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meangirls-imagines · 3 months

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Rest and Relaxation

"who's that?"

"that is the queen bee regina george. do not look her in the eye. she can smell fear."

cady rolled her eyes at damian giggling. in the small amount of time that she had known him, he had been very dramatic. janis also rolled her eyes. "she can't smell fear. but he is right, don't look her in the eyes." cady watched as the blonde girl walked up to her table holding cheese fries, sitting next to the girl that damian said "has hair full of secrets".

there was a thud as the trio turned spotting a girl struggling to carry her backpack, books, and lunch. the girl looked over at the trio, noticing janis and damian and shyly waved. they all waved back and watched as she stumbled past them.

"who's that?" damian shook his head. "that's y/n, regina's girlfriend." cady looked at the two shocked. she didn't think regina was gay. "really? she's so...shy." janis nodded as they watched y/n finally make it to the plastics table. regina's face lit up at the sight of her girlfriend. y/n smiled back and sat next to the blonde, unloading everything on the table. regina pulled y/n into a kiss, making the girl blush.

"hi baby. how is your day going?" y/n blushed deeper at the petname. "its going fine gina. i just have a lot of work to do." y/n was a nerd in the best sense. she had the highest gpa of the whole school, she was a mathlete, and she was in all advanced classes. she also had a really bad habit of overworking herself. regina hated watching her girlfriend burn out so she did her best to step in before it got bad.

"how about you come to my house with us after school? we can do a spa day for you. get you to relax a little. i know how stressed you've been." y/n's heart melted at her girlfriend's worry. as much as she wanted to do that, she had a mathletes meeting after school followed by sat prep until late at night.

y/n shook her head. "i wish i could gina, but i have mathletes until 4 and then sat prep until 8 and then i still have to finish my essay." regina sighed, scooting closer and scratching y/n's back to get her to relax a little. their moment was ruined when y/n's brother shane walked up to them. "ladies, nice to see you guys today. y/n, chris was wondering if you could possibly look over his history paper and see if its good enough for at least a b minus."

regina was about to speak up when y/n beat her to it. "yeah, just give it to me before i go to mathletes and tell him i'll have it back to him by tomorrow morning." shane smiled and ruffled his sister's hair, placing a brief kiss on her head. "thanks sis. i'll let him know." y/n smiled as her brother walked away. regina looked at her girlfriend worriedly. y/n shook her head. "it's fine gina. i'll be okay."

the bell rang, dismissing lunch as y/n stuffed all of her things in her backpack, kissing regina and heading off to her next class. gretchen watched regina deflate as y/n walked away. she put a hand on her shoulder and smiled at her. "she'll be fine regina." the blonde sighed. "i hope you're right."

y/n sighed as she opened her locker the next morning. she didn't get home until late last night and woke up earlier than usual to go with shane to football practice to give chris his essay and finish up any homework she missed the night before. she was exhausted and just wanted to go home. unfortunately for her, the world doesn't work like that and it was only going to get much worse.

for backstory, regina and y/n had been friends since 4th grade. regina had been very protective over the girl since they first met all those years ago. they met when regina stepped in and stopped a few boys from shoving y/n around. and since then, nothing had changed. regina was just as if not more protective over the girl. they had come out at the end of 8th grade which just boosted the protectiveness. ever since they came out as a couple, less people picked on y/n, though there were some who just didn't get the message.

enter ian. who had harbored a major crush on regina even after she came out. he was the stereotypical high school male. he was the captain of the basketball team, he was ripped, he was hot and every girl in north shore (except the plastics and y/n) wanted him. he felt like he was a better match for regina than y/n was and never failed to make his opinion shown every once in a while.

regina and the plastics hadn't made it to school yet and shane was in the locker room so this was his perfect opportunity. he and a couple of his friends walked up to y/n, who was reading over her ap chem homework and not paying attention. "hey there nerd. i see your guard dog isn't here." y/n rolled her eyes. "no ian, regina isn't here yet. can i help you with something?"

that was apparently the wrong thing to say as ian slapped the papers out of her hand and shoved her against a the locker next to her. at this point, people had started recording on their phones. y/n winced at the impact as the group of boys started laughing. "you don't get to have an attitude with me nerd. i think you forget where you fall on this food chain. allow me to remind you."

he brought his fist back to swing at y/n but the punch never came. the only thing y/n saw of her savior was pink nails before she was let go and ian was flying the other way. y/n looked up to see an angry regina flanked by an equally angry karen and gretchen. the two obviously weren't as close to y/n as regina was but they also had a protectiveness over her.

ian looked up scared as his friends fled the scene. karen and gretchen helped y/n pick her stuff up and dusted her off. ian shrunk in fear as regina towered over him. "i don't think you understand where you fall on this food chain, but allow me to remind YOU. you do not compare to y/n. she is so far above you that you don't even exist in her world. that being said, if i ever see you mess with her again, you will be finished."

he nodded and scrambled away. regina looked at the crowd that had formed. "anyone else have a problem with my girlfriend?" the crowd scattered as everyone went back to what they were doing. regina smirked victoriously before pulling y/n into an empty classroom, karen and gretchen standing guard outside.

regina looked over y/n for any injuries before y/n's grabbed her shaky hands and kissed both of them softly. "i'm okay, gina. just a little shaken up." regina let out a breath she didn't even know she was holding before pulling y/n into her arms. "i'm so sorry i wasn't there. i couldn't find my keys before we left so it put us behind-" y/n pressed her lips to regina's. the blonde instantly calmed as the two kissed, y/n being the first to pull away. "breathe babe. i'm okay. he's not going to mess with me again."

regina nodded and pulled y/n into another kiss, this one quicker than the last. "will you please come over after school today? i wanna take care of you. it's the weekend so you can stay the whole weekend while i help you relax. please." y/n nodded. "if it will make you feel better, yes." regina smiled and pecked y/n's lips. "good. i wasn't taking no for an answer. now, let me walk you to class?" y/n nodded and the two made their way out of the room.

regina stood against her jeep, waiting for y/n. karen and gretchen had hitched rides from shane so that way regina could take her girl straight home.the front doors to the school opened to reveal an exhausted looking y/n. regina's heart broke at the sight of the girl, she looked more exhausted than she did when the blonde saw her at lunch.

y/n shuffled to the jeep, regina grabbing her backpacks and throwing them in the backseat (carefully of course) before helping y/n into the passenger seat. regina walked around and got in, holding y/n's hand and kissing it. the girl sent her a sleepy smile and leaned her head against the window.

regina made it to her house in record time. she left the girl's bags in her car, making a mental note to ask her dad to grab them later. she helped y/n in the house and to her room, gently laying her on her huge bed. "stay right here baby. i'm gonna go run us a bath." y/n sleepily nodded, nuzzling into regina's pillow.

five minutes later, regina came out in a fluffy, pink robe, gently shaking y/n awake. "come on baby. let's get you in the bath." y/n stirred and nodded. the blonde helped her to her feet, gently pulling her into the bathroom. from there, she slowly took y/n's clothes off, head to toe. regina then got into the tub and guided y/n in, holding her to her chest.

the couple stayed in the bath for about half an hour before regina decided to get them out. luckily, y/n had been over to the blonde's house enough that she had her own little section in regina's massive closet. regina grabbed a hoodie and a pink pair of boxers for y/n and a hoodie for herself before getting them both dressed and into the bed.

y/n sunk into the soft mattress as regina gently maneuvered her to lay her head on her chest. y/n kissed regina's jaw and nuzzled into her neck. regina began scratching her nails down y/n's back. "take a nap and then when you wake up, i'll make you some dinner, and then maybe followed by dessert and a massage?"

y/n nodded before fully drifting off.

a few hours later, y/n woke up to the smell of her favorite pasta. she rubbed the sleep out of her eyes and stretched, getting out of bed and heading downstairs. she found regina cooking dinner with her "y/n❤️" playlist playing softly from her speaker. y/n smiled at how soft the queen bee looked before walking up and wrapping her arms around the blonde's waist.

regina smiled at the feel of her girlfriend snuggling into her back, turning the burner off and turning around. "hi baby. sleep good?" y/n nodded, pressing her lips to regina's. "what's for dinner?" regina smiled and pecked y/n's lips before explaining. "i made your favorite, cacio e pepe, some salad and garlic bread, and for dessert i made a lemon tiramisu. and after we are done eating, i am giving you a massage to get the stress of the week and especially today out of that sexy body of yours and we are going to cuddle up on my bed and watch some love is blind and you are going to sleep for more than five hours."

y/n smiled at her girlfriend, already feeling the stress of the week melt away. regina always took care of her when she needed it and she couldn't be more grateful to have her as her girlfriend. "god, i love you." regina blushed and kissed y/n's cheek. "i love you too. now, let's eat."

after they ate dinner and dessert, regina ordered y/n to take off her shirt and lay face down on the bed while she slipped in the bathroom. y/n did as told and winced a little before tossing the shirt off to the side and laying down. regina came out and lit a few candles before dropping the oil and bruise cream on the bed. she straddled y/n's lower back and gently ran her hands down the girl's back.

she leaned down and kissed y/n's shoulder gently. y/n sighed at the feel of the blonde's lips and whispered, "i love you gina." regina smiled, grabbing the bruise cream and started applying it to the newly forming bruises on y/n's back. "i love you too baby."

after a very, very, relaxing massage, y/n laid in between regina's legs as they watched "love is blind". regina had her fingers running through y/n's hair, scratching her scalp with her acrylics. y/n was drawing shapes on regina's stomach, the blonde girl shivering every once in a while. after a few episodes, regina asked y/n if she wanted anything to drink before realizing y/n was asleep. smiling, she carefully reached over to the nightstand to grab her phone, taking a picture of y/n.

she took to instagram to post the picture, smiling at the amount of cute comments their friends were leaving. she put her phone back and gently guided her and y/n into a more comfortable position. once comfy, she placed a gentle kiss on y/n's forehead, slowly drifting off.

#regina george imagine #regina george x reader #mean girls imagines #mean girls 2024

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inkykeiji · 6 months

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you can always take more than nothing

character: bonten!mikey x fem!reader

genre: smut

notes: here’s my halloween piece, only half a month late! still, i hope you can enjoy it! as always, please heed the warnings and stay safe! | title cred: alice in wonderland

warnings: 18+ minors do not interact, public sex/exhibitionism, dom/sub dynamics, daddy kink, size difference, biting/marking, blood, minimal prep, rough sex, teasing, begging, dacryphilia, humiliation, a lil bit of degradation, drugs, toxic relationship

words: 8.6k

synopsis:

Those few remaining scraps of decency you’d both been clinging to have been devoured by Mikey’s growing selfishness, no longer caring about what others might see or think or say—it’s not like anyone’s dumb enough to do anything about it anyway; it’s not like anyone has enough of a death-wish to try. He’s the motherfucking Boss. And the Boss gets what he wants, where he wants, when he wants, always.

The music is loud, so loud the walls seem to be breathing with it, bleeding with it, flashes of neon pouring over the frosted mosaics of glass and marble.

A party, thinly veiled as a corporate event.

There are people everywhere, scattered across every surface, crystal glasses filled with expensive liqour and cocktail concoctions glittering in their palms. You barely know any of them.

They’re all supposed business partners, allies and associates, ‘friends’ of your Daddy. Not that it matters all that much to you; they aren’t allowed to say a word to you anyway.

Your eyes scan the expanse of the club, on the hunt for a familiar face. Takeomi is in the corner, obnoxiously blowing smoke into some of the higher end girls’ faces. He’s really taking his role of The Caterpillar earnestly.

Good. You told him it suited him.

At your request (AKA at Mikey’s demand), the top members of Bonten have dressed up as Alice in Wonderland characters, donning an impressive group costume. You’ve been taking the whole thing pretty seriously—beginning your extensive planning in August, drafting up designs and taking everyone’s precise measurements to have each outfit custom made to their exact frames—which means the rest of Bonten has been taking the whole thing pretty seriously, too.

Not that any of them mind.

What Mikey’s little angel wants, Mikey’s little angel gets. It’s standard protocol, really; you’re merely an extension of the Boss and thus must be treated as an extension of the Boss, and Mikey’s best men have no issues complying.

Sighing, you rest your chin in your palms, sombreness souring your features. An ache, dull and dense, settles in the pit of your chest. It’s a desolate sort of longing, a gentle but constant gnawing that cannot be sated by anyone or anything other than it’s creator, something that weights your lungs and heavies your heart and stalls your breath, a vital part missing.

You miss Mikey.

You miss Mikey, but you know this ‘event’ really does have some sort of business significance; that, while it’s mostly an excuse to get drunk and high on Halloween night, it also serves as the grounds for some sort of meeting or negotiation or proposition—you can never be sure which, with Bonten.

You aren’t allowed to know. You’re lucky to be here at all.

But you miss Mikey.

You shouldn’t be selfish. You know you shouldn’t be selfish; he’s already stretched so thin between so many obligations and obituaries, and you shouldn’t add to that strain. You won’t add to that strain. You’ll sit here, pretty and perfect like his precious little princess should be, and you’ll wait, patiently, until Daddy has a moment to spare you.

He always finds a moment to spare, no matter how many duties and commitments he has. He always finds a space for you in his day, even if he has to carve it out with his bare hands.

So you mustn’t be greedy. You will be good. For him, you’ll do anything, no matter how difficult.

“No frowning, miss Alice,” Sanzu chastises through a stretched grin, wide and carved into his cheeks—a smile so sharp, so sinister it puts the true Cheshire Cat to disgrace.

He swims into your vision, teeth glinting with teals and fuchsias, an intricately wrapped box in his palms. Tugging on the ribbon a little, he unboxes it to reveal a wealth of small confections, individually wrapped in colourful foils.

“Look, your favourite kitty brought you some chocolate.”

That brightens your mood a little—a sugar fiend, just like your Daddy is—and your mouth drops open expectantly, cute tongue unfurling in invitation.

Sanzu rolls his eyes but places a truffle on your tongue anyway, pressing it down on the slick muscle and forcing your lips to close around his first knuckle to suck the treat free from him, laughing at the way your face twists.

Pervert.

His nails taste like blood—not that you’ve come to expect any less—but the rusty copper is quickly eradicated by sugar, a content little hum vibrating around the melting chocolate.

“Good, huh?” Sanzu asks around his own chocolate, shuffling a gold box of expensive Italian truffles in his palm as he picks through them, confections jumping perilously with the motion, shimmering wrappers catching in the flashing neon strobes. “They’re imported.”

“Where’d you get those?” you ask through strings of caramel and cocoa, welding to your molars.

“A little Halloween treat courtesy of Mikey,” he says dutifully, jostling the box in emphasis. “And an apology, for taking longer than expected.”

Warmth blooms in your chest, swelling with your heart and stretching your ribs. The last few remnants of displeasure fade from your face, giving way to a small smile.

How very Mikey of him, to send his second in command armed with artisan chocolates and a short, sweet explanation; something he knew would make you smile, something he knew would alleviate some of your impatience, a reassurance that he misses you too, that he’ll be back soon, that he’s thinking of you.

“There’s our pretty girl,” Sanzu teases, but his own grin has softened a little, the glint in his eyes dulled to a twinkle. “No more pouting, ‘kay? Your trusty Cheshire Cat will be by your side until your Hatter returns.”

Ah. A polite way of saying that you’re stuck with him until Mikey’s finished his work, no ifs, ands, or buts about it.

That takes longer than either of you expect, though, Sanzu’s plan of entertaining you by leading you, hand-in-hand, around the club to assess each Bonten member’s costume not nearly as lengthy as he had anticipated.

Because it only takes a mere twenty minutes or so to examine all of them, with you near instantaneously deciding that the Haitanis have won the make-believe costume contest you and Sanzu had been holding between yourselves.

Sanzu had agreed—everyone looks impeccable in their custom-made costumes, tailored specifically to them at your behest, but no one had any hope of eclipsing the Haitanis in their form-fitted pinstriped suits, each stitch and thread molded flawlessly to their frames, perfectly pressed collars embroidered with Dee and Dum in shimmery purple thread, powder blue bowties immaculately symmetrical around their tattooed necks.

Now you’re back at the bar, Sanzu’s shaky fingers sifting through the box of truffles as he searches for something, anything, to distract him from the way the blood in his veins is beginning to dry up, the way his capillaries are withering, brittle and thirsty, the way his skin is beginning to itch.

Because he can’t do a goddamn thing about it. Not yet, anyway.

No narcotics when he’s chaperoning you; that’s a hard rule. That’s a rule that’s been sewn into the tissues of his brain so tightly it’s interwoven with his synapses. That’s an execution rule; a one time only rule—breaking that rule will get him fucking killed.

But you’re both starting to become a little bit restless.

“Come on,” you’re begging, word dragged across your tongue in a petulant whine. “Just one more chocolate?”

“I said no,” Sanzu snaps, eyes hard. “Mikey said three. Mikey’s the Boss. Whatever Mikey says goes; Mikey’s girl, Mikey’s rules!”

“You’re no fun,” you huff, forehead scrunching with a pout.

“Yeah, and that’s why he sticks me with you,” Sanzu says, though he sounds almost proud, as if it’s an honour to babysit you, a title of high esteem. “Because I can resist your tricks.”

“My charms,” you correct.

“Whatever,” he waves a hand. “It’s all semantics. Point is, I know how to say no to you, unlike a few certain someones.”

Unimpressed ice blue eyes sweep across the venue, hovering pointedly on the faces of his colleagues—Kakucho, the Dormouse; Kokonoi, the White Rabbit; Rindou, Tweedle-Dum.

Your eyes follow his, and you smirk to yourself. Kakucho is the easiest out of those three; Kokonoi sometimes deceives you, allowing you to do as you please only to tattle to Mikey later, and Rindou always demands some sort of payment, claiming it’s only fair that you give him something he wants in return.

Turning back, you’re about to respond, something bratty and bitter simmering on your tongue, when a pair of hands and a smooth voice cuts you off.

You’d know that touch, that tone, anywhere.

“Pray, tell me, Miss Alice,” Mikey murmurs in your ear as he slinks up behind you, palms curling around your hips and pulling you back toward his chest. “Why is a raven like a writing desk?”

“Because it can produce a few notes,” you answer dutifully, head tipping back against his shoulder to glance at him through the corner of your eye. “Though they are very flat.”

“Correct,” he responds. “My, what a smart little girl you are.”

