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blingblong55 · 7 months

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Stargirl- John Price

Based on a request:

Hi, you don’t have to do it if you don’t want to but could you do on John Price x singer // that John goes out with a pop star a bit like Beyonce and goes to her concert;))

F!Reader, singer!reader, established!relationship, fluff, boyfriend!Price

Being in a secret relationship with one of the most famous women in the music industry is not where John Price saw himself. Not being driven by your security team from the hotel to the stadium. He has to wear a cap over his head so fans don't even recognise him while out. Create social media accounts where he only follows you, and likes your pictures and you create a private one, where you display the pictures you so wish to let the world see. Wear a jacket, jeans, and the bracelet you two match. Songs that you write for him, the sad, the love, the sex, the excitement he brings you.

And now, here he is, being escorted to his special spot, fans around the entire stadium but his eyes are on you the entire time. This time, he wears a cap, with your initials on it with a heart. The crowds cheering, dancing and singing along to a song you wrote for him one day. The same one he heard before the world ever even knew it existed. "John, over here!" your family calls for him and he smiles. A sigh of relief once he knows he won't be alone during this night. The dancing happening around the pit, how people dance as if no one was watching, screaming your lyrics, once you whispered to him. The smoke around the stage, you dancing like you did back in that cabin when it was only you and him, surrounded by the four walls that ignited the burning love he felt for you.

You dance around the outfit he saw over Facetime, how beautiful your body looks under the light, the bright smile on your face. And he stares from afar as he watches his Stargirl live life on that stage. What a time to be alive. You point to the crowd, fans believing it was to them but all along it was to him. He smiles and blows a kiss, you catch it and place it on your cheek. "I love you." he mouths before you sing the lyrics, "and you know I love you too." a secret only two people in that stadium will ever understand.

Your mum and him enjoying the time, no one bothering him, all watching his girl on stage. The camera flashes, the cries of joy people get when you sing songs that match their life stories. He can't help but take his phone out and take a picture of you, maybe not as close to you as those fans at the moment, but this is a moment he will remember for years to come as tonight you break yet another record. He watches in awe. Songs change but he stays there, listening to all the songs you cried about to him, the stories he heard from you turned into tunes, the whispers and kisses he gave you with that dress now sung by lovers all over the place.

Maybe he or you aren't immortal but those songs are, to be listened to for years and years to come. And if he plays his cards right, he might get a honeymoon and a family too. All in its time, he tells himself. Right now, all he knows is that the small box in his pocket awaits for his girl to wear after dinner. Your mum and dad look at him, nodding as a signal that tonight is definitely the night to make your life and his even more memorable. "We'll see you at dinner, John." your dad gives him a firm handshake and leaves with your mum, escorted by the security team. And as the fans record your family leaving, he takes the other exit, to wait for you backstage.

A/N: inspired by a couple I adored when they were together...

Tags: @corafj

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greensolsikke · 1 month

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I love reading all of your concert reports, so I'll have a try myself for Joker Out in Cologne Kantine at 24th of March.

- I had an EE ticket and arrived around 13 o'clock. There was a queue already, but not too wild (got number 59).

- the weather was quite unsteady, with lots of wind and occasional rain. Lots of umbrellas and rain covers.

- the queuing started around 17:30 o'clock, early entry was allowed in around 18:30 o'clock.

- Sound check was lovely. The boys were in a good mood. Bojan explained about what the procedures of soundcheck. And we got a Nace + Jan jamming session. They played two songs - Dopamin and Proti Toku.

- Sector 5 started as an opening band. They played really well and were energetic on stage. Some people started singing along

- JC Stewart was a total contrast to them, being alone on stage with only his acoustic guitar. His songs were really powerful and full of emotions.

- The JO performance was amazing. They were so energetic, cheerful and seemed to have a great time. Kris seemed to take it a bit slower - he might still be sick

- Looots of Jance action, smirks and heart eyes. Jan leaning his head to Nace's chest, them screaming at each other, Nace nearly kissing Jan. That was a 5 star girl (gn) dinner

- Bojan as a fairy with pink wings, taking his job really seriously. Kris wore a tiny crown with a veil, Jan a fluffy tiara

- During Metulji, they both wore butterfly head crowns and Bojan had his fairy wings back on. He cracked up seeing people do the Macarena during the song, but caught himself again.

- Jan's guitar was somehow out of tune. They stopped the song and he tried fixing it by himself. During the second try, he went rushing to Kiki to exchange guitars.

- Umazane Misli "only" had a few people singing. I remember a really well-sung German version, Russian, Dutch (?) and of course Slovene. Bojan was in the crowd with Vita, encouraging the singers. Sector 5 was in the crowd as well, and the singer

- Jan dancing Macarena during UM and taught it to Nace. Bojan parted the sea crowd and made us take turns in singing UM

- Jure was an absolute beast on the drums. It was so intense

- after the concert we waited outside for the boys to come out. Jan eventually came and took pictures. Jure was hanging out with the people from Sector 5

All in all a wonderful concert experience. Can't wait for Munich tomorrow

#gig report #Joker out #joker out cologne #Probably forgot half of the stuff but hei 🙃

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sparrow-stunned · 2 years

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I would sell my left kidney to have some mafia boss Venti content

content warning: yandere, possessive behaviour, unequal power dynamic. reader disrection is advised.

Okay, I've had this thought before! Because Venti's definitely the one who seems super happy-go-lucky—the type to murder someone in cold blood, but smiling as though he were playing a game, humming all the while a cheerful tune under his breath. The type to use extremely thin blades hidden away everywhere on his body in secret pockets no one knows. He's short, but he’s earned a reputation. The throwing-knife, stabby kind. And he likes to make his toys sing.

So how I imagine the backstory is that you’re an investigator that’s managed to worm your way into the family, working right under the boss himself—the same boss that’s been so unknown to your department, who’s so mysterious that no-one even knew their name, outside of the top family members.

How it begins is this: in the city of Tevyat, there are seven prominent groups in the underground. You've been sent on a mission to infiltrate the ones that call themselves Mondstadt, the so-called freedom fighters (though fighting for what freedom, you’re not sure). How you actually get in though, is far from the usual orthodox ways afforded to investigators of working their ways up to meeting the leaders. The higher-ups of the organization were exclusive and hidden, the boss of the family even moreso.

But of all the bosses in Teyvat—archons, the populace calls them, since they’re similar to magistrates in that they set down the unspoken laws of the underground—the Mondstadt archon is the most unknown one. In fact, there had been rumours he’d already been killed, or stuck in a coma, or some other tragic event. The head of the Mondstadt group is now Jean, who’s inherited it from the old guard composed of people like Varka, but she’s not the archon, which tells you that the Mondstadt archon hasn’t been killed at all. Not if the title was still used on some hidden piece no one knew. It seems that the archon’s just extremely laissez-faire in the governing of his group.

Unknown this archon may be, but somehow, through a stroke of luck, you end up saving someone with connections to him. Not that you were aware; you merely thought he was an eccentric singer. His name is Venti, and you save him from a cat, of all things, the little kitten circling the frightened man who keeps sneezing and shooing it away. My saviour, he positively sings it when he inspects you up and down after the offending kitten has been safely given back to its own (a little girl in red, who has quite an explosive imagination). There’s this gleam in his teal eyes when he calls your name, a sure sign of a mischievous trickster. That should have been the first sign. But you suspect nothing of his darker roots, taken in by his boyishly handsome looks.

You still think he’s a normal civilian, so when Venti insists on rewarding you for your bravery (it shall be sung in ballads, he says with a smirk) by bringing you to a fancy dinner party as his guest, you accept reluctantly. Not because you want to go, but more so because this man sticks around you like sticky rice, refusing to let himself from your side even as you’re making your investigations. when you tell him you’re busy with matters. The excuse was that you’re interested in joining the Mondstadters, and that’s when his eyes twinkle. “Oh? Why would you want to associate with a bunch of thugs?”

“I think their philosophy is interesting,” you tell him half-truths, something about seeking power and admiring the Mondstadt archon and freedom in joining their group. If it could even be called freedom, how many rules and regulations the families set down in order to prevent territory wars.

“I see!” Venti claps his hands together. “Maybe you’ll find the party useful then! It has quite a number of notable attendants. Perhaps their connections will help you.”

“Notable? You mean like celebrities?”

“…you could say that!” Venti says while laughing.

Strangely enough, even though Venti’s broke—you’ve seen the poor state of his wallet, nary a penny to his name—he manages to send you this expensive suit set, complete with this little brooch at the lapel, emerald gem pinned, a pattern of the wind etched onto it. You don’t think much of it, much more aghast at the fact that Venti was able to afford this item—he could barely pay for his drinks whenever he dragged you to the bar with him, and even then, you paid for him half the time. The other half of the time consists of Venti putting the drinks on his tab and getting scolded for it by the red-haired bartender. So shocked were you, you don’t even ponder how it is that he knew where you lived. After moving to a new location because of this assignment, you’ve never told anybody your new home.

You attend the party. Grasping at straws, because the secrets of the boss were so highly protected, you sigh and make yourself decent enough to go. When you hand in the invitation, the guards at the front widening their eyes at the chicken-scratch of Venti’s writing, they let you in without a fuss, even bowing profusely at you as you step through the door. Rich people are weird, and it seems like the people they hire are even weirder, you think absentmindedly as you wander around the halls of this luxurious mansion. People give you a wide berth, occasionally glancing at the emerald gem you keep touching in some semblance of comfort at your lapel.

It’s when you try to get to one of the break rooms to rest your feet that you finally understand what Venti meant when he said there may be “prominent figures”. Because the person you almost knock over is the acting boss of the family, Jean.

She’s there, apologizing so softly, so politely, as you try to keep yourself from showing any of your shock on your face, your heart about to leap out of your mouth, beating so violently against your ribcage you think you may be ill. That’s when Venti pops in, that disarming smile, as always, present on his face. He’s surely laughing on the inside at your thoughts right now, racing so fast you struggle to keep up.

“So that’s your person, sir,’ Jean says, as Venti wraps his arm around your neck in a friendly hold—friendly only to him though, because you were finally beginning to understand. “You should keep a better watch. In this place… you never know who could take advantage.”

His.. person? Sir? The horror of the situation finally dawns itself on you, puzzle pieces sliding into place, as Venti nuzzles his face in the crook of your neck—an intimate gesture you’d gotten used to, having known him for months now, but only now does it make your mouth dry. Not with anticipation, no, but a deep unsettling dread that lodges itself in your throat.

“It’s okay,” Venti says to Jean, the smile never leaving his face. His eyes shift to the brooch at your lapel, and his arm lets your neck go, sliding around your waist instead, pulling you toward him. “Everyone we’ve invited should know better than to displease the archon of Mondstadt, don’t you think? Not if they don’t want to get a knife in their eyes, I’d think. I do enjoy the loudness of their screams though.”

Jean shrugs, nonplussed at his violent words. “Whatever you say, sir. I’ll be going now. The guests will need to be watched extensively, after all.”

You watch her leave, and finally you open your mouth.

“What just… No, who are you?”

Venti grins. “You said you wanted to join us, didn’t you?” His grip around your waist gets tighter, and you’re acutely aware that despite his slight form, he’s strong. Too strong for you to do anything about his touch, how his fingers are tapping on your hip bone a rhythm to an unknown song. “As your new boss, I must say…”

He leans into your ear, warm breath caressing the shell of your ears, voice sing-song with a smug satisfaction, “It’s such a pleasure to meet you.”

You swallow. You hadn’t even agreed to joining—but isn’t this what you’ve been working toward? So you smile weakly, say, “Likewise,” and pretend that his eyes are not sparkling at how your full attention is on him. Pretend that the kiss he presses to your cheek is just a friendly gesture—and not a mark of possession, like the one he’s pinned to the lapel of your suit, like the bruises you’ll find on your neck in the future, when Venti makes you sing like he’s always wanted.

