#we're lucky he didn't fucking lose it
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sometimes I forget that in s4 Steve was literally The Adult. Hawkins Crew thought Hopper was dead and Joyce was across the country and unavailable. Steve was literally the oldest person in all of Hawkins to be Upside-Down aware for the first time ever. Imagine being under that much pressure.
#shut up az#Steve Harrington#hes literally always been on the b team#and suddenly they're the main plot and he's in charge#we're lucky he didn't fucking lose it#thank God they had Nancy or he probably would have
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mamma mia | formula one social media au
drivers: sebastian vettel, jenson button and fernando alonso
what the hell is in the water in greece? why are pregnancy tests so expensive and why does seb name his vehicles like that?
fernandoalo_oficial
liked by maxverstappen1, aussiegrit and 803,450 others
location: greece
fernandoalo_oficial: had a great break in greece recharging the old batteries 🔋
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user1: old man who is this woman?
landonorris: who taught you to soft launch grandpa?
fernandoalo_oficial: hey! respect your elders
landonorris: you just called yourself old? and WHO IS THIS?
fernandoalo_oficial: none of your damn business kid
user2: why is he particularly dilfy lately?
user3: he's approaching silver fox territory i fear
jensonbutton: i see that greece was a popular spot for wold champions this break?
fernandoalo_oficial: i also saw, sad not to bump into you old friend :(
maxverstappen1: where was my invite ???
jensonbutton: cool world champions only
lewishamilton: excuse me?
fernandoalo_oficial: idk what to tell you it wasn't planned, me, jenson and sebastian just have good taste
sebastianvettel: i see mary goodnight was appreciated
fernandoalo_oficial: yes thank you for lending me your boat, huge hit with the ladies
sebastianvettel: very happy with my choice to get it deep cleaned before i got there
fernandoalo_oficial: first of all, i'm not dirty. second of all, thanks for the faith in my game big man
user4: i am so confused by this comment section I DID NOT WANT TO KNOW ALONSO FUCKED ON SEB'S BOAT ???
yourusername
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tagged: yourbff
yourusername: (sober) brunch with a side of light baby daddy investigation
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user7: only y/n would end up in a mamma mia situation, stay strong
yourusername: omg i didn't even realise, but donna was always a bad bitch, so i will just be the same
user8: i can't believe i am watching a girl investigate her own baby daddies on the internet (i love this place)
yourbff: if we can't find the lucky men, at least they'll have a cool ass aunt
yourusername: all fun and games until you have to change a nappy
user9: i'm enjoying this saga, BUT, why can't we just wait and do a paternity test
yourusernmae: i still need to know them to do that... and being nosey is far more fun
user10: all i'm thinking is this girl has to have GAME for three dilfs in the span of like three days... RESPECT 🫡
user11: i am so invested in this... please be interesting people 🤞
jensonbutton
liked by sebastianvettel, fernandoalo_oficial and 401,330 others
jensonbutton: back on sky duty and bumped into a couple of familiar faces
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user12: who let these old men talk about their sex lives on a live broadcast?
user13: i am entertained tbf
user14: obsessed with both needing to reinforce the fact that they pulled in greece
user15: i need seb to jump in on this conversation ASAP
fernandoalo_oficial: not happy with you pinning all of my success on seb's boat mate
jensonbutton: was it all your charming personality?
fernandoalo_oficial: obviously
sebastianvettel: i can confirm that it's always all the boat
jensonbutton: is that a confession?
sebastianvettel: gentleman don't kiss and tell x
charles_leclerc: jesus christ and we're the generation ruining the sport?
jensonbutton: f1 has always been slutty, you guys are letting us down
maxverstappen1: clearly you guys are still active enough to keep up the reputation yourselves
sebastianvettel
liked by charles_leclerc, jensonbutton and 902,180 others
sebastianvettel: retirement is looking fun, glad to take mary goodnight out for her first spin
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user21: did he just say mary goodnight? SEB WHAT?
user22: omfg he is potential baby daddy two??
charles_leclerc: so seb got a bit too lucky in greece?
user23: CHARLES?
user24: i am losing my mind they were right, they are the baby daddies
user25: i knew as soon as she said a nando with a samurai tattoo
user26: @yourusername he's number two !!!!!
user27: @yourusername we found him, boat and all
landonorris: YOU'RE POTENTIAL BABY DADDY TWO SEB WHAT THE FUCK
sebastianvettel: i don't understand lando
landonorris: check your texts
user28: don't forget the others lando
landonorris: @fernandoalo_oficial check your texts (and forward it to jenson i don't have his number)
fernandoalo_oficial: okay?
yourusername: WHAT THE FUCKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKK
user29: i think someone needs to check on her
yourusername
liked by sebastianvettel, fernandoalo_oficial and 1,509,600 others
yourusername: i hot girl summer-ed a bit too close to the sun, what do you mean the three dilfs were f1 world champions?
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sebastianvettel followed yourusername
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note: AHHHHHH? idk if i love it or hate it? do i know who i plan on being the dad? no. but do i plan on expanding on this? yes. mamma mia chaos will return.
#f1 imagine#f1 x reader#f1 instagram au#f1 x you#f1#sebastian vettel instagram au#sebastian vettel x you#sebastian vettel x reader#sebastian vettel#sebastian vettel imagine#fernando alonso#fernando alonso imagine#fernando alonso x reader#fernando alonso instagram au#jenson button#jenson button imagine#jenson button x reader#jenson button instagram au
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Among Strangers | Bang Chan
•Synopsis: A handsome stranger takes it upon himself to take care of you in a crowded subway as you try to evade a man that had been following you after a night of drinking.
•Pairing: au Bang Chan x Female Reader
•Content Includes: smut, stalking, public unprotected sex, creampie, fingering, crowded area, sex with a stranger, biting, possessive chan, brief mentions of bondage and claustrophobia with a surprise ending. (I think that's everything)
an: This was first posted on my Wattpad but it was pretty ass and didn't do well so I fixed it up a little bit (a lot... Like it was so bad lol) and figured maybe it would be better appreciated here.
Part II
Want more smut? Follow the banana 🍌
After a chill hangout at the bar with some friends from work, you all decide to head home. It's been a chill night with not too much drinking. Since you live close by, walking home seems like a good idea for some fresh air. But as you split from the group, you realize you're not alone. You start to get this eerie feeling like you're being followed. Looking over your shoulder you see a hooded figure and the hair on the back of your neck stands straight up. At every turn there he is, shadowing your every move, sending shivers down your spine.
Nervous about the idea of him following you home, you hop onto the subway thinking you could hide among a sea of people. With the size of the crowd there's no way he could find you. You're confident it'll work as you weave your way through the crowd, tripping over your own feet in a rush to lose him. You aim for the door at the end of the car on the other side just to create some distance between you and him. You steal a glance over your shoulder, heart pounding, checking if the man is still behind you. But in a rush, you accidentally step on someone's foot, sending a jolt of embarrassment through you.
“Oh my god!” You exclaim, cheeks reddening. “I'm so sorry.”
When your eyes meet the stranger in front of you, you're met with kind gentle brown eyes belonging to a beautiful man with dimples and perfectly styled hair buzzed slightly on the sides.
“No worries.” He smiles sweetly showing off his perfect dimples while his velvety Australian accent engulfs you and calms down some of the panic in your chest.
Looking over your shoulder again, you catch sight of the man coming into your view. His gaze meets yours, and a smirk plays on his lips before he casually looks away. Panic surges again, your moment of peace gone, sending your heart into overdrive and your eyes to widen in alarm. The handsome stranger in front of you notices your reaction and follows your line of sight to the man in the black hoodie, mirroring your concern.
"Hey, you okay? That guy giving you trouble?" His voice cuts through the chatter of the people around you. His voice, laced with a hint of concern and tinged with something darker, making you snap your attention back to him.
The dim subway lights overhead cast shadows across his young face, highlighting his handsome features more rather than diluting them. You feel a knot tightening in your stomach realizing just how worried for you he is. He glares at the creep and the muscle in his jaw ticks once.
“He’s been following me since I left the bar. I was too afraid to go home so I tried to make a detour to shake him off but he's fucking relentless.” you explain in a quiet hush.
The creep looks over at you again as if to make sure you're still in his eyesight and looks away quickly to not draw attention to his shady acts.
“Maybe he'll back off if he thinks we're together? He looked away pretty quick when he saw me. I'll stay with you for however long you need. Just to be sure that you're safe.” The stranger beside you says sweetly.
You felt fucking lucky to have run into someone willing to help you, to keep you safe. You could've ended up locked in some damp dark basement if not for this man you thought to yourself. You can already feel the mild tipsiness from the alcohol wearing off and you feel more alert and aware of your surroundings.
“Thank you so so much.” You reply and the man holds his hand out for you.
“I'm Chris.” He gives you an award winning smile that lights up his whole face and yours.
You mirror his smile and take his hand. One shake and you gasp at the sudden static shock that you feel spread throughout your whole body rather than just your fingertips. His hand is soft and warm and your body suddenly feels hot all over as if you drank a lot more than you really did.
“Y/N.” You introduce yourself timidly and he gives a small nod of his head.
The train rattles to a stop and opens the doors behind you and Chris, letting on more people eager to get home after work. It becomes increasingly crowded and you're forced even closer to Chris. So much closer that you have to take a couple of steps back in an attempt to have some space, only for your back to hit the glass window of the other doors. Another stop and more people push in, bringing the creep closer to you and forcing Chris's chest to push into yours. He apologizes, placing gentle hands on my arms.
“If you get uncomfortable let me know. I'll try and make space.” He tells you, placing a hand above your head as the train rumbles along.
“Y-yeah okay.” You mutter, feeling the hard muscles underneath the white button up shirt he's wearing.
With the alcohol completely gone from your system now, you realize that the situation you're in is beyond embarrassing. Your breasts are rubbing against his chest with every rock and shake of the train in an almost lewd way. Granted you are thankful that he's keeping you away from being pressed up against some weirdo or worse the guy following you but still, It's awkward. There's no way he can't feel your heart beating so rapidly. The train makes a sudden bump and your bodies are pushed together even more.
“Sorry.” You whisper when your hands instinctively go around his middle. He chuckles and you feel it vibrate through your chest, causing the butterflies in your stomach to flutter awake.
“It's okay y/n. You give great hugs.” He says, the butterflies go mad and your face grows warm.
He's so sweet and so good looking there's no way he was flirting with me just now. No way, he's just a really sweet guy. Yeah… he's just being nice.
As the train continues to go on you feel eyes on you, burning a hole straight into your skull. Looking around Chris's muscular frame you see the creep, staring, lewdly licking his lips and undressing you with his eyes, no doubt. You squirm to try and get out of eye sight but Chris's strong hand holds you still.
“What's wrong?” He whispers. His voice makes you shiver against him and his fingers tighten on your arms briefly.
“That creep is staring at me.” It makes you feel disgusted. Your skin crawls the way his eyes slide over your face.
Chris curses under his breath and pauses. “I'll push up to give you enough space to turn around so he can't see your face. Maybe once these doors open we can quickly get off and lose him then.”
You nod at his idea and he pushes on the door, putting an inch between you two. It's not a lot of space to move but you try your best, turning around facing away from Chris and the creep. Now, at least like this, your breasts aren't crushed into him. Only now, your ass is pressing against his front. From one awkward situation to another…. This is what I get for going out after work on a Wednesday. You think to yourself. I should've gone straight home or at least changed.
The skirt you decided to wear to the office today is now hitched up just barely covering your ass. If you can just keep still maybe he won't notice and the situation doesn't get any more embarrassing than it is.
“So uh what do you do for work y/n?” Chris asks and clears his throat. You can feel every word against your back.
“Uh, I work at CBO. I'm an editor over there.” You feel him nod behind you slowly.
“I heard they're supposed to get a new CEO. Some big shot is what the news is saying.” He responds but you shrug. You haven't heard much about the new CEO except for that he's the son of the previous CEO as well as the new owner now that his father is retiring.
“I'm sure he'll be a great boss. I actually haven't met him yet. I don't even know what he looks like” You utter softly sounding uncertain. Would he be a great boss? Would he take care of you? Who knows he could change everything with just one hand.
══════════════•✦•✦•══════════════
The train enters a tunnel and you watch the lights outside in the darkness flick and zip past in a blur before noticing Chris's reflection. His eyes are on you, studying your face in the glass of the door. Your eyes meet in the all the air gets sucked out of your lungs like a sudden punch to the gut. His gaze is smoldering, far too hot to be on the receiving end of such intensity. No one says a word although his lips slowly form a sexy coquettish smile.
“Do you need me to stay with you when we get off while you call your boyfriend?.” He whispers.
You shake your head no, eyes still on his reflection. “Don't have one of those but I can call a friend to pick me up.”
As you're about to open your mouth again to thank him for the hundredth time, the train comes to a screeching stop and the lights in the car go out. Men and women grumble and some even scream. The force causes Chris to slam into you and your skirt bunches up further about midway up your ass. In a panic you tell him and he curses under his breath.
“I'll try to fix it but I have to touch you, y/n. Is that okay?” Him asking for consent to touch you makes him that much more attractive.
“Yes, please.” You say, just as a voice is heard over the speaker.
“Passengers, please be patient there seems to be some debris on the tracks that is blocking our route. They're already taking care to remove it. We'll be moving on shortly.” The voice is replaced with calming elevator music playing loudly.
That's a smart way to keep everyone calm so that no one panics. Only one panicking right now however is you. The feel of Chris's fingertips against your bare thighs is driving you insane. His touch is hot but you shiver like his fingers are made of ice. Why is it turning me on so much when he's just trying to fix my skirt?. The move is too slow to be legal that's why. His movements feel so sensual.
“Sorry, I'm trying not to draw attention.” He explains as if he can hear your thoughts.
Shit you want to stop him. To say never mind and to leave it as is and pray that the train will be stopping soon to let some people off… but you don't. Instead you hold your breath and squeeze your legs together. Your arousal grows to an unbearable high. It's just a simple touch. Why is it driving you crazy? You aren't inexperienced at your age by any means. You've had lovers before but this man's fingers, they burn wherever he touches.
“The material of your skirt seems to be stuck on my fly.” He says and the urge to crawl into a hole is strong. “I can fix it but I'll have to lower my zipper. Tell me what you're comfortable with y/n.” He whispers leaning closer to your ear.
Loose tendrils of your ponytail flutter around your ear from his breath and you mentally remind yourself to breathe. Would it be selfish to ask him to lower it? What if he's uncomfortable with that? This isn't just about you now.
“I don't want you to feel uncomfortable.”
He places his palm flat against your thigh comfortingly. “Whatever you decide, I won't be uncomfortable. As long as you're comfortable y/n, then so am I.” The conviction in his voice calms you and you give him a curt nod once.
“Lower it please.” You whisper, your voice sounding small with embarrassment.
His hand moves again from your thigh to your ass and you bite your lip hard. His knuckles graze the bareness and you unexpectedly feel him stir from inside his black slacks. Seems like I'm not the only one turned on by the other. Slowly and agonizingly, he lowers his zipper to not be heard over the piano and violin playing through the speakers.
“There. Are you okay?” You don't feel okay. You feel like you’re on the verge of dying from embarrassment and horniness. You can feel the opening of his pants against you and his growing erection pressing into your ass.
“I'm okay.” You lie. “Thank you Chris.”
Out of habit whenever you're riddled with anxiety, you shift your footing which only makes your ass rub against his erection more. “Shit. I'm sorry, I move around when I'm in an embarrassing situation and this takes the cake for me.”
He chuckles softly. “It's okay. I uh, I can't really control it unfortunately. Not when I've got such a beautiful woman like you in my arms. You make it… difficult to say the least.”
You rest your forehead onto the cold glass feeling the blush take over your whole face and he chuckles again.
“If I knew my evening would be like this I wouldn't have gone to happy hour with my co-workers.” Your sad confession fogs up the glass and you close your eyes.
He places a comforting hand on your hip. You're so packed he can't seem to stand the way he was before. His arms are restricted from raising any further than your hips now.
“It's okay y/n it's not all bad. We got to meet after all.” He says, making you smile.
“That's true. I don't know what would've happened if I didn't run into you.” His hands linger and you get so used to the heat that when he finally does move them away you feel cold and shiver under him. He groans softly, sending something like an electric current to the space between your thighs. That sound… you want to hear it more. Biting your lip you shift your weight from one foot to the other.
“Y/n…” Chris quietly says, sounding amused. “What are you doing?”
You shake your head feigning innocence. “My feet. It's these heels, I'm sorry.”
Why did I do that? I've seriously lost my mind but why do I want to do it again? The feel of him hard against your ass must be making you certifiably insane. This isn't right. Your better judgment screams at you. It's just your hormones getting out of hand.
When he places both hands on your hips and leans in, you expect for him to call you out on that blatant lie but instead he whispers, “Do it again.” All while slowly playing with the hem of your skirt.
You stifle a silent gasp, jaw dropping in disbelief, yet you obediently follow his instructions moving your hips just slightly. When you do, his left hand grips onto your hip tight and he sighs. His erection, that's fighting itself to stay inside the confines of his briefs, jerks forward against the fabric. Before you can shift again, his right arm wraps around you and his fingers find the wetness of your panties.
“So I'm not the only one fighting temptation I see.” His warm sweet breath fans across your cheek and your body sags a little in his arms when his fingers begin to dance.
Focusing on your breathing is all you can do so you don't faint from his touch. And trying to stay quiet now becomes a struggle the more his fingers move.
“Is this okay y/n?” You can only nod, too afraid of accidentally moaning and embarrassing yourself anymore today. He just chuckles and stops the torturous tango that his fingers were doing. “Use your words baby girl. Tell me if it's okay or not.” he instructs.
“Yes. It's okay, more please.” You hoarsely whisper, voice thick with lust.
Chris doesn't move, doesn't make a sound for what feels like minutes rather than seconds. Afraid that he might not have heard you, you open your mouth to repeat yourself when his fingers slip under the satin of your thong and into your slick folds.
“Good girl.” He says, his voice dripping with sex.
You lay your head back onto his shoulder as he works you just barely over the edge. Long fingers slipping in and out, massaging your thoroughly drenched cunt with ease. He grinds the heel of his palm against your clit and everything around you begins to blur. Lust, that primal urge, it ignites like a flame inside you, pulsating with an insatiable hunger that courses through every fiber of your being. You're so close to cumming around Chris's fingers, soaking his hand with your desire. You want to tell him just how close you are but if you let up on the hold your teeth have on your bottom lip you won't be able to control the sounds you'll make.
The lights come on just as you're about to come undone and he quickly removes his fingers just as quickly as he inserted them. The train begins to move again and you squint at the sudden light overhead that blinds you, breathing heavily. Before your eyes can adjust to the light and before your core begins to crave Chris's touch, you feel him fumbling behind you freeing his cock and distracting you from the frustration of your denied orgasm.
“Is there anything I should know?” He inquires, sounding like he's in a business meeting.
You don't need to ask what he's referring to. The real question though is do you really want to do this here, with someone you just met? What if you get caught? You both could get arrested. You could get fired. But there's no room in your mind for logic right now with the thrill and your need to cum clouding you. Fuck it.
“No nothing, I'm good. This is what I want.” You see his reflection smile.
“Good. Now, keep your eyes on me y/n.”
You feel the tip of him, covered in precum pressed firmly on your ass and his hands slide under your navy skirt pushing it up further. He hooks his thumb under the string of your thong and pulls it to the side. Your eyes never leave his face.
“No noise.” He warns, situating himself behind you, lining his cock up just right.
His cock feels thick and hot slipping between your thighs. You're so wet that there's little to no resistance as he pushes further and further until he's fully inside you. You let out a shuddering breath and your eyelids flutter close, feeling his warmth.
“No noise, remember? Look at me y/n. I want to see you when you cum on dick.” He tells you quietly, his voice more quiet than a whisper.
Your eyes fly open and stare at his reflection in awe of how gorgeous and composed he looks. He looks calm, like he's doing nothing other than waiting for his stop but his hands tell you otherwise. You feel it in the way he's gripping you to steal himself and to keep from bucking his hips into you at full force like he wants to. Like you want him to.