It’s soaked in condescension, compliment drawled out through a supercilious smirk, breath wafting across your face sweltering and saccharine.

“Do I get a reward, Mister Hatter?” you ask, sweeter than sugarcane, batting eyelashes framing hopeful, dewy eyes.

A hum vibrates on his tongue, onyx gaze apathetic and appraising as it glides across your features slowly, thoroughly, pulling each of your thoughts apart and putting them back together again.

Your head rolls to the side, over his protruding collarbone, to stare at him more resolutely. And God, it’s the way you’re looking up at him, eyes glazed with dedication, with devoutness, like you want to fucking devour him.

Like you want him to devour you.

Hips pushing back, you rub your ass into his cock in inconspicuous little motions, lashes fluttering a little, back arched in a perfect curve and tits on full display.

From this angle, there’s no way he can’t see right down your dress; there’s no way he can’t see the red lace of your bra straining against supple skin as your chest rises and falls with gentle breaths, no way he doesn’t notice the very tips of your nipples, cheekily peeking out from beneath the delicate material with each swell of your breasts.

Bony fingers flex on your waist, and he huffs out a smirk.

His ebony pupils are enormous, blown wide and gaping, gnawing away at the whites of his eyes.

He’s high.

It’s evident in the milky film of artificial ecstasy lacquering his gaze, doped up and hazy, but it does nothing to dilute the potent love he has for you, melting his stare to something soft and sticky, pouring past his lashes.

He’s feeling good tonight.

“I think I know what my little girl wants,” one hand flattens against your stomach, holding you flush to his body as the other slides up your ribs to cup your breast, filling his palm with it and kneading, slow and deliberate, simply enjoying the feeling of you. “And it is very naughty of her.”

“Oh, really?”

“Mm,” he hums, head drooping to nose along the curve of your neck. “Really.”

His lips brush along your skin as he speaks, his voice barely more than a gentle vibration along the column of your throat, and you whimper a little, fingers curling around his wrist and pressing him closer.

“A-And what’s that?”

“Aw, can’t you guess?” he tuts his tongue. “And I thought you were smart. Must’ve been mistaken. Where’s my smart little girl gone now?”

Grip firm on your waist, his hips rut forward, hard cock prodding at you through the layers of tulle. A discontented little sound vibrates in your throat as you squirm a little—and oh, he knows what you’re whining about, greedy girl, knows that you can barely feel his cock through the thick petticoat, knows you want more—and he presses his hips further forward, grinding harder into your ass.

“Daddy—Da-Daddy, it’s—”

“What?” he shoves again, stronger this time, teeth nipping at the skin below your ear. “Hm?”

“Your cock is hard,” you nearly whine, pushing back against him in a pitiful little wiggle, desperate for more friction.

“And who’s fault is that, huh?”

The hand massaging your breast gives a final squeeze before his fingers find your nipple, pinching it through the material of your dress and bra, then rubbing the heel of his thumb over it in hard, rhythmic motions.

“Is your pussy wet?” he huffs the question into your ear, his hot breath procuring shivers. “I bet it is, naughty girl. Daddy wants to feel it.”

“Please, please,” your hips buck a little, punctuating your pleads, chest pressing into his touch.

“Please? Please what?”

“Touch me, Daddy, touch me, touch me.”

Slender hands slip beneath the puffy layers of lace, calloused fingertips rough as they skim up your smooth thighs, outlining the silk ruffles of the bloomers he bought you specifically for this costume.

Your hips twitch slightly, legs spreading instinctively as his fingers trail along the scrunched hem to the apex of your thighs, pressing two into the rapidly dampening material. Pensively, they caress your slit through the material, prodding your hole just a little before rubbing two slow, hard circles into your clit.

“Christ,” he breathes out, curse splintering at the end. “You’re so fucking wet baby, and I’ve barely done anything yet.”

His palm flattens against you, all four fingers dipping into your core nearly to the first knuckle and then curling, the heel of his hand grinding against your clit, and your pelvis cants reflexively, almost as if you’re attempting to draw his fingertips further in.

“How are you this wet already, huh?” he keens, voice straining beneath his own desire. “Been thinking naughty thoughts?”

“Jus’want your cock,” you slur out honestly, hips gyrating in pathetic little circles, an embarrassing attempt to follow his touch.

“Oh, yeah? That’s all it takes, eh?” he rolls your clit between his thumb and his forefinger, nonchalantly toying with it as he mulls. “Just my cock?”

“Uh-huh,” you nod blearily. “Uh-huh, uh-huh.”

“Cute,” Mikey spits, the compliment sheathed in venom, “how utterly stupid just the thought of my cock makes you.”

His fingers clamp down on the swollen nub and tug, your whole body jolting with the pain, a yelp hitching in your chest.

The arm wrapped around your waist tightens in response, holding you close, holding you still as he humps away at you, sloppy and uneven.

“Oh, baby,” he murmurs, fingers tweaking your clit in rhythmic motions, sparks of pleasure chased by shocks of pain. “You’re so fucking easy for your Daddy, aren’t you? So quick to get soaked for him, so quick to get ready for him, such a good little slut for him, yeah?”

His voice is gravelly, letters wispy around the edges despite fact that he’s nearly shouting over music. Another rush of heat surges between your thighs, and he laughs, dark and dangerous.

Your clit throbs in his touch, the silk of your panties drenched all the way through, aiding his fingers in their slippery motions—several small, fast S gestures, followed by a few firm strokes of your slit, fingertips gliding over your folds with ease. You’re so soaked, whole cunt now outlined by the shimmery material, molding to your folds and enabling him to feel every dip, every bump, every crevice, another chuckle dripping from his lips as your little hole clenches around nothing.

“Daddy,” you whimper, thighs squeezing together tightly as you attempt to fuck his fingers. “Daddy, I—I can’t—I need—”

“Shh,” he hushes you, lips caressing the curve of your ear. “I know, baby. Daddy knows what you need.”

A palm wraps around your wrist as Mikey mutters something about going somewhere a little more private, pulling you along behind him and leading you toward those purple velvet VIP couches, empty and roped off in a darkened corner.

“What are we—” you begin as Mikey collapses heavily on the couch, knees spread wide open, hips shifting up slightly as he forces his feet even further apart, getting comfortable.

C’mere, his lips mime, voice drowning in heavy bass, his chin jutting in the general direction of his straining cock, yearning against pin-striped pants.

Strong hands curl around your hips and yank you backward, the abrupt motion punching a sound of surprise from your chest as you tumble into his lap, spine pressed tight to his sternum.

The hinges of his jaw hook over your shoulder, a crude way of keeping you from squirming as he manhandles you into straddling his thighs, hard cock pressing into your core.

“Holy fuck,” he pants out, the curse damp against your skin. “You’re so wet I can feel you leaking through my pants.”

“Daddy,” you say, and although it’s meant to be a warning, it comes out as a whine, stringy and petulant.

Because it already feels so good, and he’s already so hard, and you just can’t help but rock your hips back, slow and firm, whimpering a bit as the head of his cock glides over your clit, teasing as the slick, swollen little nub jumps beneath the dull pressure.

He laughs a little, nothing more than a deep, dark rumbling within his ribs, reverberating against your back.

“You’re so fucking nasty, baby,” he chides lowly, though you can hear the self-satisfied smirk sewn into his voice, tinged with sadism, as he rolls his hips up twice, grinding his cock into your drenched core. “You’re so fucking needy, baby, trying to get yourself off in the middle of this crowded club.”

You are, you are, another little sound escaping your lips as you rut back against him, already beginning to speed up, rubbing the head of his cock over your clit in quick little strokes.

“It’s really precious, y’know, how pathetically eager you are for me,” he murmurs, notes of fondness negating the sting the insult should bring, words gone melty and sweet. “But you gotta stop humping Daddy for a moment, so he can get his cock out and give you what you really want.”

A disgruntled little whine sounds in your throat, motions stuttering a little as you attempt to stop moving. But it all feels so incredible, greedily unable to quell your hips completely as they rotate in messy little circles, tummy starting to ripple with each graze of his blunt head against your clit.

“Hey,” he warns, sharp and stern, a palm colliding with your bare thigh and leaving a burning handprint seared in its wake, the impact of the slap loud enough to draw a few pairs of eyes. “Don’t get bratty with me, or you won’t get anything at all, you understand?”

Your head’s nodding before the words are even finished leaving his lips—yes, Daddy, of course, Daddy, brats don’t deserve to be filled by Daddy’s cock—desperate to be good for him, to be the best for him.

Because you know he isn’t fucking around; Mikey’s threats are never empty threats, each and every word plucked from his brain with superlative care, heavy and infused with meaning.

It’s terrifying and tantilizing, how easily and instantly he can switch from one mode to the other: from playful to imposing, from Daddy to Leader, a pleasant shiver skittering up your spine, your hole clenching and pulsing as your stomach plummets, gut weighted with a tingling pressure.

It’s a bit of a task, freeing his cock and manoeuvring yourself as you try to inconspicuously sink down on it, but you both manage, your fluffy petticoat of crinoline and tulle providing a decent amount of privacy.

A hiss slips through the gaps of your gritted teeth as it begins to tear you in two, cute little hole stinging as it strains around his cock, struggling to accommodate his girth, delicate skin splitting itself open for him.

“That’s it, that’s it,” he breathes lowly, voice vibrating against your ear. “There you go, good girl.”

An airy little moan spills from your lips as he bottoms out, cockhead pressed snug to your cervix, and you melt back into him, skull knocking against his shoulder, eyes slipped shut.

“Feel better, princess?”

“Yes, Daddy,” you mumble out dreamily. “S’good, S’right.”

“It feels right, huh?” he chuckles a little, thumbs rubbing fond circles into your hips, his hands all the way up your skirt, slipped beneath the frills and fluff, forearms buried in your dress. “You like it when Daddy fills you up?”

“Uh-huh,” you nod. “Stretches me out real good, makes me feel all stuffed ‘n full.”

Whole, complete, one. Like everything feels as it’s supposed to again.

And it hurts, because it always hurts, because he’s too thick and you’re never prepped enough, never patient enough, core split open on his cock and little hole aching as it attempts to adjust to him, but it’s so fucking perfect, too. Your cunt spasms around him, hips twitching a little in desperation—like you’re trying to suck him in further, like you’re trying to bury him deeper—and he groans, fingers flexing as he holds you still, nails gorging on your flesh.

“Eager, are we?”

“S’not my fault,” you mewl, back arching a little as you attempt to push your hips back, squirming a bit in his strong grip. “Need you, Daddy.”

“Is that so?”

Grasp tightening, his hips thrust up, grinding the head of his cock into your cervix in slow, hard motions—back and forth, back and forth, inspiring a dull pang throbbing in your gut.

Gasping sharply, your hips jerk back in response, automatic and instinctual, pulling a hoarse groan from his chest.

His clutch turns to near bone crushing, a fractured little cry sticking in your throat, and he forces you to hold still for a moment, muscles in his thighs gone rigid and stiff as his hips press up further and tug you down, frozen, revelling in the way your cunt pulses around him, as if it’s whining for him.

“M-Mikey,” you echo its sentiments, his name a sulky plead on your tongue, brows knit together and lips jutted in a pout.

“What’s the matter, sweetheart?”

“You know,” you huff out, wriggling a little in his palms, feebly trying to fuck yourself on him.

“Tell me anyway,” he demands.

Scalding embarrassment pricks your cheeks and you whimper, fidgeting in his grasp again, head shaking in defiance.

“Come on,” he chides, but there are notes of amusement infusing his tone. “Daddy can’t give you what you want if you don’t ask for it.”

Sharp teeth sink into your shoulder suddenly, your half-formed response strangled by a gasp, Mikey’s jaw tensing as he burrows his teeth further into your flesh, piercing through tissues and snapping capillaries until copper explodes in his mouth.

He holds it for a moment, all thirty-two of his teeth latched in your skin, ensuring he leaves a full, detailed outline of his mouth etched into you—a signature of sorts—before his tongue flattens against the wound, dragging over it in a single wide lick and sealing it with blood-tinged saliva. A gentle exhale wafts over the bite, cool against the searing pain, and you shudder, chills erupting across your flesh.

“You’re a big girl,” he coaxes over your whimpering, the encouragement steeped in condescension. “I know you can do it. Use your big girl words and tell Daddy what you want.”

Your eyes squeeze shut against the burn of humiliation, lids crinkling at the corners, the softest hiccup catching in your throat, and you feel his cock twitch inside of you.

“I—I wanna ride your cock, Daddy,” you push the stubborn words from your tongue, trembling and breathy.

“Yeah?” he asks, bloodied tongue tracing along the shell of your ear. “How bad?”

“So bad,” you bleat out, striving to bounce on his cock under the firm restraint of his hands, dewdrops of annoyance clinging to your lashes, glittering in the beams of magenta and teal as you blink rapidly.

“Hm,” he muses to himself, nonchalant as he readjusts his grip, hands constringing, completely halting your pathetic little movements. “It doesn’t seem like you want it all that badly.”

“Daddy,” the word leaves your lips in a whine, scrunched and petulant through your pout, body thrashing beneath his strong grip. “Come on—”

“Are you sure you wanna be such a naughty little whore in front of all of these people?”

Your body stops its writhing, his words like a slap to the face.

It’s a bit of a shock, to hear it spoken aloud so bluntly, cut and dry and honest, and it sends a torrent of sparks fizzing through your chest to collect dense and tight in your tummy.

Shame and revulsion sets your skin aflame, the cinders in your gut flaring in response, an intoxicating combination.

“Yes—”

“Huh? What was that?” he shouts theatrically in your ear. “I couldn’t really hear you over the music.”

“Y-Yes,” you repeat, trying to steady your hiccuping voice, to be stern and resolute, even as tears begin to stream down your cheeks.

“Really?” he breathes, and he sounds astonished, he sounds appalled. “You’re so fucking sleazy, baby. I wonder what all these people would think, if they knew how truly filthy my little girl is...”

“Manjirou,” you weep out his birth name, whole face saturated in frustration.

“Oh-ho-ho,” he chuckles out the word, and it’s vicious. “Graduated to using my full name, now, have you?” he licks at the steadily oozing bite, mopping up more blood with his tongue. “Christ, you do really want it.”

“I do!” you cry out, struggling against his grasp again, hips bucking in wild, erratic motions. “I do, I do, please, let me ride your cock, please.”

“What if I made you sit, still and straight like the good little girl I know you want to be, on my hard cock for the rest of the night? Do you think you’d be able to handle it?”

You know he won’t, know he’d never be able to, because he’s just as addicted to you as you are to him, just as desperate, just as eager, just as needy; because even as he holds you motionless, he can’t quite halt the delicate jerk of his hips, rolling up into your core; because you know he wants this just as badly as you do, gets off on the depravity just as much as you do.

Even so, the mere thought of being teased like this, of being forced to hold such a degrading position, is still enough to inspire a rush of agitated tears to flood your eyes, vision gone bleary with despairing desire and rendering the club a bleary haze of glowing neons.

“No, Daddy, no, I—I just want to ride you, please, Daddy, I c-can’t—”

You’re nearly wailing now, head thrown back dramatically as your neck twists into an uncomfortable knot, anguished as you try to bury your face in his throat, looking for solace. Your chest stutters as you stammer out half-finished pleads, gone garbled with spit, and Mikey smiles.

You’re starting to cause a scene.

It’s exactly what he wanted.

“Okay, baby, okay, okay,” he’s pacifying as he feels hot tears soak into his neck, a choked sob catching painfully in your chest. “Daddy’s here, Daddy’s gonna make it all better.”

And finally, finally his grasp loosens, stiff fingers gone lax, massaging lopsided circles into the rapidly developing bruises left in the shape of their prints.

“Go ahead, angel,” he urges, nuzzling into the junction of your shoulder, pressing a chaste kiss to the congealing bite. “Ride Daddy’s cock.”

Then he’s slumping back, settling into the couch cushions and spreading his thighs a little wider, pressing the soles of his boots into the waxed floor for stability and leverage.

His hands stay on your waist, a gentle guidance, but he allows you to set the pace—a rare occurrence—patient as your hips work up a steady rhythm of quick, shallow gyrations, each swivel dragging his cock against your favourite spot.

And God, you’re so cute when you use his cock to make yourself feel good. It’s a shame that he can’t see your face in this position, can’t see the way your lashes flutter and frame the rolling whites of your eyes or the way your features scrunch so delicately; a shame he can’t hear your gorgeous noises, all your sweet little gasps and pitiful little whines consumed by the blaring music.

But he can see how your back is bowing, spine forced into a near perfect arc by your building pleasure, bending just a hint more with each brush of his cock; he can feel your palms clutching his knees, nails digging little crescents into his shins and using them for support as your movements accelerate, as you fuck yourself harder, faster, better.

And he lets you have your fun for a little, lays back all languid and lazy and watches through lidded eyes as you play with yourself and use his cock like it’s your favourite toy—because, well, it is—but eventually it just isn’t enough and you need Daddy’s help.

Just like he knew it wouldn’t be. Just like you always do.

Not that he minds one bit.

Yes, it isn’t enough, because it never is, because you can never manage anything more than teasing yourself when left entirely to your own devices, spritzing kerosene on the dull smouldering in the pit of your stomach as the head of his cock brushes up against that engorged spot inside of you, not nearly hard enough or fast enough to have you anywhere close to creaming on him, merely enough to have your clit throbbing, swollen and neglected.

He knows you’re beginning to get restless when your hips turn sloppy, tempo starting to falter as your motions stutter, and then you’re looking over your shoulder at him with a beseeching pout, glazed eyes begging him to do something!

So he does.

He’s straightening up in a split second, hands around your waist tightening as he yanks you back toward his chest, chin hooking over your clavicle again and grinding the sharp bone into your skin.

“Poor thing,” he murmurs against your jaw, mocking and mean. “Can’t even get herself off without her Daddy’s help.”

“I can’t, I can’t,” you wail over the roar of EDM, head shaking in accentuation. “Need you, need you to do it for me.”

“Of course you do, angel,” he says, as if it’s obvious, as if it’s common knowledge. “But that’s okay—Daddy will make it feel good.”

That’s the only warning you’re given before his hips are ramming up, rapid and rough and downright ruthless, the abrupt motion slamming a high-pitched yelp from your throat, so pure and genuine and full of lust that it rises above the music, breaks through the heavy bass beat, gathering a handful of glances from a few nearby party-goers.