#yandere venti x reader #yandere venti #venti x reader #yandere genshin impact #yandere genshin #yandere genshin x reader #yandere genshin imagines #genshin imagines #yandere x reader #yandere #psyche.writes

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fenmere · 2 months

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Covered with eyeballs

(to be sung to the tune of "Covered with flowers" by the Talking Heads)

Here we stand Like MacReady and Childs Icy Halls Antarctica Station Two fools in fear So suspicious and wary Security cameras Are smiling upon them From the age of explorers People have been on this continent Where, where have they gone? Now, it's nothing but eyeballs

There was a labratory Now there are blood stains and teeth marks You got it, you got it

We caught an alien Now we are something for dinner We got it, we got it

There was a husky dog Now it's all covered with eyeballs You've got it, you've got it

If this is horror flick I wish I had a flame thrower You've got it, you've got it

Years ago I was an angry young girl And I'd pretend That I was an assistant Standing tall In the midst of a lab I fell in love With a butchy scientist These used to be experiments Now it's only tentacles Where, where is the dog Now, it's nothing but eyeballs The clipboards and vials Were sacrificed for biology I thought that we'd start over But I guess I was wrong

Once there were lab reports Now it's a gory feeding den You've got it, you've got it

This was a mess hall Now it's all covered with bullet holes You got it, you got it

I miss the poker games, Shitty food, and prank wars with Evan You got it, you got it

And as things fell apart Our screams didn't reach Heaven You got it, you got it

I dream of coffee mugs, Leaky pens, and pocket protectors You got it, you got it

We used to experiment Now we just eyeball each other You got it, you got it

This was a partnership, Now it's turned into a minefield You've got it, you've got it

Don't leave me stranded here I can't get used to this lifestyle

#the thing 1982 #who goes there #filk song #as a lesbian love story

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kindan-no-kanojo · 1 year

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🍽 To got out to dinner together to celebrate.

The wheels to the Bentley’s squealed as the driver took a sharp turn dangerously close to the cabin’s property. Mystic laid in the horn for a few seconds, proceed by an attempt at making a funny tune with it in order to call for attention.

“Oh, Red,” the Founder sung childishly. “Where’s the birthday girl? It couldn’t be that she has forgotten about tonight’s plan!? Your carriage has arrived to pick up for dinner, madam!”

🎉Celebrate Scarlett's birthday with her!🎉

A roaring engine was something utterly unusual for Scarlett to hear at her house. As it was approaching, it could only mean one thing.

"Mystic…!" the redhead walked over to the window, her face illuminated with a wide smile upon the Founder's outstanding entrance. Quickly enough, she looked at herself in the mirror one more time and grabbed one last item before going to greet her companion: A special flower, one could say.

Stepping outside, she could barely hold back her laughter with Mystic's act, "of course I haven't! I was waiting for——... madam?" It took her off guard, she finally chuckled out loud as she got into the special carriage of his.

"Hahahaha! Are you going to treat me like a lady all night? How nice...!"

"Where are we going, then, uh—... M-Monsieur?" She snorted after her poor excuse of a French accent.

#📭Asklett #Scarlett Wakahisa #Mystic Tsukinami #omg omg🏃🏻‍♀️🏃🏻‍♀️🏃🏻‍♀️🏃🏻‍♀️🏃🏻‍♀️🏃🏻‍♀️#🍰scarlett's bday #✨Mystic #🔫. Myslett

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vincess-princess · 2 years

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in darkness shall you be reborn

Chapter 6

Word count: 3019 Warnings: none (for once lmao) A\N: this will probably be my last update for the month because i have exams coming, sorry :( and, of course, i'm not the author of the shanty mentioned in the chapter

By dinner, a generous share of warm beer and several bitter puffs of a cigarette that Mick forced through his teeth brought Vince back onto the sinful earth. He obediently followed Mick’s orders and fussed around in the kitchen, though wrenching even a single word out of him was rotten work. Neither Mick nor Tommy who dropped by the galley to “check when the dinner is ready” got a clear picture of what had happened: a few listless hand waves, barely noticeable head shakes and one eye roll at an especially bad joke were all they could get. Nikki was just as unwilling to share the details, apart from several curse words, and by dinner drank himself into oblivion. Which was probably a mistake on his side, because the upcoming day was expected to be quite turbulent – they were finally going to arrive to Port Royal and dump the captives and most of the goods into the grabby hands of local barons. The crew looked forward to it, having spent weeks at sea, and loudly and happily talked about their plans, which primarily consisted of girls and ale, during the dinner. Listening to them made Vince’s heart ache – he too wanted to lose himself in the warm embrace of a girl and a bottle of wine flavored with spices. But he knew he most likely would not be let out without supervision, or would simply be confined to the galley. Still, an inkling of hope in him persisted.

The nights in the Atlantic Ocean were always warm, but as the ship went southwards they were becoming more hot and humid, so the crew spent most of their time on deck instead of hiding in the wardroom. Vince didn’t like the idea of spending the night outside – he always heard that night air could make one sick, what if he caught a cold? – but staying in the galley was not an option. Provident Mick did not risk to leave him there alone, not with so many knives around that he could see attracted Vince like a mouse to cheese in a trap. Mick could see almost everything with his icy-blue eyes that penetrated Vince’s soul to its very core. Vince only hoped he couldn’t read his thoughts – he wanted to keep at least some part of him to himself.

Mick played his guitar on the deck that evening, and all the sailors passing past him slowed down or stopped in their tracks outright to listen to the quiet, haunting melodies that gradually evolved into heavy beats of such power the strings rang and wailed as if on the verge of breaking. Most songs Vince couldn’t recognize – of course, Mick wasn’t playing anything he typically heard in operas and at concerts. But some sounded familiar; Vince might have heard his men singing them while working on deck while he was in his cabin supposedly dealing with business. In reality, though, he often abandoned boring papers to press his ear to the door and listen to hoarse, powerful voices sing unevenly but with refreshing sincerity. No opera or choir could ever imitate the rawness and liveliness of such simple tunes sung by such simple folk.

One of them was just flowing from under Mick’s bony fingers. It was mostly beats and clapping rather than actual melody, but the sound intertwined so naturally with the winds howling around and the waves crushing at the bow of the ship that any professional music would sound out of place – fake, even.

Mick saw Vince tap the rhythm with his foot on the floor and raised an eyebrow. “You know the tune?”

Vince half-nodded, half-shrugged. He heard his crew sing it, and sometimes sang it quietly to himself when alone in his cabin. He was a decent singer – or he wanted to believe he was – but he couldn’t join his crew in it for fear of losing their high regard for him. He was of noble blood, after all, and did not belong among simple folk.

“How come? This ain’t what they play in operas, or wherever your kind goes to have some fun,” Tommy chimed in, unasked.

“Heard my crew sing it,” Vince replied reluctantly. These were one of the only words he said over the evening.

“Did you like it?” Mick asked, glaring at Tommy.

Vince shrugged again. Any weakness he had, any secret aspirations he nursed the pirates would target before everything else, because it hurt the hardest. Better not reveal his soft spots to them at all.

“Well, not like he’s got much of a choice. Don’t have a choir here, princess.” Tommy plopped onto the same bench that Vince sat on. It was a bit too short for three people at once, but Tommy unceremoniously squeezed in anyways, swaying his hips to fit on the narrow plank. His hand immediately slid onto Vince’s knee. Vince slapped it away, only for it to return, this time feeling his thigh. He was too tired to argue, so he let it be.

“I’ll take that as a ‘yes’,” Mick concluded. “T-bone, you remember the ‘All For Me Grog’ lyrics?”

“Of course,” Tommy grinned. “What, are we throwing a party for the newcomer?”

“Jesus, Tommy, give the guy a break,” Mick rolled his eyes. “Now, why don’t you put your mouth to good use and sing for us? The night is terribly quiet.”

“Not a problem, boss. Hey, everyone!” Tommy called out to the crew. “What do ya think of a little song break?”

The pirates cheered, dropping whatever they were doing and surrounding Tommy, Mick and Vince. They still stared at Vince like he was an exotic animal, but at least they didn’t look hungry. Only one person, a long-haired ginger sailing master, remained unphased, gripping at the helm like his life depended on it.

“All For Me Grog, everyone!” Mick declared and began tapping out the rhythm on his guitar. Almost immediately, Tommy began to sing.

He had a good voice, Vince had to admit. A little bit hoarse from all the cigarettes smoked, perhaps, but it only added to its charm.

Where are me boots, me noggin', noggin' boots, They're all gone for beer and tobacco, he sang, and his voice rang all across the ship and farther, drowning in deep black waters of the Atlantic Ocean. For the heels they are worn out and the toes are kicked about And the soles are looking out for better weather,

Well it's all for me grog, me jolly jolly grog, It's all for me beer and tobacco-

The crew joined for the chorus, croaky, husky voices interweaving together into a low, steady rumble. As much as Vince didn’t want to admit it, the sound forced goosebumps to run down his back.

For I spent all me tin on the lassies drinking gin, they sang as Tommy winked at Vince and squeezed his knee harder. Far across the western ocean I must wander.

Where is me shirt, me noggin', noggin' shirt, It's all gone for beer and tobacco, For the collar is all worn, and the sleeves they are all torn, And the tail is looking out for better weather.

I'm sick in the head and I haven't been to bed, Since first I came ashore from me slumber, For I spent all me dough on the lassies don't you know, Far across the western ocean I must wander.

As the singing faded, an unnatural silence broken only by the sound of waves descended onto the ship. The pirates stood still for a few moments, looking yet not seeing one another, their thoughts far away. At home with a wife waiting for them, or in a pub drinking with buddies, or in bed with hot fingers of a hooker all over their bodies… what else did people like them, always on the move, always hiding from the law, long for?

Well, at least Vince knew damn well what he wanted – to get away from this goddamn ship. And the inkling of hope inside him that he had no heart to suppress whispered to him that he could only hope to pull it off tomorrow. He needed to be alert and prepared – to seize the opportunity when it comes. Not if. When.

“Great, everyone, now back to work!” Tommy clapped his hands, and the silence was broken by shuffling of boots on the deck and indecipherable murmuring. “You too!” he poked Vince in the chest. “The dishes ain’t gonna wash themselves. Come on, come on, I’ll help you carry them.” With that, he pushed a tray in Vince’s hands and began piling up plates on it. Vince narrowed his eyes at him, trying to catch his gaze, but the first mate was terribly occupied with fitting as many plates onto the tray as possible. Since when Tommy was so eager to help him do the dirty work?

Of course, it wasn’t just out of kindness of Tommy’s heart. When they entered the galley, he slammed the door shut and turned to Vince. His angry frown made Vince clutch the tray tighter, as if it could help him should Tommy want to hurt him, although Vince couldn’t recall anything he did lately that would make the first mate dissatisfied with him.

“What the hell did you do to Nikki?” Tommy demanded.

“What are you talking about?” Vince forced himself to let go of the tray and upended it above the tub, accidentally splashing the muddy water on his pants. “Oh, fiddlesticks!”

Tommy snorted and his frown evened out slightly. “Jesus, if anyone else hears you say that you are gonna get your ass beaten. Just say ‘damn’ like everyone else.”

“I’ll have my fiddlesticks, thanks.” Vince grabbed a towel from the counter and tried to sop up the water on his clothes, silently hoping that Tommy would drop the topic and leave him alone. To no avail, unfortunately.

“Asking nicely for the last time,” Tommy stepped forward, towering over Vince in his high-heeled boots. How did he even walk in those on the always-swaying deck? “What happened?”

“Why do you care?” Vince snapped back. “Are you policing his sex life or something? Pervert.”

“I couldn’t care less about where he sticks his dick as long as his nose doesn’t fall off. But I do care about our business, and he’s lying there out cold surrounded by empty bottles. I talked to him in the morning – everything was normal. You leave his cabin, and he drinks himself into oblivion and refuses to show up on deck or even open the door. What the hell happened?” Tommy reached forward and squeezed Vince’s shoulder, not letting him back off.