Instead he has to go at such an aching delicious slow pace so that the people behind him or next to you both aren't aware of what's going on. Your fingers long to hold onto him, to anything really. You're stuck standing still with your palms flat against the glass in front of you. Your breathing begins to fog the glass but you keep your focus on Chris and notice how his eyes go half lidded.
The brown seems to have gotten darker than the warm milk chocolate from earlier. One of his arms snakes around you and he presses his hand flat on your belly giving him more leverage. When he starts to move just a tad faster your heart rate skyrockets. The fear, adrenaline and lust mixing together creates an intoxicating concoction. Every glance, every touch, becomes charged with an energy that enthralls you. Your pulse echoes in your ears, drowning out all rational thought.
Chris's thrusts are covered up by the rocking of the train as it speeds down the rails. Your orgasm isn't far at this rate. Like a slow burn you feel it building up. A simmering that starts deep within your core, radiating up and outward. You're struggling to stay standing, to stay quiet now.
Your breathing comes out in ragged pants and your knees threaten to buckle the closer he brings you to ecstasy. You aren't the only one struggling, Chris's breathing is just as shaky and primal as yours and you hear him whisper something in another language before he murmurs “Fuck.” Into your ear, sending shivers down your spine. When your walls tighten around him he curses again and his gaze looks wild.
“Why do you feel so good around my cock y/n?” He asks but you don't dare respond. He smirks, grinding himself into you. “You take directions s-so well. So… obedient.” He whispers.
You can hear how he's losing his control. His composure has melted away and he no longer looks calm and collected. He looks like a man high on sex and chasing the release that's within reach.
“Y/n… fuck. Tell me, can I cum inside you? Will you let me fill you? Use your words beautiful.” He nips your neck just below your ear and you tremble.
“Yes. You can,” You bite your lip again to hold back what would've been a loud gasp when the train jerks Chris forward causing his cock to slam into your sensitive cunt. “You can cum inside. I'm so close Chris.”
“Then cum baby. Fucking cream on it y/n. Shit, so good.
Hearing him lose himself like that is your undoing and you're falling apart around him. The air becomes heavy with the heady scent of arousal, thick and intoxicating, swirling around you and Chris like a seductive veil. Each breath is laced with the taste of pleasure. Time seems to stand still as you stare at him. Eyes wide as you breathe through your nose squeezing your lips shut tight desperate to make no sound at all. Your cunt convulses around his cock begging to milk it of every drop.
The aftershocks of your orgasm shoot through you as he continues to thrust deeper and deeper. His own orgasm right at the edge. His arm tightens around you, hugging you closer to him. his breath becomes shallow and erratic as he reaches his climax.
“Fuck, fuck.” He whispers and he bites down hard on your neck over your fast pulsating pulse, sucking your flesh to keep himself from telling you how you belong to him now.
He bites you to keep the grunts and praises from tumbling out of his mouth uncontrollably. Because something about you makes him lose control. He doesn't do shit like this. He's careful, always planning and thinking things out. He just doesn't do spontaneity. He didn't plan this, it just happened. You just bulldozed into his life and he can’t get enough. What is it about you that makes him desire this cunt he's currently filling to the brim that he craves to make sore and swollen with his cock until the sun rises? Whatever it is, he's already addicted. He needs you in his own space, tied up nice and pretty like a gift only for him to unwrap. Fuck. He's already thinking of all the positions he'd have you in if you were at his place.
You watch in awe at how intense and irresistible he looks while he spills himself inside of you. His eyes hold so much power over you. You feel the weight of his possessiveness in his unwavering stare and it excites you immensely. You find yourself thinking of asking him to come back to your place where you'd be free to move around, cry his name out without anyone around. You're curious how sex with Chris would be in a more relaxed setting. If this orgasm was intense you can't imagine how it would feel when he isn't holding back.
He slowly pulls out of you, fixing himself as best as he can and then fixes your skirt back in place. He places a sweet kiss to the back of your head, chest still rapidly rising and falling. When you blush he chuckles.
“You're a cutie y/n. After all that, you blush from a kiss. So adorable.” He murmurs and you shift your feet. “If we don't get off soon I'll end up going for another round if you keep that up.”
You giggle and look back at him, “Sorry, I'll behave.” You sweetly say.
“What if I don't want you to?” He says instantly.
You blink at him, your face reflecting shock in the glass, and he chuckles. “To be honest with you y/n, I'd love to see you again if you'd let me.”
“Me? Seriously?” You whisper in disbelief.
“Of course. Preferably somewhere less crowded. I think after today I'll be just a little claustrophobic.”
You laugh and even after what just happened you can't believe how incredible of a guy he is. He wraps his arms around you, hugging you while you laugh.
“Has anyone ever told you that you have a beautiful laugh y/n?” He whispers and you shake your head. “Why does something as simple as hearing you laugh make me so hard? What have you done to me?”
A shiver of pleasure runs through your body and he exhales quietly.
“I'd fuck you again right now if we weren't about to stop.” He tells you followed by the robotic female voice informing everyone to wait until the train comes to a complete stop and the doors open.
As the subway doors slide open, Chris grabs your hand and pulls you through them, dodging the rush of commuters that are eager to go home. With ease he leads you away from the hooded creep that's desperate to find you, vanishing into the shadows behind a massive pillar. You peek out from behind Chris who scans the area cautiously. When the man doesn't see you he hops back on the train, disappointment evident on his face but relief floods over you. Glad that's over.
"Thank you Chris." you say, sending a quick text to your best friend for a ride. “For saving me I mean.”
"It was my pleasure, y/n." he replies smoothly, grinning at you, his gaze lingering on your lips. His thumb brushes your cheek, sending a shiver down your spine. "Anytime you need saving, or anything really just give me a shout, yeah?" He hands you a sleek black business card with fancy gold letters.
Maybe you will call him, because you really can't imagine that you'll get the memory of how he felt inside of you out of your mind. Besides, he made it very clear he wanted to see you again and how could you turn a man like Chris down?
After saying goodbye when your bestie arrives, you watch Chris walk away in the side mirror as the car eases into traffic. Glancing at the card in your hand, you see it reads "Chris Bang, CEO and Co-owner of CBO," and you feel a wave of shock and mortification wash over you.
“Who was that hottie?” Your friend asks bobbing her head along to the radio when she stops at a red light.
“My new boss…” You say, still feeling his warm cum still inside of you.
“Also... what the hell happened to your neck?”
#bang chan#stray kids bang chan#bang chan stray kids#bang chan smut#bang chan x reader#bang chan x female reader#bang chan x y/n#bang chan x you#skz bang chan#bang chan skz#bang chan hard thoughts#bang chan hard hours#bang chan fanfiction#bang chan fanfic#bang chan imagines#bang chan oneshot#bang chan scenarios#skz smut#bang chan au#bang chan drabbles#cb97#chan skz#chan stray kids#chan smut#skz hard hours#skz imagines#skz x reader#skz x you#skz fanfic#skz chan smut
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Logan Growlett in the Sheets
Pairing: Logan Howlett x Fem!Reader
Tags: nsfw, smut, rough sex, growling/snarling, claws pop out, feral!Logan Howlett
Word count: 0.6k
Ao3
A/N: I'm so sorry for the bad pun. Don't look at me!
Many called Logan wild, feral, an animal. You're the only one who knew the true feral Logan, when he was complexly consumed by his deepest instincts, the instinct to fuck and to breed his cute girlfriend.
Every once in a while he would get like this, pounding into you from behind, strong hands spreading your thighs open for him, holding you against him so you don't move away from his cock. Although a chase isn't a bad idea for the future. Right now you're not going anywhere.
"Where do you think you're going dollface? We're not done yet, my cock's still got so much to give you." Logan rasped.
His hands moved up your body, to your back, across your shoulderblades, putting a bit of extra pressure on your squirming body. Was it wrong for you to rile him up more? To want him to lose control with you and fuck you into the bed harder, fuck you cunt full of his hard cock.
"Why would I go anywhere when your cock is inside me?" You felt him push it all the way inside you, "Fuck. Harder. Faster." The demands trembled on your lips, earning a deep growl in return. Logan's hands pushed you all the way down on the bed.
Trapped between his hard body and the bed you couldn't move much, but you could still clench your pussy around him whenever he pulled out. "Greedy little cunt you got there. I'll make sure to give it what it wants, it's been so good for me today. You take my cock so well, my perfectly made toy." Logan's hips kept snapping forward, slapping into yours, your ass smacked hard every time. "Does my girl want to come?"
"Yeah. I need to... around your cock." You glanced back in time to see him grin triumphally. "I've been a good girl, just like you said." And according to him good girls got to come all they wanted to.
He knew how to make that happen.
"I know what you need babygirl. You need a big load in you. A creampie to help you come." His cock pulsed at his own words, just as eager as your pussy was.
You weren't gonna beg for his cum. Not this time, there was no need to when Logan got like this. There was nothing in the universe that would make him stop making you come. His body tensed on top of yours, his legs pushed on either side of you, trapping you beneath him completely, enjoying every moan you made, and more importantly the slutty, wet sounds of your pussy taking his cock.
He pushes off for a brief moment, inhaled once before his claws popped out and stabbed into the bed.
You would have scolded him for ruining yet another bed if your brain wasn't turning into mush and you could actually form words. Unfortunately you could only whine, "Logan..." Repeating his name over and over while he rutted into your pussy, full balls slapping loud against your skin, "Come." Arching your back as much as you were able you clenched your pussy walls around him, making sure he stayed inside you while you shook with pleasure, barely able to think of anything anymore.
"Cum? I'll give you lots of cum, all of it. Like you need." He chuckled. He heard you right, didn't mean he would stop fucking you now. "Be so full of my cum it's gonna drip out. Or I suppose I could keep my cock in for a little while longer, maybe even all day, keep you here, fuck you when I feel like it."
Warmth rushed through your body as he pushed himself close, his cum spilling both inside and a bit on the outside as well.
"That's a lot. You better stay here." Logan barked out a laugh, his claws slowly retracting before his strong arms slipped under your stomach, one hand patting directly over your pussy. "We'll see if you get lucky this time." If the both of you get lucky.
#logan howlett#logan howlett x reader#logan howlett smut#logan howlett x female reader#xmen x reader#xmen smut#xmen x female reader#wolverine#wolverine x reader#wolverine smut#wolverine imagines#wolverine fanfiction#marvel smut#marvelsmut#mcu smut#avengersmsut#marvel x reader#mcu x reader#mcu imagines#marvel imagines#avengers x reader#marvel x fem!reader#mcu x female reader#marvel x female reader#x female reader
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Can you do one where Adam sees you as a place holder for his wives and doesn’t respect you ever but when you want to leave him he realizes just how much he truly cares about you and then like over course of a period of time (your choice) we forgive him :)
Thank you for listening ❤️
This was a fun one! I love a bit of angst. Can't get enough of the stuff!!
💖 Please send me requests! Send me your own headcanons! I will draw! I'm obsessed rn!💖
Reader POV because I got a similar ask which I'll write as Adams POV
Used
It's all I ever asked for. To be respected. To be loved. It wasn't fair. Why did I have to be alone and wait for him while he was out galavanting around the heavens! How was it fair? He'd only ever sees me for sex. He wouldn't reply to my texts but god fucking forbid I miss one of his texts.
Or in this case ignore. I've had enough. I'm not being second choice anymore! So I texted him "we're done." I know it's cowardly to "break up" via text but it's not even like we were dating! I placed my phone down on my side table. I should of put it on silent. Why didn't I put it on silent.
Curling up on my bed, tears flowing from my eyes as I hear the vibration on my phone. He's either calling or text bombing me. I pick up my phone to see several missed called and about 20 texts already.
You think you're better than me?!
You're nothing!
I'm Adam!! I can get ANYONE I FUCKING WANT
YOU THINK I NEED YOU?!
I sob.
I must of fallen asleep during my crying of self pity. I stretch out my arms as I sit up only to see Adam at the doorway. I scream in surprise, falling off my bed hitting my phone off the nightstand in the process. "Adam?! What the hell are you doing in my apartment?!" I yell at him.
He stands there, looming over me. "You want to leave me?" He asked, never had I heard him so emotionless. I tut as I stand up. "You say that like you cared." I retort, picking my phone up from the floor. "Don't look at that." He took a step towards me, reaching out but I pulled away. "Why? You next me nasty shit? Telling me I'm worthless? That I was lucky to -" he interrupted, "y/n, I'm sorry. I just want to know what I did wrong."
I can't help but sigh, collapsing on my bed, hair covering my face. "I just... I can't... I don't want to be a place holder for you." I can hear Adam moving closer, his wings dragging across the floor. "What are you talking about?" One of his hands land on mine. "I don't want to be someone you just use until you find someone better." His fingers interlace with mine as his other hand brushes my hair from my face revealing my teary eyes. "I just want to be... I don't know, Adam."
His hand cups my face and I just can't help but melt into his touch. "Be mine?" I shrug in response. Clearing his throat he clarifies, "no, I'm asking. Be mine." I can't help but look at him like an idiot, my heart skipping a beat. "What?" He recoiled. "I mean, maybe we could start again? Like.. properly?"
"You mean like.. date? What happened to "I don't date. I'm the first man. I have the first penis ever bla bla!"" He stares at me with a blank expression. "I don't sound like that." "You do." Adam brow furrows in what I can only assume is annoyance. "Whatever, y/n, please. I can't lose you. I don't want to lose you. Please don't leave me." Never have I seen him look so weak. So... Small? "I'll have to think about it." I can't tell if he feels relieved or worried. Maybe both. "H-how long will that take?" He asked with a hint of desperation.
"I don't know, Adam." I shrug. My words hung in the air. "I really care about you, y/n. You have to believe me, babe." He kissed my hand before releasing it. "Just.. uh... Delete those texts. I didn't mean any of it." I watch as he leaves my apartment. No through the door of course, no, he always had to leave from the balcony. I usually watch as he flies away. But not this time..
It's been about a month since I last spoke to Adam. I've seen him about. Doing his thing. It makes me laugh. When ever he notices me he freezes up. Just last week he was talking to Sera and as soon as he noticed me walk past he just stared. I swear I heard Sera say "earth to Adam."
Today I decided. I head towards his office, walking past several anxious angles. I heard yelling come from inside his office and then something smash. Before I could knock the door swung open and standing before me was a very frustrated Adam. His feathers were literally ruffled. "Y/n?" He was surprised to see me but his expression changed quickly as he remembered in was in the presence of his underlings. "Come in." He stands aside letting you in to his office. It was mess. I mean, I've seen it messy before but this was a whole new level. Documents everywhere, a smashed mug on the floor and coffee stains on the wall. "Bad day?" I commented he grumbled in response. "There are no bad days in heaven."
He slumps down on his chair, watching me as I walk over to his office window, opening it to get some of that heavenly fresh air in. "So... I thought about it." He perks up, sitting straight. "And?"
"and I'm willing to start again. Properly." I don't even get a chance to turn and face him before he's already darted from his chair wrapping me in his arms. "Fuck, thank fucking Christ. Don't do that to me again. Please." His wings surrounded us. "Please, I'm sorry. I'll treat you so much better." "Promise?" "Yes, promise."
～♡✧｡ I really hope you enjoyed! I'm not a writer by any means but I appreciate any support I receive so thank you for reading! ｡✧♡～
#hazbin hotel#hazbin hotel x reader#hazbin adam#hazbin hotel adam#hazbin hotel adam x reader#hazbin hotel smut#adam x reader#hazbin hotel adam smut
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Night after Night: Charles Leclerc
Pairing: charles leclerc x fem!singer reader
Genre: Fluff🌥️ hints of sex?
About: when you release a song and the chaos it creates or the hardest launch ever
Your_username
Liked by charles_leclerc, badgirlriri, Adele and 89.k others
Your_username: Night after Night releasing tomorrow at 8pm. This song is honestly very different from all the songs I've ever written and I hope you guys would love it just as much as me ;) also a surprise guest for you guys☺️
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Username06: what the fuck?! You cannot just drop this on us!?!
User: the scream I let out! I fell on my knees
Ynfan: is this about sex? Why does it give smexy times vibes
Lovergirl: what if the surprise guest is the man she's been soft launching?
↪️Ynismyreligion: as if! We know nothing about the man apart from he's got dark hair and freckles on his back
↪️Lovergirl: the man in the photo has freckles just saying!
User: bestie wake up mother is back!!
Ynismyreligion: I can't wait for the song!! It's been so long❤️❤️
Fangirl16: Ariana( charles) what are you doing here?!
Ynismymom: who is that man? And why does it look familiar?!
Mybabygirl: Why do I feel like we're going to lose our mind because of this song?!
Badgirlriri: can't wait💙
↪️Your_username: I love youuu❤️
F1obssessed: charles liked this?
↪️Yourfan: who?
↪️Fangirlcl: he's a formula 1 driver.
↪️Formula1fan: girl you're overreacting he could be a fan🤦
↪️F1fan: you're reaching
↪️Smoothoperator: the freakles do look like him
↪️F1fan: and you know this because?
↪️Fangirl16: girl I'm telling you that's Charles like I would bet my life on this
Liked by pierregasly
↪️Formula1fan: what the fuck?! Pierre liked.
↪️F1fan: that man likes anything doesn't mean that's Charles
↪️ Georgerusselfan: you guys can think he can pull a baddie like her? Like be real guys
Charles_leclerc
Liked by peirregasly, your_username, carlossainz55 and 90.9k others
Tagged: your_username
Charles_leclerc: Surprise? Hope you guys enjoyed the music video as much as we enjoyed filming it ;) Baby I'm so proud of you♥️ and I'm so lucky to be loved by you...these months have been amazing with you by my side. I love you 😘 ps- did I make a good actor?
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F1fan: this is the hardest launch ever
Pierregasly: you sure did practice a lot
↪️Likedbygasly: lmao pierre
↪️Ynfan09: spill the tea gasly
Carlossainz55: I still can't believe the song is written about you
↪️Vettelfan: carlos💀
Landonorris: I so not needed to hear that
↪️Ynismyreligion: Lando😭😭
↪️Ynismylove: exactly there are children here
User: I like how she dropped one song and the F1 twitter was in shambles
Username05: Monday Tuesday Wednesday... Now the only thing I will remember is Charles giving yn the ride of her life
Fangirl16: the song has been stuck in my mind
LewisHamilton: Nice song Charles♥️
Smoothoperator: the whole grid is gonna make fun of Charles
Maxverstappen1: Nice to know your weekly routine mate!
↪️Fanoff1: Lmao max💀
↪️Fangirl16: just tell us that you watched the mv for Charles max
Danielriccardo: Oh didn't know you had game mate
↪️Superfan02: us too Daniel us too
↪️Randomfan02: With a face like Charles I don't think you need a game his face is game enough
Alexalbon: Nice song mate. Practiced a lot?
Georgerussel: l love how the whole grid is ganging up on Charles
Likedbygasly: I wanna know who texted the groupchat first when the video dropped
Your_username: Thank you for being in the video babe♥️ couldn't have done it without you😘😘😘
↪️Pierregasly: obviously couldn't have done it without him😂
↪️Username05: Pierre💀💀
Your_username: I loveeeee you♥️♥️
Username06: they're so cute
Charles_leclerc: nobody is complimenting my acting🙃
↪️Pierregasly: what acting?
↪️Maxverstappen1: you ate her face the whole video?? Are we supposed to compliment your kissing abilities?
↪️Landonorris: as if we haven't seen you guys sucking each other's faces off enough
#charles leclerc#charles leclerc x reader#f1 instagram au#charles leclerc imagine#charles leclerc x you#f1#fic rec#formula 1#charles leclerc x female reader#f1 imagine#cl16 imagine#cl16 fanfic#cl16 x reader#cl16#cl x reader#charles lecrelc#charles leclerc drabble#charles leclerc fanfic#charles leclerc fic#charles leclerc fluff#charles leclerc headcanon#charles leclerc imagines#charles leclerc insta au#charles leclerc instagram au#charles leclerc instagram edit#charles leclerc smut#charlotte sine#f1 social media au#f1 smau
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helen ; chapter three
the red circle
Si vis pacem, para bellum.
