous flower without sayin’ me about it?”

he sounds amused rather than angry – he’s doing it on purpose, to make you go crazy – to make your pussy go crazy for him.

“don’t say such things, lt,” you challenge him to be rougher, being a brat, using the effects of the poison on the advantage. “or else I will disobey you more often.”

“is that so, kiddo?” he mocks you – you can hear it through his husky and dangerous voice, alerting you about what will come – and you’re so right about it when you feel him slapping your ass – body jolts forward – weren’t he holding you by the neck, you would fall at the impact, “then for each one of ‘em, I will fuck you so well that it will dig into your bratty mind not to show disobedience to your superior.”

“wanna learn it, sir, wanna learn my lesson – please, simon – pleeease! need you – agghh –“ your words – or begs if you be honest with yourself, shutting down by his cock’s tip, entering your pussy slowly as he opens your folds wider to make it fit.

with a different desire except being fucked by him, you turn to behind as possible as you can, looking at his thick and long cock staying right in front of your hole’s entrance, “ohhhh –“ you moan with pure instincts when you see how massive it looks.

simon’s head tilts to the side, eyes burning your skin alive, “what is it, doll, bigger than you have imagined?” he refers to the fact that he’s not the only one who has deep desires – but also you – having naughty thoughts about your superior, your lt who you have by your side all the time.

“s-simon,” you sound more fearful than you want to, “will it – will it even fit?!”

he shakes his head in disbelief, kneeling further – his cock enters you deeper, making your back arch in both pain and pleasure – it’s already too much and it has another halfway to go!

“don’t worry princess,” he says – how come he can sound deeper with each passing time? “I will make it fit into your tight greedy pussy. after all, you are made of for my cock – for me, aren’t ya?”

he finds the answer to his question by going in deeper, causing both of you to moan and swear – he shoves his cock deep inside your walls, filling you up fully – the feeling is euphoric, boiling in sin, completing with the lust and passionate coming from the love you have for each other.

“ohhh – simon! it’s too – too much!”

hoping you will be able to adjust his length soon enough, you let him take his cock off out of your aching pussy and shove it inside again with a hard thrust, trying to make it fit – make it give you the pleasure you need as a cure at the highest scale.

“just – fuucck –“ you could never, “mghhm – just one more to fit!” could never thought you would make him swear, whimper, even moan out of all the people, yet, here you’re, in front of his massive body, bent over, displaying your body to him in nude, letting him use your body as he pleases – he does it to heal you, it’s the first thing you believe, but when you go deeper in your thoughts, you realize how not only you but also he is in the need of you – having you.

“there it is,” he says, taking you from your mind into reality, cock has started to fuck you faster, going in and out with perfect rhythm which continues to accelerate instead of staying at the same pace. “told ya you’re made for it, doll.”

starting to fuck you hard, deep and rough – exactly what he wants and you need, he uses your wetness to thrust into you easily, earning sweet voices from your dry and parted lips, looking at your exposed body shamelessly, as if he has all right to do – well, he does, you both know it – feeling pussy clenching, squirming around his length and soaking onto it – mind dizzy, hands gripping the table under them to stay in the earth – he’s the only reality you have who feels like a dream – eyes seeing starts because of how good he fucks you, you sense poison leaving your body, its place is filled with what ghost is giving; heaven and hell – mix.

“simon, simon, ohh, simon! s’ good – agggh – it’s s’ good!”

“shh,” he quite you down, kneeling on your level – cock hit the deepest part of your pussy, thrusting your g-spot without missing, “you don’t want the others to hear, do you?” he asks, entertained when you bite your hand to stay silent, “or you want it. would you like that? others watching your pathetic face as I fuck you good? no one, but me – mmh – fuuck! that’s right baby, no one – just me, simon ghost riley. shiiit – can’t even realize soaking so wet hearing my words,” his fingers joining his cock, picking the wetness you’re making with his fingers, then, shoving them into your mouth.

you moan his name as you suck your taste from his fingers, eyes rolling, going white when he grabs you by the hair, turning your face to watch your pretty face close while fucking you harder as if it’s possible – he claims you, you know it even with your dysfunctional brain, “scream my name louder.”

he orders, hands leaving your hair to position on your hips, holding you still, breaking you into pieces – you don’t know how louder you moan his name, too cock dumbed to care – don’t know how many times you cum onto him – don’t know the tears washing your face – brain isn’t working – or it works just to send pleasure into your twisting abdomen, and abused pussy.

the last thing you feel his hot semen filling you up, moaning your name as he does it, then, nearly collapsing onto you because of how good it was to fuck you.