Upon learning that Nikki hadn’t told anyone about Vince’s breakdown relief washed over him. Knew Tommy about it, the entire crew would have already been snickering and whispering around Vince, and for a reason. Going into a fit of panic when told to undress, like some hysterical nun who’d never seen a dick in her life, wasn’t quite what Vince wanted to be known for. Sure, everybody already knew he was Nikki’s toy, but he could at least carry that unflattering status with as much pride as it was possible to have in this situation.

“What do you think?” he said through gritted teeth. “Do you think he wanted to play poker with me or something?”

“Sure he didn’t. But I know him, and this ain’t how he behaves after sex, so I can only assume he hasn’t had any. Which is weird, because he always gets what he wants, even from bitches like you. What did you do to him?”

“Ask rather what he did to me.” Vince turned away demonstratively and reached for a sponge. “Maybe it’s his conscience finally waking up.”

“Hah, nothing of this kind in that asshole,” Tommy brushed him off with a chuckle. “Listen, I’m not gonna leave you alone until you tell me.”

“Then you’ll be spending a night here,” Vince didn’t retreat, plunging the sponge into muddy water, pursing his lips in disgust when his hand touched some food remains. “Maybe he’s upset I drank that premium whisky of his.”

“He gave you his premium whisky? You lucky son of a bitch!” Tommy almost jumped, his eyes lighting up. “Can’t imagine how well you sucked him off to get that. So all it takes is just offering you some booze? I have some vodka stashed somewhere-”

A plate almost crashed against his head – he managed to duck at the last second, and it broke against the wall instead. Vince didn’t have enough time to fling another plate – Tommy tackled him to the floor instead.

“Let me go,” Vince hissed, wriggling underneath him.

“I will, if you ain’t gonna throw more plates at me”.

“I will, if you cut that talk.”

“Well, we’ll stay like this then.” Tommy shrugged. “So that was all a show the first time? Are you more pliable one-by-one, or was that the booze?”

“Neither. I’ve drunk beverages a hundred times better than that whisky. And no, that wasn’t a show.”

“Hard to believe, princess.” Tommy pinched his cheek. “But you’ve got a grain of truth somewhere, I admit. Nikki wouldn’t react like that to a good blowjob.” He finally rolled off Vince and plopped down onto his sleeping place, his legs alone half of the room’s length, and patted the place next to him on the blanket. After a little hesitation Vince moved there too, solely because the floor was too cold.

“So, now that we’re comfortable and cozy, will you fuckin’ tell me what happened?” Tommy pressed on. Vince tried not to touch his body, but he could feel heat radiating from it even at a distance. “With as many details as possible. I won’t jerk off on it, I promise. At least in your presence.”

“Nothing much,” Vince shook his head again. “Nothing to jerk off to - we didn’t even have sex.”

“Well, that’s a shame,” Tommy looked disappointed. “I hoped for a juicy story. How come Nikki didn’t fuck you again? I know he wanted to – he’s been talking about you all night not letting me sleep in peace - and I doubt you are eloquent enough to talk him out of that.”

“I might be,” Vince got offended. Did Tommy think he had been taking all his rhetoric classes for nothing? “But words wouldn’t help there. They didn’t help me yesterday, after all.”

Tommy ignored Vince’s full-of-disdain look.

“How’d you squeeze the whisky out of him then? You don’t look like the type – and even if you did, I doubt you could get it with force. Nikki’s just as good at hand-to-hand combat as with a sword.”

Tommy didn’t lie, still looking fully determined to wring the answer out of him, and Vince gave up, not ready to listen to his nagging for the rest of the night. But even remembering what happened from a safe distance of the galley still made a lump form in his throat and his heart beat faster. He was so tired of all this. Even the pride he was clutching at like a drowning man to a raft seemed less important than just being left alone. Besides, everyone on the ship already knew he was Nikki’s bitch, so what difference would it make to have that happen twice?

“He started undressing me, and I kind of… began to suffocate. I don’t know what happened – everything was blurry and I couldn’t breathe. And then he pours this whisky into my mouth and sends me away. That’s all.”

Tommy stayed silent for a minute or two, which in his case was more frightening than when he talked all the time.

“Just don’t tell anyone,” Vince added hastily. “I mean, not that there’s much of a reputation to ruin for me, but still.”

“I won’t,” Tommy said after a few seconds of pondering over it, “but not because of you. Because of him. They might consider it a weakness.”

In other circumstances Vince wouldn’t believe him, but now it was different. Tommy spoke without a usual hint of mockery in his voice and looked more serious than Vince had ever seen him over the short period on the Shout. So he was inclined to believe him – or at least hope that he wouldn’t spill the beans intentionally.

“Still, thank you.”

“You’re welcome, princess. By the way, I just now realized I don’t even know your name. I know you’re a Wharton because we found papers in the captain’s cabin, but not much more than that.”

“Vincent Neil,” Vince said after a short pause. Maybe now he would start calling him by his name instead of giving him womanly nicknames? “I don’t suppose anyone here will call me that, so just Vince will do.”

“Alright, princess Vinnie,” Tommy grinned (no, this was a hopeless case) and then, unexpectedly, stretched his hand forward. “Nice to meet you.”

Vince stared at it like it was an exotic and extremely venomous snake somebody just suggested he pet. But seconds passed and Tommy’s hand didn’t waver, and Vince decided he didn’t want to decline this extremely rare demonstration of respect he was so unexpectedly offered.

“Can’t say it’s mutual, sorry.” He shook Tommy’s hand.

Tommy burst into laughter. “That was harsh! Didn’t you have your etig- etiqa- good behavior lessons in your childhood?”

“Etiquette, you mean? It’s useless outside social events. No one cares which fork you use for fish and which for salad here.”

“Wait, you use different forks for different dishes? Man, that’s crazy. How’d you remember all that? And what a pain in the ass it must be to wash all of them!”

“I never remembered anything even after all my lessons,” Vince smiled faintly. “Always thought it to be stupid, honestly.”

“Well, at least here we’re on the same page,” Tommy nodded and got up. “Now, you have work to do, and who am I to interrupt you?”

“Bastard,” Vince murmured to his back. Tommy jerked his shoulder, but chose to ignore the insult and hurried out of the galley.

#motley crue #motley crue fanfiction #vince neil #tommy lee #mick mars #my writing #here is a small chapter where i give vince a bit of a break :D #i'd love to develop his relationship with tommy more i think it's full of potential #and of course i had to have mick play something because that's the closest to heaven vince will ever get on this ship #i probably have too many commas in here but i refuse to comb through this again it's 2 am here

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thenonconformistcurmudgeon · 2 months

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Miss Peggy Lee

It does not take much for me to start a new obsession. The latest is Miss Peggy Lee, the old jazz/pop singer from long ago. You know the “Fever” singer. “You give me fever”. “Chicks were born to give you fever, Be it Fahrenheit or centigrade”.

My preoccupation begins after my wife sends me a video clip of Miss Peggy singing “It’s a good day” from 1946. She knew I would like it but probably didn’t know to what extent. A very upbeat swinging tune. “and it’s a good day for payin’ your bills, cause it’s a good day for curin’ your ills, so take a deep breath and throw away the pills, ‘Cause it’s a good day from morning ‘till night”. Youthful with a 40’s curly hairdo and a great outfit and sung with attitude. I was enthralled.

youtube

Now I remember Miss Peggy when she was much older, singing on variety shows like Sullivan and my memory was that she was always introduced as Miss Peggy Lee with the Miss having to be there. I remember when I was a kid finding it odd that she was introduced this way when others were not. Other than that, I had no interest when she performed, feeling she was just an old timer, out of step with the current culture. I probably just tuned her out, went to the bathroom, or got something to eat unless the vertical or horizontal hold needed fixing.

It's amazing how time can change one’s perspective. I now love her voice and songs and have been playing them over and over. Smoky jazz tunes. Of course, I had to research her life and music. She was a singer songwriter which was rare back in the day and wrote 270 songs including the songs in Disney’s Lady and the Tramp and voiced 4 characters in the movie. She basically produced her own stage shows, choreographed every movement, eye brow raise, curling lip, crooked smile, and was in charge of the lighting and even designed some of her performance outfits. She performed for 65 years, at the end while in a wheelchair. Well, it turns out my memory was correct. She insisted on being introduced as Miss Peggy Lee because she felt it was a sign of respect. I am glad that my memory was accurate but even more satisfied knowing that I noticed peculiarities as a kid.

She grew up in nowheresville North Dakota. Born in 1920, she was a farm girl. She was abused by a stepmother. She didn’t live where there were movie theatres and likely relied on the radio to dream big for herself. Benny Goodman discovered her singing on the radio when she was 14.

The Muppet Miss Piggy was originally called Miss Piggy Lee and the designer was also from North Dakota and modeled her after Peggy. Miss Piggy is a temperamental diva superstar personality and I guess although our hero came from humble beginnings was a temperamental artist. From a 2002 article in the Observer by Rex Reed: “Miss Peggy Lee, the singing icon who kept her public perking, was often a completely different person in private. Friends and musicians describe her as quirky, obsessive, demanding, stubborn, illogical, eccentric, driven by anger, tortured by a lack of love and strange to the point of madness. Of her four marriages that ended bitterly, she said the one to handsome movie star Dewey Martin was punctuated by so much abusive violence that she took to wearing a football helmet to the dinner table. Robert Richards, the noted artist and illustrator, once entered a disastrous business partnership with “Miss Peg” that required him to live in her home in Beverly Hills for a six-month period that is best described as an exotic season in purgatory. “She rarely left her bedroom, which was as cold as a meat locker. You would attend a business meeting at the foot of her bed. Your teeth would be chattering and she would be covered with feathers under a mountain of blankets. She was up all night, writing notes to herself with an assortment of pens and colored markers. Then she would wake at noon, or mid-afternoon, surrounded by piles of crushed papers on the bed–thoughts, musings, pieces of terrible song lyrics, poems, memos to ‘Send to Frank!’”.

Is that all there is? Is that all there is? If that's all there is my friends, then let's keep dancing Let's break out the booze and have a ball If that's all there is

In Wimbledon ND, population 180, the high school home of Miss Peggy Lee was turned into a World Renown combination museum of Peggy and a Depot Transportation Museum as the downstairs part of the house was the depot that her father worked at and they lived above. The museum is free but there are no regular hours and you have to call ahead for a tour appointment. I guess they don’t get much foot traffic in Wimbledon, ND. However, on her birthday, May 26th each year, the museum is open for 3 hours and you are invited for cake, coffee and conversation. In town, there is only a singular café which is located in the grocery store, open only 11:30-1:00, Monday through Friday, serving mostly fried food. Can’t beat the prices, $7.99 for the fish basket with fries, cheeseburger deluxe for $8.50. I’d be sure to time my visit to also hit up the café. This definitely goes on the bucket list with the Pigeon Museum in Oklahoma City and Museum of Barbed Wire in Kansas.

Hey, big spender! Hey, big spender! Hey, big spender Spend a little time with me Spend a little time with me Spend a little time with me.

#Miss Peggy Lee #Youtube

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augustinapril · 9 months

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why is the word boykisser sung to the tune of girl dinner becoming a vocal stim please send help

#☆ — spencer talks

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gallickingun · 4 years

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I’m really soft for the idea of having to use your safe word with Bakugou and he immediately snaps into the most nurturing boyfriend. He’s gone from pounding into you and slapping you around, to holding you to his chest and stroking your hair. He’d run you a bath and while you soaked in there he’d make you some comfort food which he’d feed you later in bed.

a/n: this got p long so i’m putting it under a read more! tw: degradation

It’s all too much.

“I want to hear you beg for my perfect cock, you little slut,” his lips are curling and all you can see is your own self-hatred reflected to you in his carmine irises. A slap resounds against your cheek but it’s hard to process, save for the way your face turns into the pillow. Bakugou’s hand drifts from your jaw to your throat, encasing the tender muscles within his grasp and squeezing.