Or, the truth.
series masterlist | my masterlist
pairing: joel miller x f!reader
tags/warnings: 18+ (MDNI), john wick AU, hitman!joel, husband!joel, established relationship, artist!reader, love as worship (and blasphemy), sacrilege in the name of romance, flashbacks, graphic violence, guns, blood + injuries, mentions of rape/SA, cars, bill is here, joel is still a bit of an idiot, childhood/religious trauma, hitman!joel finally hitmans, criminal underworld, secrecy/lies, betrayal, ANGST (still unresolved oopsie), we're getting there though, exposition, conflicting emotions, joel's tattoos are sexy but they're also plot-relevant, Sleeping Together, but not like That, the typical alcohol/smoking/profanity, dividers by @/saradika
word count: ~ 7.6k
a/n: this chapter marks this fic being halfway done already, which is madness. also, can i just say that i'm loving the amount of people who've specifically been watching john wick because of this fic?? this is my agenda!! as always, thank you so fucking much to mya baby @cavillscurls for beta reading this fic and being, idk, generally the loml. i hope you enjoy chapter 3, my friends! i'm sorry it's been such a long time coming, but life lifed, y'know??
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“How much?”
“Two million. For now, at least. It’s open.”
“Goddammit, Tommy.”
“I told you to be careful, brother. Now look at you. You’re a loose end.”
Joel resisted the urge to toss his phone. The shower continued running in the bathroom, muffled by the closed door.
He couldn't lose you. He didn't know life without you. Love had no name until he knew you. He'd christened it with that first kiss, maybe even in the first breath he'd shared with you.
If there was a chance Cabrera’s kid could come back for you, even if just to hurt Joel, he needed to see this to its end. There was no choice.
“He tried to rape my wife,” said Joel. “He's lucky I’m only tryin’ to kill him.”
Tommy only sighed, and the call ended.
I married you, Joel.
I loved you.
You lied to me.
He rests his elbows on his knees as he watches you doze. The sunlight shines neatly through the break in the curtains, and you squint against it in your sleep, turning over with a little huff and bringing the duvet over your head. You’ve always needed total darkness for a half-decent sleep.
You’ve been crying. The tears leave remnants on your cheeks, a dryness at the outer corners of your eyes, salt seeping moisture from your skin. He’s never known a thing so soft as the drag of his hand down your back.
I loved you.
You lied to me.
You will never understand. There are reasons—too many to count—that civilians cannot know. He may have gotten you to relative safety in the Continental, but there are a hundred dangerous people in this building who have a long-standing grudge against Joel Miller or the man he worked for. A hundred people who would take you as collateral the moment you stepped outside the grounds. But as long as you remain inside, you’re safe.
He just needs to finish the job. He needs to see it through, and he’ll be out. You’ll realise he’s done it all for you.
I loved you.
Sitting on the edge of his bed, he watches the rise and fall of your chest beneath the sheets. He broke your heart last night. He watched you turn in on yourself, your eyes so cold, so far away. He listened to you scream, and inside he pleaded: Keep hitting me, baby. Keep shouting. Be mad. He wanted you loud and furious and spitting fire. If you were angry, you still cared. He could work with that.
And to see you walk away, the fire frozen over, the fight in your marrow sucked out…
The anguish of losing your ire still stirs in his chest. The guilt peels him away in layers. Acid.
She’ll understand, he tells himself, you, anyone who’ll listen. She’ll get it someday—why I did it, why I lied. She’ll forgive me.
Forgive me, baby. Don’t let me live the rest of this life never seeing you smile.
“Stop looking at me,” you grumble, your eyes still closed.
Joel averts his eyes. His throat feels tight. “You sleep okay?”
You haul yourself upright and stretch out your back. Joel studies the curve of your spine and the nape of your neck. You’re the muse painters rave about. The reflections of sunlight on water at dusk. The pond of water lilies.
“You didn’t. Your sheets haven’t even moved.”
“I can’t sleep without you.”
You give him a heavy look, your eyes bleary with sleep. “You managed all those years before me, Joel. Let’s not do this.”
“What if I want to do this?” he says, dropping to the floor next to your bed and taking your hands in his. You try to pry yourself free, but he drops his head and traps you in his rapt vigil.
“Joel…” Your voice is still groggy, but there’s agony in the way you say his name.
“You’re my wife,” he says against your skin. “You’re the only person I’ve ever loved. You’re the girl I saw that night in the restaurant with the pretty eyes and you’re the girl I called every night just so I could hear your voice, and you’re always gonna be the only fucking girl for me. You’re my reason for everything, baby. I need you. Please… please just understand. You have to know that.”
You’re silent for a long while, your legs curled under you as your own husband kneels as if in prayer. Your throat burns with more tears you have little energy left to shed. You whisper his name.
He looks up and you find you cannot meet his eyes. So you stare at one of the patches of skin that disrupt the brown-grey of his beard. “That first night at the restaurant,” you say, trepidation colouring your voice blue, “you disappeared after the second course. When you came back, you told me you had to take a call. Was that the truth?”
Joel’s eyes are frantic in their search for an answer. “Don’t,” you snap. “Don’t lie to me again. Was that the truth?”
“There—” His voice cuts off, his eyes shuttering. “There was a target. That’s… why I was there in the first place.”
Your sob dies in your chest. It doesn’t even make a noise. You wrench your hands out of his, and he lets you, still kneeling at your bedside like a lost sinner. “Love has never been the problem. You might love me, but you’ve never told me the truth. Not from the first day.”
One of his hands wraps around your ankle. “I wanted out. I wanted out my whole life, and you’re the one who made me find the way. Cabrera, he… He gave me an impossible task. I completed it. And I gave you this ring.” He brushes his thumb over the knuckles of your third finger where your bands are still secure. “You said yes. You married me. Doesn’t this mean something?”
The sound of your hollow laugh hurts more than any words you could use to cut him. “It did,” you confess, “when I knew exactly who my husband was.”
He shakes his head, his lips parting in another desperate cast, but you’re standing up and crossing the room, gathering your toiletries for the bathroom. “What happens now?” you ask.
Joel stares at the ring on his finger. “I’m going to talk to the Manager. You have to stay here.”
“Okay,” you say softly. Your back is rigid. “Just tell me something.”
“Anything,” says Joel.
“If I asked to leave,” you whisper, “would you let me go?”
Joel feels his heart crack in two. He remembers the small outdoor wedding, in the heart of May, when he’d seen you walk down the aisle toward him and struggled to find the words, as he always did, that would be good enough.
I vow to love you, he'd said, his hands trembling as he took yours. I vow to be your partner in all things. I vow to show you every piece of my soul, the way you've given me yours, and to be gentle with your heart.
I vow to be the man you want, the man you need, and the man you love.
He’s failed. He knows that. But you smiled at him that day, your eyes brimming with tears that turned black from your mascara, and you kissed him before the officiant said the words.
I loved you.
“I’d do anything you asked me to,” he says, “but not that.”
Joel made a stop at the Continental Tailor before he went to find the Manager in the lounge. He paid the Tailor a bit too much for the new suit, he realises now, the sleeves a bit too tight, the pants not quite tapered. He was dressing a different body than the one he knew all those years ago.
Joel weaves through the darkness as a crooning voice sings something about evil men up on the stage. The band is playing along, a smooth jazz tune, and the bodies around him smell of expensive cologne and perfume and vodka. He remembers with a start why he hated this place so much.
Adjusting his jacket, he finds the Manager sitting in the VIP section on a long curved booth upholstered in crimson velvet, sipping a dry martini.
“Joel,” he says, lifting his glass in toast.
“Bill.”
The Manager doesn't look particularly thrilled. “You know there’s an open contract on your head. Who did you have to kill to end up back here?”
“Just a couple people.” Joel sits opposite him. “I need information.”
“And you're here on more business. Does your consort have anything to say about that?”
Joel curls his fingers into a fist atop the table. “I’m invoking my guest privileges. And she is my wife.”
Bill sniffs in amusement. “So, you did end up marrying the gal. Good for you, Joel. She's a stunner.”
“Fuck you, Bill.”
A short, booming laugh. “Nobody will so much as look her way. You have my word and all it means.”
“Doesn't mean much,” says Joel. “I’m just visiting.”
“Don't be the idiot I know you aren’t,” says Bill, leaning forward and setting his glass aside. “You dip so much as a pinky back in this pond, and you won’t get out so easy. Sometime, somewhere, someone’s going to come to you with another impossible task.”
“And I’ll complete it,” says Joel. “Emiliano Cabrera. Where is he?”
“You really wanna do this, Joel?”
“Yeah.”
“Your wife may be safe now, but she won’t be forever.”
“That’s why I’m going to finish it. That’s why I’m going to kill him.”
The Manager sighs, polishing off his martini. “You know damn well business will not be conducted on Continental grounds, Joel. You may as well go have a drink at the bar, take a load off. I can’t tell you anything while you’re inside my hotel.”
Joel suspected as much. “Then tell me something you can.”
Bill’s nostrils flare and Joel feels some satisfaction knowing he can still push the old man’s buttons. “I’ll tell you what: the game has changed since you left it. Your only chance is to get out now, while you still can. What could possibly warrant the Boogeyman reentering the fold?”
Joel licks his teeth. Your eyes blurring with tears as your skull connected with the ground, your body going limp as he stood above you. The clink of a belt buckle echoes still in his head. If he hadn’t been fast enough—
“It’s personal.”
Bill’s gaze dips. “Well,” he says, “then, unofficially, I wish you the best of luck. But, as a former friend”—Joel snorts —“let me give you a piece of advice. Take your wife home and forget about all of this. I like you, Joel, but for her sake and yours, I’d rather never see you again.”
Joel doesn’t take it personally. “Tell Frank I said hello.”
Bill grabs a full glass from a passing server. “Fuck you, Joel.”
He nods his head, closing the lapels of his jacket and slipping the first button through the opposite slit. As the singer on the stage transitions into the next song, Joel orders a glass of bourbon and watches the bartender slide his drink over on a pristine white napkin.
“On the house, per the Manager’s request,” says the bartender. “Welcome back, Mr. Miller.”
Pristine—save for the small red circle drawn with marker on the centre. Across the bar, Bill raises his glass in another toast, and Joel leaves the lounge, his drink untouched.
It’s a Tuesday night, and the Red Circle is lined up around the corner. One must know someone to get inside, and that someone must be a paying member. Joel had a membership by default, being contracted under Cabrera, but it was revoked along with his other privileges once he had completed his task.
You would hate this place. It’s throbbing bass and flashing neon lights and sweat-slick bodies rubbing up against one another. It’s brick and industrial metal and glass and the people don’t mix, either.
Maybe part of him is hedonistic, too. He doesn’t think he ever used to be. The job gave him wealth to spend that he never cared to; when he met you, he began to understand the pleasure of material things. Gold shone when it hung around your neck and wrapped around your fingers. Diamonds glittered like the jewels in a crown when you wore them on your ears. And when he pulled you close to him for the first time, undressing you slowly, hooking his fingers in the lace panties he’d bought for you and bringing his mouth to the heat between your legs, Joel began to understand the draw of pleasure.
It isn’t that he’d never had sex before you. He’d just… never been interested before you. Bodies always felt… too cold. They were complex. They were things to be followed, things to be killed. They were names on a piece of paper. They would bleed all their warmth and light into his palms and he would return, limping, to a house he never cared about and absolve himself of red. He’d never known the thrill of a body until he tucked his hand under the soft swell of your naked breast and put his mouth on yours and felt your heartbeat bleed into his hands. He never wanted to wash it off.
If I asked to leave, would you let me go?
After the orphanage, Joel visited a church only once.
He hadn’t meant to find it. He’d heard an organ humming from within. The cathedral was taller than it was wide, built for a small gathering. He’d slipped inside during a sermon, delivered by a pastor with white hair and a pair of wilting hands. Joel watched the tremors pass through his face, the agonising pulse of the vein in his throat, the way he would gulp down mouthfuls of water. He spoke with rhythm, with melody, and when he was finished, he grasped the edges of the pulpit, his head bowed in silent prayer. Joel thought he had never seen a more devoted man in his life.
When the sermon was over, he waited his turn to speak with the pastor. He did not know why. He hadn’t felt a stirring in his chest at the word of God; he never had.
I’ve never seen you in here before, my son.
Joel shook his head, frowning at the ground. I… left the faith, in a way. When I was young. I’m… sorry.
Devotion is a choice, said the pastor, taking Joel’s hands in his own. They were wrinkled, speckled with age spots. Joel lifted his gaze to find the pastor smiling. As with all things in life. Devotion, my son, is not a birthright. We must find it. Though it may not be His word, you will know someone’s word. And you’ll find it will move you enough that you choose to follow it. To whatever end.
Joel has been slashed, burned, drowned, whipped, beaten, strangled. He could count the telltale black spots in his eyes like dreamers count sheep. He developed a reputation because he was good at what he did. He was efficient, fast, lethal. He once killed three men in a bar with a pencil, they whispered. A fucking pencil. Word in the Underworld spread of a boogeyman who would take your life in your sleep if you wronged the wrong person, if you were just an unlucky bastard.
Their word never mattered. He’d never knelt in the blood of a victim and prayed for absolution. He would never find it, anyway. His soul was black.
If I asked to leave, would you let me go?
No word has ever cut so deep as yours. How could he wake up every single day next to the love of his life and lie so easily to your face? How could he put a ring on your finger knowing damn well he’d betrayed your trust every second of your time together and you never even knew about it?
How could he wear the mask of your husband and dream of blood on the very same hands that touched you each night?
Joel checks his watch. It’s one o'clock in the morning. You’ve been sleeping since breakfast. You won’t sleep a wink tonight if this keeps up, but it seems you’d rather do anything in the world than speak with him.
He doesn’t blame you.
He found his word that night in the restaurant. He’d followed it, followed you, wherever you took him. And he will follow you, his almighty word, beyond the grave, to whatever end you decide.
He will not abandon his faith. His purpose. He will not throw up his hands and let you walk away. He’s made mistakes he cannot mend. He can’t go back to the day you met and tell you all he should have, rules be fucked. He cannot fix what he’s already broken. You cannot put a piece of tape over fractured glass, a bloodied hand over wounded skin.
He made his fucking vows. It’s time he lived up to them.
Across the street, Joel watches, turning over the knife in his pocket by the hilt. Emiliano Cabrera and his lackeys step out of Joel’s Mustang and toss the keys to the valet. They skip the line, smacking one another around and jeering at the ladies in line, and Joel feels the hunger pull at his teeth.
His first target is posted by the east entrance. Joel takes the alley, stepping aside trash bags brimming with used needles and slipping the Glock from the lining of his jacket. The weight of it is formidable in his hand. Under the cover of dark, he slides into a second skin, black as the names they call him. Bringing the gun to the back of the guard’s head, he watches those huge shoulders stiffen.
“Francis,” he says politely.
“Joel,” says the guard.
“Workin’ late?”
“Why?” says Francis. “You want in?”
“Yeah,” says Joel, “I do. You lost weight.”
“Twenty-seven pounds, if you’ll believe it.”
Fuck.
Twenty-seven guards tasked with protecting the little shit. Joel may have a reputation, but it’s been years. He was ambushed in his own home last night. And after it all, he’d let the bastard slip between his fingers.
“Why don’t you take the night off?”
Francis lowers one meaty hand to the piece in his ear and takes it out. Turning his head, he says, “Can you at least lower the gun?”
Joel does. “Wasn’t sure you’d remember me.”
“Word’s going around. They say you’re back.”
“I’m just passin’ through.”
“Sure, Joel.” Francis offers his hand, and Joel shakes. “You better make it quick. I don’t feel like getting fired.”
“Understood.” Joel slips inside, letting the door click shut behind him.
Even from afar, the music lives in his chest, a writhing thing that seeks departure by way of his throat. He tries to swallow and it wriggles back up again. The bass throbs hard against his ribs.
There’s a bathroom on the VIP floor. As he sneaks by the frosted glass partition that separates him from the public, Joel hears the squeak of locker doors. He puts his palm on the door and pushes inside.
Did you see the tits on that girl? says one man in Spanish. Emil got a pretty one.
Another lets out a booming laugh. Shut the fuck up, man. Good pussy and you tuck your tail and run.
Yeah? And you're in here because you scored?
I’m in here because bitches prefer to choke on clean dick. What's your excuse?
Neither feels the breeze of the shadow slipping behind them. Neither of them sees the man in black lock his arm around one of their necks and squeeze until there's no air left. By the time the other has turned on the porcelain sink and begun to splash his face, the boogeyman has him by the scruff of his neck, fisting the collar of his fluffy white bathrobe. The sink continues running, and he’s choking on the warm water as Joel holds him down.
“Jesus! Fuck!”
“Where is Emiliano?”
“Vete a la mierda,” he splutters. “Let go of me, motherfucker!”
Joel takes one of the man’s fingers and bends it all the way back. His screams are muffled by Joel’s hand.
“Where is Emiliano?”
“The bathhouse, downstairs,” he groans. “Fuck, let me go, pendejo!”
Joel bares his teeth, breaks the man’s neck, and leaves him slumped over the sink, the water still running.
The bathhouse is doused in red and blue. The water is illuminated from within, and the whites in his victim’s eyes glow where he stands half-submerged, toasting a bottle of champagne to his rowdy friends. Joel flattens himself to the wall, listening for the tread of dress shoes. The music pounds too loudly for him to hear, but he can see the shadow before he sees its owner.
“Clear,” says the voice.
When he rounds the corner, Joel drives his knife into the man’s throat and silences his gurgling moans by clamping a hand over his mouth. He slides down the wall, and Joel holds his gaze while the light slowly dims in his eyes.
One.
Two more men are waiting behind the partition, hands folded in front of them. Joel does not recognise them. Their suits are pressed, Italian; it seems Cabrera has made some alliances. Joel lies his first victim on the ground and prowls toward his next two.
They go easily: unsuspecting, they bleed out under his blade, choking on their blood, and he leaves them lying by the foggy partition. Three.
The music is dreamy, the crooning of two voices set to a throbbing track. In the bathhouse, he hears the sloshing of water and the singing of a group of men nearby. They're singing an old folk song, Joel realises. A song about a ghost.
Hurry, fall asleep, or the Boogeyman will come for you…
They don't sound particularly frightened by the spectre haunting them. Joel watches them toast their bottles of champagne and grab the waitresses’ asses. It's Emiliano and his friends, all right. Joel spots another five guards around the waist-deep water and another two by the doors upstairs.
There's a childlike self-assuredness about him—this kid. He thinks he's protected, safe, almighty as God. He sings about Joel and smiles.
A guard leans over him and sneers. “You need to stop drinking.”
“Are you scared of the fucking boogeyman?” jeers the kid. “I’m not! Hijo de puta.”
The guard plucks the bottle from his hand and passes it off. “You wanna vomit while you run away? Or would you just prefer to get shot in the head?”
Emiliano’s haughty sniff makes Joel wonder if a bullet in the head is retribution enough. “Get me another fucking bottle!” he says to his friend.
Joel picks up a bottle of complimentary cologne and tosses it. The glass shatters, potent liquid pooling on the shiny floor. Three guards flank the partition. The music is too loud to let the sounds of his blade in flesh seep through.
Six.
On the other side of the glass, coloured blue and red and slick with humidity, the singing continues.
From the swamp he will come…
He feels the wet splash of blood on his face.
… and take the children that don't behave.
Another man rounds the corner as Joel is tearing the knife from the last guard’s throat. He doesn't have enough time to slash his throat, so he pulls the handgun from his holster and shoots. He crumples to the floor, but Joel’s cover is blown.
“He’s here! Miller’s here!”
The partition explodes. Glass rains on him as he rolls to evade the gunfire, raising his barrel to strike at the remaining guards.
Seven. Eight.
The men by the stairs are shouting some Spanish, some Italian. The music carries on, but the song they're singing has ended.
Joel finds the man he's been looking for: hiding behind a petrified waitress, Emiliano Cabrera looks like a goddamn child. He's wrapped himself hastily in a bath towel around his waist, and his eyes are wide as saucers. Yeah, Joel thinks, I’m going to enjoy this a little.
He locks eyes with Emiliano for only a moment. The guards at the top of the stairs begin to fire at Joel. He ducks behind the wall as shots chip brick from the wall or plunk uselessly in the water. By the time he flanks them around the other side of the wall and brings them tumbling down the stairs—ten—the kid has already run. Joel growls at the loss of the kill and follows him into the club.