So much for being inconspicuous.

You should’ve known that that just isn’t Mikey’s style.

They lose interest just as quickly as they gained it, though, going back to their drinks and their drugs, unconcerned. What the Boss does at his own club is none of their business, even if it is on display for the whole venue to see.

Still, it’s enough for Mikey.

“Everyone can see you, you know,” voracious black eyes scan the balcony space. “Everyone can see you being such a good little whore for your Daddy.”

The thought of being watched, of being caught, inspires a whole flock of butterflies to flit around in your tummy, another surge of heat gushing between your thighs, and Mikey laughs. Oh, he felt that.

Because he’s right; if anyone dared to look a little closer, a little longer, cared to paid a smidge of more attention to the two of you, hidden on one of the velvet couches wedged in the corner of the VIP section with your hips rocking and Mikey’s hands buried in the lace and tulle of your skirt, they’d know exactly what the two of you are doing.

But it doesn’t matter; you don’t care. Neither does he. Why should either of you?

“Do you—Do you think they like it?” you question, and Christ, it’s so precious, that pathetic hope ringing high and clear in your voice. “Do you think they like watching me bounce on their Boss’s cock?”

“Fuck,” the curse fragments in his throat, sharp and pitchy, and he coughs on the shards. “I know they do, sweetheart.”

“Do you think they’re g-gonna go home and touch themselves to the thought of me—of us?”

“Aw,” Mikey coos out in a chuckle, breathless and condescending. “It’s cute that you think they aren’t already jerking off to you on a regular basis.”

Of course they are, you silly little stupid thing; how could they not be? With all the sweet, short little dresses he buys you to prance and twirl around in—the ones with the sweetheart necklines that dip just a hint too low, teasing the swell of your breasts with each of your gentle inhales; the ones with the rippling hems that end just a touch too high, swishing and swaying and flashing with each of your movements, riding up and fanning out to gift them with teasing little glimpses of the lace and satin underneath.

“You think I don’t know what my—ah, Christ—what my men think of you? How my men think of you?” He tongues a little at the bite, using his front teeth to scrape off a few half-formed scabs, blood rushing to pool in their place. “You think I don’t see the way they look at you?”

A whine stammers in your throat, your back arching a little more as your cunt quivers around his cock, that drove of butterflies sending your stomach swooping, the organ tensing, tying itself into thick knots pulled tight and taut with each plunge of his cock.

Mikey laughs again, the sound nothing more than a deep, dense vibration rumbling within his ribs, seeping into your back and sending tingles up your spine.

“Would you like to see the way they look at you?”

“H-Huh?”

Oh, how adorably fucked out you already are, mind gone dumb and numb to everything but him, but his voice and his touch and his steadily driving cock; oh, how adorably easy it is to make you this fucking idiotic.

“Look over there,” he presses his cheek into yours, forcing your head to turn and follow his gaze.

Across the club, Rindou sits with an elbow resting on the edge of the bar, a glass dangling from his fingertips. His eyes are cavernous, carnivorous, a smirk smearing across his face as your stare meets his, heavy lids framing a leering look.

Using a shoulder, he nudges his brother’s stomach, jutting his chin toward you and his Boss in indication when Ran looks down in question, redirecting his attention.

Now they’re both watching you, with doped up violet eyes and identical sleazy smiles, toothless and worming.

It makes you want to scrub and scratch at your skin, their gazes painting you in a thick coat of grime, body soiled by their lust and left feeling dirty, feeling gross, a strong shiver crawling across your flesh.

Your head jerks reflexively, desperate to hide from their lechery, skull knocking against Mikey’s hard enough to send thorns of pain searing through your temple.

A yelp cracks in your throat, and Mikey snorts, seemingly unfazed.

“Aw,” Mikey tuts in false admonishment. “Don’t get shy now. Look at them. Look at them while you ride my cock.”

“M-Mikey—” your eyes shut tightly, a pitiful attempt to escape their invasive eyes, head shaking in little judders.

“C’mon,” he goads, forcing you to face their stare. “You want them all to see, right? How good my little girl is? How pretty my little girl is?”

Peeking through your lashes, you squint at the Haitanis, features teetering on the verge of a wince, as if you’re expecting them to physically strike you.

They’re still looking at you, wide and unblinking, speaking out of the side of their mouths in laughs and murmurs to one another.

Dressed in matching pin-striped suits and thick suspenders, Rindou has discarded his jacket, shirtsleeves rolled haphazardly up his forearms to his elbows, first few buttons of his shirt popped undone, revealing a defined collarbone.

Predictably, Ran is still the perfect picture of poise and elegance, not a single hair out of place, suit jacket square on his shoulders and flawlessly tailored to his body, each stitch outlining his edges.

Tweedledum and Tweedledee respectively, and just as treacherous.

Whatever it is they’re saying to each other, they’re clearly enjoying themselves, amusement playing in glassy irises as Ran rests a hand around Rindou’s neck, slim fingers pressing into plush muscle. His younger brother instantly relaxes into his touch, mollifying back against his stomach and hooking an arm around his thigh, hugging it to his ribs.

And it’s the way they’re looking at you, as if they’re peeling the clothes from your body and the skin from your bones and peering into the depths of your soul to dance with your demons and devour your secrets; as if they’re singeing your expression into their minds, the sight of your features saturated in perturbation and pleasure branded into the tissues of their brains, carved into the walls of their skulls, ensuring they’ll never forget.

Everything feels overexposed as they pry you apart bit by bit, heady mix of hedonism and humiliation hazing over your brain.

Mikey’s hips slow to a drag, thighs tensing and soles of his boots skidding across marble as he expertly angles his hips and presses up, rubbing the head of his cock over your g-spot in slow, controlled motions—back and forth, back and forth, over and over and over again.

And the moan that claws at your throat is almost obnoxious, is definitely embarrassing, which means Mikey needs to fuck at least three more from your chest, grunting a little with the effort as his cockhead jabs against that plush spot, hard and precise.

A whine that sounds suspiciously like his title, tangled in spit and weighted with shame, spills from your lips, and you nestle your face against his own even as your hips jolt, desperate for comfort, desperate for cover.

“Don’t pretend you don’t like it,” he nuzzles your damp cheek. “I know you do. I can feel it.”

It’s true, he can—you’re sure he can, with the way your straining little hole keeps pulsing around his length, another stream of heat cascading down his shaft, viscous and wet and so, so much, to pool in the folds of his balls, to stain the waistband of his pants and the velvet of the couch.

But you know he likes it just as much as you do.

Because you’re both so fucking naughty, so fucking nasty, but the depravity just works to heighten it all, makes it that much better, amplifying every touch and brush and tease and fondle and making it all feel so fucking good, even as Mikey’s pace eases into something unhurried, his thrusts turned languid but powerful.

So you join in, you rise to his challenge, a sick little game the two of you play, a sick little game you force others to participate in—because you’re fucking untouchable.

“Do you think their cocks are hard, Daddy?” you ask, the question dripping with syrup as you roll your hips backwards, slow and purposeful, returning the Haitanis’ smouldering stare through fanned lashes, unblinking and tenacious.

“Ah, f-fuck,” Mikey’s cock jolts, rhythm stammering for a moment before he regains his composure. “Yeah, baby, I bet they’re wishing they were me right now.”

You bet they are, too, mouths stopped moving and gazes gleaming with want, lips parted with uneven exhales pushed from their heaving chests, entirely enchanted by your movements.

It’s the most affected and authentic you’ve ever seen them before, and it sends a thrill of power shooting through your body, blood left fizzing in its wake.

One of them reaches into their pocket, groping around blindly for their phone, not daring to spare a second of their attention away from you, and Mikey snarls, nose scrunched in disgust and lip curled in a sneer, baring gritted teeth.

Because that’s too much, that’s crossing a line, and Mikey swiftly redirects your face, effectively hiding your expression from the Haitanis’ hungry eyes.

Mikey’s always liked to show off. Mikey’s never liked to share.

He swaps shoulders quickly, the defined hinges of his jaw clasped firmly over your collarbone, and smushes his face flush to yours again, skin clammy with sweat.

“And look over there,” he steers your gaze toward the other side of the club, where Kokonoi sits with a smattering of men surrounding a tall cocktail table, littered with crystal glasses and white lines.

The men around the table are laughing about something, sloshing liquor and cutting powder into thick, fat stripes, but Kokonoi isn’t paying attention to any of it.

No. Kokonoi is looking at you.

His eyes snap away when they meet your own, head whipping forward with such speed and such force it’s a marvel he doesn’t instantly give himself whiplash. A deep laugh rumbles in Mikey’s throat in response, something dark, something decadent.

“He’s gonna go home and touch himself to you, too,” he says. “He might not even make it before he goes home; might end up jerking his cock in a bathroom stall or the front seat of his car.”

“How can you tell?”

“Well, look at him,” Mikey snorts. “He’s so hard he’s about to burst outta his pants.”

Following the line of Kokonoi’s body, your gaze travels downward, to the straining lump in his white pants. His hips shift a little uncomfortably as his thighs tense, hands curled into fists on his knees as he steadily trains his stare forward at the wall opposite of him, throat bobbing with a thick swallow.

Mikey’s right—Koko’s about to burst.

The thought of Koko rushing to his car to collapse in the driver’s seat, head tipped back against the headrest and hand shoved down his pants as his palm rubs frantically at his hard cock, or hastening to the washroom to lock himself in a stall, forehead pressed tightly to the rickety door and panting out stuttered, half-stifled whimpers hotly against his upper lip as he hurriedly relieves the problem you’ve created, is almost too much to bear, stomach clenching in time with the throbbing of your cunt, a torrid pressure building and burning in your gut.

The sudden acceleration of Mikey’s thrusts snaps you out of that tangle of thoughts, effectively drawing every ounce of your attention back to him.

A mewl pries past your lips, sharp and high and cracking at the end, whole spine arching as Mikey resumes his assault on your favourite spot, cockhead driving hard and fast against plush flesh.

“They can look all they want, but you’re mine.” His fingers tighten, his grasp rigid and unbreakable, the words nothing more than a snarl spit in your ear, wet and harsh. “I won’t fuckin’ share.”

“Never, never, never,” you babble in time with the bouncing on his lap, head nodding in sloppy motions with each repetition of the word.

“Never,” he growls, teeth sinking into the flesh of your shoulder sloppily, excess spit dribbling from the corners of his mouth as he breaks the skin for the second time tonight and sucks hard, drawing blood from the string of tiny wounds.

It has another cry escaping your throat, whole face crinkling in a sordid mixture of pleasure and pain, head instinctually thrown back against your Daddy, automatically giving him more room to work. Drops of watered down blood drool down your back and Mikey takes a moment to admire them, mesmerised by the way they shimmer in the strobing lights of the club, before he licks at them with the tip of his tongue, leaving crude strokes of fresh spit in their wake.

He’s the motherfucking Boss.

And the Boss gets what he wants, where he wants, when he wants, always.

He’s really fucking you now, vicious and vigorous, your entire body juddering in his lap as his hips piston up, cockhead pounding against that sensitive mound of tissue buried deep within you.

Each thrust shoves another shattered sound from your tongue, splintered moans of his name and his title pouring past your lips in a jagged stream.

The knot your stomach has twisted itself into strains under the building pressure, growing heavier and heavier with each jackhammer into you, stretched taut and stiff and ready to snap.

It’s all so much, the ogling eyes and the ramming of his cock and the tightening in your belly, every muscle in your body coiled and aching for the ecstasy that comes with release. Your breath mangles with the mewls shoved from your lips with every slam up, sticking to your throat and you cough, wheezing past the splinters. It’s all too much, and—!

“M’gonna, m’gonna cum, Daddy!” you gasp, tears dotting the corners of your eyes, sparkling in spidery lashes.

“Yeah, baby?” he breathes, voice dropping to a ragged rasp. “You gonna cream all over Daddy’s cock? Huh? Make a mess on my cock surrounded by all of Daddy’s closest and most esteemed colleagues?”

“Yes, yes, yes,” you nearly sob out, palms curling over his wrists, nails clawing at the delicate skin, desperate for an anchor.

“My dirty fucking girl,” he hisses out, sharp breath stinging your cheek. “Such a good—Ah—good little slut for me, aren’t you?”

You can no longer respond, rendered stupid from the ardor, potent pleasure corroding your brain and gnawing through your synapses. It’s downright intoxicating, it’s fucking insatiable, it’s simultaneously immense and insufficient, way too much yet not nearly enough, because you need more, you need more, unintelligible pleads shattering on your tongue.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah, baby, gush all over Daddy, make a pretty mess on his lap for him. Show everyone in this Goddamn club how gorgeous you look cumming for me.”

And so you do, ever your Daddy’s best girl, body eager to obey its owner as your cunt convulses around him, copious amounts of slick cascading down his shaft to drench his thighs, sticky and sharp and so fucking sick as he continues to bounce you in his lap.

The spasming of your cute little hole draws the sweetest whine from the back of his throat, panted out against the curve of your ear, and another bout of warmth rushes to the apex of your thighs, earning you a shuddered little curse, the exhale sweltering against your sweaty skin.

You sound so pretty right before you cum, Daddy.

Three more pumps of his hips and he’s following, thrusts stuttering as he fucks up messily into you, cock throbbing almost violently and stuffing you to the brim with thick, hot cum. Strong hands hold you firmly in place, cockhead pressed flush to your cervix as he spills himself into you, as he forces you to take every fucking ounce of what he’s giving you.

And you love it, you love it, you love it, you’re telling him, sentiments pouring from your mouth in a jumbled stream, singular and continuous until your lungs run out of air, voice cutting off with a squeak.

“I love you, I love you, I love you,” Mikey’s murmuring into your skin in response, lips leaving smears of sugary saliva just below your earlobe.

He allows you to sit on him for a moment, chest heaving against your back with ragged breaths, sweaty forehead pressed tightly to your shoulder. Tilting your head, your rest your cheek on the back of his skull, eyes slipping shut as your own heart begins to calm, cunt still pulsating irregularly around his shaft, almost as if it’s attempting to squeeze a few more drops out of him, his cock acting as a crude plug, keeping most of his cum buried inside of you.

Finally, his head lifts, pressing a tender kiss to the blood-encrusted bite glittering on your shoulder.

“Go get cleaned up in the washroom,” he mutters gently, pressing another string of kisses along your jaw. “Don’t wipe away any of Daddy’s cum; let it soak into your panties real nice and good, let them get really wet, and then snap a few pictures and send them to me. Can you do that for me, angel?”

“Yes, Daddy,” you slur out, nodding in loose, liquid movements.

“Good,” he pats your thigh twice. “Now, go.”

A small noise of affirmation sounds in your throat, head still nodding as Mikey helps you stand between his spread thighs, hands on your waist keeping you upright while you wobble on unsteady legs.

And the noise that you make as his cum and your slick surges out of you—something caught somewhere between a mewl and a whine, turned on and disappointed simultaneously—is the cutest thing he’s ever heard, a muted coo slipping from his own lips as your hands wrap around his, using them to further stable yourself.

He holds you for a moment or two longer, making sure you’re sturdy and your knees won’t suddenly give out, before giving you one final squeeze and releasing you, smirking a little as he watches you teeter away on rickety feet.

Initially, his plan was to have you capture a few naughty photos for him—pretty little things to stash away in his phone for later use, during the nights he’s forced to spend away from you, sitting in expensive cars or laying in lush hotel beds—and force you to wear the gluey, cum-drenched undies for the remainder of the party.

But then his phone is buzzing, and he’s unlocking it to find your cunt perfectly outlined by thin silk as it sticks to your folds, little clit and hole contoured and accentuated by the slick, shining fabric, soiled by a large, irregular patch of wetness, and oh, there’s no way he’ll be able to wait until you arrive home to fuck you again.

No, he needs to fuck you now, a sudden burst of adrenaline buzzing through his veins, little sparks and minuscule explosions that have him up and moving in under a second, cock already beginning to fill with life again.

Sheer, potent power permeates the atmosphere around him, trembling off his body in sharp bolts; dense, heavy, cracking with electricity.

The way the crowd instantly parts for him is awe-inspiring, their gleaming eyes full of terror and worship, hastily tripping over their own toes and ankles to move from his path as he strides toward the washroom, desperate to not be stung by his brilliance, desperate to get as close to the currents as possible without being scathed.

You’re just exiting the restroom by the time he reaches you, breath punched from your lungs as he backs you into a tiled corner, trapped between the cold wall and his scorching form, his hands splayed wide on either side of your shoulders.

“We gotta go,” he’s nearly panting out as he shoves his forehead against yours, eyes closed and noses nudging, straining cock grinding unceremoniously into your hip. “We gotta go, now.”

And, well, Daddy always gets what Daddy wants.

#mikey sano x reader #mikey sano smut #mikey x reader #mikey smut #bonten mikey smut #bonten mikey x reader #bonten x reader #bonten mikey x you #sano manjiro x reader #sano manjiro smut #mikey x you #bonten smut #tokyo revengers smut #SORRY ITS SO LATE HAHA PLS ENJOYYY #tokyo revengers x reader #tokyo revengers x you

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bookyeom · 3 months

Text

pairing: wonwoo x reader word count: 2.3k warnings: a couple of swears, kissing

Author’s Note: this fic is part of the Thirteen Valentines event, but can be read as a standalone! also, i would suggest listening to the song listed below to get a feel for the vibe of the fic, but it’s not necessary.

idk by jeffrey lenh, joanna

i think that i’ve been falling ever since that day out in the park and i don’t know if this is love, but maybe this could be the start

“I guess this isn’t so bad.”

You open one eye, looking up at Wonwoo from where you’re laying in the grass. His back is resting against a tree, and you watch as the breeze catches a few strands of his hair. It makes you smile, how calm and content he looks.

”I won’t say I told you so, but…”

Wonwoo rolls his eyes, but the corner of his mouth is turned up in a smile. Your eyes don’t leave him as he pushes his glasses up with a finger, his eyes taking in the surrounding park. You like seeing him like this. You’ve managed to drag him out of his dorm room on the first warm, sunny day of the year, and you’re glad he came. You’re always glad when he’s with you, but seeing him bask in the first golden glow of spring is something else.

“You just didn’t want to do this alone, and I was your last resort.”

You tsk, closing your eyes again, letting the warmth of the sun wash over your face. “That’s not true. You’re not my last resort, you’re my charity case. Helping the old man get out of his house and all that.”