You start to see stars when you hear him say, “I said beg, you pathetic bitch, or else I’ll have to punish you for not listening.”

Your heart is pounding, your eyes are pouring tears, and your thighs are starting to clench to the point of pain that no longer feels like pulsing pleasure. You can barely find it in you to form words because your tongue feels warped and heavy within your mouth, but the second you manage to force that very special phrase out of your teeth, the whole world stops spinning.

Bakugou’s hand loosens against your throat and his hips still, buried to the hilt within you, the domineering mask slipping from his expression, “S-Say it again.”

You’re embarrassed, but you repeat the phrase, a choking sob breaking it up in the middle. You turn your head into the pillow so you don’t have to look at him when his face twists in anger or frustration, your hands covering what visibly remains of your face so he can’t see your crumpled features.

“Hey,” Bakugou’s voice is uncharacteristically soft and the sound of it makes you whimper. He doesn’t pull out of you, not yet, because he’s afraid the sudden change might bring another round of emotions to the surface, “Come back to me, princess, I’m right here.”

The gentle way his fingers circle around your wrists could make you cry for another reason entirely, and the crooning of his deep voice in your ear makes your toes curl. You clench your jaw in favor of looking up at him, focusing on the pain that is now throbbing in your gums. Your cheek still stings from the smack you received not but moments prior to your outcry, and you wonder if the skin is as red as you think it might be.

“D-Do you want me to pull out?” His voice is timid, and timid is not something well-known to Bakugou Katsuki. You are shaking your head adamantly, begging with your hands twisting in his grip to hold him by the forearms, eyes wild as you finally glance up at him, “P-Please don’t leave me.”

Bakugou is hushing you, curling his body further into you so he is filling you to the base of him, his knees tucking tightly against your hips and his arms circling around your shoulders to hold you close.

“I’m right here,” he repeats the sentiment from earlier, kisses against your temple. You swear you feel the telltale sign of damp tears against your skin and hair, but you don’t have the wherewithal to take much notice. His cock twitches withing your core and it’s comforting somehow, in tandem with the way he is kissing over your face and running the tip of his nose against your skin, providing you with all the tactile relief he can muster, “I’m not going anywhere, princess, I’m right here.”

He repeats that phrase several times, until your breathing has gone from erratic to something much more calm. Bakugou kisses the space on your chest where your heart would be, “Just breathe, baby. It’s okay, you’re okay. Come back down, I’m right here.”

Your palms press against his chest and he’s taken aback at the sudden contact, irises widening to swallow his pupils. He brushes your hair from your eyes, noting how you flinch at the sight of his hand so close to your face, and his soul cracks in half. Bakugou’s voice is wavering as he whispers, “I-I’m sorry, sweetheart, I’m so sorry.”

You are shaking your head and trying to keep him from apologizing, but he tucks your head into his chest and rolls to the side so he can cradle you within the cage of his arms, “Don’t.”

Bakugou’s fingertips sift through your hair and down your neck, massaging at the base of your scalp and shoulders. You can hear something akin to humming in your ear, and after a few moments, you realize that Bakugou is singing. A new set of tears well up in your eyes, but you dig yourself further into the cavity of his shoulder, your nose tucked against his throat so you can breathe in his scent.

“I love you,” he grits out the words, kissing your temple, “I hope you know that.”

You tilt your head back so you can look him in the eyes, tears still settled in your lids and caked on your lashes, “I love you too, Katsuki.”

A smile graces his features, and you swear you’ve seen the sun. Pushing yourself up with the gentle movement of your legs, you rub your noses together, closing your eyes as he connects your foreheads, “I’m gonna run you a bath, okay? Help you wash up.”

Your hand reaches upward to cup his cheek, closing your eyes so you can drink in the closeness you have with him at this very moment in time. Your whole body is warm, and your mind is in a haze as you come down from your emotionally spiked high. You can’t help it as you angle your head just enough to meld your lips to his.

The action takes Bakugou by surprise at first, and he doesn’t react to your kissing. You start to pull back once you’ve realized that he isn’t reciprocating, but he’s caught you before you can retreat. He winds his arms around your shoulders and tilts his head forward to capture your lips once again. He is firm, but not so much so that you feel trapped, but rather you feel safe.

Bakugou gathers you up in his arms, gently unsheathing himself from you to cause less stinging at the sudden change of stretch, and walks you into the bathroom. You’re deposited on the counter while he runs the bath water, trying to get the tub to the perfect temperature before transferring you into the sudsy pool. He’s careful as he washes your hair, dipping your head back into the fragrant bubbles and massaging your scalp.

He stands to his feet once your hair has been rinsed, the bubbles floating around your body popping once they come into contact with your skin. With one last pass through your hair, he retracts his fingers, “I”m going to go make dinner, okay? Let you soak in here a minute longer without me sitting up your ass.”

A giggle parts your lips, and there is a pressure lifted from his chest that he did not realize he was harboring. He clutches at his heart, wrapping his fingers around his pectoral so he can make sure the organ is still beating. The pounding thud against his palm gives him relief and then a smile takes over.

The next time he sees you is when you’re fumbling down the stairs, your body clad in one of his old merch designs, a shirt that falls down to your thighs, just enough to cover your ass. Bakugou smirks, knowing full well that you can make anything look this good.

“What do you want? Action, comedy, romance, or anime?” Bakugou carries two plates of spicy meat and rice to the coffee table where he’s already set up drinks and snacks to go along with dinner. You settle on a comedy movie and he pulls you into his lap, your back pressed against his chest so he can spoon feed you dinner, your headspace still recovering from earlier. The affectionate gesture seems to be over the top, but you are not one to tell Bakugou no when it comes to expressing his admiration to you through his actions.

It is hours later when you are drifting off to sleep, your head on Katsuki’s chest, and you hear that same tune from earlier being sung into your ears, the vibrations in his chest only furthering your lull into sleep. Bakugou is brushing his fingers against the dated t-shirt in various patterns, the warmth radiating from his body dredging your mind into a sedated state.

“Hey,” he calls to you, bringing your attention to his face with a knuckle crooked underneath your chin. A kiss is pressed to your forehead, and when he pulls away, his voice is gentle, “Where’s my girl?”

You cannot help the dopey grin that tugs on your lips, wriggling your way closer to him so you can rub your nose against his, “I’m right here, ‘Suki.”

And you seal the promise of your presence with a kiss before falling back against his embrace, allowing him to hold together your broken pieces as if he were human glue. The final thing you notice just before you drift into the realm of unconsciousness is the song being sung in your ear.

“You are my sunshine, my only sunshine, you keep me happy when skies are gray. Don’t you know dear, how much I love you? Please don’t take my sunshine away.”

a/n: wow that got sappy real quick. i hope this was what you were wanting!

#bakugou katsuki x reader #bakugou x reader #bakugou katsuki smut #bakugou smut #bakugou thirst #bakugou katsuki thirst #bnha x reader #bnha smut #bnha thirst #Anonymous #morgan gets mail

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lizartgurl · 3 years

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“Where’s Mama?” Jacen yawned again, and Padme rocked him back and forth, gently rubbing his back to encourage him to sleep.

“Hush now, little one, Mama’s gone to get the baby,” She told him.

“But Papa said the stork brings the baby!” Jaina said, determined to stay awake.

“I want to see the baby,” Jacen said, looking up at his Nana with big brown eyes.

“You will, little one, don’t worry. You’ll see the baby tomorrow.”

“Is it a boy baby or a girl baby?” Jaina asked. She leaned back, hanging off of Abba’s arms as he quickly tried to help her sit up again.

“We won’t know until they get here,” Anakin said nervously. Jaina squirmed out of his hold once again, and he caught her by the foot.

“When will they get here?” Jaina giggled.

“When good little Jedi like you go to sleep.” he said.

“I’m not a Jedi!” Jaina’s antics had woken Jacen up a little bit more, “I’m a Sith!” He growled, imitating a Nexu’s teeth and claws, though the lisp from his missing front tooth made Padme laugh.

“Oh my, what a terrifying little Sith you are!” Padme gasped, “All that hard work from taking over the galaxy must have made you very tired!”

“Sith don’t have bedtimes!” Jaina decided. Anakin tried to put her down on the bed and get a better hold on her, and she leaped off the bed, running over to the closet. She emerged with one of the brown emergency blankets, draped around her shoulders like a Jedi’s robe.

“Die Jedi dogs!” She shrieked, leaping at Abba.

“I want one, I want one!” Jacen wiggled out of Nana’s arms and ran for the closet. Padme had dreamed that the mac and cheese they had eaten for dinner, along with the game of tag they’d played around the base, would have tired them out. Jacen and Jaina were tired of being cooped up and on the run, and Padme didn’t blame them. They hardly knew what was going on, but they had to feel the sensations of concern and fear coming from all the adults they felt closest too, especially Abba.

Abba Anakin, who scooped up both robed twins and held them tightly, who Padme knew was tense and afraid even though he hid it beneath jokes and smiles for his unsuspecting grandkids.

And they were about to add a third, defenseless child to the list.

Anakin collapsed onto the bed with both of the little Sith, rolling over so that Jacen and Jaina were trapped beneath him.

“Okay kids, the Jedi win this one. Good night!” He faked snoring and went limp.

“Abba!” Jacen and Jaina giggled despite their predicament.

“Alright you two, I mean it. It’s bedtime,” Padme helped Anakin up so that both of them were sitting on either side of the bed.

“We have time for one more thing. Do you want a bedtime story or a lullaby?”

“A lullaby!” Jacen said.

“But only if Abba sings it!” Jaina added.

“No, no, little one, I don’t sing-” Anakin started.

“Pleeeeease?” The twins begged in unison.

“You sing the best songs!”

“Sing the song from Gran Shmi!” Jaina bounced up and down on her knees.

Padme looked over at Anakin. It looked as if every emotion he’d felt in the past week threatened to spill out of his eyes. He was scared. Scared of losing her, their children, and their grandchildren, just like he had his mother.

“Hey,” Padme gripped his shoulder, “I can sing it if you want me to.”

Anakin nodded, unable to speak.

“Alright you two, I’ll sing you Gran Shmi’s song.” She opened her arms, and the two shot into her warm embrace.

“Settle down, cuddle close,” Padme leaned back against the pillows, a child nestled on either side of her.

As their breathing calmed and evened out, Padme began to sing. It was an old song, originally written in another language, so it didn’t rhyme when sung in basic. She went deep into her memories, recalling the night she’d spent at the Skywalker’s residence and overheard Shmi singing this song to Anakin. It had been more for herself than for her son, as she prepared to watch him risk his life all for the hyperdrive of a couple of strangers the next day. She’d heard the words from Anakin time and time again, but the melody was often lost to her.

Finally, Anakin took pity, laying down on the other side of Jaina and humming out the tune. Jaina turned into Abba’s chest as his voice rumbled soothingly.

Jacen yawned again, wrapping his arms around Padme’s. Watching their grandchildren closely, Padme and Anakin finished the song together, and a soft peace settled over the room.

“He’s here,” Anakin said softly. Deeply asleep, the twins sighed in unison.

“Who’s here?” Padme asked, trying not to sound so scared.

Anakin smiled over at her, a real smile. This one held no fear, protected no wayward emotions. Padme could feel the peace and joy radiating from her husband as he looked at the door of the room.

“Leia’s baby’s was just born.”

#anakin skywalker #padme amidala #anidala #jaina solo #jacen solo #star wars #star wars eu #star wars legends #saw a post about how anakin can sing and i thought #time to fic it #lizart writes #grandadakin

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mystic-sky · 3 years

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Hello! Gojo Saturo’s birthday is in a few days and may I request a fan fic where the reader surprise him with a cake in sexy bunny outfit in mesh stockings? (I’m currently watching the anime Rascal Does Not Dream of Bunny Girl Senpai) and the idea came up when I saw the outfit hehe love you!

Hi!! I love that anime! Sorry for the late post love, but it’s still an hour before his birthday ends where I live 💕✨ I didn’t know if you wanted food play with the cake??? It mostly focuses around the outfit. Enjoy.