With an eruption of deafening music, Joel bursts into the crowd. Behind him, a gigantic LED screen is illuminated with spirals in red and blue and white. Women dance in elevated cages while the crowd below becomes a sea of skin and sequins and sweat. Joel reloads, checks the clip, and resumes his hunt.
Eleven, twelve, thirteen. Joel feels the punch of the barrel into their chests as he fires, again and again and again. The commotion is lost in the din of the music and dancing. Bodies connect and grind and Joel kills.
Fourteen. A guard by the wall. Fifteen. Another lurking by the LED spirals. Sixteen, seventeen—two men rushing him in an attempt to ambush, eyes wild with rage and a bit of fear. Joel puts them down like sick dogs and continues to push through the crowd, his eyes locked on the retreating Emiliano, who's waving a gun about like a white flag.
But it's no surrender. It's a beacon, a sign that the deer is spooked. Joel feels his lip curl. So frightened, he thinks.
Eighteen, nineteen…
Your bleary eyes, blinking through the pain, limbs limp and helpless as he unbuckled his belt above you. A cut on your face, barely bleeding. The red still consumes him.
You were so afraid that night.
Twenty.
Twenty-one.
He's getting closer. The crowd parts down the centre as Joel marches toward his goal. But the music is loud and he does not hear the approach from behind.
The gunshot grazes his shoulder, but he feels the flare of pain ooze its way down his arm. Joel grunts, knocked askew from his path, and turns to forge at his assailant.
The man is fast, though, and rushes him. The tackle brings him down to the ground, winding him just enough to briefly stun, to send his Glock spinning along the floor. He’s taller, broader, madder.
But he shoots one-handed.
Joel knocks the gun aside and it misfires into the gap in the crowd. In the dispersing, he sees more guards closing in his periphery. The only protection he has is the hulking body on top of him. So Joel uses it, bringing his elbow to the man’s throat and bunching the lapel of his jacket in his fist. The guard attempts to reach for the blade in his thigh holster, but Joel reaches down and bends his arm backward until the crunch crackles in his ear. The man howls, and Joel grasps the hilt of the knife.
Twenty-two.
He picks up his gun and fires a shot into each of the three approaching guards, but Emiliano has fled to the first floor. Joel grimaces as he stands, blood on his fingertips where he's prodded the wound in his arm. “Goddammit,” he mutters, following his target upstairs.
The air is dizzying. Hot. Joel never liked clubs. He hated the closeness and the bodies in cages and the way skin felt so sticky, too tight, like he needed to step outside of it. He hated the feeling of being suffocated by strangers, as if any of them could be lurking low in the darkness, waiting to strike.
He didn't understand the lure of the scantily-clad body until he saw you wrapped in a tight black dress. He didn't know the pleasure of dancing until you took his hand one night, his old vinyl player crackling out Frank Sinatra, and lay your head on his shoulder. It felt like stepping over the threshold into consecrated territory. He should not be touching you. But you were touching him.
Joel spots Emiliano running for the back entrance, shoving another guard in Joel’s path.
Twenty-six.
The final man, approaching Joel from the lounge, pulls his gun in time to shoot, but not in time for Joel to notice. The bullet shatters a glass of wine and topples a waiter’s tray. Joel fires.
One to go.
He has no choice but to lunge for the kid before he can run out into the street. Joel’s heart is pounding in his chest, his blood electrified. The take-down is sloppy and his ankle rolls, but Emiliano Cabrera is pinned beneath him and yelping like a kicked dog.
“My father will kill you,” he gasps, his cheek pressed to the floor.
“Your father knows exactly why I’m here,” says Joel, “and he knows how stupid you are.”
“Hijo de puta, it was just a fucking car,” he spits. “I was just going to have some fun with your bitch. I would've given her back.”
Joel isn't quite satisfied. He turns the kid onto his back and grasps him by the jaw, forcing him to meet Joel’s incendiary gaze.
“Everything has a price.”
The knife goes in smoothly, the flat of the blade glinting in his gaping mouth. No light flees his eyes. There is nothing but cold slate-grey. And although Joel feels no happiness feeling the pulse slow to a crawl beneath his palm, he does not pull the knife out.
Your body, sacred, helpless, lying on the floor. A predator’s gaze. The clink of a belt buckle. Joel steps over the body and leaves, limping to the valet and slipping him a golden coin. He slips back inside his Mustang, turns on the engine, and drives back to the hotel.
You’re tucked in the alcove by the window, staring out at the moonlit night. Your chin rests on your knees as you hug yourself close. The lamp between your respective beds colours the room orange.
“You’re limping.”
You haven’t even turned to face him.
“How—”
“I know how you sound when you walk.” Your temple is cool where it rests on the windowpane, your breath frosting the glass. Joel staggers to the small table and braces himself on the back of a chair as he watches you.
You’re as warm and bright as the day he found you that night in the restaurant. Your eyes may be a little older, but the glow is the same. He folds his bleeding hands around the back of the chair. Everything around you curls in, darkens, and wilts when it confronts your beauty.
“I’m all right.” He doesn’t deserve your concern. He’ll swallow any bullet to keep you from worrying.
You stand at last and cross the room to face him. His heart jumps like it’s the first time you asked him on a date. Like the first time he kissed you, his chest taut with tension and nerves and the assumption that you’d reject him.
“You can lie to me about lots of things, Joel, but I know this face.” The pad of your thumb ghosts over the crease between his brows. “I’ve painted it a hundred times. It doesn't lie.”
It's the first time you've touched him in days. Joel closes his eyes. Part of him, the part that jolts back to life under the tender weight of your soft skin, means it when he says, “I’m okay.”
You seem to ponder him for a moment. “This wouldn't be the first time I patched you up,” you say, as if resigned. “Go on. Bathroom.”
He winces. “You don't have to—”
“Go. And afterward, you can tell me everything.”
The pads of your fingers memorise the ridges on the gold coin. The time is close to dawn.
He’s no longer bleeding, and although you have nothing close to the Doctor’s prowess, you’ve managed to disinfect and wrap the wound in his arm. You can’t do anything about his ankle, but it’s a sprain; he’ll heal in time. The mangled black and blue on his tender skin reminds you of a night sky without the stars. It doesn’t seem to pain him. It only makes you wonder what sorts of agonies he’s faced—ones you never knew about.
The hurt has festered in your time away from him. He’s an open wound in the shape of a hand on your back, searing cold through to your heart. The hand sports a golden band, and it reflects in the one you still wear. You don't quite know what to make of it now.
He looks exactly like the man you knew. Not a part of him has changed—he's still scruffy, still tired, still jaggedly gorgeous. You paint him with blurred edges, with blues and greys. Your heart still pulls when you look at him. Your chest still gapes wide open, and he digs his thumbs into the bruises. He lied to you. He broke your trust. And there's still so much of your Joel in him, from the skin to the bones.
“It’s beautiful,” you muse, turning the coin over.
“Technically, it’s not money,” Joel says. “It is currency. They can be exchanged for favours, information, relationships.”
“A hotel room,” you add. “Good to know I don’t have to move any savings around. Where have you been keeping these?”
“There’s a safe in the basement,” he says, “under the floorboards. When I left, I buried all of it. Weapons, coins, contacts, anything I had from the Underworld.”
The Underworld. A fitting name, if you’ve made any sense of it at all. “Do the police know about all of this?”
“Most of them are in the pockets of High Table members. Those are the ones who control how it all works. Rules and consequences,” says Joel, “is how they operate. They're what separate us from the animals.”
You lift your brows. “And who sits at this High Table?”
“Twelve leaders. They're the ones who run most of the major crime families and organisations. They control police, politicians, banks—”
Your shuddering sigh makes him stop in his tracks. He watches you lean back in the chair and bends forward slightly, as if tied to you by an invisible thread.
“So… the girl who serves me coffee on the corner by my office could be part of it.” You frown at the coin in your hand. “She could be a witness, a runner, a messenger. She could be like you.”
“She isn't,” says Joel, “but that is the general idea.”
“But civilians are immune.”
“More or less,” says Joel. “There are… heavy penalties for harming them.”
“Penalties like death.”
“Most of the time,” he says. “And there are rules here, too. No business can be conducted on the grounds of any Continental hotel.”
“Any? You mean—”
“There's a Continental in every major city in the world. It's where we go to remind ourselves we’re civilised.”
“Civilised,” you scoff. “Civilised murder, sure. I’m buying it. And now that you’re back—”
“Visiting.”
You just glare at him, and he ducks his head.
“—there's a contract on your head.”
Joel nods. “Two million.”
You curl your fingers over the coin in your palm as your stomach bottoms out. “That's a lot of incentive to put a bullet in your brain.”
“They won't,” he says. “Cabrera holds the contract, and he only opened it because of Emiliano. He’d pull it the second I agreed to stop looking for his son. He doesn't want me owing him.”
“I don't know if I’d call that a debt.”
“Considering everything I did for him,” says Joel, a bite to his voice, “anything short of killin' his kid is a favour.”
Despite yourself, you open your hand and slide the coin toward him. “Tell me what you did.”
His head shoots up, his brows knitted together. “What?”
“Tell me what you did to get out. Tell me about this ‘impossible task.’”
“Baby, that’s…” He rubs his hand across his jaw, and it strikes you then how deep those half-circles colour the space beneath his eyes.
“Stop,” you whisper. It never used to hurt when he called you baby. “Tell me how much blood you thought I was worth.”
Joel’s jaw ticks. His knees barely touch yours under the table. “You don't wanna hear the answer to that.”
“Then start here. What did you do, Joel?”
The sigh he releases feels heavy. “I came to Cabrera, asking him to release me from my contract. He told me he'd let me out, no strings attached… if I hunted down his enemies.”
Your mouth drops. “Which enemies?”
He picks up the coin and turns it over in his palm. The silence drops an anchor on the ground. Your belly churns with the movement of the golden piece as it catches the light.
“All of them,” says Joel. “All of ‘em, in one night. That was his impossible task.”
The scrape of your chair legs across the floor is grating. But you stand anyway, your head vaguely stirring with the beginnings of a headache.
“Oh my God.”
You barely feel your own hand on your cheek, barely smell the iron tang of blood on him, barely see the red cutting through his pressed white shirt. “How many people?”
Joel shakes his head, his shy eyes lowered, still as the paintings you've made of him. “I… I don't know.”
I lost count, he means. There were too many, he means.
Your throat is just wide enough to let your breath escape. The air you take in feels poisonous. He killed every single one of them. All because he wanted to marry you.
All because he wanted peace.
“Is there anyone in the Underworld who doesn’t know your name?”
Joel’s repentant silence, head ducked as if in prayer, is all the answer you need.
“How did this happen?” Your voice is uniquely quiet.
“When I was a kid,” he says, and your heart sinks, “I lived on the streets. Lived like a rat, mostly, but I survived. You know that much.”
You nod solemnly, lowering yourself into the chair once more. “The Sisters reunited you with your brother.”
His dark eyes reflect the lamplight and it resembles a flame igniting in the depths of the iris. “Found me on Canal Street, runnin’ drugs for a mobster I don't even remember. Tommy was only five, but he must've told them about me. They took me to the orphanage and started my training.”
You swallow, your temples pounding. Deep in your gut, something wild and dry begins to kindle. “They were the ones who taught you all of this?”
“They teach the word of God above everythin’ else, but yeah. They train children to thrive in the Underworld. We were taught knives, guns, hand-to-hand. Hell, they even taught us how to dance—how to move faster than the opponent. I knew how to kill someone before I could read.” Joel chuckles, and part of you thinks he actually thinks it's funny. “Probably why I’m so slow.”
You aren't slow, you want to say. You've never been slow, not from the first day.
The kindling curls and you can feel your mouth pull at the corners. He had only been a child. An orphan. A child had no way to choose, to resist how they were raised. He hadn’t been given a choice—his life in exchange for a roof over his head.
“Those fucking bastards.”
Joel’s laugh is mirthless. “It was a long time ago. I’ve made my peace with it.”
You angrily swipe the tears that warm your cheeks. “No adult should have that power. They should nurture and comfort and protect, not—” Your breath hitches. “You were a child. You didn't deserve that.”
Your fingers have curled into a fist atop the table. With both hands, he gently lifts your hand to his mouth and kisses your knuckles. You expect it to feel foreign, wrong. It just feels like Joel.
“The Sisters were cruel,” he says softly. “But I made myself into a weapon. It was the only way I would survive.” He reaches out as if for a wounded deer and brushes his thumb over your jaw. “They never made me believe, sweetheart. That was all you.”
You sniffle, your head bobbing absently. You don't know what to think. You don't know how to feel. Your own husband has been through the seven circles and crawled back out only to teeter back over the pit once more. There’s an ancient weariness in the black of his eyes, an old hurt, a mansion slowly crumbling at the edges.
“You hid this all from me, and never told anyone,” you say, the ache widening. You find you want to assume, consume, even a modicum of the pain that he's felt.
One of his shoulders lifts in a mild shrug. “I wanted to forget all of it. I wanted to make something of the new life I’d killed for.” He meets your gaze and you swear part of the open wound in his pupils has sealed. “I didn't want any of it to touch you.”
And you remember lying in bed with him that first night, after that first time, tracing a scar on his back. White and ridged, it spread like lightning feelers from the middle of his spine to the dimples in his lower back.
You'd put your mouth to his shoulder blade and felt him melt into you.
What happened?
The silence that followed could have heard the brush of a feather over skin.
I was raised in an orphanage. In a church. They weren't kind.
And that was that. You'd prodded and fussed and he'd said I’m fine. It was a long time ago.
“But that's what you do, Joel,” you tell him. “You hide your hurt and you bury your feelings and you do it all because you're afraid it'll make everyone leave you.”
Sometimes he would wake in a cold sweat, heaving, tossing aside the sheets, but he would never make a sound. You'd see him, pretending to sleep, and place your hand over his chest. His fingers would grasp yours as if marooned on the water, seeking driftwood, his hand suffocating yours. He'd keep it pressed to his heart until the beats slowed.
You regret those times you never pressed. In a way, you were afraid, too. If you opened your eyes, if you asked him to confess, he would close the lattice and turn his back to you. You didn't want to lose him, either.
But you did.
“I’m sorry,” you whisper, but it doesn't hold the weight you want it to. It doesn't blow out the candles in the cathedral. It doesn't pluck the scared little boy from the streets or give him a warm bed. It doesn't stop the beatings and the lashings and the pain.
It does not pry the pain from his heart and bury the shrapnel in your chest instead. It is something he bears, as he always has, and must. It is something you cannot take from him. And you feel more helpless than you ever have.
He shakes his head. “I know we can't go back,” he says, tracing one of the little daisy charms on your bracelet. “But it feels… good. It feels good to finally tell you. Even if we were too late.”
The sound of his voice breaking shakes your heart loose from your rib cage.
“Come to bed.” Your voice is raw and used. “Just… come to bed, and sleep.”
He doesn't dare look hopeful, though you can see the tremor that courses through his hand. He wants to take yours, the way he did the day he proposed, dropping to one knee with your palms flush.
He looked a little hopeful that day, too. With rapt attention, he'd taken hold of you and said, I love you. I love you more than anything. You’re my best friend. Will you marry me? Will you let me be your husband?
You realise now why he'd let himself hope. He'd gotten out. He'd started his new life. With you.
You can see his old scars, even in the dark. You think, in all your time together, you've learned his body as you learn the earth you tread upon. The praying hands of Dürer lie beneath the name inked in small black lettering.
Your name.
You gingerly reach out and place your hand on his back. Joel shudders. He does not turn to face you where you both lie on your sides.
“If you bleed on the bed sheets,” you say to the darkness, “will management make us pay?”
He chuckles. “Strongly worded phone call at best. I’ll take the hit.”
You frown, ghosting your fingers over the tender skin around the makeshift patch job on his shoulder. “Does it still hurt?”
“No,” he says, leaning into your touch, “not anymore.”
“You never told me about this scar on your back.” You touch the edges of the puckered skin. “I never stopped wondering. But I should never have stopped asking.”
“Don't,” he says quietly. “Don’t say any of that like it's your fault.”
The silence bleeds as viscous as an open gash into the dry air. His watch broke the day of your wedding. He told you it was all right, that we've got all the time in the world, and you'd kissed him and laughed. He’d replaced the battery since then, but sometimes the little hand lags behind, as if afraid to chug forward. Afraid to let time, of all silly, trivial things, consume your world.
“Do you remember your vows?” you ask him.
“‘Course I do.”
“Do you remember mine?”
His head bows slightly on the pillow. “‘I vow to be your partner in all things,’” he recites. “‘I vow to protect your heart like it's my own. I vow to take your pain, and to shoulder it so you don't have to.’”
The tears saturate the pillowcase beneath your cheek. You fall asleep with your arm around his waist, your hand next to his, not touching, but nearly.
#fic: helen#kiwisbell's fics#pedro pascal#joel miller#joel miller x reader#joel miller x you#the last of us hbo#the last of us#tlou fic#joel miller fanfic#joel miller fanfiction#joel miller angst#joel miller au#joel miller fic#john wick au#joel miller x female reader#joel miller x f!reader
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OPLA!Sanji x Reader - Blowin'
Word Count: 4.6k
I cut down some of the less, y’know, important stuff (the plot lol)
Warnings: oral sex (m!receiving), fem!reader, awkward first times, awkward af, the reader is a dipshit. I’m ngl this isn’t one of those cute first time fics where virgin!reader is suddenly a sex goddess, you are legitimately an idiot. As usual, written with a plus size!reader in mind.
Sanji finds out you’re a virgin. You suck his dick. Congrats!
Sanji was going to fucking lose it. Out of all the possible scenarios Sanji never once considered Nami would take you out to a bar to pick up guys. He brooded as he nursed his drink, Zoro rolling his eyes at the display. Sanji just growled. Usopp looked between them.
"How about another round? 'Nother milk Lu? Hey Sanji, why don't you come with me? I saw some hot chicks up at the bar."
Sanji just shook his head brooding. He looked to where you stood with Nami, laughing at some guy's jokes. He felt stupid at how jealous he felt.
"Hey, Sanj, man. Nami isn't gonna reciprocate y'know?" Usopp offered lightheartedly. Zoro scoffed from next to him.
"It's not about Nami for once."
---
When Sanji's eyes found you again he saw you alone with the same guy, nursing a drink. Now that Nami was gone he could see the atmosphere had changed, you didn't seem happy like before. He watched as the guy said something and you shrugged halfheartedly. The guy then proceeded to wrap his arm around you. Sanji had known you long enough to see how uncomfortable you looked. Anger flared in his chest. The final straw was seeing the guy trying to tug you out of the booth to leave. You looked so defeated, it hurt. He began stalking his way to your booth.
"C'mon sweetcheeks, let's leave this dump."
"I'm good thanks, I should get back to my friends."
"I already told you bitch, we're going. I didn't spend all this time fucking around to go home empty handed. You're lucky I even stayed once your hot friend left. I'm doing you a favour, so hurry the fuck up."
"No, I really don't want to." You began, the man snarled, grabbing your wrist.
"It wasn't a question. You owe me. I don't go for ugly, but a hole's a hole, and from the back you're probably passable."
You had tears in your eyes from embarrassment. This whole trip was a bad idea. You wish Nami would come back. As the man tugged on your wrist harder you heard that gorgeous voice ring out. You tried to hide your face so Sanji wouldn't see the tears in your eyes. That last thing you wanted was for the crew to think you're weak.
"That's no way to win hearts Sunshine. So uncouth, and frankly, disgusting behaviour."
"Who the fuck are you? How about you mind your own business?"
"And watch such a beautiful lady be treated that way?"
"Beautiful lady my ass. The only thing you can know for sure about girls like this is that their pretty pussy is untouched." The man barked out a laugh causing you to wince. He snaked his other arm to cup your breast over your dress. You saw something flash in Sanji's eyes. "And I know I'm gonna really enjoy these."
You squirmed, before biting the man. He howled in pain, releasing his hold on you. You quickly made your escape, rushing to cling to Usopp and Luffy, crying. You felt pathetic. Embarrassed that all eyes were on you.
Sanji saw red. You blinked back tears as you called out to him. Sanji was protective of all of you, but he seemed especially so of you. You knew it was because he saw you as some kind of little sister. "It's okay Sanji. Really, let's just go home. Please."