Wonwoo gasps dramatically, and you can’t help the giggle that leaves you at the sound. The two of you fall back into contented silence, the only sounds around you coming from the wind in the trees and some children playing across the field.

“Seriously,” he speaks up again a few minutes later. “Thanks for forcing me to get off of my computer and outside for a bit. It’s a nice reminder that since winter is finally over, I can take a break from writing essays and gaming inside. So, thanks.”

You’re beaming up at him, even as he avoids your eyes after his little speech, but you know he knows you’re looking. “Glad you’re here,” is all you say. When he sends a smile your way, you know you’ve said the right thing.

You’re so warm — inside and out — that you can’t help but doze off. It’s a little while later when you stir, your eyes fluttering open as you come to. You startle when you realize that you must have nuzzled into the warmth of Wonwoo’s thigh while you slept, and you wince. Then your next thought has you realizing something even worse: his hand is gently resting on your head, and his thumb is brushing soothing circles into your scalp.

Your breath catches. It feels so intimate, and you know that you absolutely cannot succumb to how you’re feeling, because it’s Wonwoo, and Wonwoo definitely, absolutely, 100% does not like you back.

You make a show of stretching your toes, and as you predicted, Wonwoo’s movements stop. He drops his hand as you roll onto your back, and you try desperately to hide the blush on your cheeks. “Sorry I fell asleep,” you say, and Wonwoo shrugs, lifting a hand to run through his hair.

“It’s all good.”

And that’s that.

You watch as Wonwoo games from your spot on his bed, his fingers clicking so fast it makes your head spin. You’re supposed to go out for something to eat soon, but he’d begged you to let him finish one more game. You’d pouted, but you don’t really mind waiting.

You flop down on his bed, arms falling dramatically out to your sides. It’s been a long few weeks as you and your friends prep for your final papers and exams. The only time you’ve been able to see anyone is when you eat together, and Wonwoo is no exception. It’s been a week or so since you saw him last, and you wish the sight of him would stop making you feel the way it does. That doesn’t seem likely anytime soon, considering that when he’d opened the door tonight, his greeting smile alone had rendered you breathless. Lately, you’re more excited to see Wonwoo than a kid in a candy store, and you’re not sure what you're supposed to do about it.

Because Wonwoo doesn’t like you like that.

“Alright, GamerGirl17. I’m out. Good game.”

Your ears perk up at the username. GamerGirl17. You hear about her from Wonwoo all the time. Apparently, he’s made friends with one of the top players in his favourite game. You can’t believe you’re jealous of an online friend, but you happen to know through Wonwoo that she only lives a couple of hours away. Maybe they were dating already and Wonwoo just hadn’t told anyone?

Wonwoo regales you with the mission the two of them had just completed as you walk to the restaurant, explaining why it had been so important to finish. You’re not a gamer yourself, but Wonwoo always listens to you talk about your niche hobbies, so you’re always willing to listen to him.

Except today, apparently, because for some reason you’re more irritated than usual about the topic of Miss Gamer Girl.

“Have you asked her out?”

You interrupt Wonwoo mid-speech. You don’t look at him as you ask, but you can tell he’s surprised by the way he stumbles a bit, catching himself before he trips into a garden of freshly blooming flowers.

“Huh? Who?”

You glance at him as you near the burger place. “GamerGirl17.”

Wonwoo’s footsteps slow, and you raise your eyebrows at him. He doesn’t say anything else for a minute as you enter the restaurant. It isn’t until you’ve sat down and ordered drinks that he answers you, and you clench your fists in an attempt to stay calm.

“I’m not going to ask her out,” Wonwoo says, and you meet his gaze. He looks embarrassed to say it.

“Why? You like her, no?”

Wonwoo’s mouth opens and closes a bit. He looks down and away from you, suddenly finding something on his empty plate far more interesting. “Um,” he tries again, “I’m not really interested in… in dating anyone right now, I guess?”

Your heart sinks as you try to decide if that’s better or worse for you. You think worse.

Ouch.

”Oh,” you reply with a slow nod. You clear your throat. “That’s cool, then. I just wasn’t sure, that’s all.”

Your food arrives soon after, and you try to push past the awkward conversation by asking for pictures of Wonwoo’s parents’ new puppy. It works to distract him, but you don’t forget his comment.

I’m not interested in anyone right now.

“I’m sorry for the last minute notice,” you offer as you wait by Wonwoo’s door. “I didn’t know I left it here.”

He hums in acknowledgement as he grabs your cardigan from the back of his chair. “It’s all good.”

You try to ignore the once over he gives you as he hands you the sweater. You’re dressed up, and you feel a bit embarrassed under his gaze, though you’re not sure why. “Thanks.”

“Where…” Wonwoo trails off, and you watch as he leans against the doorframe. He’s gathering his thoughts, and you hate that he’s got you feeling nervous for no reason, even now when you’re about to go on your first date in months. You know you look nice dressed up in your cute flower pattern outfit for spring, but you feel so shy when he looks at you. “Where are you going?”

“Um,” you clear your throat, “Kwan set me up on a date with a friend of his.”

Wonwoo’s eyes widen, and he straightens. You wish you could disappear into the floor. “Oh.”

”Yeah.” Your cheeks are on fire. You need to leave, now. You pretend to glance at your phone as you say, “I should probably get going.” You hold up the cardigan. “Thanks for the missing piece of my outfit.”

As you turn to leave, your eyes squeeze shut briefly. It hurts to know he doesn’t want you in the same way, but you think you’ve just officially confirmed it. You inhale a shaky breath, willing the tears to remain at bay as you descend the stairs to the lobby.

You’ve almost reached the front door when you hear footsteps rapidly approaching behind you, and you turn in surprise. Your heart jumps into your throat when you realize it’s Wonwoo, barefoot and out of breath.

“Wonwoo, what—“

“Don’t go.”

You pause. “What?”

“Don’t go,” he repeats, and you’re confused. He can’t mean what you think he means, not after all this time. Your lip starts to tremble.

He seems to notice, a hand lifting in your direction as he takes a step closer, and your breath catches. He doesn’t touch you, though, just looks at you for a moment, mouth opening and closing. Then he quickly glances around the room. The only other people around are the Resident Assistant at his desk and a couple of other students walking in and out of the building. After a second, Wonwoo gently takes you by the elbow and around the corner so you’re tucked away, and he’s suddenly so close that you can’t breathe.

“When I said I didn’t want to date anyone right now, I meant anyone else. Other people.” His words are jumbled and rushed, and your eyebrows knit together.

Your back slumps to rest against the wall behind you. He’s not making sense, but you have a feeling in your stomach, and you can’t believe what you think is happening here. You can’t. “Wonwoo,” you say quietly, voice trembling, “You need to be super clear with me right now, because I can’t…”

You trail off, and Wonwoo steps even closer. The proximity causes you to straighten, every single part of you on edge. You still don’t know if it’s good or bad.

His eyes search yours. Then he speaks, voice so soft and sure that you think it surprises even him. “I meant that I don’t want to date anyone other than you.”

Your mouth falls open. You search his face, desperately trying to comprehend what he’s just said. You can tell he’s nervous, and your immediate instinct would usually be to comfort him, but right now, you can’t think. You can’t breathe. When you don’t say anything, he takes a step back.

“I’m sorry. You can go on your date, I just… I needed you to know—“

“Wonwoo.” It comes out strangled, but you had to say something. Anything to stop him from leaving. He stops, and all you can do is shake your head in disbelief. He gives you a moment, his gaze falling to the floor, but you can’t look away from him. “If you mean that,” you say slowly, “then I’m not going anywhere.”

Wonwoo blinks back at you. It’s almost comical, how wide his eyes have gotten behind his glasses. The way you can practically see him buffering.

“You’re not?” He finally says, and you can hear the relief in his voice. It makes your heart ache a little, because how can he not know how you feel? You shake your head.

“Unless you have other plans.” Your voice is shy, uncertain, but he’s quick to quell your fears.

“No,” he says, firm. “I’m all yours.”

The second the door to his room closes, you’re in his arms. You’re feeling so unbelievably shy at all these new revelations, and you can tell he is, too. He stumbles a bit when you wrap your arms around his waist, face pressed to his chest, but he’s quick to respond. His arms pull you in tight as he laughs, and you can feel it against your cheek.

You don’t remember the last time you felt this nervous.

“Wonwoo?”

He hums, and you gather enough courage to pull back and look up at him. When your eyes meet, you have to resist the urge to hide your face from him again. He looks so fond. So happy.

You don’t know what you were going to say as your gaze falls to his mouth. You watch as he swallows, his fingers gently squeezing where they rest on your waist in an attempt to help you refocus, but it’s a lost cause.

“You’d think I’ve never kissed anyone before with how nervous I am right now.”

The words are out before you can stop them, and you’re absolutely mortified. Your hands immediately lift to cover your face. A few seconds of silence pass, and then you realize that Wonwoo is laughing.

“Oh, is that what we’re about to do? Kiss?”

You freeze. Is he… teasing you?

“What happened to shy Wonwoo from before? Bring him back,” you whine, hands falling from your face to send him a glare.

“He knows you like him back now, so he’s a bit more confident.” He’s grinning, and you pout. He quirks an eyebrow, one hand lifting to your jaw as he adds, “He knows now that he makes you nervous.”

You would be absolutely scandalized by his words if it weren’t for what happens next. Because suddenly he’s kissing you, and all bets are off.

It’s not much, just a soft press of his mouth to yours, but it’s enough.

“For the record,” Wonwoo says as he pulls away, and you vaguely register the flush of his cheeks under the dim lamplight, “you make me nervous as hell, too.”

“For the record,” you smile, “I don’t want to go on a date with anyone that’s not you, either.”

A/N: thank you so much to everyone for all the love on pov! Here’s the second of our Thirteen Valentines. I can only see Nana Tour Glasses!Wonwoo, all the time.

Please please please reblog if you can to spread the word, and check out the Thirteen Valentines masterlist! If you want to be added to the taglist, send me a message :)

Taglist: @waldau @wqnwoos @tae-bebe @gyuminusone @savventeen @eoieopda @minisugakoobies @wheeboo @lvlystars @darkypooo @christinewithluv

#Wonwoo fluff #wonwoo angst #wonwoo imagine #Wonwoo x reader #wonwoo x you #seventeen x reader #seventeen x you #seventeen imagine #seventeen fluff #seventeen angst #thirteenvalentines #My writing #Jwwfic

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lav-bee · 6 months

Text

HxH X Reader

PDA in public VS private

Character/s: Meruem

❤️- read as romantic

Warnings: 16+, This has spicy stuff in it but it’s not super detailed, I marked them sfw and nsfw if you didn’t want to read it ^_^

SFW

- Genuinely doesn't care where or when, how many eyes there are that can see you both, he will indulge in PDA

- Any prying eyes will be ignored because really, why should he care? He is the King

- However, if he notices you being tense because of the starring he will order the ant/ human away

- Your comfort is his priority and therefore will keep an eye on you -> trying to pick up on any cues

- Will try to keep his hands to himself but that doesn't mean he’ll leave you alone

- It's very rare for him to leave you alone, and if he isn't there with you he’ll assign Pieto to follow after you

- You're his, that means no one else will be allowed to touch you

- Possessive, you might say

- His reasoning is ‘To keep you safe’. After all, you are human, you're fragile

- It gets to his head sometime, there have been times that he was scared to touch you in fear he will break you. The smallest movement on his part could lead to you having a broken/ sprained limb

- You’ll have to reassure him a simple hug wont crush you

- I'm not trying to say he won't touch you at all, he definitely does. The touches are just more soft and gentle

- One thing he really likes is having you sit in his lap

- That way you have some control in how you sit, it also allows him to wrap his arms around you

- Will rest his chin on either your head or shoulder while playing against board game masters

- If the game he's playing starts to get boring he’ll begin to lay soft kisses along your neck

- Kisses will turn into sucking and sooner or later you’ll be sitting there squirming in his lap as he continues to mark you in hickies

- Won't admit it at first but he likes to see you squirm, in pleasure of course, not discomfort

- But again, if you don't like being all squirmy in his lap in front of others he’ll tune it down a bit, only a couple kisses

- In private isn't much different

- He is still careful where and how he moves in order not to hurt you

- But since there's no one around anymore it's free game, will cuddle and kiss you to his hearts content

- Cuddling is also one of his favorites, he's definitely the big spoon

- Will pull you into his chest by your waist and nuzzle his face into your neck

- Not many words are said, just enjoying each other in comforting embrace

- You’ll both fall asleep like that

NSFW

- Onto more spicy things

- You’ll have to convince him to do more sexual stuff

- Not that he doesnt want to do it, it's just he doesn't want to hurt you (no break it, its fine)

- Very slow to proceed once you do convince him

- Trust me when I say he can spend hours between your legs prepping you

- You’ll be a puddle of mush by the time he’s done, you might even pass out from how many times he brought you to release by just his fingers and tongue

- Will use it as an excuse that you need to rest and will once again prolong the real event

- Leaves kisses and hickeys everywhere along your body, it almost looks as if someone beat you up

- Back to the part where he sits you on his lap

- Let me introduce you to cockwarminng

- He has spent hours playing against people, why not have some fun?

- There will be a blanket placed in your lap so the others in the room don't see anything, you're his and therefore no human or ant should see what's his to take

- Is very patient and has self control, but that doesn't mean he lets you do as you wish, he has a breaking point

- “No rocking your hips,” He mumbles against your neck. His hands stop you from any further movement, “You're distracting me.”

#headcannons #x reader #hxh x reader #hxh #hunter hunter #hunter x hunter #meruem #meruem x reader #hxh meruem

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lawsvalentine · 3 months

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Your writing is so good, Bless you for existing🙏❤️ I hope you're doing well :] Can I please request Sanji and his girlfriend? (I'm totally projecting here with this) she has shit self-esteem and is always putting herself down? Like, she'll laugh and make fun of herself like it's no big deal, but deep down she just feels ugly and stupid? How would Sanji go about this with her? Sorry this is kind of depressing haha

Flaws and All • Sanji x Fem!reader •

(Fluff)

CW: established relationship, use of pet names(mon amour, my love, darling, etc), reader is a bit insecure, reader makes self-deprecating jokes,

Cee’s Note: Aw thank you! This was so sweet 😙 I’m doing well thanks for asking. This is such a cute idea 🤭 hope you enjoy

Song Cred: Flaws and all- Beyonce

“And for you, mon amour?”

You two were currently in the kitchen where Sanji began prepping for lunch. He already had a meal planned out for the rest of the crew, but for you, he always asked you specifically what you wanted.

When you’re the chef’s girlfriend, you can expect these special privileges.

You gave him a request of your favorite food and he wasted no time getting to work. You two made small chat in the meantime while he cooked.

“Here you go, my darling” he smiled lovingly at you.

You took your first bite, and you let out a satisfied hum at the flavors eliciting your tastebuds. Sanji’s eyes warmed at the sight of you enjoying his food.

“Amazing as always,” you say as you finish your last bite.

Sanji chuckles, “Thank you my dear, would you like some more?”

“Oh I really shouldn’t,” you shake your head.

“I’ll make as much as you want, just say the word,” Sanji winks at you.

“Your food is dangerous, ya know ” you chuckle, “Imma wind up fatter than I already am if I don’t have some self control.”

Sanji’s smile faded at your words and an awkward silence fell over you two when you realized you were the only one laughing.

You shifted in your seat uncomfortably, unable to read your boyfriend’s expression.

‘Is he upset with me? ‘

‘Did I offend him by not accepting his offer for more food?’

‘God I’m so stupid’

“Y/N,” Sanji said softly, breaking the silence and taking you out of your thoughts.

“Yes?”

“Why do you say such mean things about yourself?” Sanji said concernedly.

Your eyes widened at his words. You wanted to say that it was just a joke and that it didn’t mean anything. But you would be lying, not only to Sanji but yourself if you were to say that.

Sanji had noticed your sly jabs at yourself throughout the conversations you two have shared and every time you did it, you would laugh it off almost like you were poking fun at yourself.

“I-I don’t-“ you fiddled with your fingers, avoiding eye contact with Sanji.

Suddenly you felt the tip of his fingertips at your chin as he lifts your head to meet his eyes.

“Please tell me why,” Sanji said, you could see the sadness in his eyes and you hated that you were the cause of that.

Your eyes shifted, struggling to look him in the eyes as you confess, “I don’t know what you see in me”

Sanji’s head cocked to side slightly, a confused look on his face.

“I’m not pretty like Nami or as intelligent as Robin. I’m not special in any way. I don’t get why you’re even with me,” you could feel your eyes brim with tears as you finally let out what you’ve been holding in for so long.

You suddenly felt yourself against your lover’s lean chest and his toned arms wrapped around you.

“I wish you could see yourself the way I do,” Sanji whispered in your ear.

You could feel the tears stream down your cheeks as you quietly sob in his chest.

“I’ll tell you what I see,” Sanji says, once again lifting your head to meet his loving gaze, “I see a beautiful girl, inside and out, who has completely stolen my heart.”

The thumb of his hand caressed your tear-stained cheek, “ When I’m with you I feel love-“ he pauses to peck your cheek.

“Lust,” he whispers, his lips grazing your ear down to your jawline, a sigh leaving your lips at the subtle contact.

“I feel like the luckiest man in the world, to get to hold you and kiss you like this,” he says, inches away from your face.

Looking in his eyes, you felt every emotion he was feeling and you started to think if someone like him could love you like this, maybe what he was saying wasn’t so hard to believe.

“I love you, Sanji,” you say, bringing your arms to wrap around his neck.

“I love you more, mon amour” he smiles about to lean in before you press a finger to his lips, stopping him in his tracks.

“Flaws and all?” You say with a cocked eyebrow.

“What flaws?” Sanji says cheekily, before capturing your lips in a kiss.

#one piece #one piece fanfiction #op fanfic #one piece headcanons #sanji x reader #sanji fluff #sanji headcanons #sanji fanfiction #sanji fanfic #op sanji #one piece sanji #sanji #black leg sanji #sanji x y/n #vinsmoke sanji x y/n #vinsmoke sanji x reader #sanji x you

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amomentsescape · 2 months

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hiii! so i just started a new job a couple weeks ago and its super physically demanding. when i get home my entire body hurts and since i currently have no money until i get paid i cant really eat on my lunch breaks (i also dont have anything i can bring from home). so i was just wondering if i could request headcanons of reboot jason with an s/o in this situation and how he might take care of them? (or if he would even care lol!)