Warnings: Just Birthday NSFW

Word Count: 2.0K

Sometimes when you start dating someone, you find yourself doing things you never figured you’d be into. Your boyfriend was a man of many kinks, slowly introducing you to things and helping you flesh out your own sexual desires. Not only did you try new things for him because you loved him, but you trusted him so much each time afterwards because it was all so enjoyable.

Months before his birthday, he sparked an idea. You were in the kitchen, fixing dinner for the both of you.

“A bunny girl outfit?” You question, shifting your stance a bit. In the few years you had been dating, Satoru had never touched on role play or dress up before.

“Yes~” He sung. “Like that one anime, do you know it?”

You nodded, feeling a bit tense. Could you pull something like that off?

You set your cooking ladle down. “When my birthday comes I’m gonna make you do something even crazier.”

The look on Satoru’s face was one of intrigue, but there was a splash of fear in the corners of his pupils. You had always managed to be exceptionally good at pleasing him. He hoped what you had in mind wouldn’t be too crazy, although he was down for anything.

He spent the rest of that evening leaning on the kitchen counter and trying to get you to confess if you had been agreeing to wear the bunny outfit and what were you bargaining for.

When his birthday came months later, you took your chances at the costume store. You knew he’d forgotten all about the idea since you never gave him a forward answer. You took advantage of this, and waited until the day of to go shopping. You bought multiple sizes to be sure you got the best fitting one, since you were rushing to make it home before Satoru. You stood in your apartment hallway, swaying in the mirror.

The things I do for him, you think.

Looking at yourself from head to toe, you were almost upset that the smug bastard knew you’d look good in a bunny outifit. You looked over your shoulder at your backside.

“This things lifts your butt so well.” You felt so sexy, more confidence than you had imagined passed over your body.

You make haste towards the living room, eagerly placing the candles on top of the cake you had bought earlier on the coffee table. You could hear him turning the keys in the door behind you. He was greeted by your fluffy, white bunny tail and big juicy bottom.

“Woah, you actually did it.” You jumped a bit as he swung the door open. “I have to admit, seeing you on your knees as soon as I get home is always a treat.”

You bring yourself to your feet, lighter in hands. You flash him a warm smile.

“Welcome back,” you say.

“Oh I feel welcomed,” he begins, walking towards you to take you in with his eyes. He sets his sunglasses on the side table beside the couch.

“Ah-ah-ah-” you begin. “Go wash your hands!”

He holds his hands up in defense. “Will do m’lady.”

You turn backwards, opening the packaging on the new lighter you bought. You bent over, continuing to intently space out the candles for him. You quickly clicked towards the kitchen to grab the wine and some glasses. You set them both down beside the cake as you struggled to open the bottle.

You felt his presence behind you as you swung yourself around.

“I figured we could have a bit of fun before dinner.” You say, pressing the wine bottle to your breasts. You patted the one-person sofa beside you. You watched him pull his lip between his teeth as he giddily sat down, spreading his legs. You poured him a glass, watching him sip as he eyeballed you.

“I feel like I’ve got my own little personal play boy bunny.”

“Just for tonight,” you said, placing the bottle on the table.

“Does that mean I can have anything I want?”

“Don’t I spoil you enough?” You raise a brow, adjusting the cuffs around your wrists.

“I’m sort of a bottomless pit. I’m always up for more.” He says slyly, pulling you between his legs.

“Turn around for me,” he says, fingers just barely holding the tips of your own. You smile, spinning your body so he could see your butt.

“Baby... I know it was sort of my idea, but just how am I going to fuck you in this thing. It’s so fucking tight.”

You felt him playing and flicking the tail of your costume whilst his other hand cupped your ass cheek above the mesh stockings.

“I’ve got buttons...” you say shyly, bending over for him to see the thick clothed part of your core.

“Ohh~ how convenient.” He sung, sliding and pressing a finger against your hot clothed sex. You shuddered a bit, before standing up straight and turning around.

“This is truly a treat, sweetheart.” He brought his large hands up to caress the back of your thighs. “It’s taking a lot for me to not pounce on you right now.”

You could tell he was enjoying the sight of you.

“Don’t fret, I’ll wear it a little while longer.” You assure him, falling to your knees. You loosely bring your fingers up to his white dress shirt, loosening his tie and a few buttons as well.

“I hope you weren’t planning on wearing this to dinner.” You say, dragging your fingers down the exposed part of his chest.

“Just how messy are we about to get, honey?” He smirked.

You only stare at him, feeling his chest up some more. He smiles back before taking up the glass beside him on the end table, taking a sip while he sits back and looks at you. He watches you feel against the bulge in his suit pants. He takes a brief look at his watch before looking back at you.

“Dinner’s at 8.”

He watched you unbuckle his pants and pull his length out in front of you. You brought the tip to your mouth before speaking.

“I’ve got time.” You swallow him whole, feeling him shift in the chair. He’s holding back a groan, having not expected you to take him in so deeply right off the bat.

“You just threw your gag reflex out the window, huh?” He managed to say.

You released your mouth, bunny ears flopping back while you bobbed your head on the tip alone. You swirled your tongue around him, shutting him up immediately.

He set the glass down, and rested his fingers in your hair.

“What a sweet girl, spoiling Daddy like this on his birthday.”

You take hold of his base, stroking in tune with your sucking while he shifted beneath you. You could feel yourself getting wet as his moans filled the space in the living room. You hummed against his length, tongue sending vibrations through his shaft and his body. You released him from your mouth, jerking him whilst you attached your lips to his balls. You sucked softly, swirling your hot tongue over the soft skin.

He lost it from this unfortunately, shooting loads out onto your hand without warning. You quickly took the tip of his length back into your mouth, sucking the remnants of his orgasm from the source.

“Fuck~” He shuddered. So much semen filled your mouth and you swallowed what you could as the rest of it slipped down your chin and onto your breasts.

You let go of his length with a popping noise.

“How long were you holding that in?” You asked him, licking your fingers. He loved watching you do that.

“Long enough,” he said, cocking his head back. “Now come sit on it for me.”

Your body was ready. You could feel your nipples getting irritatingly hard as they pressed against the firm fabric of the suit. You unbuttoned the bottom piece of it as you climbed on top of him.

“And now...“ He gripped your ass cheeks. “...to unwrap you.”

You felt him claw your mesh stockings with both hands, ripping them so wide and way beyond wearing them ever again.

“Satoru!” You whined. You owned plenty of black stockings, but that didn’t mean he could just rip them as he pleased.

“Ah-ah-ah, it’s my birthday, remember?” He mimicked. You held your tongue.

“How could I forget...” you mutter, positioning yourself above his length. He squeezed your exposed cheeks so hard you probably bruised.

“You’re so cute when you talk under your breath like that.” He teased.

“Shut up,” you say, holding his length as you slide onto it. He bites back a moan as you coat his dick with so much slick his pants started getting stained. “And keep your hands to yourself.”

“Mhnnngh...” He bit his lip. “Fuck- sweetheart I can’t make any promises.”

You only smile at him, fighting back your own moans as you rock against him. He releases his grip on you like you asked, placing his hands on both arm rests and watching you start to bounce on his length. You rest your arms on his shoulders, throwing your head back, bunny ears flopping erratically. He watched your breasts shake about, suit almost exposing your nipples to the air.

Watching you ride him like that made it hard for him to keep his hands to himself. He would often have to force himself into being sub when you got on top like that. He claimed it was part of making you feel like you were truly dominating him every once in a while. You were just the cutest, and you were wearing this costume just for him. He wanted you to have your moment.

“Just like that baby,” he hummed. He felt your hand clutch his jaw, pressing a hot kiss to his wine stained lips. He moaned against you, finally wrapping his arms around you.

“You know I can’t help myself, and it’s my birthday~” He says against your lips.

You rolled your eyes, kissing him deeper. He hummed against you, sliding his body down in his seat.

“You know, speaking of my birthday, you haven’t said it since this morning.” He said smugly, pushing your body upwards. He starts thrusting into you from underneath, earning broken and sloppy moans from you.

“Won’t you tell me again, pretty please?”

He was mocking you. He knew you weren’t capable of saying it- at least not coherently and definitely not when he was pumping you so quickly and so deeply like that. You were nearing an orgasm, and your heels were slipping off your feet while he was at work against you.

“Honey, I’m waiting. Say it.” He hummed. Somehow he said it so seriously you didn’t want to test him further.

“H-Hap...Hap-py B-Birthday.” You moaned brokenly as he pounded into you.

“Such a sweet girl. That wasn’t hard at all, was it? Now let it all out.”

His thick length throbbed against your walls. While you climaxed around him, both your heels hit the carpet with a thud as you cried out his name.

The best but worst part about sex with Satoru is that you’d never get used to how he’d overstimulate you every time you came. Sure you always get to ride your orgasm out, but you’d be quivering, and barely put together the whole time until he came. Just like now, you had melted into him, gripping and wrinkling the collars of his dress shirt, voice cracking against his ears as he came inside you. He had filled you up, overflowing his semen and spilling onto his pants. He shuddered, chest rising and falling against your breasts.

You both stayed there like that for a bit, gathering yourselves.

“I’ve got more for you after we get home from dinner.” He said as you sat up above him.

“You’ll be pushing your third orgasm. You sure you got juice left?” You say smugly.

“Oh, always.” He grinned.

And so much for the cake.

#gojo satoru #gojo satoru x reader #jujutsu kaisen #gojo smut #gojo sensei #jjk #jjk gojo #jjk x reader

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one-piece-aus · 3 years

Text

Rainbow

X Drake x Reader | 100 Music Milestone Event

X Drake + 🔀 + Fluff + 🥚 | Requested by: @musical-apple

Ashes littered the ground, building remains scattered across the ruined city. A year has passed, and X Drake has come across a hand full of survivors left. Life began fading of it's meaning, everything he saw only grew grimmer with each passing day. Though, when all hope was on it's final edge, he found you.

You were rummaging through the rubble, a smile on your face and humming a little tune. The sight was so out of place, Drake thought this had been a hallucination or a trick someone set up. Cautious, he placed his hand on the handle of the sword that rested at his side before approaching you.

"Excuse me, miss?" Drake spoke so he wouldn't startle you.

"Hm?" You looked up to meet his blue eyes. "Oh! Another survivor!" You immediately stood up and stumbled over the junk to him. "Hi there, I'm [Y/n]! I- woah!" You tripped over something braced yourself for impact but instead, you felt strong arms around your torso. You glance up and saw Drake had caught you in his arms. You bashfully smile and stand up straight and back away. "Sorry 'bout that, it's been a while since I've seen someone new."

"It's... It's alright miss."

"Oh no need to be formal, you already know my name."

"Right..." Drake deadpanned. He didn't understand how you can be so cheerful with the current post-apocalyptic situation around you. Then again, maybe you were just happy to see another person, it was a natural thing to do after being alone for so long. "How long has it been since you last saw someone?"

"Not long ago actually."

There goes his theory.

Clearing his throat, Drake held out his hand. "My name is X Drake."

"Nice to meet you, X Drake." You smile and shake his hand. "Tell me, do you have a place to stay, or are looking for one?"

"I've been roaming around to see how many survivors there are."

"Oh! That's perfect! Come, come!" You pulled his arm and begin walking towards a wagon you had stock up with supplies. Grabbing it and trailing it behind you, lead him to the outskirts of the ruined city you two have just been in. You could see the place had more space and tidy up, a few plants growing here and there-

"Is that [Y/n]?" A child's voice whispered.

"[Y/n]'s back!" Another kid cheered, coming out of a large makeshift tent.

"Yay! [Y/n]!"

"Welcome back [Y/n]!"

A bunch of children came out, greeting you with smiles and hugs. You laughed, acknowledging each one that came to you. A few of the older ones reported what went on while you were gone and you praised them for their good work. X Drake stood there in shock, he didn't know so many children had survived.