"No." He fixed the drunk man with a freezing gaze. "You dare touch someone so out of your league? I asked you nicely to piss off, but now I'm going to fucking kill you."
Before you could react Sanji had kicked the man in the chest. You watched as he began ruthlessly kicking and stomping the man, muttering profanities and sentences you couldn't understand. With a final stomp he huffed. Zoro finally pried Sanji away. You saw Nami returning, fuming. If you weren't so traumatised by the night you would have laughed at how Zoro pried Nami away too, holding the two brawlers by the scruff as they fought against it, looking like wet cats.
You don't remember how you got home. You remember Usopp covering you in his coat and dragging you out of the bar. You remember apologising to Usopp, crying that you needed to go back. The last thing you remember was Luffy running to join you, scooping you up and starting the walk back to the Going Merry, you, falling asleep in his rubbery arms.
---
"Ah my dear, you're finally awake. I made you something to eat."
You smiled tightly at him, thanking him. The way you played with your food tugged at his heartstrings. You looked so mournful. He pulled up a chair, sitting backwards on it, gripping the backrest.
"C'mon lovely, don't make me have to feed you myself." He winked. Your lips twitched upwards performatively. Sanji frowned. "Look (name) about last night-"
"I'm sorry."
Confusion. "What?"
You cringed inward. "I'm....I'm sorry I ruined everyone's night."
"You didn't ruin anyone's night, that good for nothing prick did. Don't understand why you'd even go for a guy like that to be honest." He added bitterly. You frowned.
"I wouldn't normally. Everything moved so fast. He seemed nice...It was too late before I realised it's because he wanted Nami." Silence. "Once Nami left, I, well, I didn't want to cause a scene."
"So, what? You were just going to let him take advantage of you?"
You jolted, shocked. "No! No, I- there was no way he was going to-”
“(Name), love, I know you can be a bit naive but-”
Your voice was small. “He said so himself! He..." you trailed off. "He didn't 'go for ugly girls'. And besides…he was right."
Sanji frowned, angry at the world. How could anyone make you believe that you weren't beautiful? That you didn't deserve some guy trying to take advantage of you? He took a deep breath, steadying his resolve
“There's no such thing as an ugly girl (name), and if there was, I can assure you you're not one of them.”
“Not that.” Sanji took in how you winced, trying to make yourself seem smaller.
What?
Sanji felt the wind knocked out of him.
You're a virgin?" He asked, clearly shocked. You bristled with embarrassment.
"Well...yeah, but I understand how it works! It's not such a big deal, I mean...I've just, I've never had the chance."
"Have you ever...y'know, at all? Not even a handy?" You shook your head. He flushed, you were completely pure.
He felt slightly sick at how his perverted thoughts twisted that. He could be your first, ruin you for all other partners. He could be the one to take your innocence. His cock twitched at the thought. Shame flooded him. You were his friend, his, admittedly, very cute friend. He shouldn't be thinking about you this way. His mind was racing with all the obscene thoughts he'd ever had, the deviant things he dreamed of. He was disgusting. You were too innocent, he'd felt guilty before, but now he felt like he was defiling you just by thinking about you.
You took his silence as pity and pointedly looked away from him, taking a deep breath.
"It's not like I don't want to. I do. But, ugh, it's so silly...no one has ever shown any interest. I'm not exactly a goddess like Nami."
"Darling, I don't believe no one has ever shown interest." He offered a smile. Gods if you only knew how badly he ached for you. How hard you made him. Now wasn't the time for him to blow your friendship over him thinking with his dick. You were being vulnerable.
"I don't need your pity Sanji. It's okay. You don't have to give me the 'everyone's beautiful in their own way' speech. There's more to me than my lack of experience! I'm a good fighter! I have talents, I don't need to be pretty. Just, sometimes, it'd be nice.".
This wouldn't do. He had to try to fix this. He took your small hands in his, trying not to lose his breath at how warm they felt. Swinging them lightly, he stared into your eyes.
“You are a beautiful girl, you deserve way better than some kind of bastard like that. Men are pigs (name), you shouldn't trust any of them."
"I trust you."
Sanji froze. You peaked up at him shyly. He looked conflicted, and that caused you to smile sadly, misinterpreting the look. You withdrew your hands, fiddling with them in your lap. "I didn't mean that you should take one for the team Ji, I just meant that, well, I trust you. I don't think you're a pig."
"You shouldn't trust me." He lowered his voice. You stared at him, clearly taken aback. "I'm just as bad."
"No, you-"
"No. I'm an absolute pig darling. You aren't that dense surely."
You frowned. "Sure you flirt a lot with other girls, but that's just you! It's charming, non-threatening. I don't see you acting like-"
"I flirt with you too!" He tried, clearly exasperated. You smiled.
"Exactly! You make cute comments to me, and call me cute things like darling, but you're just naturally flirty."
Sanji groaned. Your smile slowly faltered. Sanji screwed his eyes shut. "I'm not 'just naturally flirty'...I mean, I am, I suppose, but I'm actually trying to flirt with you. I thought you were just being polite, but are you really that dense?"
"I....you are?"
"Are you kidding me?!"
"But, I'm..." You gestured to yourself. "You're more friendly than flirty to me?"
"You're too innocent, it's not like I could just waltz right up and tell you that I think you're hot, can I?" He bristled.
You felt electricity surge down your spine. Hot? Sanji thought you were hot? Sanji?
Sanji took your silence as disgust. "See! That's exactly why I couldn't tell you."
"You think I'm hot?" He nodded. Your grin spread, hurting your blushing cheeks. Your eyes sparkling. "You think I'M hot?!"
"Yes, okay!" He sounded almost angry.
"Sanji, you're gorgeous! I'm too awkward. Too fat. Too plain. I'm not a model or some kind of beauty. And you're telling me someone as handsome as you, thinks I'm attractive!? And I-"
You stopped, really thinking about what he said. "Innocent? I....well I suppose. I'm not that innocent though."
Sanji's nostrils flared. "Not that innocent? Please love! You prance around in those low-cut tops and shorts in front of everyone, thinking that they ain't gonna go ballistic? You're too trusting of men, thinking that we aren't all beasts inside."
You laughed, still riding the high of his praise. Sanji snarled, banging his fist on the kitchen table. "No! It's true. You think someone doesn't see the way your tits look and salivate? You don't think you would make anyone insane? You don't think I got so fucking hard when you told me you're a virgin?"
He froze, blood turning to ice, clearly regretting blurting out that last bit. You stared at him, eyes round with wonder. He avoided your gaze, cringing at what you said next.
"I...I make you hard?".
"I'm sorry (name), that was very ungentlemanly of me. I didn't mean to say that last part."
"But you did." He felt warm hands prying his open and playing with his fingers. He flitted his eyes up to see your face red, staring at him with your eyes practically sparkling with mirth. "God, I've wanted you to fuck me for ages, and now you're telling me you've actually wanted to this whole time?"
Sanji stiffened, cock twitching. He ached painfully. He felt parched, throat burning. This had to be a joke. "You...what?"
"Yeah. Fuck. I, mean, the clothing was purposeful at first, I wanted you to notice me. I had no idea it was working though, haha!"
"WHAT!?"
"Yeah, I thought you knew? You never noticed I only wore those kinds of clothes when you were around? You never noticed how I tried to cling to you in the kitchen? I just assumed you knew and thought I was gross, so I pulled back." You laughed. "Did you seriously think that because I'm a virgin I can't think sexually?"
"But you've never-"
"You've never said anything raunchy to me like you do to other girls. I thought you saw me as a little sister. It'd be weird if someone you saw like family told you they want to suck your dick."
"Fuck." He hissed.
"Oh this is too good! Have I been torturing you?" You laughed, running a hand up his arm. "You must be so frustrated."
"You have no idea."
"I could help you."
Sanji groaned. "You can't say things like that."
"Oh." You pulled back, back to being timid. Even if it was at his expense, Sanji felt the loss of your confident persona. Fuck he really was a masochist, wasn't he? "I, um, I'd need you to guide me. But if you did want help, I'd like to be the one."
"God, you have no idea what you're doing to me." He heard you giggle lightly. He opened his eyes to see you biting your lip, staring up at him through thick lashes, a blush adorning your chubby cheeks. He throbbed.
"You could show me? I promise I'll be gentle! Please Sanji? Can I pretty please touch your dick?"
Sanji felt like he was going to explode from how cute you were.
"Fuck. Please."
You squealed in excitement, jumping up from the table, both his arms in hand. He wanted to laugh at how innocent you looked, but instead he felt a lump in his throat. You didn't notice, pulling the seated man into an awkward, crushing hug.
"C'mon! C'mon what are you waiting for? Let's go!"
"Go where?" He laughed at your eagerness. "In case you haven't noticed darling, we aren't exactly alone."
The way you deflated was comical. What wasn't was the wicked glint that formed in your eyes. Sanji gulped, that was never a good sign. He watched as you quickly dashed out of the kitchen. Sanji looked around, confused. Minutes passed. He got up from the table, moving over to the kitchen island, hiding his lower half behind the counter, lest one of the crew wandered in. He sighed, willing his boner away.
Bang!
The door flew open. Sanji jumped. There you stood frantically in the doorway. Your hair a mess, breathing heavy, and that wicked glint set on him. He watched as you closed the kitchen door, taking a chair and boarding the door. You grinned, stalking towards him.
No. There's no way.
"We aren't going to be disturbed." You were practically vibrating in excitement.
"What? No. Not in the kitchen. We. Eat. Here." Sanji hissed. You peeked up at him, lip pouting.
"Please? I'll make sure there's no mess left." You pleaded.
No mess? Sanji closed his eyes and groaned when he realised what you meant. You were going to be the death of him. When he opened his eyes you were in front of him, staring at him shyly. He startled.
"Can I kiss you? Or is that too far?"
Too far? He wanted to cry. You really had no idea what you were doing to him. He bent down. You grinned. He wrapped an arm around the back of your head, pulling you closer. You tipped your head up. He smiled softly before placing his lips on top of yours.
Your lips locked together like the last piece of a puzzle. You sighed, eyes flitting closed. You pushed further against him, trying desperately to pull him closer. He tasted like cigarettes but you didn't mind, an addictive taste for an addictive man. You wanted more of him. You kissed him feverishly, reluctantly pulling back for air. You stared at the taller man through lidded eyes. He gazed down at you lovingly, a blush high on his cheeks. His blue eyes studied your face closely.
Sanji laughed as with both hands you pulled his face back for another kiss. His skin was hot, your hands now cold against his cheeks. You tasted sweet and he wanted to devour you so badly. You were too cute. He felt you pull him closer to you. You were kissing and sucking at his lips before you felt it. Sanji bit back a groan, feeling your hips brush against him. He felt pure embarrassment as he heard your breath hitch, pulling away. He opened his mouth to protest but was cut off by a groan as you experimentally pushed your hips against him harder.
"Oh my gods." He heard you whisper against him. He froze. "Oh my gods it's so-"
"We can stop if it's too much dar-LING!"
He squeaked as he felt both your hands rake down his chest, you humming contently as you kept yourself pressed against him. He felt overwhelmed at how eager you were. He'd never had someone so upfront in wanting to touch him. His cocked throbbed. You mewled lightly, causing another throb.
"Oh my god it moves?" You giggled. He cracked a smile back. You were so innocent.
Sanji had made one crucial mistake though. That was thinking that just because you were inexperienced, that meant you would be submissive. He felt you cage him against the countertop, the wood digging into his ass, your hands on him. It wasn't that he didn't like it, the dissonance was making him dizzy. He felt your hands find purchase on his waist. You breathed out a dreamy sigh.
"God your waist is so fucking tiny."
Sanji bristled with embarrassment. He tried to address it without upsetting you. "Love, that's not exactly what I want to hear."
You giggled. "I can't help it, it's so hot. You could kick my ass if you wanted, but holy fuck you're just letting me feel you up. Gods I've seen you fight, I've seen how thick your legs are, but fuck your waist is so little."
Sanji hissed. He'd never experienced anything like this before. Your hands migrated upwards, resting on his pecs. Your slow pace was driving him insane.
"Can I?" You gestured to his shirt.
"Fuck, love, I'd love to, but maybe when we have somewhere more private okay? Don't want to be too unclothed if someone tries to come in. Same with you okay? Don't want anyone to see something so gorgeous." He smiled at you. You nodded your head, practically buzzing at the idea of this happening again. He winked at you. "You could take off something else though."
Sanji was shocked and delighted at how quickly you dropped to your knees. You began playing with his belt, figuring out how the clasp worked. Sanji scrunched his eyes shut. Fuck, you were so eager! He never would’ve expected it to go like this. Despite your eagerness you were so gentle, as if you were afraid of touching him. He was going to prompt you, but instead you softly pulled his zipper down and began drawing the fabric down till it sat mid thigh.
Oh, fuck. There he was, huh?
You looked at his clothed cock, studying It like it was some kind of strange bug. You wanted to laugh at the comparison. Above you Sanji was flushed, embarrassed by your staring. You ran a finger over the bulge. He hissed, his dick jumping lightly. You couldn't help the giggle that bubbled out of your throat.
"What?"
"It's so cute the way it jumps."
"Maybe this was a mistake."
"No no no! I promise I'll be good. Can I, um... do I?"
"Just...hah...do what you think is right. I'll...correct you."
Sanji let out an undignified squeak as he felt you lightly grab the clothed bulge. You massaged it, feeling what you could, watching with curiosity how the man above you writhed. Exploratively, you moved your hand further back, cupping his balls through the fabric. The friction of the fabric against bare skin was pure torture.
"Oh shit!" Sanji whined. You withdraw your hand like it burnt. "That's, god, that's really sensitive okay? You're killing me sweetheart."
"Sorry." You mumbled, placing a kiss to his bare thigh. The "strange bug" jumped again. You began peppering more kisses to his thigh. Once you reached the inside of his thigh you breathed deeply, he smelt musky, it made your mouth water. Experimentally, you licked the inside of his thigh. Sanji's thigh tensed. You licked upwards in long stripes until you reached the leg of his underwear. You gave a quick moment of hesitation before you blew air over the bulge. Sanji hissed. Smiling, you placed a kiss directly over the top of his bulge.
"Did you just kiss my dick?"
"Mmhmm. Watch, I'll do it again." You placed an open mouth wet kiss over Sanji's clothed cock. The man above you threw his head back, whining softly. The fabric was dampened with a mix of your spit and something else. You saw how taut the fabric had become. You cooed. "That looks like it hurts."
Sanji nodded. You looked up at him.
"Can I take them off?"
He shuddered. "Fuck. Please (name)."
With curiosity you began dragging the wet underwear down his hips, settling them at his mid thigh. His musky scent overpowered you, and you watched with fascination as Sanji's cock slapped against his stomach. Looking up at him you saw how tight his eyes were scrunched, knuckles gripping the countertop. You noticed how he shivered lightly at the exposure. Sanji's cock stood, large, imposing, and leaking. You breathed out a curse. It looked gorgeous, just like him, long and lithe. His happy trail led to a neat little patch of dark hair. You salivated. Eyes drawing to your prize, you winced at how red and angry the head looked.
Sanji thought he was going to kill you when he felt you tap his cockhead like a microphone. Instead he bucked his hips away, humiliation colouring his face. "Stop that! I know you don't know what you're doing, but please use your brain dearest."
You mumbled an apology before rubbing your hands together, trying to warm them. He watched as you wrapped a hand around his dick before moaning lowly. You studied him, absolutely enraptured, as you gave a test pump. The man above you crumbled.
"Do you always get this way?"
"No." He panted.
"Just for me?" You tried sultry, trying to muster up some quote from a smutty novel you once read. Sanji peeked one eye open before groaning.
"No." His voice was strained, breathing heavy. You tried pumping him, but the rhythm was sloppy. "N-no. You're...it's a lot right now. I'm not used to it being this slow…or clumsy."
"Do you like it?" You looked up at him with wide eyes.
"Unfortunately." He muttered. With a burst of pride you tried pumping him harder. Sanji squealed, grabbing your hand. "Fuck (name), I really need you to spit in your hand. Th-that's painful."
"Oh...sorry." You offered. Sanji watched as you perversely spit in your hand, wrapping the digits back around his cock. You tried setting a rhythm, it was sloppy, but you focused on giving him consistent squeezing pressure. Sanji moaned lowly at the squeezing, hips rocking.
Soon you reached a steady rhythm. You watched with bated breath before you slowed down. Sanji began to whine from the loss, only to keen loudly as he felt your lips enclose his cockhead. He began spluttering, eyes rolled backwards. He'd take anything right now, fuck he wanted to cum so bad. He sucked in a breath.
"No teeth, okay love?"
You laughed, the vibrations tickling him in the best way. He moaned, trying desperately to not fuck your face. His eyes were so tightly scrunched.
You slowly forced yourself further down his length, squeezing the base. Sanji swore. You froze, taking a deep breath through your nose. When he didn't stop you, you continued your devotion.
"Ack!" You choked, throat burning. You felt Sanji's hand patting your head. You retreated off him, coughing.
"Darling don't take more than you can okay. We don't want you to choke now."
You gazed up at him, eyes wet and throat hoarse. "Let me try again!"
Your raspy voice made Sanji quiver, but the way you looked up at him, absolutely wrecked, made him burn. As quickly as he noticed it, it ended, and you unceremoniously inhaled his cock. He could feel you try to smile.
"Fuck!" His voice was high as you sucked hard, adding your tongue to flatten against the underside of his cock. "(Name)! Baby, fuck, I-"
"Hey why won't the door open?" Zoro's voice rang through the wood. Sanji stilled, holding your head. The two of you looked at each other frozen. Sanji tried clearing his throat.
"If you keep making noise out there, I'm gonna explode, Mosshead!"
You snorted, trying hard to not laugh. 'Yeah you're gonna explode,' you inwardly snickered.
"Whatever shitty waiter."
Silence. Sanji looked down at you. "Darling, maybe we should stop. It's okay, we can try again another day." He froze at the frustrated look that overtook your features. "Fuck." He whispered.
You sucked harshly causing Sanji to bite his hand hard to avoid screaming. He felt you try swallowing, watched as tears pricked your eyes. You didn't slow down on your work, sucking harshly and hands wandering. You grabbed a fistful of his asscheek, other hand tracing circles on his inner thigh. You felt him tensing, quivering. His hand reached for your neck, trying to coax you off. He was so close.
"Oh god!" Sanji gasped. "Baby I'm gonna cum, you need to hop off-AH!"
You sucked harder, milking the man through his orgasm. It was like music the way he spluttered and grabbed the back of your head, nails scratching your scalp. You felt hot, thick liquid painting your throat. It wasn't pleasant, but fuck his reactions were. Some dribbled out of the corner of your mouth and Sanji wiped it away with a thumb, a fucked out expression on his features. He pulled his softened cock out of your mouth, and watched, breathless as you swallowed his seed. You made a grimace afterwards causing the man to laugh.
"Was it okay?" You asked, shyness taking over you.
"You're lucky I don't mind a bit of torture. It was good for a first try." He gave you that flirty grin and a wink. "I think you need more practice though."
You laughed, outstretching a hand so he could help you up. You tried stretching your legs, noting the numb pain in your knees. You wrapped your arms around his middle. "Was I that bad?"
Sanji pulled his underwear and pants back up, zipping his pants closed. He pulled you closer. "Nah, you're just something else entirely. Silly." Kiss. "Torturous." Kiss. "And I am smitten with you."
"We've wasted enough time, better get back to it." You smiled against his lips.
"I'd love to pay you back."
"Later loverboy, we're gonna have the whole crew in here soon if we don't hurry."
"I'm so glad there's a later."
You winked, straightening your clothes and heading for the door. You stopped, turning to stare at the man.
"For you baby? Always. Oh, can you make souffle?"
"What? Why?"
"I told the guys we were making a souffle and needed the kitchen completely silent."
Sanji laughed. You definitely kept him on his toes.
-----------
I'm not going to lie, some of this is coloured by my first time hahaha! I am an incredibly awkward person, and yes I did also once tell a guy how cute I thought it was when dicks jump. He also told me I was fucked for that ha!