Jason with Overworked! Reader

Reboot! Jason Voorhees x Reader

A/N: I'm sorry to hear how taxing your new job is. I hope you'll find some rest and stability soon!

Jason has never had anyone to take care of before

But even then, he knows that what you're going through is painful

The way you practically drag yourself through the door

The pained smile you put on to try and convince him you're okay

The tense muscles he can feel when he hugs you

He absolutely hates it

He wishes you two could switch roles for a while

He'd happily take on the work if it meant you got some time to just sleep in and rest

But of course, this isn't possible

However, Jason would be damned if he just sat back and let this continue on

You came home like you do every day, dragging your feet and craving the simple moment when you could finally just sit for a bit

But when you walked through the door, you were met by the strong arms of Jason

He immediately led you towards the bathroom, not giving you any time to ask what was going on

And once you were there, you could feel your breath stop

The bathtub was filled with steaming water and fresh flower petals

There were a couple wax candles decorating the small table beside it

The room smelled of roses, and you could already feel your knees going weak at the sight

Without a single word, Jason was already helping you out of your dirty work clothes and leading you into the tub

The moment you were in, you could feel yourself literally melt

Jason sat beside you outside the tub, grabbing a cup to start pouring the warm water over your head

You were in that tub until the water went cold, relishing in everything Jason was doing

He helped wash your hair and your back

He used his rough hands to work out the knots in your shoulders and neck

And he just sat with you, listening to you talk about the day

And once you were done with your bath, he led you over to the kitchen

The small fridge that once was empty now had several containers inside

One was of your favorite meal for the night

And the rest were prepped for you to take to work

When you looked at Jason absolutely astounded, he just shrugged

You had no idea how he ever got this food, but it didn't even matter

Your eyes were already tearing up as you practically flung yourself at Jason

He knows how hard you have been working for this, and he wanted to show you just how proud he is of you

You definitely slept more peacefully that night than you had in ages

#jason voorhes x reader #jason voorhees headcanons #jason voorhees x reader #jason voorhees #friday the 13th #friday the thirteenth #slasher imagines #slasher fandom #slashers preference #slashers x reader #slasher preference #slashers headcanon #slashers

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dwailol · 11 months

Text

My Favorite Pose

ComPOUND Round 3 [Bucky x Fem Reader]

Minors DNI 🔞

Summary: First morning of your week alone in the compound with Bucky. He adds himself to your morning routine. ;) Established relationship. If you’ve been following the plot PLEASE STOP but your powers and vaguely why you stayed behind are revealed.

Warnings ⚠️: smut af, bondage, a lil rough but not too much, oral (m and f), praise kink, p in v, unprotected

WC: 1.7k??

It’s 5:30 AM and there are little to no off days even for low key weeks like this. I get up and walk to get the specially designed breakfast that F.R.I.D.A.Y. planned for me. If there is one thing I miss about my past life it was a big flavorful breakfast… well and my family not being the reason the rest of the Avengers are trying to save a population of innocent people.

Surprise! I’ve got daddy issues. That’s my whole conflict of interest that kept me from the mission. I can’t do it. I told them not to tell me who did it if they are gone by the end of it. No matter how much I’ve been burned by them I’ll still hesitate.

I take my last bite and walk to the training center. I try to quiet my mind with some yoga before I get into the intense workouts. As I move into downward dog, I feel Bucky’s two hands pull my ass to his crotch. He gives it a light squeeze that still hurts because of the marks he left on it last night.

“Downward Dog - my favorite pose. What are you doing up so early Angel?”

“You know that pet name can only stretch so far,” I stand up. He throws his hands up with a cocky grin.

“Sorry, it’s just so fitting. I haven’t seen them in a while. It’s kind of hot when you pop them out. You should give me a quick show,” he says with that grin somehow getting smugger. The lack of sleep I got last night really motivated me to remind him what got me here in the first place.

“Careful what you wish for.”

In less than a second I sprout my wings then clap them hard in front of me which sends him flying across the room. I retract them back in an instant. He gets up laughing and clapping.

“Woo! That is what I’m talking about angel! I would ask to see the other stuff but we don’t want to set the building on fire do we?”

I can’t control myself when my other powers ignite - literally ignite. While he playfully annoys me, I don’t think I could ever release that hell fire. My powers are not “biblical” but they sure are other worldly.

“I need to get back to it. There’s food in the fridge. Just don’t touch my meal prep,” I hate that sentence just left my mouth.

“I don’t want your meal prep,” he walks behind me with our bodies facing the mirrors and his hands snaking up and down my body. “I want you. If you wanna get some training in I can show you somethings,” he says into my ear while tucking my hair back. So unfair.

“I don’t have-“

“You see this?”, he picks up my yoga strap. Out of nowhere he runs in front of me to kick the back of my legs. We both fall to the floor. He has me pinned down and starts tying the strap around my wrists.

“This is called a constrictor knot. In the event you have a disobedient girl giving you attitude, this knot comes in real handy,” he pushes his hand up my shirt to grab my breast. He moves it back down into my leggings and starts rubbing.

“Fuck. I could do whatever I want to do to you right now. You’re so wet. I cannot wait to get my cock inside you.”

I feel his fingers slip in and out. I let out a whimper. The sounds of my wet cunt make him growl. With a loud grunt he rips my leggings off. His fingers are back inside me and moving with fury. His eyes are hungry and he plants his head between my thighs with force.

As his tongue moves around my clit, I let out some “Ah! Ah! AH!”s. I start thrashing my body from the pleasure. He takes his vibranium arm to hold my hips down making me immobile.

“Whatever I want to do to you. Don’t make me repeat myself again. Now what do we say?”

“Yes sir.”

“Good girl.”

He sits up to free himself from his shorts. I am towered over with his cock in my face.

“Get to work doll. Let’s practice some breathing exercises for your training today.”

He puts his cock in my mouth and I start to move my head up and down. His length hits the back of my throat and I cough choking on it.

“Such a good girl for me trying so hard. Now you’re getting that pussy filled.”

He pulls on the strap to lift me up for a sloppy kiss with my taste still on his tongue. He drops me to the floor again to pin me under him. In no time his cock is thrusting into me with a speed so fast it shakes my body back and forth.

“I’m really making you mine this week. I’m gonna fuck you in every room I can. Get ready to drop whatever you’re doing for me whenever I want.”

I need this honestly. Losing my body to him feels more comfortable than I ever thought it would. My helplessness to his pounding excites me with both safety knowing he’s the one doing it and anticipation for what he might pull next.

He pulls the strap up so that I mesh into a seated position with him. He pumps into me with an unmatched passionate kiss. His free hand runs through my hair and gives it a pull in the back. He releases a heavy breath and moan. I’m squealing as he hits my g spot and my clit rubs against his body.

“Fuck Bucky! You’re killing me!”

“Good thing we know you’ll go to heaven then.”

He turns me onto my stomach so that I’m facing the mirrors. I arch up my ass anticipating his next move. I grip onto the strap preparing to take him. He kneels behind me and picks my head up.

“Look at you catching on. Now watch yourself get fucked.”

He slams his cock back inside me and thrusts with power. My high pitched screams are music to his ears. He grabs my ass and slaps it back and forth a few times.

“I thought I was being your good girl?”, I tease.

“Don’t act like you don’t get pleasure from my punishments. You might be my good girl right now but doesn’t mean I won’t give you a reminder of what’s in store for bad girls.”

“Not fair,” I laugh. Wrong choice.

He flips me over swiftly. He pulls tight on the strap to put the end in front of my face. His grip tenses around it.

“You remember this? I decide what’s fair and what’s not. You’re all tied up Angel. You take what you get and believe me you’re gonna get it.”

He throws my arms down then smacks the side of my ass with his vibranium hand. There is pleasure in his punishments. His movements are the hardest and fastest I’ve felt from him since our first time.

“I’m getting close to giving you my next load. I’ve loved filling you up with all my cum and watching it drip out you. Shows you’re all mine. No one else gets this pussy but me.”

My body tingles at his words. I give him an affirming mhm. He grabs my face.

“I wanna hear you say it ‘Bucky this pussy is yours’ if you want this load. Sing me that beautiful song Angel and it’s all yours.”

“Bucky…,” he hits the spot again which throws me off track.

“Bucky this…,” he cues for the rest of what he wants to hear. He lifts my hips up and my eyes roll to the back of my head. I scrunch my face then open my eyes wide as I feel my own cum.

“It’s yours! It’s yours! I promise it’s all yours!”

Mmmmh! I feel his huge burst of cum in me. He pulls out and it was definitely the biggest load of all the rounds so far. My hands are set free with some mild brush burns. He grabs my hands and gives them each light kisses.

“I’ll be more careful next time bunny. You just get me too hot,” he groans. I get a kiss loaded with tongue.

What a wonderful first morning with him back!

#avengers smut #bucky barnes #bucky barnes smut #bucky x female reader #bucky x reader #dom bucky barnes #marvel smut #winter solider smut #winter solider x reader #endgame #bucky barns fanfiction #bucky fanfic #bucky barns x you #bucky smut #bucky barns x reader #bucky fic

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waywardxwords · 12 days

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Chapter 8 - Save Me

Summary: After a random encounter introduces you to Dean Winchester, you can't shake the magnetic pull you feel towards him. For years, you've felt like everything in your life is under control--a promising career, financial stability and no real responsibilities. Dean's a hunter; it's his life and job. But somehow when you meet, your worlds are flipped upside down and you have to decide if it's a chance worth taking.

Chapter Warnings: Slight language; there's a ton of dialogue in this one but I feel like it's necessary to prep for the chapters ahead

Pairing: Dean Winchester x female!reader

Word Count: ~3k

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If you were being honest with yourself, you didn’t know how you felt about going to Kansas for the unforeseeable future. While it wasn’t like you went into an office everyday and you could really work from anywhere within the United States, you had still built your life in Virginia. You had friends—especially Jen—and it felt weird leaving her here, unable to defend herself. But Dean had assured you she would be taken care of, and you knew that you were unable to defend yourself against these monsters Dean and Sam knew how to fight.

“You about ready?” Dean asked as he tapped softly on your opened bedroom door.

A heavy sigh fell from your lips as you looked at your packed-to-the-brim duffel bag and backpack. Dean said it was important to pack as light as possible, but without knowing when you’d be back, it was hard to be selective in what you brought.

“I think so,” you mumbled, your lip caught between your teeth yet again. You released it as Dean stepped into the room.

“Hey, I know this is a lot to take in,” Dean started slowly. Both of the boys kept treating you like you were made of glass, which was a little bit annoying but also made sense. It felt like you were all waiting for the other shoe to drop.

“I’m okay,” you said out loud for him, but also for yourself. “I’m not really a big fan of the unknown…I’m a planner.” You mumbled as you looked around at your things.

“Not big on taking chances, huh?” Dean chuckled softly as his eyes watched you move. Again, it was like he was waiting for it all to set in and for you to crumble.

“Nope,” you sighed as you finally looked back at him. “Rule follower, remember?” You managed a half-smile as you remembered the first time you met in Atlanta.

“Oh, I remember,” Dean smirked back. He took a few steps towards you and you both sat on the edge of your bed. “Just keep in mind–this doesn’t have to be forever.” Your head had dipped a bit, so he moved his to find your gaze.

“I get that,” you nodded. You didn’t want to offend him; this was his life. He was used to packing an ‘oh shit’ bag and getting out of town. He was used to all of the things that went bump in the night. You, on the other hand, were still trying to wrap your mind around it all. “I just wish I could circle a date on the calendar and know when I could come home.”

Dean nodded as he processed your words. “Tell ya what,” he started. “How about we take it one day at a time, for now,” he paused but you waited for the ‘and then’ part. “Once we get back to Kansas, we can sit down and come up with a plan. Figure out what it looks like so we can get you back home.”

You didn’t want to be presumptuous, but there was a tone in his voice that almost sounded like he wasn’t looking forward to that. But since everything had happened, you really hadn’t been given a moment to figure out what this was between you and Dean.

“That sounds fair,” you answered honestly. Dean smiled and seemed hesitant, but leaned over and kissed the side of your head anyway.

“Good,” he seemed okay with your answer. He sighed and looked around at the rest of your room. “Anything I can do to help?”

You pushed your hair behind your ears and followed his gaze as you, too, looked around. “I don’t think so,” you said softly. “I’ve packed just about everything that will fit into my bags. I’m just worried I’m forgetting something.”

“We do have stores in Kansas, ya know,” Dean winked as he stood and reached for your duffel. “Jesus, woman.” He muttered as he slung it over his shoulder. “You got a dead body in here, or what?”

You managed a laugh as you stood to follow him and slung your backpack up on your shoulders. “No, Dean, I think I’ll leave the dead bodies to you.” You patted him on the shoulder and walked just beyond him, but you heard him laugh as you rounded the corner into the hallway.

“Everything locked up?” Sam asked as you closed up the front door and headed to meet the boys in the driveway.

“Yep,” you sighed and readjusted your backpack a bit. “I mean, it probably doesn’t matter when it comes to demons, right? They can get through locked doors, I’m guessing.”

They didn’t answer you directly but nodded slightly. “I’m guessing you want to bring your car to Kansas?” Dean asked as he eyed your garage door.

“Oh, absolutely,” you answered quickly. “I just figured I would follow behind you guys, if that’s okay.” You said as you used the keypad on the side of the garage to type in your PIN number that opened the door.

Sam and Dean stared at you, confused for a minute. “Sam’s flying back to Kansas,” Dean said. “This is a rental so I figured I’d drop it off on the way and hitch a ride with you, if that’s alright.” His words made you turn around slowly and your brows pulled together in confusion.

“Wait,” you started carefully. “You flew here?”

Dean caught why you were so surprised and flashed his white teeth in a small smile. He pulled at the back of his neck as Sam watched you both look at each other. “Sweetheart, I don’t own European cars. Don’t drive ‘em either, if I can help it.” He shrugged as he thumbed to the Volkswagen Jetta in your driveway.

“Okay,” there was more you wanted to say but you decided not to rub in how much Dean hated flying in front of Sam. You weren’t familiar with their dynamic at all, but Dean had told you that he didn’t like being afraid, and that he always tried to be strong for his brother. You didn’t want to embarrass him or say something you shouldn’t in front of Sam. “Do I wanna know why you have to get back to Kansas quickly?” You turned your gaze to the younger Winchester.

Sam chuckled softly and shook his head. “Work…related,” he mumbled. “So probably not.”

You nodded once and turned back to your car. “Okay, then,” you breathed. “I’ll follow you to the airport and wait for you to drop off the rental.”

You loaded up your backpack and Dean tossed your duffel bag in the car. As you both turned away, you faced each other, maybe a foot apart.

“I’ll see you at the airport,” he said softly.

“Be safe,” you said back as you studied his features and tried to read what he was thinking. He nodded, and after one more look, he went to walk back to the rental car.

Before he could step away, you took a chance. You reached for his jacket and tugged so he turned back to you. With his jacket still between your fingers, you pressed your lips to his in a rather quick, but hard kiss. For a moment, he paused but then his hands cupped your face as he kissed you back.

As the pop echoed around you, you didn’t notice how Sam had turned to give you some privacy and scratched awkwardly at the back of his head. “What was that for?” Dean asked as his eyes looked between yours.

“To say I’m sorry, again, for not believing you,” you started softly but continued before he could say anything. “And for saving my life.” A small smile tugged up the corner of his lip just enough for his dimple to appear.

“I don’t want you to apologize to me again, got it?” His thumb caressed your cheek gently.

“No more apologizing from either of us,” you stared into his eyes until he nodded.

“Deal,” he agreed, though somewhat hesitantly.

“Okay,” you pulled back and waved at Sam. “Thanks to you too, Sam.” You called after him. He turned back around and nodded. “And I guess I’ll be seeing you in Kansas.”

“I’ll see you there,” he nodded as he waved. “Drive safe.”

You nodded and watched Dean walk back to the car. Just before he climbed into the driver’s seat, he called out after you. “And I’ll be seeing you soon.”

Even after everything, you couldn’t help the heat that radiated in your cheeks or the way a smile pulled across your lips.

Dean had dropped Sam off at the drop off area at the airport. Once he had gathered his backpack, you followed Dean to the rental car return. It only took a few minutes before you popped the trunk to your Toyota Camry and waited for Dean to toss in his duffel bag.

He pulled open the passenger door and leaned down. “You want me to drive?” He asked carefully. Dean seemed like the kind of guy who preferred driving, but you smiled and shook your head ‘no’ anyway.

“How about I take the first shift? And then we can switch,” you suggested. He seemed content enough with that response and climbed in. “Sorry it’s not the Impala.” You offered with a small smile.

“Ah, it’s alright,” he sighed as he pulled on his seatbelt. “I’ll get you in a Chevy or Ford, eventually.” He smiled back. You chuckled softly and shook your head as you pulled away from the airport.

“What’s the address?” You asked as you toyed with the navigation on the dash.

Dean grumbled, something about fancy cars and shitty navigation systems but you just rolled your eyes. He plugged in an address for Lebanon, Kansas.

“Jesus,” you mumbled, as the screen totaled your drive time at 20 hours and 32 minutes.

“Buckle up, sweetheart. Hope you’re ready for a long drive,” Dean chuckled. It was already late into the evening, pushing midnight by now.

“It’s weird, I feel like I’ve been up for days at this point,” you muttered as you adjusted the air and your seatbelt.

“You sure you don’t want me to drive?” He eyed you carefully. That was the thing about Dean’s gaze: you could feel it even when you didn’t see it.

“I’m alright. We can switch when we stop,” you shifted the car into drive and eased on the gas. Dean unbuckled his seat belt to pull off his jacket before he buckled it again. “I’m supposed to call Jen tomorrow. I’m not even sure what to say to her, she recognized you from the photos we found online.” The sound of your voice was anything but strong as your stomach flip-flopped.

“I’m guessin’ the truth isn’t an option?” Dean asked.

You shook your head no. “And say what? She got possessed by a demon named Meg, her eyes turned black and she flung me against the wall a few times? Yeah, I’m pretty sure she’d have me committed,” you fell into a comfortable speed as you got on the interstate and hit cruise control.