"[Y/n], who is that funny-looking man over there?" a little girl asked, tugging on your arm and pointing at the male you brought with you.

"This is X Drake," you introduce the children to him, patting his shoulder.

"Is he going to be staying with us?" a boy with raven hair asked, sparkles in his eyes. A few other children joined in, looking up at both of you with wide smiles.

Drake hesitated on answering them, he wasn't exactly planning on settling down yet. He planned on continuing his search for more survivors, or rather a purpose in this wasteland. You noticed the uncertainty in his composer, to be fair, you had just dragged him over to your camp without telling him anything so it was understandable.

"Nothing is set in stone but why don't we show him around and make him feel welcome," you suggested to the children.

"Yeah!"

"Okay [Y/n]-chan!"

"Good idea!"

Two children grabbed a hold of his hands, pulling him along as they showed him the campsite with the rest of the kids. From where they gathered rainwater to where they held medical supplies, Drake had been impressed the place was so well organized. One question bugged his mind, where were the other adults? Surely you weren't the only one, right?

Sundown approached, a few young teens came with animals they caught, surprised by Drake's presence but welcomed him nonetheless. Preparing dinner was a team effort and they did it with a smile on their face, sharing merry laughter. Their cooperation was more efficient than the majority of the survivor groups Drake had come across, which consisted of adults.

That's one of the reasons why Drake kept moving, most of the colonies people formed collapsed on themselves from disagreement and distrust. The ones that were somewhat stable weren't exactly welcoming to newcomers, he didn't blame them after all not every stray was trustworthy in this day and age. However, these children appeared to be the exact opposite of what he experienced in the other groups. He wanted to know where the other adults were, and he would've asked you but you seemed to have your hands full assisting one of the children with something.

"Hey, mister-"

"Onion, his name is Deric." A boy with green hair interrupted his friend who wore glasses.

"No, it's not," a boy with purple hair butted in. "[Y/n] said his name was Drake."

"Oh..."

Drake cleared his throat to regain their attention to see what they needed.

"Can you help hold the stew pot?" The boy who Drake assumed to be named Onion requested. "The others are starting to get tired."

"Of course." Drake obliged, and watched as the kids served everyone as he held the object for them. Just as the last of the kids were receiving their servings, you came over.

"Oh, thank you for helping the kids." You smiled to show your gratitude, and Drake couldn't help but rub the back of his neck bashfully due to your cute expression.

"It's no problem really." The question Drake had popped up in his mind and he thought this was the best time to ask. "[Y/n], are there any adults around here other than you?"

"Uh- well... no, not really," you tell him, your demeanour dropping down slightly. "These kids-"

"[Y/n]! [Y/n]!" the children called, catching your attention. "Come sing for us!" "Yeah!"

"Alright." You glance at Drake and put a hand on his arm. "I'll tell you later."

Getting a nod from the man, you then walk over to the children who were gathered in a circle. Some had finished their bowls of stew and started getting comfy as they waited for you, each one was filled with anticipation. Wearing a smile, you knelt down and boop a little girl's nose, beginning to sing.

"I know you, you're a special one"

You shift yourself back to the rest of the child, opening yours for them to come and hug you.

"Some see crazy where I see love"

Two small kids come to you and you scoop them up, spinning them around in the air.

"You fall so low but shoot so high"

You let one sit on your shoulders while the other stays in your arms, and you nod your head to the orange sky.

"Big dreamers shoot for open sky"

Turn the child in your arms so you can see their eyes and boop their nose.

"So much life in those open eyes"

Gently you put the two children down.

"So much depth, you look for the light"

You crouch down, opening your palm to show scratches and scars on them.

"But when your wounds open, you will cry"

A small girl slowly approach your hand and touches them, curiously looking in your eyes as you tuck a loose strand of hair behind her ear.

"You'll cry out now and you'll question why"

You pick up the small girl and rocket her to sleep as you continue singing the melody.

"I can see a rainbow

In your tears as they fall on down

I can see your soul grow

Through the pain as they hit the ground

I can see a rainbow

In your tears as the sun comes out~

As the sun comes out~"

Drake watches in amazement, witnessing how your gentle nature soothes the children. Blissful smiles grew on the kids face, some swayed to your tune, others yawned and rested their head on the one beside them. Though, what captivated him had been the sound of your soft voice and the way words would flow from out of your lips. As you sung, he had almost forgotten the post-apocolyptic lifestyle he was in.

When the last note left your lips, the eldest children of the group who didn't fall asleep began to carry the sleeping kids to the tent. You smiled, proud to see them taking care of the others. Your thoughts were interrupted by Drake humming in thought, who was also watching the teens take the younger kids to the large tent.

"Ah, right, I suppose we didn't finish our conversation..."

"It's alright, your main concern for the children so I can understand," Drake stated before turning his gaze to you.

"The children... don't have anywhere to go," you inform him. "Most lost their parents or family, and you've seen the other survival groups. They don't have children... they don't want them... People think a child will slow them down in this life, but they're not looking in the long run. These kids are our future generation, our hope for humanity to continue. I... I just have to take care of them, give them a reason to keep going. I have to stay positive for them... I have to be their rainbow." You face lost that glimmer of joy, displaying one that held struggle and worry.

So that's why you had been smiling, you were putting on a brave face for the children. It makes sense, but Drake is amazed how one could stay like that for so long, it must get tiring. Hesitantly, he spoke up.

"I can't imagine how hard it can be..." Drake told you and a few seconds of silence followed before he continued. "You're stronger than most of my old co-workers."

"Oh?"

"Yeah, I was a cop before this whole mess..."

"Ah... that's cool..."

"What were you back then?"

"I didn't really have anything... I was broke, in debt, about to lose my house... in a way... this new life is better."

Drake never believed someone out there would say those words, however, hearing her reasons it did make sense. He didn't think of looking at the positive this life had brought. Prehaps if he stayed his mindset could change.

"Do you think there's enough room for another person to settle here?" Drake asked rubbing the back of his neck.

"Of course, there's always room for you to stay." You smile, answering him.

An MLP song + an apocalyptic wasteland + wholesome & adorable children, if that's not a cracked combination than I don't know what is.

Anyway, thank you for reading, your request, and your follow ^-^

#one piece #one piece au #one piece scenario #one piece x reader #one piece oneshot #one piece x y/n #one piece x you #x drake x reader #x drake #one piece x drake #post apocalyptic #post apocalypse #post apocalypse au #request #milestone event #requested

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indianamoonshine · 3 years

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c h a p t e r | i

summary: every summer you work on your father's strawberry farm with your three sisters. it's a way to take a break from the big city but summers in the midwest are hot and they linger. this year, your father's old and mysterious friend shows up to stay on your land for a reason yet to be determined. din djarin seems dangerous, but kind enough, and the two of you quickly become...well, let's fact it...smitten.

rating: m (18+) for future and explicit sexual content.

author's note: reader is well over eighteen for obvious reasons. i won't ever go into physical detail about the reader's appearance because we include everyone. this fic is pretty much a mix between pride & prejudice and call me by your name except without the und*rage crap we do not condone. so, without further ado, here's an aesthetically pleasing fanfic.

the moment din djarin laid eyes on you he knew he was a dead man.

at first, his view of you had been obstructed because you'd opened every door and window in the house. june in the midwest sometimes required such nuisances, so all of the curtains billowing in the breeze prevented him from looking upon you.

you were also on the couch, but he hadn't known that until you lifted a hand - soft as a dove's - from the back of the sofa. you played with the light between your fingers, shielding its dazzling rays from your eyes, just before setting it down again. your hands were so small (smaller than his anyway) and gentle. he imagined how foreign your skin would feel in warm contrast to his; how your fingers would feel intertwined with his calloused ones, which had done enough work throughout the years to be mistaken for a beggar’s. within the first moment, he saw you as flawless.

your father had not stopped for breath since din arrived, lamenting about the farm or discussing the layout of the home with an eagerness din had yet to match. he would've initially been interested in the history of the farm or how many sprawling acres rolled endlessly before them, but his eyes couldn't leave your hand.

you must've been asleep - napping in the embrace of the sun - because as soon as your father drew breath upon entering the living room, your voice tickled din's ears for the first time. sweet as music.

"dad? is that you?"

din couldn't help but blink at the sound of your voice. it seemed unnatural, like one hears in dreams or spiritual awakenings. he manages to compose himself at your father's side, straightening his posture to err on the side of caution.

your father exclaims with a joyful "ah!" and then introduces you by name.

"my daughter. one of them, anyway. she and the three eldest help during the summer," he had said, and then turned to the bay windows to go on about the view.

but you meet din's eyes, rested and glimmering with curiosity, while your father droned on in the background. you reach out a hand - the one he'd thought of holding - to shake.

he does. and it's every bit as beautiful as he knew it'd be.

"how do you do?" you give him a polite and pretty smile. if he hadn't known any better, you bat your eyelashes for good measure.

your father's tour continues but din can't stop thinking about the way your skirt rose to your thighs as you stretched awake.

|||

you were lying if you said you didn't think about him for the rest of the day.

you weren't the only one. your sisters - all three of them - had also met the mysterious din djarin.

"who is he?" charlotte asked while you congregated at the nearby pond. it was a lovely place, nestled within the thick of the woods and bursting with greenery. flowers of every kind blossomed around you and scents the air with a sweetness.

rhea lays in the shade of a peach tree. "one of dad's old friends," she says. she waves herself with a floral paper fan she'd gotten from chinatown while visiting you in new york.

"but why is he here?"

madeline, who paints with her watercolors, pipes in. "i heard he got into some trouble with the law and now he's in hiding."

you roll your eyes with a scoff, lounging in the grass and watching the clouds in the bright, blue sky. "madeline, that's absurd."

rhea (who is the oldest and most pragmatic) surprises you when she shrugs her shoulders. "i don't know. he looks likes a bad boy..."

you recall the way his jaw clenched as you introduced yourself - his neck was tempting. his skin glowed with a radiant hue in the sunlight and his eyes shone with an aura of broodiness. he was very austenian.

"boy is hardly the word," you correct.

charlotte, being the flirt, wiggles her eyebrows suggestively. she swims in the pond, hair wet and fanning against the water. she sinks lowly for dramatic effect. "how right you are."

"trouble or not, he was a perfect gentleman." rhea sighs and skims the water with her forefinger. "either way, he's easy on the eyes so i don't mind having him around."

easy on the eyes was putting it mildly. you wouldn't say that to the girls though; they had a habit of teasing when you showed interest in anyone attainable let alone a man decades older than you.

"don't do anything stupid, charlotte." madeline dips her paintbrush into her mason jar full of pond water.

charlotte huffs and flips her hair from her shoulder. it makes a splash, rippling the water as a result. "why not? we're all of legal age."

"he's dad's friend and a guest," you remind her, tearing your gaze away from the clouds.

the middle child lets out a pathetic whimper. "you guys are no fun," she groans.

|||

it was a busy season on the farm.

strawberries were ready to be picked by mid june and there was a three week window to do it. harvesting wasn't easy and it took a lot of man work. hands went numb, skin grew calloused. the sun that beat down on the fields was only manageable by the sprinklers that went off every blessed-ed fifteen minutes. during a drought, it was even worse.

the employees picked from seven in the morning until five in the evening. your father was adamant that breaks be plenty and pay be as prosperous as he could afford, but a strawberry farm wasn't a fortune five hundred company. he did what he could to provide the families with some semblance worthy enough to continue, and so every year he threw a dinner party.

it was always a lovely occasion, brimming with delectable treats and savory entrees. candles were aflame, lanterns lit up the pathway that lead to the entrance of the home and then the land leading into the woods. as a child, the dinner party was as exciting as a birthday. it was a night to look forward to all year long, sharing time with family and friends and gorging yourself on food you wouldn't eat any other friday of the week.

your sisters loved it too, mostly because they enjoyed the promise of gossip that poured from the mouths of guests like the wine served. and now that din djarin - a stranger, in all respects of the word - was attending an annual dinner that's managed to keep as tradition for years, gossip would surely be abundant as the wine itself.

guests arrived by the hour until the clock struck seven. the evening was crisp but warm enough to be comfortable without a blanket wrapped around your shoulders. the rock doves sung loudly to declare that sunset had begun, a few rogue and early lightning bugs blinking rhythmically. children of the employees ran throughout the fields bare footed and chanting taunts to their friends as their parents chattered among themselves.

home. here is home.

while the party had already begun (officially, at least), dinner hadn't yet been served. admittingly, you were a bit behind schedule, but you worked quickly to finish setting the tables. the theme was simple; linen napkins and wildflowers in random antique vases you found in your basement. the lilacs you'd picked from their bushes were already beginning to limp but you hoped no one would notice.

you hum when you work. whether it be intentional or not you find your lips buzzing with a tune plucked subconsciously from your brain as your hands busy themselves. you straighten the tablecloths, fill the vases with water, and set the silverware in their particular order. needless to say, you had a tendency to get lost in your own little world. so when a hand gently tapped you on the shoulder, you spun around with a shriek.

din djarin - man of the hour - is smirking handsomely at you, hands fiddling with a depressed looking lilac. you place a palm against your heart and count its beats. too many.