#sanji x reader#opla sanji x reader#black leg sanji x reader#opla x reader#one piece x reader#smut#one piece smut#vinsmoke sanji x reader#bro i HATE calling him vinsmoke#i couldnt help myself so i formatted it for tumblr....#this was like one of the first sanji things i ever wrote......#other than like this sex pollen fic that i also never posted lmao#:)))) anyway..........#i love virgin fics as much as the next guy.....but if it was anything like my first time giving a bj.....its so not glamorous lol#tmi af: i mean.....dont get me wrong ive technically never had p in v i have bad vaginismus but girl.......
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FINE.
The date is fast approaching (seven and a half weeks left), I've had sufficient quantities of Malbec, and I'm realizing that whoever suggested that writing my vows would be MUCH more harrowing than talking about my feelings to internet nobodies.....had a fair point; I should at least attempt to put it all to words before I write the real drafts.
Ugh.
I should probably start by stating that I'm WELL aware of who I am. Rest assured, I know that I'm stunningly abrasive. And controlling. And petty, conniving, misanthropic, or whatever other adjectives you've been calling me in the tags (yes, I DID read those, and it IS weird of so many of you to be calling for my divorce. I thought you were supposed to be nicer than I am?).
All this to say, I've always been cognizant of being an acquired taste. Partly because I've always BEEN an acquired taste. I tone it down in public, and in most of my personal relationships, but I am, down to my core, a Mean Mother Fucker.
With partners before my fiancé, I had to make myself more palatable to stay together. The men I dated were FAR too nice, and snipping with them at all felt like I was a heavyweight champion facing off against a toddler. So I reigned it in. It worked, but no matter how well things were going on paper, I didn't feel like I was myself with any of them.
I was even less myself with The Shithead. I'm NOT getting into the entirety of that particular tire fire here, you little freaks already know FAR too much about me and I won't have you tagging the gory details of the worst part of my life with #bob the builder/fuzzy wuzzy or whatever you're into.
He was horrible to me, I turned dangerously timid, I'm lucky I had enough Mean left in me to get the fuck out. He's changed enough by now that I considered inviting him to the wedding, it was bad enough back then I'm very glad I didn't. Enough said.
...I'm talking quite a bit up here because I still hate having to say any of the next part. Call me an emotionless villain for that if you want to, I am far too employed and 30 to care very much.
Ugh, ugh, ugh.
So.
The thing is, there are people that KNOW me, and there are people who LIKE me. My parents know me, and I've never doubted they love me, but that's not LIKING me as a person. That's a contractual obligation of birthing me. My friends like me, some even like me when I'm catty, but I need to be careful to hold myself back, at the risk of losing them. At best, people loved "me", not ME.
For decades, this was just the way the world was. It was a fact of life- The sky is blue, I'm secretly unlovable, the Earth goes around the sun.
And then, against all odds, I found my fiancé, who manages to do both.
He sees ALL of me. Every square inch, every fleeting thought, every horrible little quirk of my rotten personality. And THEN, as if that weren't bad enough, he turns around and ENJOYS it all. He's not just tolerant of my least palatable traits, he's delighted. The more I show him, the more he likes.
It's awful. I'd say he stole my heart, but that sounds too pleasant. It's more like my heart is a cockroach he could squish at any moment, and I trust him not to, and I'm just supposed to wake up every morning and do the dishes and go to work as if this doesn't mean we're clearly orbiting Saturn. The sky is PURPLE now. What the fuck.
He could at least do me the favor of being completely, 100% perfect, because then I could blame his total lapse in judgement on that, but NO. He's a BASTARD.
I'm engaged to a big sweaty idiot who annoys me on purpose. He's terrible with his money. He tries to take me on HIKES, and JOGS, and CAMPING TRIPS. His taste in every single art form known to man is GARBAGE, he's constantly leaving his dirty socks on the floor, and he's such a bad driver I'm amazed he still has a license.
I've told him all of that to his face, and I've MEANT it, and he's just called me a bitch and asked me what I want for dinner. He knows that I'm unlovable, agrees that all those parts of me are in here, and then loves me anyway.
He loves me. He LOVES me. He loves ME.
I don't know what I'm meant to do with it all, but there's clearly SOMETHING wrong with his brain, so I guess I'll have to keep him, if only for his sake.
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The Shirt
Ollie had to admit it to himself - he kind of looked sexy. His new shirt looked and felt great and he didn't know the last time he'd felt so confident. He usually didn't go for patterns, but there was something about the cute little dancing bear motif that really charmed him.
He'd held out on buying any size large shirts, convincing himself it was a boundary he wouldn't cross, that he'd lose the small amount of chub he'd accumulated, that he wasn't nearly as big as that yet. Wearing it now, he realised how silly he'd been. Not being constrained from all angles, not having to suck in his middle all the time, not having to worry about bending down or twisting the wrong way - it was like a weight was lifted.
Looking in the mirror now, finally wearing clothes that fit, it was obvious that most of the size was in his head. What's a large, really? Nothing. Okay, he wasn't skinny, but he wasn't fat either - he'd always been naturally broad, hadn't he? He was never going to fit into mediums like his mates. He just didn't look like a kid anymore.
"Looking good man!" Geoff said, sticking his head through the door. "New shirt? We're heading off in a bit, you joining?"
"Yeah, yeah, just give me a minute," Ollie said, smoothing the front of the shirt down and taking one last look at himself. Time to upgrade the rest of his wardrobe if it's all going to look this good, he thought to himself.
-
"You okay?" Ollie's date Malik asked, one eyebrow raised. "You look a little uncomfortable."
"No, it's fine," Ollie said as he tugged his shirt down and tucked it in for what must have been the tenth time since he'd reached the bar. "Really, I'm fine. My shirt's just a bit stiff. Reckon I must have washed it funny. Sorry, you were saying about your course?"
"Right, okay," Malik said slowly. "Anyway, like I was saying, it's so interesting looking at all these artists all together, I just…"
Ollie struggled to listen, instead fiddling with his shirt. It strained a little in his armpit, seemed to pull at the side, the way he rolled up his sleeves seemed to cut into his arms in a way they didn't usually. He hoped he could fix whatever he'd done in the wash - he'd come to think of it as his lucky date night shirt.
Still, it wasn't all bad. It was more comfortable to have the top couple of buttons open and he found the effect of his chest hair spilling out quite sexy. He wondered idly if it really was the shirt or it might be his body - after all, he'd borrowed Geoff's dumbbells a couple of times recently. He tried to flex his pecs a little. Yeah, that was it - he was just bulking at the moment. When he got around to cutting he'd look phenomenal in this shirt.
-
"Fucking hell mate, what's that about?" Geoff laughed as Ollie walked up.
Ollie looked down at himself, looking for stains, only to see the familiar dancing bear pattern. "What are you talking about?" he asked.
"That shirt! It barely fits!" their mate Dan said, howling with laughter.
"Oh, right, that. It's, well I mean, it does fit," he stumbled on his words as his fingers tried to tug the bottom of the shirt towards his waistband, trying not to get too turned on by the feeling of brushing against the soft fat. "I'm just bloated at the moment, that's all. This is my best shirt, it fits perfectly."
"Fits perf… Right, gotcha," Geoff said, his shoulders shaking a little as he chuckled into his pint. "Well, I'm not being funny, but I think you've been bloated for a while now Ollie."
Ollie grinned, making a show of how little he cared. He did his best to ignore how the buttons gaped and cut into his middle as he sat down, even as he sucked his gut in. He set his pint down and flipped the menu open. "You lot eating then?"
Dan burst out laughing again. "You were bloated a second ago, what you wanting to eat for?"
"No, it's not like that," Ollie protested. "I didn't mean, bloated bloated, you know. I mean like, you know, it's just retaining water. You know, from the protein - I'm bulking," returning to his oft stated excuse whenever he was asked why he was eating so much.
Dan and Geoff exchanged a look. "Retaining water, right," Dan said, as Geoff muttered "Got to keep up the bulk."
Six pints, a burger and chips and a couple of side orders of onion rings later, Ollie struggled to suck in his gut anymore. As he walked back to their table, he did his best to hold the pints in front of the gaps in between his buttons where his belly hair was poking through. He set the pints down, exhaled as he lowered himself into his seat slowly and-
A ping rang out as the button hit Dan's pint, who fell under the table laughing. Ollie's hand flew down to his stomach, feeling the expanse of skin and hair now visible in the space opened up.
"Jesus Christ Ollie!" Geoff said, laughing. "Buy some new fucking shirts! Right, well we'll have to head home now, won't we?"
"What for?" Ollie asked. "Because it's your round next? Nah, don't worry about me, shirt's not going to fix itself by getting home any earlier, is it?" He wondered how much of a spectacle he could make of himself by the time they left. "Do you reckon they're still doing food?"
-
"What the fuck are you doing?"
As Ollie turned around the see Geoff stood in his now open doorway, he heard a rip and felt a breeze at his side. His hands scrambled for the two still-fastenable button on the shirt, his clumsy fingers struggling against the tension in the fabric. He inhaled, strained to shrink his swollen stomach just a touch. His fingers found some purchase, dug underneath the first button-hole, then the second, and the sides of the shirt burst open. He exhaled, and his gut hung out and down, the two halves of fabric framing his heft.
"Sorry Geoff, I was just, uhh." He looked around the room, trying to think of some plausible explanation. He hoped his gut, or at least the attention it was drawing, might hide his throbbing cock. He knew it wouldn't, especially with how tight his trousers were. "I wanted to see if this shirt still fit."
"Right, well, it doesn't," Geoff said. He looked to the side, clearly trying to spare Ollie's dignity by some small measure. "I think you'd sort of be able to tell without trying it on, to be honest."
Ollie shifted, and he tried to ignore the way his body wobbled and folded, willing his erection to stop. "I thought I'd maybe see how bad the damage was," he said with a small chuckle.
"I mean, do you really want to…" Geoff sighed. "The damage is pretty fucking bad, if you really want to know," he said, still averting his gaze. "You were smaller than me in first year, now you're… fuck Ollie, you're properly fucking fat."
Ollie nodded, reveling in the way his chins creased against each other. "I appreciate the honesty mate, really," he said. "I've uhh, started a diet," he lied. "Thought it could be an inspiration thing, you know, see if I can fit back into it at some point."
Geoff closed the door a little, shuffling out the room. "Right, well… anyway, we're going to the pub," his voice came through the door. "If you want to join."
Ollie peeled the shirt off his body, doing his best not to increase the size of the hole in the side seam. "Yeah, I'll be with you in a bit," he said, the sleeve inside out and sliding past his sausage-like arm. "You eating there, do you reckon?"
-
Ollie panted and strained. With one hand he gathered as much of his gut as he could, with the other he leaned past and underneath to what little remained uncovered of his dick. He squeezed his eyes shut against a wave of pleasure.
The shirt cradled his breasts like a makeshift hammock, a single button hidden in the deep crevice above his belly and below his chest. His rhythm halted for a moment as he dug one hand into a tiramisu and brought it to his mouth, cream smearing across his face. He grunted as he did his best to reach beneath himself, and he began to buck and thrust against his own hand, helping himself along.
He plunged his fingers into his mouth, counting the calories as he sucked down the last of the rich dessert, as he quivered and a sticky wetness covered his hand and filled the soft unknown beneath his quivering middle. He brought his hand up and smeared his cum against his shirt, falling back against his pillows. The motion proved too much for the tortured fabric, and it finally gave out, the button falling to the mattress and the shirt falling open around soft hairy man tits.
-
Ollie waddled as quickly as he could to the stall, and he smiled at the young woman manning it. He thumbed through the hangers, each shirt brushing against the furthest extent of his gut.
"I used to have this one!" he told her cheerfully, pulling one out and holding it out, looking closely at the images of little dancing bears. "I've been looking for it for years. I outgrew it ages ago, I'd sort of given up hope of replacing it."
"Oh, right," the woman said, an uncertain smile on her face. "Well maybe we'll be able to help you with that."
Ollie grinned. "Maybe - what sizes do you do?"
The woman looked Ollie up and down. "Well, you see…" She looked around, as if searching for help. "We only stock up to XL, but we can do custom orders to 3XL." The last part was added with a clear tone of hope, however vain.
"Ah, right," Ollie said. "Not sure when I last wore 3XL. A couple of years at least."
The shop assistant smiled awkwardly. Ollie knew that look well - no one knew how to respond when he talked about his weight so openly. "I'll take a 3XL anyway," he said, thinking about how hot it was to obliterate the last one.
"Do you want to try it on?" the assistant asked, happy to be back to more standard shop-floor conversation.
"Oh no, don't worry. There's no chance of it actually fitting," Ollie laughed.
"Ah, okay then," the shop assistant smiled, her confusion apparent. "For one day in the future, maybe?"
Ollie shrugged. "Sure, why not?" He paid for the shirt and left. He couldn't wait until this shirt fit as poorly as the previous one.
#the shirt#wg story#weight gain#weight gain fiction#gaining fiction#gainer fiction#gainer story#weight gain story#male weight gain#this was written quite drunk tbh#let me know if theres any typos which are too egregious
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How to be a Heartbreaker Clapton Davis
Paring female reader with Clapton Davis
Warning 18+ MDNI. Smut warning
Word count
Synopsis you and your of boyfriend Clapton (of two years) are put in detention because the two of you gotten to a fight in the middle of class about a rumor that he's cheating on you
Rule # 2 don't get attached to someone you could lose
☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆
Mr Willams comes into the room and sits on the desk
"Well it's just the two of you in detention today you might as well pull your homework out your here for an hour in the meantime I'll be in the teachers lounge watching TV" Mr willams says and then he leaves the classroom
You are sitting in the back of the room and Clapton is sitting up front of the room messing with his nails looking like he wants to say something
"You know we wouldn't be in here if my girlfriend wasn't crazy and let someone get into her head" Clapton said outloud
"We wouldn't be here if my boyfriend wasn't known for being a player" you respond back
"How am I player when I've been with your ass for two years?" Clapton asked
"Not my fault your a moron" you say sarcastically
"Oh I'm a moron " Clapton says mocking you rolling his eyes
The two of you sit in silence for a moment and then Clapton stands up and walks over to you
"I don't want to talk to you right now Clapton" you say rolling your eyes
"Well too bad we're gonna talk this out right now because I'm not about to sit here for an hour while my girlfriend is mad at me" Clapton says
He looks at you with his brown eyes and you cave instantly
"Ugh fine" you say
"Now be a good girl and tell me what Lexi said to you" Clapton said sitting on your desk looking down at you
"She said that you we're flirting with her and she was rubbing it in my face all day" you respond
"So you choose to act crazy and getting mad at me for something I didn't do? instead of talking to me?" He asks
"Well I was all worked up and you wasn't listening to me" you say rolling your eyes
"Because it was ridiculous and you should that by now Yn I love you and this dick only belongs too you" he responds
"But lucky for you I love me some crazy girls and my girlfriend is the craziest person I know" Clapton says as he grabs your face
He holds your face in the both of his hands and he crashes his lips into yours kissing you like his life depended on it
"I only want you yn, I love you and only you" Clapton says
"By the way this dress has been driving me crazy all day" Clapton continues
"Oh yeah? Then what are you gonna do about it? "You respond teasingly
"I'll show you one sec" he says with a smug smile on his face
He walks over to the door and locks it once it's locked he walks back over to you
He pulls you up and sits you on your desk
"You have no idea what you do to me baby" he says looking into your eyes
"Then show me" you respond
He spreads your legs open playing with the lines of your panties you can already feel your cunt becoming wet
"already so wet for Daddy" He purred
He slides down your panties His fingers slid through your wet folds and he smirked rubbing your clit with his thumb.
He grabs you by your throat and pulls your face to his
"you are mine and only mine," he says he unbuckled his jeans pulling out his cock and sliding through your folds. He began to kiss your neck sucking harshly before he thrusted into you.
"Oh fuck Daddy" you say with a moan
"you know you belong too me right?" Clapton says with a moan
"y-yes" you managed to blurt out
"Good" he responds
His fingers gripped your waist as he moved back as you leaned on the desk he looked into your eyes with his brown eyes with each thrust
while he was counting to fuck you you could hear Mr Willams. on his way back
so the two of you put your clothes back on
you slide your dress back on but can't find your panties
you look for them and then you see Clapton has them he looks at you with a smirk and he puts in his pocket
"We'll continue this later" he says with a smirk going back to his desk
You get back in yours in time
Mr Willams walks back in
-------------------------------------------------------
No edits
Part 2
#clapton davis smut#clapton davis x you#clapton davis x reader#clapton davis#josh hutcherson#mike schmidt#detention 2011
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Friend, I found the funniest writing prompt on Pinterest and immediately thought about your cowboy!AU. I know you have a lot of asks, but I couldn’t just let the opportunity to share it with you slip between my little fingers.
« I never thought my day would start with a goat, but… Here I am. With a motherfucking goat. »
For some reason, I can picture Ghost saying this, with a very deadpan look and tone of voice. If it took place in the past cowboy!au, where he is quite obviously enamoured with Goose but also still quite clumsy around her, it would probably be even funnier ?
Or Bee. Who doesn’t really know how to handle the farm life, but is still trying. With König looking at the goat in her arms like - « well, time to go get some wooden planks then. »
I can’t stop cackling at those scenarios I’ve got in mind. I hope they will make you laugh too x)
1870's!Ghost my beloved. He's so off his game with Goose despite being head over heels for her.
"You know when you said you had a surprise for me this isn't what I had in mind," Ghost tells you, holding the new born kid in his arms close to his chest. Both his muscular arms hold the little goat as it bleats, the poor kid looking so much smaller when held by such a giant of a man.
"You know this isn't exactly my version of a perfect morning," You tell him, soothing the new mother goat. You think she's got another one in her, which makes you a little nervous for her. You like this goat, be a shame to lose her.
"Never thought I'd be starting my day with a goat," Ghost gripes.
"What did you think? That I was bringing you out to the barn to take my fuckin-" You glance over your shoulder at him, the sharp heat in his eyes when he looks at you, "Oh my god you thought I wanted to fuck you in the barn!"
"Did not," He insists. You scoff, and turn your attention back to the goat.
"You think the barn is a good spot to take a lady's virtue?" You call over your shoulder.
"Course not," Ghost's voice is rough, even, he's stating a fact, "unless the lady asked."
"I'm not askin'," You throw back in annoyance. This isn't exactly how you wanted to start your morning either.
"Don't wanna fuck ya in the barn," Ghost grumbles, his voice low enough you could almost ignore it. You don't. You glare over your shoulder at him, he glares back. He's lucky you're sweet on him or you'd make him sleep in the barn. Damn pretty boy.
"You wanna wait 'til we're married like a gentleman, right?" You snap at him.
"Gonna marry you anyway, what's the point waitin'," He snaps back.
"What?" You frown, not expecting him to agree with you. Simon holds your gaze firm, still glaring. You blink, trying to come up with something to say back that isn't "I didn't know you wanted to marry me" or something similar. But you also... didn't know he wanted to marry you, you'd meant it as a joke.
You feel another contraction as you pet you're goat's stomach and transfer your attention back to her. Maybe if you keep your focus on your work you won't be able to feel Simon's eyes staring holes through you. Patiently impatient.
He's going to marry you, just you fucking wait.
#cod x reader#x reader#simon ghost riley#simon ghost riley x reader#ghost x reader#x oc#ghost mw2#cod x oc#oc: goose#simon ghost riley x oc#simon riley#simon riley x reader#ghost call of duty#ghost cod#f!reader#f!oc#Goose my beloved I would lay down my life for you#Ghost so mad he accidentally proposes#they're perfect together#1870s!Ghost#cowboy!Ghost
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Two to Tango Part 1 | Rooster x Reader
Summary: Bradley isn't afraid of a little competition between the Naval aviators and Air Force pilots. And when you prove to be as good as you claimed, he refuses to back down.
Warnings: Adult banter, swearing
Length: 2800 words
Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female Reader
This fic was written for a request! Thanks for reading! And please check my masterlist for more Top Gun fun.
"This is the worst fucking week of the whole goddamn year," Bradley muttered to Phoenix, Hangman, and Coyote as they stood on the blazing hot tarmac in southern Nevada.
"Seven days of training with these assholes," Phoenix added, lowering her sunglasses to the tip of her nose and glaring at the four US Air Force pilots standing a few feet away.