“fuck, you have no idea how weak you’re making me, princess.” he confesses, picking your body, he guarantees, “don’t worry, I got it from here, sergeant. only rest.”

hearing his words lastly, you give up – the exhausted body is left to take care of him, your one and only simon ghost riley.

❦ tagging: @lilvampirina& @snowprincesa1 & @dookiemeshibear & @manuursw *hearts, hearts, hearts* 💌💌💌

#☁ last week of kinktober 2023 #kinktober 2023 #cod #cod: mwii #call of duty #cod x reader #cod smut #simon riley #simon ghost riley #ghost #simon ghost riley x reader #ghost x reader #ghost x f!reader #ghost x you #ghost x y/n #ghost smut #simon ghost riley x you #cod: mwii x reader #cod: mwii smut #but you haven't seen my man *in lana del rey voice* #ON MY KNEES FOR HIM 🧎‍♀️

[ghostedbunnie]

maybe I’m projecting but task force 141 and fidgety s/o (the price one is very suggestive 🫠 )

GHOST is the type to notice your knee bouncing up right away before it even starts rattling the chair that you are sitting on. He grabs a hold of your chin with two gloved fingers making sure you are looking at him. “Settle down, pet.” He glances pointedly at your knee and you cease the fidgeting immediately apologizing in case the noise annoyed him. He scoffs at that, “None of that, jus’ talk t’ me instead of this fidgety crap.” And so you do, relaxing by the minute even though all he offers in response are varying levels of grunts and one word observations.

SOAP is right there with you fidgeting up a storm. It’s a miracle he manages to sit still for 5 minutes before he’s cracking his knuckles and/or neck, humming under his breath or tapping away on the table. You swear his energy transfers and you can’t keep still either, changing positions every few seconds. What gets you out of the hellish cycle of fidgeting is Johnny dragging you on his lap (it really doesn’t matter where you guys are and who sees he is shameless) “Get comfortable, lass. This is the best seat in the house.”

PRICE has a sixth sense for any nervous energy you swear. He might be holding a conversation with Laswell over some beer and while you sit beside him your knee starts moving under the table. Without even glancing your way he rests his big warm hand on your knee moving his thumb over the inside of your thigh to soothe you even if it creates a whole different problem for you in the long run and from how your thighs flex to ease the sudden need he knows what he’s doing. When Kate excuses herself to go to the bathroom he finally looks at you feeling the glare you throw his way. “Now now, don’t be catty with me, love. Behave and we’ll do something about this later.”

GAZ is probably the only one actually prepared with some toys for fidgeting. He always carries at least one on him wherever he goes just in case you might need it. When he sees you drumming your fingers on your thigh he pushes a stress ball into one of your hands and holds the other bringing it up to his lips with a soft smile. "I'm right here yeah?" It's a simple sentence really but it makes the anxiety go away all the same.

#i'm an anxious fidgeter so I'm projecting extra hard but it was eating away at my brain #cod x reader #cod mw2 x reader #cod mw2 #task force 141 #tf 141 x reader #ghost x reader #simon riley x reader #simon riley x you #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley #soap x reader #john mactavish x reader #john soap mctavish x reader #soap x you #john soap mactavish #price x reader #price x you #john price x reader #captain price x reader #captain john price #kyle gaz garrick #kyle gaz x reader #gaz x reader #gaz x you #kyle garrick x reader #kyle gaz garrick x reader #x reader insert #bunnie writes

[theres-a-body-here]

Love Letter Aftermath

First part

The realization of receiving a love admission sinks in for the killers

Characters: Oni, Trapper, Deathslinger, Mastermind, Cannibal, Ghostface Warnings: Some spice Male!reader

The Oni - Kazan Yamaoka

He's angry

Angry at you for giving him that damn letter

And angry at himself for keeping it

He keeps it on his shrine

Even while he tries to distract himself with training between trials, your letter is all that's on his mind