"mister djarin," you sigh out. "you scared me."

he lets out a breathy chuckle, hands running through his wavy locks. "i see that. i'm sorry, but i was just wondering if you'd like some help."

his voice...oh, stars and garters. it was so rough but tender - like a steak. you cock an eyebrow at how strange the comparison is but convince yourself it didn't matter. still, you're blushing from the jump so you duck your head from his gaze.

"there's not much left to do," you admit, turning back to the table. you spread your hands against the tablecloth to ward off any wrinkles. "you can double check if i missed any forks, i suppose. i have a tendency to do that."

din hums in his throat and nods a little. "sure," he says, moving to the first setting. his eyes scan along the silverware carefully. "where are your sisters? they don't help, huh?"

"they're better at entertaining," you say truthfully. "i volunteer to take care of the dinner part...as long as i don't have to socialize as much i'm content."

it was true. it's not that you had an aversion to people in general, but you tried to avoid conversation whenever possible - it wasn't your strong suit. you could get away with it when need be but you found it took too much energy to pretend to enjoy conversation about the weather or politics.

"i understand," din nods. he straightens a spoon with the nudge of his finger. "i find myself to be the same way."

there's an awkward silence between the two of you. you didn't know how to respond. while you weren't good at social situations in general, you found it natural to feign interest in subjects bland enough to circumvent discomfort...but you felt the need to impress him.

"so you'll be staying with us this summer then?" you decide, falling short. how stupid.

din nods swiftly. "yeah. in one of the cabins."

the cabins were located at various points of the land your father owned. in order to get there, one usually took an ATV or walked if the going gets tough. you preferred to stroll along the river, but your sisters liked riding the four wheelers or their bikes.

"which one?" you ask, tone mindless.

din's finished with double checking your work. he pulls out a chair - an old, wooden antique - and sits down upon it with caution. you stifle a laugh and, if he notices, he doesn't say anything. he'd soon learn that everything here was old but sturdier than they looked. you wish you could say it was for aesthetic purposes but it was more convenient than anything.

"the one closest to the pond," din replies lowly.

you notice how his eyes survey your form and how intimate it was. he was studying you but for whatever reason you couldn't be sure. you try to shake away the idea that he could be (dare you say?) pining over you. how silly. like you told charlotte: din djarin was off limis.

that was the end of it.

you find yourself blushing again so you hide your face. "that's my favorite one," you tell him honestly. "i like the view."

din smiles in agreement. "so do i."

if you weren't so heated with frustration, you would've called him out on the implication (as out of character for you it may be). then again, you found yourself weakened by the mere presence of this man. it wasn't unlike you, per say; you were naturally timid but there was an eagerness to his charm that you weren't familiar with. guys your age were so sure of themselves but it was almost always under false pretenses. this man however...well, he was a man and that was intimidating.

fine. it was hot.

you clear your throat in an effort to regain a semblance of poise. this summer had already proven to be laborious in a way you hadn't expected.

#DO YOU KNOW HOW LONG THIS TOOK TO TYPE OUT #din djarin x reader #din x reader #the mandalorian x reader #mando x reader #mw1 #strawberryfic

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imonthinice · 3 years

Text

The Criminal Psychology Majors, Jason Todd x Fem!Reader Part 6/?

Word Count: 2.6-2.7k idk exact

Author’s Note: Y/N - Your name, A/N - Any name (your best friend’s name)

MUSIC IS INCLUDED THIS TIME! Please enjoy my personal music playlist, or at least a snippet of it.

TO THE PERSON WHO REBLOGGED AND SAID THIS WAS CUTE (at least the first part) you straight up made me cry omfg

Warnings: Swearing, gets really fucking heated at the end (no sex, yet), no beta bitch we die like Jason Todd

(Part 1) (Part 2) (Part 3) (Part 4) (Part 5) (Part 6) (Part 7) (Part 8) (Part 9) (Part 10) (Part 11) (Part 12) (Part 13) (Part 14) (Part 15) (Part 16) (Part 17) (Part 18) (Part 19) (Part 20)

Outfit Context:

Y/N:

Jason:

(Cause I finally found an outfit I liked on the boy, men’s fashion isn’t my strong suit,,, heh :) )

“Sorry, is my mouth hung open?” he asked.

“Yes, sir. Very much so,” she mocked.

Jason closed his mouth and outstretched his hand for Y/N’s, cupping it with both hands and kissing the top of it.

“You just look so lovely, Y/N.”

“And you’re chivalrous, Jay. Now, should we get going?” she asked, putting her free hand on top of his two.

“Yes, let’s go,” he let one of his hands go of hers and lead her to the Porsche he brought with him, not intertwining his fingers with hers.

He opened the passenger’s side door and let Y/N get in, not letting go of her hand til the last moment he could hold it. He got in an turned on the radio,

It felt like a good night, for dancing in the moonlight,

In empty streets, well, everybody's got a reason why,

If we could only just get it right,

Maybe it will all work out like in the movies,

But I know Romeo must die before the ending,

With a final poison kiss delivered gently,

Because you don't get lucky twice, and that's the truth,

“Sing to me sweet just like my memory,

If New York City Still moves me then I’ve found something real,

I’ll be okay, I could go on for days,

But I just don’t have the courage that it takes to be real,

And even if it’s dark at least we’ll be together,

Slowly sinking in the Earth to lay forever,

You better grab a hold and hold on for your life,

Because you don’t get lucky twice,

No, you don’t get lucky twice,” She sung with the tune.

Without the Bitter the Sweet Isn’t as Sweet - Mayday Parade

“You, you have the voice of an angel,” he said.

“It’s not that hard to mimic works of art with my voice.”

“Did you ever take singing lessons?”

“I did when I was younger, so I could sing French lullabies to my cousins.”

He placed a hand on her thigh as he drove them through the countryside of Gotham to Metropolis, taking the long way on what seemed like purpose. So he could encapsulate the moment in his memory for as long as he knew her and what she was to him. She was an adventure waiting to happen, a love story not yet written to tell for ages, a rock ‘n’ roll song written to please the masses in hidden corners of the world.

And to her, he was a masterwork of intertwining memories of pain, sadness, luck and beauty. A mind of complexity she was just waiting to dive into and see how it functioned. A story behind the white tuff of hair he had, why he was jacked to the masses if he was a book nerd. A story of his favourite book and his favourite sibling, his favourite trope, his love, his pain, him.

The moments where she stuck her hand out the window and traced symbols into the Autumn air swirling past the two as they cruised down the empty back roads. When he laughed as she sang Reste by GIMS and Sting. He didn’t understand the lyrics, but she did, and she called it a love song. Well, he got the parts Sting sung, but French wasn’t a language he knew like she did.

“I guess being Bilingual helped you out massively with that one, huh?”

“It’s a talent I never knew I needed, apparently.”

“Well, you did know you needed.”

“That’s fair,” she laughed, “ I guess I did always need it as a skill.”

“Do your cousins speak English too?” he asked.

“Yeah, a bit? It’s better English than my father.”

“Can he not speak English?”

“Well, he can, just not well. But my mother is also Bilingual in English and French so they never had to worry about my father being bad at English. My twin sister and I grew up knowing both languages,” she rambled, still playing with the wind, “I guess it’s a one-up I have on a lot of people, being able to just talk and talk in another language, travelling advantage,” she kept going, Jason intently listening to her as she went on and on, he liked the silence being filled by her voice, “You know? You might know, I don’t know how you were raised to a T,” she finished.

“Well, I can assure you I only know English so you have that theoretical one-up on me, too. But I choose to see that one-up as something you can teach me as time goes on and we progress,” he paused, “If you’re down to get serious eventually, that is,” he panicked.

“Well, maybe we’re at that point where we can say we’re casually seeing each other and exclusive, but not serious. Hopeful, but not pressuring ourselves into something that’s going to be put under a lot of pressure as we go on,” she said, still playing with the wind.

“We’ll see about that after dinner.”

“Where are we even going?”

“Fancy little restaurant with a balcony facing over the city,” he assured.

“Really out here living for the moments?”

“Well, most girls crack under the pressure of the paparazzi, you, however, flipped them off, and that’s being rewarded for showing that you can’t give a fuck about those dingy ass tabloids and how they treat you, by taking you out to nice places,” he said.

She laughed, “I’m glad I’m never going to live that one down, it was really fun to do.”

“I hope it continues as we go along, I would hate to see that behavior change when it brings a smile to everyone who’s ever been harassed by paparazzi” when they pulled over for a second, Jason quickly loosened his tie a tad, “Honestly, I want to ditch this fucking tie,”

“It’s not you,” she said, “It’s just not.”

“And you know me that well to take that guess?”

“I could see you struggling with it from a mile away, Jason. Maybe the fancy restaurant isn’t us,” she laughs, “But we aren’t going to not take that dinner date.”

“Oh we’re so going to take that date, but I’m thinking from here on out we do whatever the fuck we want, no fancy dates. Thoughts?” he asked.

“Done deal,” she said.

----------------------------

In the restaurant, the two of them were basically the worst people to be there, it was levels of fancy that neither of them actually wanted, they both wanted simplicity, but they both thought the presence of the other person was enough of a takeaway from the completely wrong choice of restaurant. They had Dick to blame for this one, and Jason made that clear to Dick in a joking text while Y/N snuck off to the bathroom to ‘fix her hair, she was actually checking her breath.

Dick, this fucking restaurant is a god damn bust, man. We aren’t you and Barbara, that’s what we’ve discovered today. lol.

Bummer! We really like that place.

I can see why it screams Dick and Barbs.

You kissed her yet though?

No.

Wuss! Cat got your tongue? Just do it, man.

And at the same time, Y/N was texting A/N about Jason and what to do,

Girl! Thank you so much for reminding me to bring mints, my god, food ruins your breath so much.

You really want the pretty boy kiss huh?

No, I’m eating the mints to not kiss him, YES I WANT THE KISS.

Ha! Honesty is key, just go for it.

She laughed as she packed her phone into her dress pockets (Yeah there’s fucking pockets :) ) and went to leave the restroom to meet up with Jason again. To which, Jason had already paid and tipped the waiter.

“I could have at least helped on the tip, Jay.”

“I tipped him 200%, but if you want to drop more cash, go for it.”

“You tipped that much?” she asked while slipping in a 50$ she had on her.

“Of course, food service workers deserve a lot more than what they get, especially when they have to deal with terrible customers,” he said as he went and grabbed her hand again, not intertwining fingers again, “And my best friend, Will, he complains about people who don’t tip and praises people who quote ‘over tip’ but I think that he deserves 200% each bill for the shit he puts up with.”

“Did you tip him when we went there?”

“No, I called in a ‘No questions asked’ favour. And before you say anything, he did the same to make me babysit his daughter-”

“Your best friend has a daughter?”