"I love how Maverick told us we were lucky to be the four who were chosen, when honestly nobody wants to be here," Coyote complained, wiping his brow with the sleeve of his flight suit.
"Let's torch these losers and get back to San Diego," Hangman said with a devilish grin.
"Doubt any of them can even fly well enough to compete," Bradley said, eyeing up the pilot who just spun around to face him.
"Excuse me?" you said, strolling confidently toward him with your chin in the air. "What did you just say?"
Bradley smirked. He didn't care if you were going to call him out; he and the other Naval aviators were the best, and he could back up his words any day of the week. Plus you were kind of cute, and getting you all flustered could be fun for him.
"We were just discussing your ineptitude. Well, not yours specifically, sweetheart. Just the general incompetence of Air Force aviators in general," Bradley said, and he heard his friends hooting with laughter around him.
He had expected you to blow up at him, but your placid smile was almost more alarming. "It's really cute, sweetheart, how you think you're better because you can land on a boat. When really, nobody gives a fuck about you at all," you stated calmly.
Bradley would never admit that he was the one who was feeling flustered, so he just crossed his arms over his chest and said, "It takes real skill to land on an aircraft carrier. Runways are for amateurs," he said, inching closer to you.
"It's almost cute how stupid you are," you told him. "What's your dumb call sign?"
"Rooster," he told you, and you smirked. "What's yours?"
"Tango. As in you don't want to tango with me, sweetheart. So since you're running your mouth, why don't we make a little wager?" you asked, standing your ground as Bradley and his cohorts laughed at you.
"What did you have in mind?" he asked.
"Two hundred bucks says Air Force ends the week with more points than Navy," you told him, glaring at him over your sunglasses.
Bradley nodded slowly. "Okay, sounds good. But, if I end up with more points than you, you've gotta say something nice about me in front of everyone."
You chuckled. "And if I end up with more points than you, you'll be the one saying something oh so flattering about me."
Bradley stuck his right hand out and you took it in your smaller one. "Deal. Sweetheart," you told him before turning and stomping away in your boots, back to the other Air Force pilots.
"You've got nothing to worry about," Phoenix said, patting Bradley on the shoulder. "We're gonna smoke them."
--------------------------------------------------
The following morning, Bradley was awake at five and stretching. He'd have a full day of long distance running and obstacle course races ahead of him, and he was determined to take a massive lead in points right off the bat. No way he was going to lose money to a bunch of whiney Air Force pilots who wouldn't be able to cut it at Top Gun.
He was the first one in the cafeteria, and he selected his breakfast very carefully, trying to get the maximum amount of calories he could. When he turned to find a seat, he saw you breeze into the room. Out of your flight suit, you looked hotter than hell, and Bradley almost dropped his tray of food.
"Morning, sweetheart," you crooned, barely glancing at him as you grabbed a bunch of random food. Your athletic pants were skin tight, and your matching shirt left very little to the imagination and showed off an inch of skin all the way around your waist. Your hair was pulled back showing off your neck and upper back, and Bradley was so mad at himself for picking a fight with you. Because now you automatically found him annoying, while he was thinking about how much he'd like to touch you.
You turned away from the food, leaving him in the dust while he stared at your ass. Now he was distracted. A distraction would be very bad. Especially when his reputation was on the line. "Fuck," he muttered.
He went to sit down at the table where you were already eating alone. "That seat's taken," you told him when he pulled out a chair. When he reached for the one next to it, you told him, "That one is, too."
"Let me guess," he rasped, setting his tray down anyway. "They're all taken."
You smiled at him while you licked your lips. "You're not as dumb as you look."
Bradley just smirked and sat down directly across from you. "And you're not as sweet and friendly as you look," he said before shoving half of a breakfast sandwich into his mouth and chewing it up.
"You think I look sweet?" you asked, leaned a little closer to him across the table.
Bradley let his eyes dip down to your mouth and then your neck before sweeping back to your eyes. "I didn't mean it as a compliment."
Your smile never wavered. "That's fine, because I lied to you."
"About what?" he asked, eyes narrowed.
"You are as dumb as you look," you told him, nodding at someone behind him. "The seats really are taken."
Bradley turned to see your Air Force teammates looking at him like he'd lost his mind. "You're sitting with us? You know this is a competition, right?" one of them asked.
"This asshole bothering you, Tango?" asked the biggest guy, and Bradley turned back to look at you, your face shining with mirth.
"Nah, Killer," you replied, looking right at Bradley. "He's just a dumb pussycat. Couldn't hurt a fly."
Bradley desperately wanted to keep teasing you, but not with company around. "Should I go then?" Bradley asked as he started to stand.
"No, why don't you stay and get to know the guys. They aren't as sweet and friendly as I am, sweetheart," you told him, walking away without a backward glance.
And then Bradley had to endure the most uncomfortable breakfast of his life.
----------------------------
Bradley was two miles into the ten mile run, and he was feeling great. He was keeping pace with Hangman, saving as much energy as he could for the last mile. He ran side by side with Jake, neither of them talking. The sun was intense, and he had already soaked through his compression shorts and his US NAVY TOP GUN tee shirt. But he was determined to win.
At mile six, you came out of nowhere and caught up with Bradley and Jake.
"Hey, boys," you said casually. You barely sounded winded at all, and instead of pouring sweat, you looked as good as you had at breakfast. "You guys look a little warm," you said, taking in Bradley's sweaty form from head to toe. "See you at the finish."
Then you tore off ahead of them. Bradley was impressed and once again distracted by your ass. He tried his best to keep up, but it seemed like you kept gaining on him.
"Damn. She's fast," Jake huffed next to him, and Bradley just grunted. "How much money did you bet?"
"Shit," Bradley gasped, trying to pick up the pace.
-----------------------------
You had been waiting for him at the finish line, cheering him on by chanting "Rooster!" very loudly and looking like you'd barely broken a sweat. Meanwhile, Bradley had a horrible stitch in his side and was doubled over. He wasn't sure how he was going to manage doing the obstacle course after this, let alone try to beat you at it.
"You okay, old man?" you asked, crouching down next to him and smirking.
Bradley turned to look at you. "How old do you think I am?"
"Too old to beat me," you replied, shoving a water bottle in his face. "Drink up. It will be more fun for me to destroy you in the obstacle course if you're properly hydrated."
Then you walked away, and Bradley had to admit he kind of liked your smart mouth.
Once the points were tallied after the ten mile run, the Air Force team was leading by a small margin. Bradley was angry as he confronted his teammates. "Okay, who dropped the ball?" he asked, eyeing Coyote with one eyebrow raised.
"I'm not a runner! I'll destroy them on the obstacle course," Coyote promised, and Bradley knew he would.
Bradley also knew he was exhausted while you looked like you were ready to tear up every obstacle in your way. "Yeah, Tango," the guys on your team all said, giving you high fives.
It was one thing to be the best on the ground, but being the best in the air was where Bradley would shine. So he would try to get a good time on the course and then focus on the rest of the week.
Everyone groaned when they got to the course after lunch. It looked like a mud pit that was now baking in the sun, and Bradley thought he would rather run another ten miles than have to do this shit.
"Let's work as a team to start," Phoenix told the guys. "I am going to need help getting over the second and third walls quickly." So they came up with a game plan to boost Nat over the walls since she was much shorter than they were. Then she would have no trouble crawling under the ropes that came next. Each of them had their strengths, and they would stick together when they could.
Both teams lined up, and when the whistle was blown, they were off. Bradley watched out of the corner of his eye to see that the Air Force team went with the same game plan. They were boosting you over the wall at the same time Bradley was practically throwing Phoenix over. Then he used all of his upper body strength to pull himself up and over. The next few walls were taller, and Coyote had to have Phoenix practically stand on his shoulders so the guys could use her body to pull themselves up.
"Fuck!" Phoenix yelled. "You weigh a shit ton, Bradley!"
"I'm sorry," he gasped, pulling her over the wall with him once he had reached the top. Then he reached down to give Hangman a hand to grab.
Navy was pulling ahead of Air Force, but Bradley was determined to keep the lead. Now everyone was starting to work more independently, and he could see that you were ahead of him going through the tires. Bradley forced himself to move, shoving his larger form under the ropes and diving into the mud when necessary.
Coyote, Phoenix and Hangman were all close behind him, and he tried to encourage them along. But when it came to the mile run back to the starting line, Bradley went full force. He was gaining on you now, each of his strides counting for two of yours. Pumping his arms and gasping for air as his chest and throat burned, he caught up to you just as you crossed the line.
"A tie!" the officer with the stopwatch said. "And the best course time this year!"
Bradley watched you walk in a circle before you bent in half with your hands on your knees, trying to catch your breath. Much less gracefully, he plopped down into more mud and rolled onto his back, baking in the sun and sucking in air.
When he opened his eyes a few seconds later, you were making your way toward him with your hand outstretched. Bradley gave you a high five and let you help him to his feet.
"Impressive, old man," you told him. Bradley rolled his eyes as he stood, massaging the stitch in his side.
"Yeah, well..." he started, just as he saw his teammates in the distance. "Age comes with experience."
You narrowed your eyes. "What's that supposed to mean?"
Bradley just shrugged as he looked at you. "I'm just saying, it must be nice to win races because of age and stamina, but that has nothing to do with your flying."
Your eyes went wide and you took a step closer to him. "Listen up, sweetheart. I've worked my ass off to be the best. And you don't know anything about me or my experience. So why don't you stay in your own lane and watch me destroy you and everybody else." You were practically touching him now, seemingly just seething in your anger.
Bradley's heart was pounding. You were covered in mud and yelling at him. And embarrassingly enough, he was kind of turned on. He didn't even mind you calling him old man. But now he felt a little bad about what he had said.
"Listen, I-"
But he was cut off by you planting your hand on his chest and pushing yourself away as your teammates and his all crossed the finish line in a large group. You raised your middle finger up behind your back and aimed it at him when you walked away.
"Shit," Bradley muttered. He hadn't meant to piss you off even more. Honestly, he liked you. You were smart and quick witted. Cute too.
He was going to have to apologize when he had you alone again. Hopefully letting you call him old man for the rest of the week would help smooth over what he'd said.
"We just barely beat their combined time," Coyote said, panting to catch his breath.
Hangman was walking in circles chugging water while Phoenix patted Bradley on the shoulder. "I'm never letting you use me as a human rope again. That was painful," she said.
"I'm sorry, but at least we won this round," he told her. "We'll get up in the air tomorrow and kick their asses."
As everyone made their way back toward the locker rooms to get cleaned up before dinner, Bradley cut you off in front of the ladies' locker room door.
You planted both hands on your hips and looked up at him. "You lost, sweetheart? Mens' showers are that way." You nodded your head to the side where Coyote was disappearing through the door. You had a streak of dried mud running across your forehead, and your hair was an absolute mess.
"No. Listen, I just wanted to apologize," he said, running his hand through his muddy hair. "I'm sure I came across as a bit of a sore loser when I insinuated that you lack experience in the air. You're right, I don't know anything about it. Sorry."
There was nobody else around as you closed the distance between your bodies and tipped your head up to keep your eyes on his. "Yesterday you called me incompetent. Today you called me inexperienced. What are you planning on calling me tomorrow?" you asked in a controlled voice, but your eyes were angry.
When Bradley didn't respond right away, you let your fingers rest on his abs before flattening your palm there. Slowly you dragged your hand up the front of his mud soaked shirt, teasing the hard planes of his body. Bradley didn't dare move as he watched your eyes which were focused on your own hand. He wanted to kiss you, but chances were you actually hated him and were just trying to get a rise out of him for your own entertainment.
But when your hand traveled over his pecs and up around the scars on his neck, you stroked your thumb softly there. His pulse quickened as his dick throbbed. "Oh, so now you're quiet, old man? Gotta say, I like this version of you much better."
Bradley didn't dare move as you pressed up onto your toes and kissed him hard, pushing your fingers up roughly into his messy hair. He wanted to turn you and push you up against the wall, press his hardening length against you and make you moan.
But as soon as he had his hands on your hips, you pulled out of his grasp and slapped him lightly on the cheek.
"Apology accepted. For now," you said, pointing at him as you turned to walk into the locker room.
Bradley stood there for a moment in shock before he crept quietly into the men's room with a boner.
-----------------------
Thanks for reading this one! It will be four parts total! And thanks for all of your help @beyondthesefourwalls
PART 2
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Blood Sweat & Tears
— PAIRING: Patrick Bateman x Fem!Reader
— SYNOPSIS: It doesn't matter how far this man can go. You are ready to surrender to his possession because you are his obedient little girl.
— WARNINGS: Period sex, hurt/comfort, blood kink, oral (f), fingering, vaginal sex, creampie, possessive behavior, body worship, hand jobs, marking, teasing, dirty talk, Praise kink, Mild Degradation kink, pet names, dumbification.
— WORDCOUNT: 4k
— A/N: Thank you so much for your patience, I hope you like it! Many thanks for an amazing GIF by @nikolatexla!
— LINKS: [MASTERLIST] 🪓 [support]
It was a busy day at the Bellagio, the most famous and well regarded casino in Las Vegas. Shamelessly, rich people gambled here and there, not caring how much money they would win or lose. The chin-chin of the glasses mingled with the flirtatious laughter of beautiful girls whose short dresses were too seductive and all the guys around couldn't hide their hungry eyes.
Patrick Bateman loved to play roulette, it was his favourite gambling game. With a smug look on his face, he sat near the table, smoking an expensive cigar and holding you possessively by your waist as you rested on his lap.
With a haughty grin, Patrick took a chip and brought it to your lips. "Come on, darling. Blow on it."
"Do you think it will bring you luck?" You asked, a little skeptical, but did what he wanted nonetheless.
"I always feel so lucky when you're around." He winked at you, giving your bum a light pinch that made you giggle in embarrassment. "Let's see what we got."
Although you didn't know the exact denomination of the chips, you were sure that it wasn't cheap, so you got nervous when the roulette began to spin. Your eyes followed the small ball as it spun around in circles, and when the ball stopped in the red 7 slot, you heard Bateman's happy voice:
"YES, BABY!" He smooched your cheek before clapping his hands and urging you on: "Always bet on red, honey. Always."
"Wow," you smiled at him and took a sip of champagne, when suddenly you felt his big palm cupping your butt. "Hey, gentleman. Watch your hands!"
"Or what?" Patrick chuckled, pulling you closer as he puffed on his cigar. "I'm on a roll today, sweetheart. You know what that means?"
For a moment, you just stared into his hazel, magnetic eyes, and when he noticed your intense gaze, Bateman beckoned you closer so he could blow rings of smoke right against your half-open lips.
"God, you're so beautiful," Patrick murmured, stroking your chin and tilting your head to the side to admire the view. "My lucky charm."
Oh, Bateman could be such a sweet talker sometimes.
Rolling your eyes, you let him cover your lips with his plush ones, but when his wet tongue began to explore your mouth, you heard someone's irritated voice:
"Hey, young people, this is a casino, not a brothel, maybe you need help getting yourselves a room?"
You and Patrick immediately turned in the direction of the owner of the voice to see an old man smoking a cigar of the same brand as Bateman's. When he noticed this he became even angrier.
With an arrogant grin, Patrick puffed on his cigar and growled through clenched teeth: "Maybe you need help keeping your mouth shut?"
"Patrick!" You tried to calm him down, but he just shook his finger at you before turning back to the stranger.
"I'm enjoying my girl, and you don't have one, maybe that's your fucking problem?"
"Take it easy, gentlemen." One of the securities warned as he came across your table. "Otherwise I'll have to escort you out."
"You should throw these two idiots out for indecent behaviour!" The old man continued to inflame the conflict, causing Bateman to clench his fists and making you fear that he would crush the man's skull.
"Patrick, don't!" You lean on his broad shoulders, fumbling with the soft fabric of his pinstriped jacket. "We're leaving soon anyway!"
"You're just an old faggot whose destiny is to jerk off for the rest of your miserable life!" Bateman spat in the old man's face.
The growing tension between them was starting to really concern you, so you pressed a hand to your temple nervously, feeling the vein pulsate under your touch.
"Enough, please!" You didn't give up trying to cool this argument down, but the situation seemed to finally get out of control when the man got up from his seat and rushed towards you. "Patrick, NO!"
Shocked, you saw your beloved standing in front of you, instinctively trying to cover you as your safety was his number one priority. In the next second, a tall security guard came between Patrick and the old man, shouting:
"HEY! CALM DOWN!"
"YOU LITTLE PIECE OF SHIT!" The stranger yelped and tried to hit Bateman, and that was his biggest mistake, because the next moment Patrick's firm fist slammed into his confused face like in a slow motion film.
Frightened, you hysterically put a hand over your mouth, suddenly becoming hyper aware of your heart pounding painfully against your chest. "Stop! Please!" You repeated over and over, ignoring the sharp pain that coursed through your lower body. Anything you said was useless at this point, so you just gasped and blurted out: "I'm leaving!"
Biting your lower lip nervously, you spun around and made your way through the countless tables towards the exit, trying to ignore the curious eyes that only left you when you finally made it to the hallway.
Only then did you hear Bateman's worried voice as he rushed down the stairs after you:
"(Y/N), baby! WAIT!"
His words made your heart skip a beat, but you kept moving, stifling a sharp gasp. It was only a matter of seconds before he caught you in his strong arms, and no matter how hard you tried to ignore him, you couldn't. So you stopped and looked at him as he gently cupped your face.
"Darling, I'm sorry it turned out like this! But that bastard, he—"
"You could just have ignored him!" You interrupted and tried to move away, but his firm grip didn't allow it.
"He dared to say something when I was just enjoying the night with my lovely girl, how could I just ignore him?" Patrick tried to peck you on the nose, but you turned away. "Oh, come on, don't be like that! What can I do to make up for this little accident?"
"Just take me to the hotel, please," you breathed out and he finally let go of you. "I don't feel well, Patrick."
"What's wrong?"
"Nothing serious." You pressed a hand to your stomach, feeling the unpleasant tingling again. "Just a little headache from the stress, you know?"
Bateman sighed deeply, feeling a little sad. It was probably the first time in his life that he actually felt guilty.
Later, you found yourself crying on the large balcony of your shared hotel room, and even the amazing view of Vegas at night didn't help.
Just as you were about to return to the living room, you heard the door slide open and saw Patrick's slightly grumpy face.
"I've been waiting for you for almost 20 minutes, are you OK?" His sudden question took you by surprise.
"Y-yeah, I'm fine! I was just... I was just admiring the view."
"Aha, and the view is so fascinating that it made you cry?" Bateman stepped closer to you without breaking eye contact. "Don't try to fool me, darling. What happened?"
You sighed and closed your eyes for a moment, but when his warm, large palm touched your cheek to wipe away your shimmering tears, you nuzzled into it, because it was exactly what you needed right now.
"Patrick, you scared me, I was so nervous that..." You hiccupped and swallowed your tears.
"That I was going to kill that guy?" He chuckled a bit strangely.
"WHAT?!" You gave him a confused look. "No! I was afraid he would hurt—"
"You?" He interrupted, caressing the back of your neck to calm down your nerves. "Darling, no one will ever touch you with a finger. I've told you so many times and—"
"Stop! It's not about me! It's about you!"
Patrick narrowed his eyes and frowned a little in confusion. "What do you mean? My behaviour scared you?"
"I was afraid for you, Patrick!" You blurted out, salty tears running down your cheeks again.
A shadow of disbelief crept across his perfect face. "You were afraid for me?" He repeated, chuckling. "'Sweetheart, you—"
"No! Don't say anything!"
"Shhh." Patrick murmured in your ear, stroking your shoulders gently. "It's OK, love. It's okay." His reassuring tone and warm embrace comforted you, but you secretly wished for more.
"Patrick…" You gasped as he suddenly attacked your neck as if he could read your mind. "Just... don't do that again."
Bateman only whispered some romantic nonsense, his strong hands were already groping your bum, and you instinctively arched your back towards him for closer contact. Possessively, he left a noticeable red mark on your cleavage, and when he heard your obscene moan, Patrick couldn't help but grin and mutter under his breath:
"Mmhm… what a naughty little kitten." A long lick across your cheek and then a sensitive bite on your throat made you squirm, but he held you tight. "I want to fuck you right here."
"Pat!" A muffled whimper escaped your shaky throat as he pressed you against the balcony railing and spread your legs with his knee. "Wait!"