Dean half chuckled and shook his head as he glanced out the passenger window and then back to the windshield, his features illuminated by the headlights of drivers coming down the other side of the highway. “That probably wouldn’t go over too well. It’s a lot for anybody to take in.”

You muddled over a thought before you said it out loud. “How did you take it when you first found out?” You asked him as you glanced between him and the road ahead of you.

His brows kind of pulled together and you took that as his thinking face. “I don’t really know how to explain that,” he started softly. “It’s all I’ve ever known, really.”

Shock had to have graced your features but you tried to calm your expression. While you recognized this was all new to you, it wasn’t to Dean. And you certainly didn’t want to offend him.

“When did you find out about the things that go bump in the night?” You asked him carefully.

“When I was four,” he didn’t look at you when he answered. Instead, his gaze went out the passenger window again as he watched the trees pass by in darkness.

“Four?! Dean, you were a baby,” you breathed. And then you remembered. “You were four when your mom died…”

There was a moment of silence that you took as his acknowledgment that you had the right idea. But then, he continued.

“My Dad kind of went into overdrive at that point. Trying to find what killed her,” he explained. You nodded as you tried to absorb it. When he didn’t offer up anything additional, you broke the silence.

“You were just a kid, Dean…” you felt a pang of sadness for the man next to you. It made you angry, even. “No kid should ever have to go through that.”

“No kid should have to lose their parent to some supernatural asshole, either,” he said back firmly. You somehow knew he wasn’t upset with you by the comment, just trying to make you understand. “Seeing my Dad go through that, and having to make sure Sammy was okay…” he shook his head as he trailed off.

The dots started to connect for you. Dad was busy fighting the monsters, Dean had to take care of his brother, you kept your thoughts to yourself but made a mental note. He had to be strong—couldn’t be afraid.

“Anyway,” he cleared his throat and resituated himself in his seat. “All that to say, I don’t know what it’s like, really, to be thrown into this world that I live in. But I know it can’t be easy.”

“I don’t want you to worry about me, Dean,” you answered quickly, and you meant it. It seemed as though Dean was worried about protecting everyone in his life and being strong through it. “I don’t want to burden you with that.”

“Sweetheart, I’m gonna worry about you whether you’re sitting right here next to me, or you’re thousands of miles away in another state,” he looked at you when he spoke. “And it’s not a burden.”

“Can I ask you something?” Your bravery to ask the hard questions surprised you. Something about being in the car with him for almost a full day made your usual resolve soften.

“Shoot,” he stole another glance at you.

“Do you like it? Fighting…monsters?” You asked, for lack of a better word.

Dean mulled it over before he answered right away. “I like helping people,” he said simply. “I like being able to save people so they won’t have to go through the same thing we did.”

“But who saves Dean Winchester?” Your eyes found him in the dark car once again.

“I don’t need saving, sweetheart,” he smirked again, a hint of confidence to his tone.

“Everybody needs saving sometimes, Dean,” you answered softly.

The only noise around you came from the hum of the engine.

“I guess Sammy does,” Dean looked out the window. You could tell he didn’t want the conversation to continue at that point, so you switched gears slightly.

“Does it ever scare you?” The idea of fighting monsters terrified you, but you were curious if Dean was ever afraid.

He seemed to process the question like it was something he had never been asked, which shocked you considering the line of work. “I mean, I guess sometimes. Usually when one of us is in trouble.” You nodded, but he continued. “When one of us is knockin’ on death’s door, I guess that scares me.”

Each new fact you found out about this life Dean lived in brought on a new wave of shock. “Death?” You asked him as you looked between him and the road.

Dean chuckled, but you could tell it was from him being a bit uncomfortable. “Let’s save that one for another day,” he shifted in his seat.

Maybe that was a good idea. You redirected the conversation slightly. “Where does your fear of flying fall on the scale of being scared?” You smirked.

“Oh, that one’s still at the top of the list,” he winked with a wide smile that reflected the light from the streetlights as you drove, welcoming a lighter conversation.

“But you got on a plane anyway. To get to me,” you stole another glance in his direction.

“Well, yeah,” he said simply. “Sam said I should let it go, that something must have made you change your mind. But when I couldn’t reach you…” he shook his head. “I just had to be sure you were alright.” His words caused a flutter to form in your stomach, and you smiled, but that was shortly followed by a yawn that tugged at your jawline. “Getting tired?” Dean asked.

You shrugged a bit but couldn’t help the nod that followed. “It’s been a really long day,” you sighed. “I guess I was more tired than I thought.”

“That’s what happens when shock starts wearing off,” he reached to place his hand just above your knee over your denim jeans. It was obvious it was meant as something comforting as his thumb traced small circles on the fabric there. “Why don’t we pull off? I can switch with you.”

“Dean, you need sleep, too,” you argued.

“We can stop eventually if I get tired, too. But I’m alright, sweetheart,” his voice was gruff and raspy–you could sense the exhaustion there, but you obliged.

There was a rest stop up ahead and you took the exit slowly. Once the car was in park, you opened the driver’s door to switch with Dean. As you both got settled in your new seats, Dean pressed a quick kiss to your temple before he adjusted the mirrors.

“You just get some rest,” he said gently.

You nodded against the headrest of the seat and closed your eyes. “Night, Dean.” It wouldn’t take long for sleep to find you.

A/N: Happy Thursday, friends! I know this chapter probably felt a bit "filler" with the dialogue, but it was important for the development of future chapters. I promise things will get more interesting in the next chapter!

Let me know what you think! I appreciate all the likes, comments & reblogs more than you know!

Chapter 9 will be posted on (or maybe before, TBD) Thursday, 4/25!

Chapter 9 Preview:

One blink, then two. The hum of the engine and vibration in the seat of the car reminded you where you were. There were so many emotions that coursed through you as you remembered: demons, monsters, Dean.

Your nose twitched as you smelled the air and your eyes were drawn over to Dean. The sun was out now–high in the sky.

“Dean?” You cleared your throat as you shifted in the passenger seat to sit up fully. He did a double take and you saw the smile spread across his lips.

“Morning, sunshine,” the gruffness to his words and the look on his face made your stomach flip–or was that hunger? You settled on a mixture of both.

“What time is it? Where are we?” You asked as blinked a few more times to try to take in your surroundings.

“It’s about 8:30,” Dean answered as he glanced at the clock. “And we’re about an hour outside of Louisville, Kentucky.”

“Jesus, I slept for eight hours, Dean! You should’ve woken me up,” you rubbed the sleep from your eyes and felt around your hair inconspicuously. You didn’t want to give away that you were slightly concerned with what you looked like after passing out in the passenger seat. God, what if you drooled?! You swiped your fingers across your mouth quickly.

“Nah, you needed the sleep,” he answered simply. “You had a rough few days there.”

“Thanks,” you breathed. Suddenly your stomach groaned and you hoped he couldn’t hear it. “I’m starving. How about we stop and switch off again?”

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sushiwriterhere · 1 year

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foggy

summary: "Perhaps most tantalizing of all were his glasses–their lenses were lightly fogged, but you could still almost see his wide eyes behind them." rating: explicit (18+ mdni) pairing: bob floyd x f!reader word count: ~2.9k warnings: idiots pining, car sex (lol), hangman being hangman, no use of y/n. notes: Inspired by me thinking about Bob's glasses getting all fogged up. y'all i wish i could apologize for this but all i can think abt is this man and how someone once said they wanna chew on him like a polly pocket.. anyways please let me know what you think ! no beta we die like men tagging: @sebsxphia @theharddeck - tagging ppl either by request or whom i feel like luv bob soooo pls let me know if you'd like to be added/removed

You were usually far more behaved than this, really. You paid attention in your classes, did your work, showed up on time to your job–kept it all together. But there was something about him, about Bob, that just made that tiny part of you want to be reckless. And he had no idea.

There he was, along with the rest of the group like every Friday, sitting and watching them play pool. They’d hoot and holler, order drink after drink, and he’d sit and laugh along with his peanuts and his Shirley Temples or lemonades. And it made you want to jump his bones.

It was a smidge ironic that as a bartender his non-alcoholic drink choices were part of what got you going, but what could you say? A man of multitudes and contradictions was appealing, and Bob was just that. Best weapons system operator around, shy as all hell, and damn smart. He always tipped generously, never put his phone on the bar, and had interrupted more than one creep on a mission to try and ruin your Friday night (flirting is for tips, not for keeps!).

But any time you tried to move it past your brief interactions, he always slipped away. You figured it wasn’t necessarily on purpose— he seemed to be friendly otherwise, just probably not interested. So you resigned yourself to the occasional small chat when making drinks or he came in while the Hard Deck was a bit less noisy—and ever so often, finishing while imagining just what it would feel like to have his body pressed up against yours.

And this Friday began like every other. You came in right as lunch ended, and busied yourself with prepping more limes than you ever wanted to see again in your life. There were glasses to be stacked, napkins and straws to be refilled, and liquors to be restocked. Patrons would start trickling in around 5 or 6, with the majority starting to filter in around 8, clearly coming from dinner or work. By 9, the Hard Deck would be packed to the brim with fighter pilots and other people from the nearby base.

Your favorite fighter pilots would make it in at 8:45 pm every Friday, like clockwork. They’d take over the pool table with a direct eyeline to the bar, and stay till the early hours of the morning, sometimes till closing. Rooster usually bought the first round if the weather was nice, Hangman would when the weather was shit. More than once you’d tried to discern a pattern beyond that, but they seemed to have some sort of system.

Bob would always buy his own drinks.

He’d make his way to the bar, smiling gently at you and waiting patiently while you fielded other customers. Then he’d place his drink order and ask for a refill on his cup of peanuts, and stand there humming something to himself while you poured him a drink. Tips came in cash, straight into your palms and always paired with a soft smile that made your knees weak and your pulse hammer.

Tonight was no different. He ordered his lemonade and handed you cash with a warm smile before returning to what appeared to be an increasingly hostile and heated game of pool. Sitting on the sidelines, he seemed to just be content observing the madness.

When Hangman approached the bar during a momentary lull, you expected it to be for another round. Except he leaned over the counter conspiratorially, and crooked a finger at you to beckon you closer.

“I have a secret to tell you, only it’s not really a secret.” He had a coy smile on his face like he was about to tell you he’d taken a cookie from the cookie jar.

You really wanted to roll your eyes at him, but you had to admit sometimes Hangman was entertaining and you figured your shift would at least be somewhat more lively with his antics. So you just shifted closer to him while maintaining an eye on the bar in case someone needed anything.

“Do tell.”

He pointed a finger back towards the game of pool just as Rooster sunk a shot and Phoenix high-fived him, “You see Bob over there?”

You narrowed your eyes. You definitely didn’t like where this was going. While Hangman was all huge ego on the outside, you knew he wasn’t really like that on the inside, so it made you suspicious that he was deciding to pick on Bob. Usually it was all in good fun, but you had a soft spot for Bob and you really didn’t want to be caught up in any hurtful gossip.

“Play nice in my bar, Bagman.” You said, scrubbing a bit more aggressively at the countertop than you meant to.

“Hey! I’ll have you know I’m playing very nice, I’m being a wingman instead of Hangman tonight.” Wingman? “Bob over there, has a very big and bad crush on a certain someone.”

You hoped this was some sort of prank, because Hangman had one perfectly manicured finger pointing at you. You felt your face go bright red.

“That’s not playing nice.” God, why was this happening?

It was one thing to harbor your little crush on Bob, to let yourself check him out while you were sure he wasn’t looking, it was another to have Hangman mock you by telling you that Bob liked you back.

“He really thinks he’s being subtle,” Hangman continued as if he hadn’t heard you speak, “But he refuses to let us buy his drinks whenever we’re buying a round just so he can talk to you. I swear he spends more time up here or staring at you than he does hanging out with us.”

Saved by a customer, you let your attention drift away from Hangman and what he’d said to you. Even though he lingered, leaning on the bar, you tried not to focus on him.

What did he mean Bob had a crush on you? That couldn’t be possible. A few weeks prior you had almost asked Bob out to dinner after not charging him for his drink, hoping that that would be enough to start a bit of flirting.

Instead the WSO had placed enough cash to cover his drink and a very generous tip on the bar and stammered out something about needing to get back to the game of pool him and Rooster were losing. So you took that as your hint.

Ever a patient asshole, Hangman was still there after you finished making drinks. Clearly being decently drunk wasn’t enough to keep him from being a pain. He just kept looking between you and Bob and not saying anything.

“You’re scaring other customers.” You wanted this to end, the observation, you wanted to get out from under his knowing gaze.

He flicked a cherry stem at you, and without flinching proceeded to make you feel like you were officially the world’s least subtle person, “It’s not hard to see that you and Bob wanna jump each other’s bones, I think once you get it out of your system you’ll be perfect for each other. Just have to get over that first hurdle.”

And with that, Hangman walked himself back over to the rest of the group. You stood there in stunned silence trying to process exactly what just happened.

Like you said before, you were usually far more behaved than this. But nevertheless, you now found yourself pressed up against your car in the corner of the Hard Deck’s parking lot, Bob’s lips on yours and his hands on your waist.

Anyone could see. Hangman or Rooster could step out for a breath of fresh air, maybe even a drunk cigarette (no one was allowed to tell Mav), and see you pulling Bob’s shirt out of his standard-issue khakis and running your hands over his stomach. You had always known he was hiding some serious muscle under his uniform. Someone could see you, weak in the knees for the quiet, but beautiful, Bob.

“Jesus Christ,” he said quietly against your lips as you scratched at his back and trembled in his arms. “We shouldn’t–shouldn’t be doing this out in the open. You deserve better.”

Was it wrong that him being so respectful made you want him to ruin you all that more? What you wouldn’t give to be in your, or his, apartment right now, protected by four walls and free to strip and see all of him. But for now, you’d have to take the cards you were dealt.

Grasping behind yourself, you yanked the back door handle against yourself, feeling the door give against you and open slightly. You pushed Bob off you gently, just enough to pull the door open and grab his collar to pull him into the car with you. He made a choked off sound, and you honestly weren’t sure if it was because of you grabbing his shirt or if he was surprised.

“Wait,” He managed, and you froze, “I... Will you sit in my lap?”

You were going to die, here and now, with him almost hovering over you, his eyes wide and pleading. For a moment, time seemed to turn into something syrupy as he slid fully into the car, shut the door, and pulled you into his lap.

You both sat there for just a moment, panting and staring at each other. Maybe you owed Hangman an apology for doubting his wingman skills, but you weren’t sure you wanted to inflate his ego more than it already was.

However, he did deserve some credit. After he had dropped that bomb on you, Bob had come over and asked if you were alright, claiming he’d give Hangman a talking-to about whatever he said that had clearly upset you. You just stood there staring at him, until he started to squirm slightly under your gaze.

It was in that moment you had blurted out, “I have a crush on you.”

He had stared at you for a split second before he whispered, so quietly you weren’t even sure you were supposed to hear it, “Oh my god, I want to kiss you so badly.”

It had taken everything in you not to drag him across the bar and press your lips into his. Instead, you managed to tell him that you had your thirty minute break in five minutes, and to meet you in the parking lot by your car. It was probably the most reckless thing you had ever done.

So that was how you ended up in the backseat of your car, Bob’s tongue running along the seam of your lips, whining slightly when you opened your mouth to feel his tongue glide over your teeth. You could tell he had his feet firmly planted on the floor by the steady rhythm of his hips against yours. That part of his actions seemed so confident, so assured in comparison to the slight tremor in his hands against your hips, but you wanted him to let loose a little, show you just how much he wanted you.

The car rocked gently with your movements. He was panting as his forehead leaned against yours, and he let out a particularly high pitched whine as you grabbed him by the back of the neck to force your lips together again.

“Been thinking about this, about you,” he ground out as you both pulled away again to catch your breaths, “See you every Friday and Hangman, ah, Hangman makes fun of me.”

You groaned at his confession and twisted your hands into his neatly combed hair. Honestly, you couldn’t judge his hesitancy, for god’s sake you thought he barely liked you as a friend. Plus, you’d firmly asked more than one patron to leave when they tried to be too forward. Bob was never too forward.

“Been, fuck! Been, trying to be a gentleman.”

You didn’t want him to be a gentleman, you wanted him to ruin you. Grabbing his wrists, you shoved them under your shirt and sighed as he got the message, rubbing your nipples over your bra.

“F-Fuck,” you gasped, rolling your hips against his more firmly.

“You’re so beautiful,” He whispered as his lips marked a path down your neck, mouthing at your collarbone as he tugged the collar of your shirt to the side.

“Bob...” You could feel the heat in your stomach building, the familiar tingle in your fingers.

“I know, sweetheart, I know,” With one hand on your stomach rubbing soothing circles, and the other dipping into your bra, the flood of physical sensations was almost too much.

You moaned into his mouth and shuddered against his grip, raking your hands through his hair and feeling just how much he liked the sensation of your nails scraping against his scalp when the rhythm of his hips stuttered.

When you came it felt like a star bursting in your chest, everything went fuzzy around the edges as he rocked you in his lap and you rode out your orgasm. It felt like Christmas morning, your birthday, and every party all rolled into one. You shuddered as he kept your hips moving against his, clearly close.

But you would have none of that.

Still trembling from your own release you unbuttoned his khakis with shaking hands and reached in to grasp him. He stared down at your through lightly fogged up glasses, clearly shocked.

“Fuck, wait, are you sure—!” Was all he managed to get out before you were on your knees, doing your damndest to swallow him down.

He came with a choked shout, one hand on the back of your head and the other clawing at the worn leather of your seats, grasping for something, anything to keep him tethered. For a moment you stayed on your knees, reveling in the feeling of what had just happened.

He was a fucking vision from this angle. His usually perfectly done haired was wild from you running your hands through it, his khakis were haphazardly open and his softening cock was laying against his stomach where you had rucked his shirt up. Breathing wild, his chest rose and fell quickly, and his fingers resting on the seat twitched in a matching rhythm to the ones in your hair.

Perhaps most tantalizing of all were his glasses–their lenses were fogged up, but you could still almost see his wide eyes behind them.

You wished you had a camera to capture the moment.

The moment was broken when Bob reached down to pull you back into his lap and move his lips softly against yours. It took you a moment to register that he was whispering sweet nothings to you–a combination of thank you, and all sorts of compliments that made your chest ache.