“Well, he’s older than me, but yeah, he’s a single dad because her mum kind of sucks, lovely little girl, I’m her godfather.”

“Does she call you Uncle Jason?”

“Well, Uncle Jay, it’s like one of the only works she knows how to say properly, and Dada,” he laughed, “Great little girl,” he said, nervously, “This doesn’t change anything, does it? ‘Cause if he, knock on fucking wood, lord forbids, dies that will be my daughter.”

“Well, he’s not dead and you’re not worrying that he’s going to die, so nothing has to change. God kids are god kids, noble that you took on your best friend’s kid if, lord forbid, anything happens to the man, really,” she assured.

He sighed and kissed the back of her hand, “Then that is just a gift on top of what I did,” he smiled and lead her back to the Porsche once again, opening the car door for her and she slightly turned on the radio, he let out a small laugh to himself, he got the pretty girl. He got into the Porsche again and began backing out.

“There’s something about ditching a really expensive dinner date that leaves you wanting more,” she said, absent-mindedly.

“What kind of more?” he asked.

“The kind you see in the movies, fully exposed and adventurous, you know?”

“Well, we could always sneak into the Wayne Manor Gardens and dance the night away under the stars like lovers do,” he half-joked, placing a hand on her thigh again and pretending like he did it subconsciously, but he was hyper-aware, especially when he caught her smile as she laughed.

“Wayne Manor? With your brothers, sisters, dad, and grandfather?” she paused, “If you’re serious, then no, not tonight. If you’re pulling my leg then, hell fucking no,” she joked.

“Maybe one day, then, huh?”

“One day, for sure. When it isn’t scary to accidentally run into your family on their property running around with you,” she said.

“Well, we can always go into the Wayne Enterprises Ballroom and dance the night away, no one should be in the office for a while and even then since there are no classes in the entire school tomorrow you can just hide out in my office if we stay too long,” he paused to make sure she was still listening, “Security can’t question me because I’m Bruce Wayne’s son, and security is tight as fuck so paparazzi can’t get to us,” he paused to put a little bit of pressure on her thigh, “What do you say? Can I have this dance, Milady?” he half-joked.

“You want to know something Jason?

“Always, Y/N.”

“I took dance lessons when I was younger, can you Waltz?” she asked.

“Yes ma’am, I can.”

“Then I’m in, let’s go.”

-------------------------------------

She loved the feeling of being back in her new hometown, Gotham. So when they pulled into the massive black building, she felt even more welcomed, security at the gates did ask ‘Who’s the girl?’ but Jason just explained it very easily,

“You know that date of mine that flipped off the press and you lot loved it?” he asked.

“Yes, sir,” the man responded.

“You can call me Jason, you know that. But this is that girl.”

And they were let through the parking gates and into the underground parking system, they had to travel surprisingly far to Jason’s reserved spot in the lot, but the did get there before it hit AM. Once out of the car, Jason grabbed her hand and they ran into the building’s employees doors. It was a tight squeeze, but the feeling of Jason pressed so close to her sent chills down her spine. They went through many halls and reached the Ballroom, and entering it was like a dream for her.

Walls lined with intricate shapes and colours, but the colours never brought away from the stage at the far end from the door, the curtains seemed to redden with each step towards them, the 3, maybe 4 chandeliers hung above her like crystals in the ocean, it was amazing and beautiful. Checkered floorboards to give it a little bit of dimension, but it was the same colour as the main wall so your brain and eyes wouldn’t hurt after looking at it. It was stunningly beautiful and that’s what drew her in.

When he grabbed her hand and put on Never Let Me Go by Florence + The Machine, pulling her close to his chest and slowly Waltzing her around the room, spinning her when it felt right for him to do. Neither of them worried about the sloppiness or how it looked to the naked eye because it was for them. no one got satisfaction like they did at that moment. And grabbing her for one last dip was Jason’s goal when the ending of the song hit, although out of breath and his face stuffed in her chest as they both panted, he did pull her up so they were face-to-face on the dancefloor that they wiped clean.

“Did I tell you that you look stunning, Y/N?”

“I think you mentioned it a few times, Jay,” she said, staring directly into his eyes.

“Well, I mean it.”

“And I’m going to mean this,” she paused, taking her hand and placing it on his cheek, “ The way your eyes are a green-blue tint makes me lost in them, they’re like a sea of this mind I find myself liking more and more every day,” she paused to put her other hand on his other cheek, “And the way your nose and cheek freckles frame them is amazing.”

And he went for it. Somehow when he pressed his lips into hers, it felt like they were meant to match, and they both opened their mouths to play the coveted game of tongue-war, but they didn’t play by the rules, it was soft and sweet but full of passion and love, not lust. His hands would travel to her waist and lightly grip her, while her hands would travel to his neck and drape around the back of it.

They pulled away at the same moment to take in air, something they had clearly been missing as they were connected, they both let out a small chuckle before she put her hands in his hair and went in for round 2.

This time it was hungrier, and they both played with the shapes of the other so much more as time went on, he would grab her ass and she would pull on his hair slightly before he picked her up and she wrapped her legs around his waist and moved one of her hands to the nape of his neck, this time, they would break for seconds only to start moving towards his office, which, conveniently, had a couch.

To say he threw her on that couch would be an understatement, he fucking thrust her on that couch and climbed on top of her, it was like 3 days of passion and lust combined themselves in a matter of minutes from their first kiss to them meeting on the couch. They both knew deep down that it couldn’t escalate further than this, especially at 1 in the morning, but time moves fast when you’re connecting in this way.

They finally broke after their passionate exchange and he fell to her side and began to spoon her, “Worth it,” he whispered.

“Worth what?” she asked.

“It was worth it to take a chance and defy my anxieties to ask you on that first date.”

“I don’t like a reality where you didn’t ask me on that date.”

“Neither do I, and I’m positive of that.”

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fortunesfavours · 3 years

Text

My gift for @casismymrdarcy as part of @starrynightdeancas wonderful gift exchange. I had so much fun writing this! Definitely going to try AUs like this more. A short and sweet one-shot featuring Dean as a camp counselor, ghost summoning, and the cute counselor from Cabin Three getting caught in the rain. I hope you enjoy!

Word Count: 1189

Continued below the cut, will be up on AO3 once I decide on a title.

CW: slight mention of John Winchester/rough family life

Generally, in all of Dean’s sum 25 years of life experience, letting a pack of eight-year-olds that were already positively intoxicated on sugar near candles, a lighter, and his co-counselor’s Ouija board was a truly horrific idea. Yet, here he was, weary head in his hands, attempting to supervise the most hare-brained idea of the week. His co-counselor, an energetic woman named Clara he had first met at the staff meeting a few days before, was on her break, leaving him alone with their cabin. She had pulled him aside in the dinner line and told him that she had “stuff to let the kids experiment with” in a box under her bunk. He had (foolishly) assumed this would probably be art supplies, perhaps some glitter glue and cardstock, or maybe pony beads and string, but alas, here he was.

He had opened the box that had once apparently held Kirkland-brand orange juice to find an intricately-carved wooden plank, detailed with curling vines and celestial objects, as well as the alphabet, numbers, and a small selection of words engraved in a rather medieval-looking font. On top was an equally-ornate planchette, a pack of tea lights, a lighter painted with a spiderweb, and a sticky-note addressed to him.

“Dean,

Have fun ;) Break ends at 1 am, going into town. Don’t burn down the cabin.”

Dean had sighed, rolling his eyes and mourning his choice of summer job. Charlie had sung the praises of her childhood camp to him when he had mentioned his search, leading Dean to sign up as a counselor.

One of the kids, a little girl named Ella, was calling for Dean. He shook himself back to focus to see her frustratedly trying to work the lighter. The kids had set up a wobbly circle of candles around the board, and were clustered around it. Ella’s nose is scrunched up with concentration, and Dean pushes himself out of his chair to light the candles for them. He deftly sets the tea lights alight, and the room starts to smell of beeswax. One of the kids has scrambled over to the lightswitch, and with a flick of a switch, the cabin is filled with warm, flickering candlelight.

The kids promptly start an eager discussion of the proper way to summon a ghost, and Dean so desperately wants to just go to bed. Sure, his dad had been a little over-interested in these sorts of things, but that sure as hell didn’t mean he was going to pull out his childhood familiarity with the paranormal. He can almost see himself as a young child in their faces, bright with eager curiosity and uninhibited trust in the world around them. His chest twinges a bit at the thought, but he catches himself before he can start to dwell on his family issues. He and Sam are out now, out and living their lives. He can be a camp counselor now, he can think about the cute guy in charge of Cabin Three with the blue eyes and not hate himself for it. Dean chuckles, leaning back in his chair, and jokingly calls out, “You should try Latin.”

Charlie, a tall, gangly kid with serious eyes and a way of walking that vaguely reminded Dean of a bird, bounces in their seat at this suggestion. “I know Pig Latin! My cousin taught me!”

This new addition is eagerly accepted by the children, who clearly have decided that this is quite a good substitute for proper Latin. Dean closes his eyes and yawns, mind drifting to thoughts of rest and the chocolate bar he had stashed in his backpack. He could almost fall asleep here, listening to the crackle of the candles and the pounding of the rain outside. Reluctantly keeping himself awake, he tuned back in to hear the group chanting something that with translation was most definitely “ghosts of Lakeside Camp, we summon you” interspersed with humming of what might have been the camp theme song, and which also may have been some pop song Dean can’t conjure the name of. Their voices start to crescendo, getting more discordant but also more eager. All at once, there’s a pounding knock on the door combined with a boom of thunder, then a flash of lighting. One voice lets out a quickly-muffled scream as a gust blows through the cabin and extinguishes the candles. The cabin goes silent but for the rain, full of wide eyes and scared faces.

Dean looks around and as he opens his mouth to comfort his campers, is interrupted by another knock. He silently moves to the door, opening it a crack so as to not startle the campers. When he locks eyes with Cabin Three’s counselor, dripping wet and wiping rain off his face, Dean decides that this is either his lucky day or the gods cursing him. Only one way to find out, he thinks.

“Man, you’re drenched.” he says, and immediately curses internally. What an introduction. The man blinks a few times, and responds entirely genuinely, “My umbrella broke. May I come in?”

“Oh- yeah, yeah, of course. I’ll grab you a towel.” Dean swings the door open, and the man steps in, only to be greeted by twelve terrified faces.

“Yeah, um, sorry about that everyone. This is just… uh-” he glances over at the man, who realizes after a moment what Dean is asking for. “Castiel. I’m Cabin Three’s counselor.” The kids murmur amongst themselves before one speaks up.

“You’re not a ghost, right?”

Castiel squints, and Dean can’t help but find it adorable. “Not as far as I know.”

Hurrying off to grab a towel, Dean rifles through his suitcase before returning with his pool towel and handing it to Castiel. He gladly accepts it, and promptly wanders off to stand in a corner and attempt to dry his rain-drenched hair.

Dean spends the next hour herding campers through the process of getting ready for bed, sneaking conversation with Castiel in between. However, all this does is further send Dean absolutely further into his developing crush. With every sentence exchanged, Cas is nothing but clever, kind, and utterly unlike anyone Dean has ever met. By the time the kids are all asleep and the cabin is tidied up, the rain has subsided into a light drizzle. Cas, though, makes no mention of leaving. Instead, he and Dean wander out onto the porch to continue talking. By the time Dean’s co-counselor returns, Cas has to excuse himself back to his cabin. As Dean turns to go inside, Cas calls out and offers a folded piece of paper. Before Dean can open it, he smiles a beautifully soft smile, turns on his heel, and vanishes into the foggy night.

When Dean opens the paper later that night, he can’t contain the smile that breaks out over his face.

“Dean,

Go out with me tomorrow? I know a place I think you’d like.

Cas <3”

When they get ice cream the next day, they share a kiss over a sundae and Dean decides that taking this job was the best decision he’s made yet.

#spn #supernatural #supernatural fic #destiel #destiel fic #deancas edit #deancas fic #userstarry #my work

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