Only after kissing you hard on the lips did he stopped and allowed you to speak.
"Why? What's wrong?" He asked, giving you his most seductive glance.
"We can't do this," you were a little afraid of his reaction, but you decided to be honest with him, just like he asked you to the other day. "I'm... I'm on my period right now."
You lowered your eyes as you said this, but he immediately lifted your face by the chin and made you look at him. "Baby, I'm absolutely fine with that."
"But..." You tried to protest, feeling a stabbing pain in your lower body. "I don't know if I'm okay with this...
Patrick snickered and traced a finger along your slightly wet cheekbone. "I can ease your pain," he pecked at your temple, then moved down to the sensitive area around your ear and mused. "If you let me. Will you let me take care of you?"
Trembling, you clung to the railing behind you to cope with the rapidity of your heartbeat. "Right here? Are y-you sure? What if someone sees us?"
Amused by your innocence, Bateman shook his head quickly and looked at you from hair to toe. "Then they are lucky to see such beauty like you. Now open your legs for me, sweetheart."
Damn, the power this man had over you was overwhelming.
Without breaking eye contact, you leaned against the railing and did as he asked, pulling up your black skimpy dress.
"Fuck, I love it when you're so obedient," Patrick licked his lips briefly as he looked shamelessly at your mound. "I love everything about you, actually."
What a devil. So smug, but insanely hot.
With a sly grin, Bateman knelt beside you, and the next moment you had to stifle a nervous sigh as you felt his plush, warm lips on your leg. Inch by inch he worked his way up to your thigh, looking at you from below, his brown eyes glowing brighter than the Sun itself. Gulping, you tried your best to relax, but when he was about to push your panties aside, you stopped him with a nervous sigh.
"Sorry, I can't!"
"(Y/N), dear," You could feel how needy he was when he cupped your thigh, nuzzling against it and planting little kisses. "Just let it go. I got you."
Although he allowed you to close your legs, his large palm was still between them, ready to slip under your underwear at any moment.
"Don't you trust me?" His sudden question made you lose orientation in space.
"Yes! Of course I do!" You said without hesitation, running your fingers through his coiffed hair, making it slightly dishevelled. "I just don't feel comfortable with it…"
You expected him to be angry at your refusal, but instead he just planted a sloppy kiss on your pubic bone. Then he grinned at how cute you sounded when he did things like that.
"What can I do to make you more comfortable?" His slightly pushy tone sent shivers down your spine.
Humming to yourself, you paused for a moment to consider his words, doubting that he would back down from his urge to fuck you. It seemed like not even your periods could stop him.
"Can we do it in the shower…?" You asked and saw his smile widen. "But first, I need some time to myself."
"You can have all the time in the world, darling." Patrick pinched your ass before adding: "But only until I get bored."
You didn't say anything back because you knew it was rather unreal to outsmart him in his own game. Carefully, he stood up and watched you go out from the balcony, and the look he gave you when you decided to turn around was so fucking savage.
In the shower, you closed your eyes from the soothing sensation of the warm streams of water outlining the curves of your beautiful body. Damn, it was so relaxing that you didn't even notice Bateman standing in the doorway, admiring the view and undressing lazily, unable to avert his hungry gaze.
"Mmm, what a view." He sneered in a raspy voice, and you immediately turned around to see him completely naked.
Swallowing hard, you watched his cock bob every time he moved, it was huge and veined, it sent shivers down your spine, it made your inner walls clench around nothing. You found yourself trapped in a cage with a wild beast when he joined you, because now you couldn't run away.
Patrick closed the distance between you a little too quickly, causing a loud wail to escape your mouth. He kissed you roughly, consuming all the little pathetic sounds you made, especially when his sneaky hand slid down your belly to your juicy pussy.
"Mmhm!" You murmured in the kiss as his tongue playfully teased yours, his strong arms were wrapped around you like tight ropes.
"Baby," He exhaled through his inflamed nostrils from how fucking hard he was. "You smell so good."
"I love you." It was all you managed to say, and these three words were enough to make him growl in ecstasy.
And then you had no choice but to claw at your own palm as the sensation of his strong tongue drawing invisible ornaments along your abdomen was too much to bear. Bateman knew it before you even tried to pull away, so he gripped your ass as tightly as he could, forcing you to open up for him. The moment his mouth locked onto your swollen clit, you seemed to stop breathing and lose your ability to speak. Patrick made a guttural sound from the taste of your flavour mixed with your blood, so he continued to suck on your sensitive bud with his eyes closed.
"Ahhmm, Patty!" You were now literally sprawled against the wall of the shower, your hands desperately sliding along it in search of support.
"Mmmm, I can eat that pussy forever." He said briefly before draping your leg over his broad shoulder for better access to your soaped slit.
For a brief moment Patrick looked longingly into your eyes and stroked your inner thigh before he suddenly thrust his pulsating tongue into your hot, feverish cleft, and that sensation was wholesomely mind-blowing.
"OH MY GOSH! OHH MY G-GOSH!" Your loud scream surely could be heard from outside the hotel room, but you didn't care. "Pat-Patrick!"
The running water drowned out the dirty slurping sounds Bateman was making as he devoured your sweet little pussy, along with his wild growls, which you could barely hear, but they sounded so fucking animalistic. At one point, you found yourself balancing on the edge as his tongue played with your throbbing tip, and it felt almost electric. You grabbed his head and brought it even closer to your pulsating pussy, moaning lewdly.
"Mhmm— yeah, give me more…" He grunted before cooing at you. "Such a needy girl... your voice is so sweet, just like your tight little hole."
You were about to pass out from the sheer overstimulation when he began to lick your cunt more and more fiercely with each second, pumping his thick cock all the while. And not to mention the mind-numbing view when you dared to look down to see his handsome lower face smeared in a little bit of your blood.
"Please, t-this is too much!" You almost screamed, feeling your legs getting weak. "Mmmm— my GOD, I'mma cum, I'mma cummm!"
Patrick chuckled softly before letting the surging lust overtake his mind, and before he even realized, his thin fingers were already inside your clenching pussy, bringing you to one of the most intense orgasms you have ever had, all that while he continued to swirl his tongue around your clit.
"Ahhhh! Patrick— mmhm!" You clung to his shoulder and nearly broke in half from the violent tremors on your body.
"Just like that, darling. Keep showing me how good I make you feel." Bateman mumbled, licking your blood from his lips as his fingers kept stimulating you to prolong your climax. "Good girl!"
Dazed, you almost slipped down the wall, but he caught you and pulled you into a passionate kiss. The metallic taste on your lips made you moan into his mouth, and he used that moment to grab your hand and wrap it around his cock, forcing you to stroke it at a steady pace.
"Feeling better, babe?" He towered over you, his hands resting on the wall on either sides of you.
"Yes..." You closed your eyes because you couldn't bear the way he looked at you; his devilish and slightly mocking grin humiliated you. "Thank you, Patrick."
"Fucking hell. You're so sweet and innocent." Bateman couldn't hold back a laugh, but then he moaned, his dick throbbing in your grasp. "C'mere, honey."
"What are you doing?"
He didn't answer, just lifted you up with ease and opened the shower door. Everything that happened next was so intense that it reminded you of some of your wild dreams that you always kept as a secret from Patrick, but after the events of that night, you would probably tell him about them.
Breathing heavily, you lay on the pile of white towels that Patrick had dropped on the floor to make you more comfortable, as he was going to fuck all the pain out of you. With no hurry, Bateman kneeled down in front of your open legs, then placed them on his shoulders and kissed your ankles.
"I hope you remember that I love you too." He sneered suddenly as he pushed himself inside you. "My little girl... mmm-mine, only mine!"
A slow thrust, then another, but deeper.
"P-Patrick!" You sobbed as he pulled you up a bit to pound you harder, rolling his toned hips against yours, and it felt so fucking good. "Kiss me! Aww... please, please, p-please!"
Patrick could swear he was about to lose it right now, but he gathered all his will into a fist and tried his best not to cum just from seeing you so vulnerable and ruined beneath him. Damn, you were whimpering so loudly and so pathetically from the way his beefy cock was brushing against your soft inner walls, that he had to hang over you and shush you with his mouth.
"Argh... is this too much for you already?" Bateman looked down at where your bodies were connected — the blood on his cock was driving him crazy, but he couldn't stop mocking you. "Do you want me to stop?"
Fucking bastard!
"N-no! Don't... awwww!" You stammered when he nibbled at your neck, thrusting hard and deep into your dripping womb. "Don't stop!"
"Holy fuck, you're nasty!" He murmured into your ear before tonguing it.
As soon as Patrick hugged your shoulders and put a hand under your head, you hid your face in the nape of his neck and shrieked as his pounding became faster and sloppier. Your sweaty bodies slapped against each other, filling the bathroom with vicious sounds, and there was nothing left for you to do but wrap your legs around his loin, drowning in an ocean of pleasure every time the tip of his dick hit your cervix.
"A-awwww! Pat...mmm-Patrick!" You whimpered against his bloody lips as he lowered himself to kiss you.
Bateman growled into your mouth when you cupped his toned ass, encouraging him to go deeper, so he settled on his knees to fuck you hard into the floor with his full weight.
"Mmmhm… your pussy is clinging to my dick so greedily! F-fuck!" His hoarse voice only added fuel to the fire, you could feel the pulsing tension in your lower abdomen again.
"Pat..." You stammered as your legs started to shake. "Patrick-mmhm ahhh!"
"What?"
"C-cum… cum inside me..."
Patrick laughed before he gave you several deep strokes, pressing you closer to his body and enjoying the way you moaned under his massive muscles. "Ask me nicely, baby."
"P-please!"
"What are you mumbling?" He grabbed your chin, forcing you to look into his eyes, while his other hand was buried in your hair.
"I want your c-cream, ahhh… PLEASE! Fill me up until I… I'm so full! I BEG YOU!" You were on the verge of tears, your trembling little form was ready to explode in the next vivid orgasm.
Grinning, Patrick clicked his tongue and shook his head. "Jeez, you're such a slutty girl, begging me to fill your tight hole with my cum... mmhm... today's your lucky day..."
With a low growl, Bateman suddenly pulled out of you and turned you on your side, bending your legs and pressing them together. Feeling dizzy, you didn't even want to look at him, knowing you couldn't bear how fucking savage he looked now, the sight of his huge dick covered in your blood awakening something absolutely primal in him.
"Don't you dare beg for mercy, bitch." He blurted out through his gritted teeth as he thrust into your abused cunt once more.
You had to cover your mouth with one hand as his muscular hips slammed into your fragile frame. Moaning, Patrick pinned you in place, gripping your ass and thigh, and doing his best to make the tension on your cervix unbearable. You bit your finger as you arched your back, convulsing from the multiple waves of pleasure that seemed to pierce through each pitch of your body. Patrick didn't stop drilling into your feverish slit, enjoying how dumb you looked with your eyes rolled back in your head.
"Look at you!" He snarled as his dick throbbed from the overwhelming sensation of your clenching pussy. "S-so fucking overwhelmed, mmhhm!" Bateman paused again, throwing his head back and growling loudly as he finally allowed himself to peak. "Arghhh, FUCK!"
Bateman was absolutely brutal with the way he dug his fingers into your soft skin. Later there would be bruises for sure, but at that moment you couldn't bring yourself to care as the feeling of his warm seed spilling into you became the final drop for your mind to collapse.
By the time Patrick stopped moving, you were completely numb. When you tried to move, you felt his dense cum flowing down your hips. You didn't even tried to resist when he possessively spread your legs to smeared the mixture of his cream and your blood all over your mound before hanging over you and making you suck on his fingers. Closing your eyes, you moaned at the salty taste and cleaned his digits with your tongue. No matter how far he could go, you would submit because you trusted him.
"Good girl." Bateman purred after you finished licking his fingers. He then pressed a soft kiss to your temple. "Why didn't we do this before?"
"Don't even ask." You laughed, looking up at his flushed face.
"I'm not going to leave it like this, darling." He covered your mouth with his, moaning softly at the taste of himself on your lips. "From now on I'm going to have a calendar of your cycle because I enjoyed this too much."
Holly shit.
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mad // Kylian Mbappe
warning: english is not my first language :’)
You know that Kylian is a very hot-tempered person. He can get angry very quickly at something or start ignoring you just because he is in a bad mood. You are used to it and at these moments you are trying to calm yourself first of all, so as not to say unpleasant words to each other. You know that he is not a bad person and such a character doesn’t make a person basically bad. At first, when this happened, you were constantly crying, but after a while you realized that he didn’t want to show himself from this side and was trying to control it to the last. In general, it’s better not to make Kylian angry. But if he restrains himself with you, then with others he loses control.
This happened before the start of the match, when one of the players on the opposing team said that he will fuck you after this game because PSG will lose. And Kylian turned to the conversation. At that time, Kylian didn't care whether the broadcast was live or not. Without hesitation, he approached the guy and wanted to push him, but didn’t have time. The guys from both teams immediately ran up.
"What the fuck did you say? Pray that I didn't hear it right" – you saw it all on the screen at the stadium. The guys calmed him down, but Kylian was furious and it was evident from his facial expressions. Mbappe isn’t a weak person, he can stand up for himself and for the person he loves. Unfortunately, you didn't understand what they were talking about. But it pissed you off that this guy was smirking. The match started, Kyky seemed to be in earnest, he constantly tries to make tackles to get the ball and runs insanely fast with it to score. At one of the moments when Kylian had the ball, the same guy who started talking about you before the match made a tackle. Of course he fell, but immediately got up and ran to this guy.
"You're lucky we're playing because I'd kill you here," – Kylian yelled at him. Everyone immediately approached them to calm down. The referee showed a red card to Kylian. Mbappe waved his hand and left the field. The rest of the time he wanted to hit this guy harder and then kiss you in front of everyone, so they would know you belong only to him. Althroght, PSG won this match, but he didn’t feel better. Kylian took the phone to sen message to you.
"Where are you?" – he was going to go to the shower, so he sat with a naked torso.
"I'm waiting, let's hurry, babe," – you instantly answered.
"10 minutes," – you read and flipped through the instagram feed.
You saw him and smiled. Kylian took your face in his hands and kissed you on the lips, then moved to your cheek then to your neck. Your hands roamed his back. You were ticklish because your neck is your weak spot. He put his hands on your waist and started kissing your lips again.
"You are my comfort" – he said and kissed you again. You felt his tongue. Kylian slowly kissed you, enjoying the fact that you are all his. His hands went down to your ass, you felt embarrassed, because you generally forgot about the people who see all this. All the guys passed you in the hallway and, of course, saw how you two are infatuated with each other. You pushed him away from you, pressing on his chest with your hands, but did not have time to say something. "I fantasized so much while sitting on the bench during the game that I want to urgently bring it to life," – Kyky whispered in your ear, savoring every word. You got goosebumps and you closed your eyes for a couple of seconds.
"So what are we waiting for?" – Kylian didn't waste any time, took your hand and led to the exit.
#kylian mbappe fluff#kylian#kylian mbappe imagines#kylian mbappe imagine#kylian mbappe#kylian mbappe x reader#mbappe
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how would the yanderes react if we gave them the silent treatment?
YOUR FIVE YANDERES.
— ROMAN CORNELIUS JAMES BEAUREGARD.
At first, he wouldn't react. He'd continue as usual, brushing it off as a bad mood.
Roman can deal with a bad mood. We're all human. He doesn't push it, and if you want to speak, he'll let you do it.
Until it turned into days of complete silence, he questions why and at first tries to pull you out of it. As you refuse, he gives up.
He can play at that game.
He's the one in control here, and if you want to act like a child, he will treat you like one.
He ignores you and walks past you without a single glance. Doesn't say good morning or good night. He acts as if you don't even exist. Placing your plate down without much thought towards you when he usually rubs your back or even has you on his lap.
If you keep up ignoring him, he will leave for work and even spend up to a week without any contact as he races, and the only interaction you have from him is watching him on screen, when usually you're there with him because he doesn't like being away from you at all.
You felt like it backfired way too much, that he stopped caring, and that's where the switch flicked. He didn't need you. You needed him.
In the end, it's you who crawls back. The silent treatment doesn't work with Roman because if you want to be left, he will leave until you beg for him to even look your way.
He may be petty when annoyed and the sweetest when happy, but his lack of emotion at times is borderline terrifying.
— LATEN REED.
He hates it. HATES. IT.
Laten won't leave you alone, telling you anything and everything, even brings up people you don't like to try and gain a reaction.
He buys you your favourite foods and puts on your favourite movies. Each day, he comes back with something he knew you'd like and nearly breaks everything with frustration as you completely ignore him.
He watches you like a hawk, more than usual. Why are you acting this way? He slowly backs away to see your issue.
But he misses you. He misses being close. So he tries other ways. Holding you extra tight on nights, staying in bed longer in the morning. Kisses you more, tries being more playful with you, maybe you're bored.
Your attitude pretty much takes the space in his mind to the point where his coach screams at him to focus.
His breaking point was your lack of presence or even care at his game. It was a big deal for him. You're his lucky charm.
He walked away from the game with a bloody nose, sprained wrist, and busted knuckles from pretty much fighting the opposing team rather than actually playing.
When he returned back in that state, he didn't even get dressed. Walked right back to you, and you saw his frustration and hurt, and worry took over the silence.
You gave in after seeing how hurt he was, physically and mentally, from your silence.
— JAE 'NIKO' LEE.
Jae is a wild card. At first, he uses his idol mask. Treats you as if you're a fan at a fansign, gentle and patient. Smiley and sweet.
'What's wrong? Did I do something?' With his famous sweet eyes and gentle touches.
When you refuse to even look his way, he quickly loses his patience.
He makes a scene, shouting, accusing you of hurting his feelings. He treats you so well? Why are you being so horrible?
He's risking so much being with you. He's an idol. If people find out he's done, career over, so why are you being so fucking ungrateful? You're so hard to deal with. You're so damn selfish.
He has sacrificed so much. He could have chosen anyone. Anyone. Yet he chose you. A childish brat.
He talks you to the ground, 5 trips you into believing your actions are all your fault rather than a reaction to his.
He holds you as you cry, saying sorry. Stroking your hair, kissing your cheek, wiping away your tears, 'it's okay. You'll learn, you understand I do all this for you. For us.'
— KAIDAN ALEXANDER WOLFE.
Heh, he's delusional. He doesn't even notice at first. To him, you're perfect, and so is your relationship. He does something wrong? No. He didn't. Huh. You're both so happy!
You're giving him silent treatment? No. You wouldn't do that.. would you? No. You're just ill. You're not well. Is your throat sore? Or maybe you're tired. That's probably it.
He makes every excuse to exist rather than see you're actually ignoring him. He will speak, even if you don't reply. He will kiss you, even if you don't kiss back.
You don't hug back. He hugs harder. You refuse to eat with him. He will place you on his lap and feed you. Obviously, you're too tired to eat. Poor baby.
If anything, he annoys you more. He babies you, does literally everything for you to the point where you feel suffocated and start speaking to shut him up..
He still then doesn't see how you were truly acting, he almost drives you insane with how delusional he was and even if you told him you were ignoring him he'd find away to refuse the truth and create his own story.
— HAYDEN WEST.
He picks up on the vibes before you even do it. He freezes up because why? Why are you ignoring him? What did he do wrong?
Hayden walks on eggshells around you, speaks carefully. Tries not to annoy you. Does anything in his power to make you like him again.
He doesn't see it as silent treatment. He genuinely believes you hate him. So he does anything and everything to make you like him.
As time passes, he doesn't change. He's persistent and wallows in the sadness completely. At some points, he joins you. Sitting there quietly as he wonders why, what does he need to do to bring you back to him?
He eventually cries. Literally begging you to go love him again. Saying he's sorry for everything and whatever he's done to hurt you.
He'll never do it again. He loves you so so much! Please, please love him again. Don't leave. Don't ignore. Speak to him. Hug him. Kiss him. Don't go. Please do not go!
You hold him and give in. Seeing his sweet face cry, his heartbreaking words. How could you? You end up feeling guilty for making him feel that way.
#darling reader#darlingcore#yandere#yandere oc#yandere oc x reader#yandere oc x y/n#yandere oc x you#yandere x darling#yandere x reader#yandere x you
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