A sudden alarm sound made both of you turn in opposite directions at the same time, smacking your foreheads together. Suddenly any sexual tension had completely dissipated, replaced by both of you melting into laughter. Leave it to you and Bob to top off humping in your car like teenagers by giving each other concussions.

“I need to get back to work.” You whispered as he inspected your forehead for any lasting injuries, “That was my alarm.”

He pressed his lips to yours softly, as if he was savoring your final moments together. “Can I take you out to dinner tomorrow? Do this part right?”

“I’d love that.”

You almost made it to closing without anyone noticing that you and Bob had both conveniently been gone for most of your meal break. But the crew crowding the pool table was far too observant for their own good. To his credit, Bob got himself almost fully back to his normal appearance, and you slipped into the bathroom to make sure you were presentable again.

“You should say thank you to people who do nice things for you,” Hangman was back, toothpick hanging loosely from his mouth as he turned a sly grin in your direction, “I’ll take a beer in compensation, though.”

Pretending not to know what he could possibly mean, you continued to clean up. “Making sure all your cups are on the bar by closing is not exactly free beer material.”

He scoffed and stole another garnish, “You might think you’re slick but Bob’s been staring at you uninterrupted since you got back from your little break.”

“According to you he stares at me regardless.” Sorry, Bob.

“Yeah, but now he stares at you all mopey, which means you must’ve gotten the other stuff out of your system–”

You threw a piece of ice, the universe granting you with perfect aim for once, and watched as it hit his collarbone and slid down his shirt. He jerked backwards with a hiss.

“Okay! Just take your beer and shut up.” Why did he have to be like this?

“Why thank you sweetheart, consider your debt settled.” With a wink, he was gone.

If you were honest with yourself, you probably would give Hangman a thousand free beers just to see Bob in the backseat, glasses foggy, and staring at you like you hung the moon. But he didn’t have to know that.

#top gun: maverick #robert 'bob' floyd #bob floyd #bob floyd fic #top gun: maverick fic #bob floyd x reader #bob floyd x you #no use of y/n

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grandline-fics · 5 months

Note

Hello! I loved your sanji fic and was wondering if you can write another one where readers hearing aids broke and in the meantime of usopp fixing them, reader just stays in the kitchen as they feel safer there with Sanji. (Requesting this because my hearing aids broke during school and I’ve been feeling a little down lately ;-; also a little extra if you want to add into this, sanji realizes they are really sad without it and like he tries to cheer them up by writing on a paper that he wants to learn sign language. Or like he knows a little sign language and tries to communicate with them and it makes reader really happy and they help teach him more signs. Maybe he asks how to sign I Love you and signs it to them—jkjk

But feel free to write whatever you feel comfortable with \(0v0)/

DESCRIPTION: When your hearing aids break, Sanji’s there to keep you company and cheer you up

WARNINGS: depictions of a deaf/hearing impaired reader, some angst mostly fluff

CHARACTERS: Sanji

WORDS: 849

A/N: I'm so sorry you've been feeling down because of your own hearing aids being broken but I hope you're doing better now and that this helps. Really hope you like it <3

*REQUESTS ARE OPEN*

MASTERLIST

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

You knew that it was an accident but still you couldn’t help but feel upset by it all. Upset at Luffy for getting too excited about an island coming into view and knocking into you as you were passing your hearing aid over to Usopp so he could do some routine maintenance on them causing them to fall to the deck. You were upset that you didn’t act fast enough and that Nami came storming forward to scold your Captain only for her foot to crush the very thing you needed to hear the lecture. You didn’t need to hear the impact or look down to see that your hearing aids were broken, her and Usopp’s expressions said it all.

Now you were left sitting in the kitchen, waiting for Usopp to work on the lengthy repairs while the others were off exploring. That was another thing to feel upset about. Slowly you lifted your gaze from the table you’d been resting your chin on to look at the cook who’d volunteered to stay behind too.You couldn’t help the sickening guilt twisting in your stomach as you watched him work on meal prep for the evening meal when the others returned. Sanji didn’t have to stay here and you knew he’d been looking forward to going to a new island in search of new ingredients for his cooking and yet now because of you- in some aspect at least- he didn’t get to go.

You tried to tell yourself that Sanji was a grown man and was capable of making his own decisions but deep down you knew he was only staying behind because of you. While the two of you had feelings for each other and were prone to flirting, nothing had actually happened between you both. You sighed slightly, wishing that you could make this whole sorry mess up to him in some way. Suddenly Sanji’s gaze lifted from the vegetables he’d been cutting and he looked to you with concern and he offered you a reassuring smile. Quickly you folded your arms on the table and lowered your head to rest against them. It made you feel worse to see him smile at you that way.

Sanji’s smile fell when you hid your face away, dejected and not your usual bright self. This was why he insisted on staying with you, he knew you would blame yourself for this. He also knew that had Nami or Luffy stayed behind instead they would have clumsily tried to apologise and cheer you up in their own way which would no doubt make you feel worse. As he finished the last of the prep he slowly worked out how best to approach this. Just because your hearing aids were out of commission until Usopp worked his magic didn’t mean you’d suddenly changed. You were still you.

With your head still down you didn’t fully sense Sanji’s approach, thinking the subtle vibrations of his feet against the ground to be just him moving about the kitchen as normal. However you felt the dim thud of something being left on the table beside your elbow. Peeking out from behind your arm you were met with the sight of your favourite drink and snack waiting for you while Sanji casually slid into one of the free seats at the table with you. He couldn’t help the wide grin on his face when he saw the sadness flit away to be replaced with excited delight. After smiling brightly and pulling the food closer you set about enjoying what he’d made for you.

Sanji smiled softly, it was a good first step in cheering you up but there was still more he could do and there was something he’d been working on. He just hoped he didn’t mess this up. Seeing that you’d almost finished your comfort food he lightly tapped your hand to get your attention. When you met his gaze you saw that he was suddenly anxious, tense and you became concerned. Then you watched him lift his hands and shakily begin to sign.

“I was going to surprise you when I was better.” He began nervously, deciding to speak the words as well. It was a relief that you knew how to read lips, the last thing he wanted was for anything to be lost in his clumsy movements. “But if anyone needs cheering up, it’s you. Your face is too beautiful to be hidden away and sad. I’ve been learning from a book Robin had but maybe you could teach me properly?”

Extremely touched by the surprise gesture that he’d no doubt been learning very hard to accomplish, you couldn’t help but break out into happy tears and nod. Only Sanji would go above and beyond like this and it was all for you. “Thank you.” You signed and wiped your tears away to look at him properly with warmth and gratitude.

“It’s a date.” Sanji replied with his usual charming smile before reaching over to take your hands into his and placing a gentle kiss against your knuckles.

#one piece #one piece fic #one piece x reader #one piece x you #one piece scenario #one piece imagines #sanji x reader #sanji x you #black leg sanji #one piece fanfiction #vinsmoke sanji #sanji #one piece sanji #sanji vinsmoke

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caramelberzatto · 2 months

Note

Might I bore you with Richie thoughts?

Just been thinking of a new worker starting at the Beef and Richie being instantly smitten. He does a double take when first introduced and spends the rest of the day taking not so sneaky glances at them. Over the coming days, everyone who knows him can see that he’s got it bad. He denies this of course, and just insists that he is being a nice and welcoming colleague. His soft and protective behaviour is definitely not because he has a crush on them and can’t get them out of his head. Not at all, not at all…

But alas, the new worker has a boyfriend. And as soon as Richie finds this out, before even laying eyes on him, he has decided that this boyfriend is a scumbag. He hates him and this hate only intensives after meeting him, especially as Richie’s feelings for the new worker has also intensified. Poor Carmy has had to listen about how much of a fuckhead this boyfriend is and how Richie will beat the living shit out of said boyfriend if he makes New Worker cry.

And still Richie insists that he is just looking out for a colleague/friend.

When New Worker and their boyfriend do finally split up you can practically see Richie walking on air. And Carmy breathes a sigh of relief that he will no longer have to hear Richie threatening the boyfriend.

After months of pining though and the rest of the Beef feeling like they are nothing more than background characters to a cliche romcom, it is the new worker who actually asks Richie out. After finishing with their ex and leaving it a good while, they find themselves unable to ignore their growing attraction to Richie. And whilst Richie has been hindered by his low self-esteem and fear of ruining their friendship, New Worker has no hesitations. They really really like Richie. They don’t care that there is an age difference or that they are colleagues or that Richie has a daughter. They just want to be with Richie if he will have them. They don’t want to lose this chance.

And they want to kiss him. My oh my do they want - no, need to kiss him (that suit of his is driving them crazy). And Richie is more than happy to fulfil that wish of theirs 😘

Sorry for the ramble, but I have been unable to stop thinking about Richie.

okay i feel this, i vibe with this so fucking hard AH i love richie so fucking much sdfnfkjgfjgk okay lets review-- strap in, folks, it's a long one.

He thinks he's acting slick, staying cool, just casually hanging out with you, but this man has got the biggest fucking heart eyes known to man. Everybody can see it except the two of you.

The day you first set foot in The Beef, Richie just blanks. It's the first time Carmy has ever seen him without anything to say; no smartass comment, no mildly inappropriate joke, nothing. Richie just says hi, and offers you his hand. For a handshake. Which is... oddly formal. But you accept, and his palm is warm and a little clammy against your own.

Over the next few months, as you settle into routine, moving alongside the others as just another part in a slightly-faulty, but otherwise well-oiled machine, Richie uses any excuse to be near you. Prepping, restocking, wiping tables, making orders, whatever. Where you're concerned, it's a two man job. (Much to Carmy's chagrin, because Jesus Christ, there's barely enough staff to cover the workload as it is.)

The two of you become fast friends, much to Richie's surprise because, well... He knows he isn't the nicest guy to be around sometimes, but he's trying, and it seems that you, of all people, can see that in him. Can see through him, to the man he wants to be.

When Richie finds out, through Sydney, that you have a boyfriend, he's gutted.

Richie is conflicted because, yeah, he's into you. So damn into you. But he doesn't to come off like a creep, hanging around, trying to snatch you away from your boyfriend or anything like that. He's done some shitty things in his past, but he's not a downright dickhead, and he isn't gonna go for another guy's partner.

You start to notice the way he speaks to you, softer than he does with anybody else. He never yells at you, unless he's calling out your name to see where in the restaurant you are. You start to notice his hand on your shoulder as he moves behind you, and the way his gaze is almost always already on you when you look for him. And you start to notice, even though you feel awful and conflicted about it, that he makes you feel things. He makes you feel good. And he treats you so... kindly. You laugh with him and it feels like a million little fireworks are firing off in your chest, a cataclysmic burst of technicolour.

And you slowly start to realise that this is how you want to be treated. You start to realise that, despite all the good parts of your relationship, those parts are few-and-far between these days. And you've been sticking around because it's comfortable, it's familiar. It's what you know. But Richie...

Sure, he's a bit older than you, nothing like anybody you've ever met before, but... God, he's really something.

And when you meet his daughter one busy afternoon, when he picks her up from school but has a few things to finish off at The Beef. Oh, isn't she just the sweetest. And seeing the way he interacts with her, laughing and joking and messing around, it's just... fucking adorable. And it makes your heart do this weird flutter in your chest. You shrug it off as the first signs of a cold or something, anything but admit your feelings toward him.

Everything comes grinding to halt when Richie finds out you've started staying with your parents again. You show up late to work a few times, miserable and puffed, and you admit that it's further than you used to travelling to get to work, and you haven't figured out the perfect route yet.

Because you and your boyfriend split up. Done. Finished. Donzo. Over. The end. Goodbye and goodnight.

And Richie has to bite down on his tongue to keep from laughing in relief. The selfish part of him is so.... happy? And God, it feels awful. And seeing you like that, emotionally drained and exhausted, unsure how to feel because yes, you're finally out of a relationship with someone who's thoughts, feelings, life, etc, no longer lined up with yours, but still...

Heartbreak is heartbreak, and goddamn did it hurt.

The first few weeks are hell. You work yourself to the bone, picking up shifts if someone is sick or has an emergency and can't make it. The restaurant has never been so fucking clean, it's actually baffling Carmy. Like, Jesus, you're there before him sometimes, and you stay until lock up, busying yourself with tasks.

Through all of it, despite pushing mostly everyone away, appeasing with placid smiles and assurances that you're fine, the only one you're not fooling is Richie.

And he calls you out on it one day, when he sees the look in your eye getting unnervingly dull. You shrug him off when he tries fo talk to you, muttering something about needing to finish your prep.

"No, fuck that, there's enough fuckin' onions there to feed a fuckin' army." He gently pries the knife from your hand, setting it on the counter, and places his hands on your shoulders, guiding you through the restaurant and out into the back alley.

It's colder than he thought it was, so he quickly shrugs off his jacket and drapes it around your shoulders.

"What, Richie?" Even as you try to sound unbothered, your voice wavers.

For a moment, the two of you exist in a pocket of silence, and you drop your gaze to the ground. But then there's a warmth on your cheek, Richie's hand, lifting your head.

"No, hey, look at me." And seeing Richie looking at you the way he was, genuinely concerned, it shoved you to the verge of tears.

"It all hurts, Richie," you admit quietly, brows furrowed.

"I know, sweetheart, I know." He cups the back of your neck, pulling you in, resting his chin atop your head and rubbing your back.

"But look, you need to slow down, alright? Doing all this shit, it's gonna break you down. You need to rest, and just, fuck, I don't fuckin' know. Just slow down and take care of yourself, kid."

"I'm trying, but fuck, my parents, and I just-"

"Come stay with me."

A beat of silence so heavy you could almost feel it shudder through the ground.

"I'm not- I'm not gonna intrude in you like that. I don't need pity, it's fine, I'm fine. Richie, seriously."

"No, stop, it's not pity, it's fuckin'," he sighs, running a hand through his hair. "I fuckin' care about you, and I can see you're so very totally not fuckin' fine. So I'm offering you a place to stay, to like, I don't fuckin' know, collect yourself. Just like, catch a fuckin' break. I got this real nice pullout couch, and I'm right next to this Chinese place, really fuckin' good fried rice."

He was rambling, and it all came out in a rushed breath before he sighed, long and slow. "And, like, we can fuckin' carpool."

You let your head fall back, resting against the cool brick. "Okay. Yeah, fuck, okay."

Your time at Richie's place is... strangely calming, which you hadn't expected. Whenever you have a day off, you try to do something to make it up to him, whether it's doing the dishes or vacuuming or getting groceries.

You get to know Eva because you're sometimes in the car during school pick-up. And she damn near talks your ear off, telling you anything; school gossip, favourite songs, how her dad can't help but bring you up in conversation, and if you'd like to attend whatever recital is the next weekend.

And you go, standing up the back by the gymnasium doors because you and Richie got stuck in traffic and ended up a little late. But none of that matters, because when the time comes, Richie is the one whistling and clapping and cheering the loudest for his daughter, that Eva spots him regardless of the distance.

Again, your heart does that weird flutter thing, and you have to excuse yourself to the bathroom. Wandering down the empty halls of the fun, colourful grade school, you clutch your coat close to your chest. Finding a back exit, you push through the door and out into the chill of the night.

Richie goes looking for you after you've been gone a little while, and finds you standing in the cold, arms crossed, staring at the sky. And for a moment, he says nothing, not wanting to interrupt you. Because you're standing there, gazing up at the moon and stars, and there's a simple, content smile upon your face.

A moment of calm, a moment of quiet happiness. Peace.

You notice him then, wandering over. And when he's in front of you, his gaze locked on yours, that smile grows.

"It's nice out," you whisper, not wanting to shatter the quiet calm.

"Yeah." Richie clears his throat, hands in his pockets to keep from reaching for you. His gaze dips to your lips, lingering for a few seconds longer than it should.

Without giving yourself a moment to doubt yourself, you rest your hands on his chest and kiss him. His hand instantly cradles the back of your head, as if he'd been waiting for this very moment for a lifetime.

ANYWAY, I'm so fine and normal and sane about this. Definitely not in love with him or anything AH I want to just IXKDKWKKDKDOAKSOO. Richie Jerimovich, they could never make me hate you.

#the bear #the bear fx #richie jerimovich #richie jerimovich fluff #richie jerimovich x you #richie jerimovich x reader #ebon moss bachrach

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babyhedonistt · 4 months

Text

Too Close To Touch // TWO

Warnings : Smut, Mental despair,

"Good going." Jolly scoffs, nearly hitting his nose on the door when you slammed it shut. Jolly has always been protective of you, so the fact Noah just made you storm out and quit the tour really boiled his blood to say the least.

Ruffilo pinched the bridge of his nose sighing deeply, and Noah seemed almost unphased. His mouth was pushed into a straight line and his jaw clenched with regret when the reality of not having a drummer set in his stomach.

"We need a fucking drummer, Noah." Ruffilo whispers. Noah doesn't say anything and pulls his phone from his back pocket. "No." Jolly plucks Noah's phone from his hand. "Hey-"

"You aren't texting your way out of this one. You haven't respected Y/N since she temporarily joined this band, and it blows my mind considering how close you two used to be." Jolly scolds him and struck a nerve.

Noah's adam's apple bobbed before he took a deep breath. "Just drop it and I'll go talk to her."

"She's probably outside smoking. An uber can't come this fast and the tour bus won't take just her without the rest of us." Ruffilo chimed in.

Jolly handed Noah back his phone and made a mental note as Noah left the dressing room, of the news article he had accidentally opened from your text conversation with Noah when he snatched the phone of his hand.

"You know I'll beat some sense into him if he's still bothering you Y/N." Folio voice states, coming out of your phone.

"Respectfully, I think the only thing stopping you from doing that is your height dude." You chuckle, flicking some of the ash off the butt of your cigarette.

"Ha ha. You're hilarious. I'm trying to get better as fast as I can. You did great up there tonight though." He compliments. Your lip quivered as tears began to well in your eyes. "Really?"

"Yeah. Don't give me a run for my money though." He chuckles. "I'll talk to you soon, okay? I love you" Folio assures you. You nod into the receiver before putting out your cigarette with your boot. "Love you too."

The line goes dead before you wipe your eyes and sniffle back the sadness you had pent up all day before the closing of the outside door causes you to jump and grab your chest.

"No, I'm not hearing him out Jol--"

He stood there. His tall frame towering over you as he stood in gym shorts, slides and his infamous black hoodie. This version of him looked a little more normal. More like the Noah you remember. This version of him almost had a calming effect on you.