At least once a day, for a couple of minutes, he stares at the letter while working up the courage to crumple it and dispose of it

He never can

When Rin found the letter, his heat sunk

She thought it was cute, but rolled her eyes at how Kazan was acting

The days following the letter, you've noticed in trials with Oni, he never downs you with his Kanabo anymore, only his Katana

Even during chases, when he's activated his blood fury right behind you, he stampedes off somewhere to down anyone else

And when he carries you to hooks, you've noticed how gently he holds you

But he never stays after hooking you and seems to avoid your gaze

Strangely, Rin has been giving you some leeway during trials as well

The Trapper - Evan MacMillan

When he got back to his realm after the trial, he immediately went to work on making a box for the letter

Yeah, a whole keepsake box for a single letter

He places it next to the box where he keeps his old drawings

Whenever he sees you in trials, he still gets those butterflies

If you step in one of his traps, he's immediately rushing to where he heard you scream

If he sees any other survivors trying to free you, he swats at them

Evan gently pulls at the jaw of the trap and pulls it apart, letting you retract your injured foot

He's trying his hardest not to ogle your legs

"Sorry," he mutters gruffly, his hands holding your leg softly while he inspects the damage

He picked up some gauze that one of the others dropped and begins to bandage your wound

He can feel your gaze burning holes into his mask as he works

He's the one to break the silence

"I've killed you... and your friends, over and over."

There's a long pause on your end before you respond

"I know"

You two leave it at that

The Deathslinger - Caleb Quinn

Caleb keeps the letter under the bar counter in his realm

Whenever he returns from an exhausting or lost trial, he looks at it

A small part of him still thinks you're messing with him

He's way too nervous and skittish around you now to do anything, so you're gonna have to initiate everything

In trials, you do your best to spend time with him

Especially when you insist that he treats you no different

When he carries you to hook, you take the moment to touch him

You turn your head to plant a kiss on the back of his neck

Caleb visibly shivers and lets out a groan

"Yer tryin' ta kill me, ain'tcha?"

"Is it working?"

Despite you asking otherwise, he tends to leave you alone when he can in trials, opting to hide the others

If you confront him about it, he'll deny it

The Mastermind - Albert Wesker

He keeps your letter in the inner pocket of his jacket

You definitely have his full attention now

Don't expect any special treatment, because he's not gonna give it

In fact, he seems to actively seek you out first if he knows you're in his trial

Wesker gets angry when you can't loop him for more than a couple of minutes

"Are you even trying? Pathetic"

While carrying you to a hook, he's lecturing you all the way

"You didn't run it tight enough. You were too greedy with the pallet. You didn't check your blind spots."

He'll get even more irritated if you start to tear up

Can't you see he's trying to help you?

Wesker refuses to have someone so vulnerable as an admirer

So you better get to it

If you do manage to improve and become better in trials, his attitude changes

It goes from scoldings to rewards

He takes off his gloves to hold your chin and pull you close

You feel his lips ghost over your cheek and shiver when he tightens his grip on you

He stares at your face, drinking up your reactions

And then he lets you go, watching as your face twists from dazed to confused

"What? Were you expecting a kiss?"

You're gonna have to do a lot more if you wanna get a smooch from him

The Cannibal - Bubba Sawyer

He tapped your letter to the side of his chainsaw

He gets all giddy when he glances at it during his sweeps, especially if he manages to down a survivor

It's his good luck charm

If he spots you in a trial, he'll literally drop everything to rush over and give you hug

Bubba would honestly hug you all trial if you let him

He's definitely become a bit more protective over you, maybe even prone to jealousy

He doesn't even let anyone work on gens with you, revving his chainsaw if anyone gets too close

Once everyone gets the message and leaves you two be, he'll sit behind you as you work and hug you

Expect lots of nuzzles

Bubba whines when the gen is completed and you have to stand up to find a new one

He follows you like a puppy until you find the next one and the process begins anew

The Ghostface - Danny Johnson

Danny doesn't really have anywhere he can store the letter safely

So he does the logical thing and memorizes it's contents, word for word

He doesn't care what happens to the paper

Sometimes during trials, he'll tease you by reciting it during chases

Even adding things you're certain you never added

"And I promise to always let you smash whenever and wherever you want," he says, mimicking your voice as you dangle from the hook

"I NEVER WROTE THAT!!"