It always does until he opens his damn mouth.

"Looks like you couldn't stay away." He sighs, cracking his neck.

"You have literally three seconds before I punch you square in your jaw."

He holds his large hands up, shaking his hands before taking a few steps towards me. You take an equivalent number of steps back before his eyebrows crease. "Don't do that."

"Do what?" You ask, keeping your eyes trained on him, only being able to see his features by the dimness of the alley light above the both of you. "Acting like you're nervous around me." He says

"Oh. I wish it was acting." You reply, pulling your phone out of your pocket, prepping it to call Jolly on speed dial.

"You can't still be mad about--"

"Don't even bring that up right now Noah. Hearing those words come out of your mouth right now is the last thing I want to relive right now. " You felt your eyes well with water again as you smother the confidence to stand in his presence alone and on this topic.

"I'm sorry, Y/N." He speaks. He feels confident enough to take another step towards you, and this time you let him approach you. Usually, when it came to Noah Sebastian, you could tell when he was lying. His hands would be locked together, the top of his foot would be tucked behind his ankle, and he would avoid eye contact at all costs.

This time, his eyes were drilling holes into your skull, and just like the last time he made this type of eye contact with you, you were beneath him, naked.

You felt your breath catch in your chest as he continued to apologize. "We need you on this tour, without Folio, it's been really hard and I'm just not used to having someone in his place. Let alone his sister."

He stuck his hands in the pockets of his shorts as he attempted to read you for any sort of reaction. You wanted to yell at him. His lame attempt of trying to pass you off as ' Folio's Sister ' was absolutely pathetic. But what can you expect coming from him?

"Why don't we make a deal?" You spit and you could visibly see his ears perk up and his eyebrows reach his hairline. He slightly nods in acknowledgement. You take a step closer to him, with your arms folded across your chest, looking up at him, the back of your head almost touching the base of your neck.

"I'm listening." He mumbles, his eyes slowly moving from your eyes,

to your neck.

to your chest..

your stomach....

all the way down your body.

"You give me no more grief on this tour, and I'll promise that you won't have to see me ever again after it's over."

Your eyes squinted up at him. This man was so good at hiding his facial expressions, he would pass any lie detector test.

You hold out your hand for him to shake. He doesn't move his head, but his gaze looks down at your hand. "And if I disagree?" He inquires, a tilt of a smirk tugging at his lips as you felt the familiar nausea settle at the base of your stomach.

"You don't get to, just like I didn't get to." You force his hand into yours to shake, and he takes your hand, spinning you around so your back was against his front, and he wraps his arms around you, locking you in, his face falling next to yours, his lips grazing your ear.

"You're much more than his sister. You and I both know that, and I'm sorry it has to be this way." He whispers, before placing an airy kiss on the cartilage of your ear, and letting you go before going back inside out of the cold night.

You hurl your phone at the door before squatting down and hugging your legs, shaking from a combination of the cold and the images deciphering in your memory.

You hate him

You hated him so much.

To be continued............ hehe

#bad omens #concert #badomenscult #noah sebastian #jolly karlsson #nick folio #nick ruffilo #bad omens fanfiction

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whorekneecentral · 1 year

Note

Girl I need some more VVD smut lol

I’m in neeeeed of some big daddy virg! Preferably him being away from home due to international matches and coming home to fuck you mindlessly because of how much he missed you and those sexts/nudes you sent him while he was away just the tip of the iceberg of setting off that big daddy virg energy 🫠🫠🫠🫠🫠🫠

you get me, you soooo get me !!!!!

Internationals were killing him. Virg felt like he had been away for a million years despite it only being a week.

He missed you; your smile, your voice, your smell, your touch - he just missed you.

The first few days were okay, match days kept him busy but it was the time in between that was killing him. You never bugged him on game days, a sweet text and a FaceTime kiss to wish your captian luck before you left him to prep for the games. On his off days, that was when you caused trouble.

You had been sending him these messages; detailed, filthy, photos and videos attached just incase your vivid description wasn't enough.

Virgil was losing his mind. No one was as ready as he was to get off the bus and back home to you.

The house was quiet as he ventured down the hallway towards the bedroom. He could see the light from the lamp next to the bed through the slightly opened door.

He couldn’t miss the way his name fell past your lips.

Maybe you were dreaming.

Virgil peeks into the room; you were definitely awake. Head tossed back on the pillows, his sweater on you and your hand down your panties. You were clearly getting rid of today's stress.

He steps into the bedroom quietly, leaning on the wall by the door and watches you. Your eyes closed and you’ve got two fingers in you. He smiles to himself, watching as you curl them, trying to mimic the way he does it.

“Fuck,” you breathe, back arched off the bed. It can’t possibly be that good, he thinks to himself.

“Virg, please,” the words tumble past your lips and he can’t stop himself.

“Need something ?” He asks. Your eyes open and you're looking at him, hand still moving slowly. "You're home," you smiled.

"I am." He walked over, joining you by the bed.

He had settled between your legs, one hand roaming your bare thigh as you pulled him down by his chain to kiss him. Your husband lets you kiss him, pushing against you and your back arches just a bit, Virgil managing to pull your shirt up.

You mumble a no when he pulls away, moving to kiss down your neck and chest, finding his way along your stomach to between your legs. Virgil leaves a few marks and kisses along the inside of your thigh, his arm hooked under your thighs, hands on your hips and fingers trailing along the hem of your panties.

“Virg,” you mumble, closing your thighs to get his attention.

He pushes them open, “what ?” He looks up at you.

You hum, “do something.”

You fall back onto the mattress, Virgil’s thumb rubs slow circles over your clit. “Fuck,” you breathe, hips bucking for more.

He doesn’t give you, just reminds you; “ask nicely.”

If you wanted him, and you really did, you had to do what he said no matter how much you wanted to give him attitude and tell him no. “Please, Virg - I need it.”

“You can do better than that.”

“Please, you’re so unfair, need you so bad.” you hum. “Come on, please, please.”

Virg looks up at you, a smile on his face. He's absolutely sure he felt his cock twitch in his shorts, “god, okay yeah.” He says, getting up to get undressed. You follow him, pulling off the very little clothes that remained before you got back on the bed.

You didn’t make it very far, Virgil pulled you to the edge of the bed by your legs and he settled between your legs; one pulled over his shoulder and the other around his hip.

Virgil lets you take him little by little, pulling out almost all the way each time before finally pushing into you all the way. He's in charge and you both know it, letting him set the pace; slow and steady and it was driving you insane.

“Virg baby, come on.” Your hand reaches to rest on his hand that’s on your hip. “Need more.”

“Do you?” He hums, moving a little faster.

You know giving him attitude won’t help but you can’t help but roll your eyes, “more than that.”

“Needy,” he calls, pulling you closer by your legs.

Finally, you get what you want, Virgil's hips hitting the back of your thighs, he leans over you and your arms are pinned about your head, both legs up on his shoulders now. The angle was enough to push you over the edge but he didn’t care.

“Please-” you tried to wiggle your hands loose but he didn’t budge.

“What’s wrong baby?” he asks, mockingly, “isn't this what you wanted?”

“It is, but-” your head tosses back, back arched when he hits the spot he was looking for.

“Oh,” he coos, smiling at you. “Is my baby so fucked out, she can’t even tell me what she wants?” His thrusts are sloppy, you knew he was just as close as you were.

#this ran from me loool #virgil van dijk #virgil van dijk x reader #virgil van dijk smut

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bumpkinspice0 · 3 months

Text

Recovery Time Chapter 8

Joel Miller x Fem!Reader

No use of y/n

Rating: Explicit (Minors do not interact!!!!!!)

Word Count: 2.3k

Summary: November is here, winter creeps closer, and feelings become more real.

Warnings: Like none? Typical angst, fluff, desperation??

Series Masterlist

Previous - Next

AO3

_______________

Chapter 8: Storm Brewing

The garden was finally bare, the soil tilled over and weeded of its dead occupants. Precious loved herbs and other plants dug up and brought inside to last the winter. Seeds sorted and stored for next year. Harvest time was over and the dirt can lay in rest for another winter. October had come and passed, the early days of November bringing a new chill to the air.

Joel helps you prep the garden soil for next year and he almost wishes he hadn’t offered. You had buckets of compost stored and ready to enrich the soil, nasty smelling stuff. Vegetable scraps, egg shells, bones— garbage really. He was helping you spread garbage around your dead garden. He’s done stranger things, he supposes.

“Please tell me this is the last one,” He sighs, dumping out the final nasty, juicy contents from the last 5-gallon barrel you rolled out.

“It’s the last one,” you scoff, raking the dumped contents evenly over the soil’s surface. “You can start putting the leaf piles on top then we’re done.”

“Thank god,” he retreats to the edge of the garden where you’d had a massive leaf pile waiting. He grabs an armful and spreads them on top of the compost, “Why are we doing this again?”

“Keeps the soil healthy.” You dust your hands off and grab a fistful of leaves for yourself, “You gotta put back what you take out. The parts you don’t use decompose and make the soil healthier. Circle of life and all that.”

“And the leaves?”

“Extra barrier and extra compost.” You step closer to him and he does his best to ignore how that makes his heart speed up ever so slightly. “Use what’s around, ya know?”

“Yeah, I suppose,” He grabs another armful of leaves, “But it was good this year? The garden?”

“Better than other years. Only got good at it the last two years or so.”

Joel wasn’t much of a farmer. Hell, he killed nearly all of his houseplants. The idea of constantly managing something so delicate was intimidating. Game hunting was easy in comparison. Straight forward— almost literally. Point and shoot. Set a trap and leave it. Hunting didn’t take skill, it just took luck. But growing food… That was a whole different story.

Your storages were plentiful from what he saw. You didn’t really seem to keep track of resources used because of it. Much more lax than Bill. If he had to guess you probably easily had enough for 6-8 months at the moment— But he can’t help but wonder how much you’d used on him. How much did he take from you? The question that’s been constantly on his mind lately.

He’d brought back some meager kills. That turkey and a good handful of rabbits. Was it enough?

“Thinking you got enough to make it through the winter this year?” He asks before he can stop himself.

You pause, he’s not sure if it’s from his sudden forwardness or because you’re actually thinking about it, sorting through everything in your head. He sees your expression drop a little bit— his unspoken words evidently being heard loud and clear.

Will you be fine without me?

He hadn’t brought it up in weeks, him heading back to the QZ. You hadn’t either. Christ he’d been healed for just as long and he still wandered around here like a lost puppy. What was he waiting for? You to chase him out with a broom in hand? Or maybe for you to tell him please don’t go.

He had to. He had to leave and him lingering around you like a ghost was making it all the more difficult.

“It was a good harvest this year,” You finally answer, kicking out more leaves in your path. “Winter can be unpredictable, though. For extra assurance, we should probably think about getting bigger kills if we—”

You pause again, your back to him. He can’t see your face but he can guess what’s painted across it. Panic. Blushing embarrassment. You said it twice, the forbidden word.

We.

You’d both been dancing around referring to each other as a pair since he got here, now you were the first to let it slip. He knew what we meant. We meant I’m thinking of you. We meant I’m planning a future where you’re there. We meant don’t leave.

He doesn’t say anything, the pleasant afternoon soured by him asking silent questions. Joel didn’t like being so timid. It’s not who he was. He was a blunt, straightforward man— often to a fault. He wishes he could still be that emotionless with you. It’d make everything so much easier. Instead, he lives in fear of hurting you. Of bringing the curtain down on this small little paradise you’d given him. He didn’t deserve it. He didn’t deserve you. It’s time he gets back to what he was actually good at.

All things must come to an end, even the good things. He had to come back to reality. Joel just had to pull the trigger… but when?

He tosses a final fistful of leaves onto the barren garden and stomps off to the edge of the property.

“I’m gonna set up a few more traps.”

__________

A bloated awkwardness had settled between you both since this afternoon, and you have your stupid mouth to thank for it. The damn thing always got you into so much trouble.

You said we. You desperately wanted to try and recover and blurt that you were referring to you, Gus, and Lily, obviously, but that would have made the whole situation ten times worse. You just blurting whatever came to mind had gotten you into this mess.

How had Joel become such an integral part of your life in such a short time? He’d crawled into your heart and made a home there without even trying. From day one you knew he wouldn’t stay, and yet that never seemed to matter.

You’d told him six weeks for his estimated recovery time. It only took a glance at the calendar to see that specific date had come and gone. He’d been recovered. Walking strong with newly healed over scars. He was a picture of health… and he was still here. That meant something.

He hadn’t mentioned the QZ once. Not even people inside it. He’d been vague, at best, about what he’d done there. The only family you knew about was his brother, who was likely now hundreds of miles away. What did he have to go back to, you wonder. You’d never asked, but then again he probably wouldn’t tell you if you did.

Maybe you’re waiting for him to ask. Ask if he can stay here… but you probably made your feelings about that rather clear… right? Maybe you have to ask, then. Ask him to stay. Tell him how you feel.

The fear of rejection is a powerful one. People underestimate it all the time.

So, instead of facing the fear, you dance around in this awkward limbo you’d made for yourself, because of your big dumb mouth.

You’re curled up on the couch while he passively plays guitar in the corner of the living room, Gus and Lily curled up at his feet like he always belonged there.

The playing stops and you dare to glance in his direction. His gaze is on the curled-up fur children at his feet, sadness pulling at his features. You can only hope what he’s thinking about.

“Hey,” he looks at you, “So… I was thinking bout somethin’.”

“That’s dangerous.” You hope, just for a moment. Hope that he’ll ask to stay the winter. Stay longer. Stay forever. Just… stay.

“Yeah,” he gives the weakest smile you’d ever seen in your life. Oh no. “I was… thinkin’ about when I should leave.”

You’d never had your hope dashed so quickly.

“Yeah?” You say, trying your best to hide the fact that your heart is shattering.

“I should… do it soon. Before the snow falls.”

You look away from him, clutching your book to your chest, “That’s… a good idea.”

He lets the silence brew in the room. God, if you thought the air between you two was uncomfortable before…

You hold back a tear, putting on a brave face. “When were you thinking?”

He’s set the guitar aside, leaning heavily over his knees. He wrings his hands together nervously.

“Tomorrow.”

The single word is like an arrow to the heart. Tomorrow? That soon? You can’t believe you’d scared him off so easily. If there was a time to tell him to stay, it was now. Beg him not to go. Tell him how you feel. Show him he’d always have a home here.

Say something. Anything.

“That’s… soon.”

Idiot.

“It is.” He nods dismissively. You don’t know why, but you really want to punch him right now. He sighs, coming over to take a seat next to you. Good. Closer to punch. “I’ve taken enough from you, darlin’. It’s time I be on my way.”

“Good, you’ve been a nuisance anyway.” You think hiding behind some sarcasm will distract from the stinging behind your eyes. It doesn’t. Still, you manage to will the tears to stay inside, “It was a pleasure you have you, Joel.”

He rests a hand on your thigh and you swear it burns. “I… don’t know how to repay you.”

Don’t leave. You want to say it so badly. That’s how he could repay you if that’s what he felt he needed to do. Is it selfish of you to want him all to yourself? Like a treasure you found. Yes, of course it is. He had a right to leave. He had a right to his own damned free will.

“Just live, that’s all you have to do,” You place your hand on top of his, “And come back to visit?”

“Of course.”

Those sorrowful deep brown eyes say all his mouth never could. Does he even really want to leave? God, you hate this. What do you do now? Do you eagerly start packing his supplies? Leave him alone? Cry? Beg? Say it. Just say it!

“Joel…” You squeeze his hand just a little tighter. His expression lightens, just a little. “I…” I don’t want you to leave. “I’ll miss you.”

Coward.

He breathes out a small smile, squeezing your hand back. Can he feel it? Your heart breaking.

His other hand comes up to rest on your cheek. “I’ll miss you too, darlin’.”

“Joel…”

This was too much. He was too much. You can’t just sit idly by while this happens. You can’t just watch him leave without fighting just a little. Without speaking your peace. If you don’t, you know you’ll regret it forever. You have to do something. Do anything.

You come crashing into him, your lips finding his immediately. He moans into you, his other hand coming up behind your head to pull you in closer. He wanted this too. Good. You crawl on top of him… or he guides you down to the couch, you’re not really sure. It doesn’t matter. You had him, here, right now. When your words fail you, this is how you can tell him. Tell him to stay.

His hands trail down from your face and squeeze your waist, pulling you closer to him. You rake your hands through his hair in a frenzy, just needing more. All of him. Oh god, he felt so good already. His tongue comes out to explore your mouth, you open with a desperate sigh. He was eager. He was willing.

He was yours. Right now he was yours.

Your hands drop to his belt. You feel him flinch under your touch.

“Darlin’... I…” he breathes between your lips. Whatever he was going to say dies on his tongue. His hips raise up in encouragement.

“Joel,” you moan as you undo the buckle, “Joel, I—”

A mighty gust of wind shakes the cabin, testing its very foundation. You both jolt upright, the moment completely ruined by shock. The windows rattle with newfound intensity. The bones of your little home creak in protest.

A storm was coming.

“Shit…shit,” you grumble, climbing off Joel, much to your disdain. You walk over to your little weather station by the front door, three little mounted dials that Art always swore by. A thermometer, a barometer, and a hydrometer. The temperature had dropped significantly since this afternoon, dwindling down past freezing. The air pressure was dropping rapidly, you swear you see the needle moving before your very eyes. Yep, the telltale signs of a storm. When you glance out the window your heart drops.

The snow had only just started to fall, small white specks starting to blanket the ground, and it was picking up speed. The sky was barely visible, the undoubtedly massive clouds whited out by an oncoming freeze. It was going to be a blizzard—a big one.

“What is it?” Joel comes up behind you.

You groan, wishing so badly you could ignore it and take him back to the couch and continue where you left off— but you know you can’t. You’d said earlier that winter was unpredictable, and that was true. Early snow meant more work that had to be done now before it got worse. Preparations done to assure your safety. More wood inside, more water in the tank, relocating the chickens, bringing up more food from the cellar— You could both do it before the storm got worse. If you hurried it’d be done in an hour. Then you could get back to… everything.

You were likely going to be snowed in for a few days. Maybe it’s a sign, you think. A final gift from the almighty to get Joel Miller to stay just a little longer. You’ll take what you can get.

“Winter came early.”

#joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #Joel Miller #tlou #the last of us #recovery time

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