Being her favorite, The Entity doesn't care if Danny spares you every trial

But he won't

Because he's a meanie

"No hard feelings, right boo?" He coos as he plunges his blade into your back

If you're sore about it, he's more than happy to make it up to you

He'll run his cold leather-gloved hands under your shirt, pressing you against a wall as you try to stay angry

"Come on, don't be like that," he mutters into your ear, squishing your sides

If you fold now, he'll tease you for being whipped

But if you stay strong, he'll pull out the big guns

He buries his masked face into your neck, slowly grinding his hips against yours

"You feel that, baby? You feel how sorry I am?" He growls, pressing his hard-on against you

#male!reader #dbd x reader #dead by daylight x reader #male reader #dead by daylight #dbd #the oni x reader #the oni dbd #kazan yamaoka #kazan x reader #kazan yamaoka x reader #bubba saywer x reader #bubba x reader #bubba sawyer #cannibal x reader #the trapper #trapper x reader #evan macmillan x reader #evan macmillan #the ghostface #ghostface x reader #danny johnson x reader #danny johnson #the mastermind #mastermind x reader #albert wesker x reader #albert wesker #the deathslinger #deathslinger x reader #caleb quinn

[firefly-party]

"You clean up nicely, Stevie"

cw: mentioned blood and gore | mafia/mob AU | steddie pre-murderhusbands relationship big thanks to @dapandapod for beta reading and improving my poor attempt to write sth

Steve Harrington is good at his job. He's quick, he is thorough and most importantly, he doesn't ask questions.

There's nothing that could shock him anymore. He's seen everything.

Steve doesn’t mind severed limbs, gore, blood and body fluids, sometimes creatively mixed in more ways than are pleasant to imagine.

He's used to it, and cleaning it is what earns him a nice living as a crime scene cleaner.

Or just... scene cleaner maybe.

He doesn't work with the police or authorities. No, his specialty lies outside the law, which means he arrives before a mess becomes a nuisance. He cleans until there is not a speck of blood left, until there is nothing to indicate that something happened there. Was there ever a crime committed if there is no crime scene?

The money's amazing by the way. Of course cleaning the remains is a shit job but if you add the hush money on top, well, ain't that a nice bonus.

Again, Steve doesn't ask questions. He doesn't care. It's none of his business.

–

Eddie's shoes are squeaking in the puddle of blood he tried and failed to not step into.

He flips the business card around and squints at the hurried scribble of a phone number that was added right under the name "Stevie".

He trusts Chrissy's background check.

They were in a dire need of a new guy after the previous one decided to catch a bullet with his face after snooping one time too many. 

Eddie looks up to the blood stained walls and ceiling and dials the number on the card.

"Hello?"

"Watergate Street 53", is all Eddie replies.

"How many?", Stevie asks.

"Uhm, five?"

"You sure? Might wanna go check again?", Stevie laughs into the phone.

Bitch.

"It's five." Eddie answers, annoyed.

There's a low whistle. "Alright, I'll be there in 20. Payment upfront. 50k."

Then the line goes dead. Eddie rolls his eyes, pockets his phone and looks around for a clean spot to sit while he waits.

–

It's exactly three hours and thirty two minutes later when Stevie empties his water bucket for the last time.

Eddie watches curiously as Stevie takes off the gloves, mask and safety glasses he arrived in. Eddie didn't mean to stick around but he's not trusting this new guy yet (he's also curious, sue him). 

His gaze turns into a stare when the other man pulls down the zipper of his squeaky yellow biohazard suit, throwing back the hood and running a clean hand through his sweat soaked hair. He has a strong jaw and long, mole dotted neck that Eddie just wants to taste.

Eyes wide, Eddie’s not able to hold back the sharp intake of breath as he watches in horror the moment Stevie's eyes lock with his and -

Fuck.

Stevie's lips curl into a smirk.

Eddie is so fucked.

#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie ficlet #stranger things #inspired by the game “Crime Scene Cleaner” that i saw on twitch yesterday #i got this weird idea and wasn't able to let it go #this is kei's first attempt at writing 🙈 holy shit #it's a one time thing. writing is too stressful for me xD