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bunny-lily · 1 month

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Satoru, who...

Did you ask for more fluff? I did, ehe~

Pairing: Gojo Satoru x fem!reader

CW: pure fluff, just fluff, no angst, only happiness | proposal, marriage, pregnancy, husband!Gojo, dad!Gojo, soft!Gojo, categorically fucking whipped Satoru, domesticity, kinda slice-of-life, mildly suggestive at the end

The starstruck boy, Gojo Satoru, who is utterly obsessed with you in every way possible.

AN: while I’m in the middle of writing an absurdly long fic, I wanted to post some shorter stuff to 1) keep my hands loose and brain active/busy, and 2) post something while I’m working on the fic to come. I won’t post much about it rn because I want to actually finish it first and not make any promises, so enjoy a lil fluff in the meantime <3 just something short and sweet

WC: 3k

Satoru, who is smitten with you from the very moment he first lays eyes on you. Sure, he's had infatuations before, but they were short-lived and typically lasted no longer than a week. A quick fascination, then poof. You, on the other hand – you are different.

And it is plain to see for pretty much everyone. He is normally cocky and outgoing, even during the little fads he’s had, he never let down his façade of bravado. You, though? You melt all his walls until he’s a goopy puddle of a blushing, giggling school girl.

He is whipped, almost to an annoying point. He rambles off Suguru's and Shoko's ears enough times for them to know when he’s about to start singing your praises and avoid him, or distract him somehow (which is a monumental task when his ditzy head is full only of thoughts of you).

Even so, they are conflictingly bewildered and happy for their friend. For him to have found someone that he is interested in for longer than a week – let alone several months, now – is a riveting change of pace. He seems so genuinely delighted any time you two interact, bubbly, dreamy sighs leaving him as hearts dance in his eyes.

He has fallen for you bad.

Satoru, who’s a stuttering disaster when he tries to ask you out on a date, and damn near collapses in relief when you’re able to decipher what the hell he’s going on about and agree to go to the new café that opened up near campus with him.

One date turns into two, then three, then a dozen more that become routine for you. You meet up after classes let out, then head to the café side by side. Or, if one is running late, you have each other’s orders memorized. You even go the extra mile and order him a sweet he hasn’t tried yet to surprise him with when he bursts into the establishment, panting like he ran a marathon. He might as well have, he booked it for the café as soon as he was free, dying to see you.

Satoru, who is somehow in even more shambles when he gets the nerve to ask you to go steady with him, despite the two of you being borderline boyfriend and girlfriend by now. He’s jittery, sweaty, downright vibrating with tense energy when he brings you to the sakura tree near the back of school that you two had laid claim on. Oh, and when you say yes? He’s certain he’s died and gone to heaven. Nothing can explain how an angel like you decided to grace him with your existence as is, let alone love him – even while you called him an idiot and said you thought you two were already dating.

Satoru, who was already protective over you when you first met, dials it to eleven after you agree to being his girlfriend. Gojo Satoru, the strongest man alive, could inspire fear and respect simply by being in the room with his confident and brash nature, completely relaxed and faithful in his skill. But if, gods forbid, something happens to you? Gone is that cocksure attitude. Gone are the coy smirks and passive-aggressive taunting meant to rile others up. Gone is everything but his one track mind that focuses solely on two tasks: protecting you, and destroying whatever harmed you.

Satoru, who spoons you to his chest and watches ASMR, random videos, or movies on your phone with you 'til you both fall asleep. It became routine shortly after you began officially dating. You'll climb into bed first and decide what you want to watch while he finishes his nightly regimen, then he'll slip under the blankets and pull your back flush against his front, prop his chin atop your head, slide a thigh between your legs, and off to cozy dreamland you two go as whatever you choose acts as white noise.

It brings him an immense amount of comfort, and though he doesn't need as much sleep as normal folks, he'll refuse to leave bed until you're awake (with the exception of any needs he might have to take care of that will only see him away for a couple minutes at most before he’s cradling you in his protective hold again).

Satoru, who salts and peppers your face with endless, ticklish kisses to wake you up, saving the best kiss for when your sleepy, pretty little eyes open: right on your lips. He always wakes up before you do, and spends hours watching your blissful, precious face as you snooze, content and relaxed like a cat with full trust in its human. The comparison always makes him smile, because he, truthfully, envisions you both as being cats all the time. Lazy ones that cuddle in the sun, your smaller form using his ridiculously fluffy and larger one as a pillow-slash-blanket. His tail twined with yours, your ears twitching as he grooms you with kitten licks, ah, the dream.

Satoru, who wants to slap a ring on your finger the very moment he can. You two spend so many days and weeks raving about your imaginary wedding that he so desperately wants to be real, setting up plans, picking out what you would want for decor, scrolling through forum boards for ideas on a wedding dress for you. He is practically more excited at the prospect of getting married than you are, eager to help in every step of the process and more. 'Let me handle all the hard stuff, baby,' he nearly begs.

He won’t tell you the cost of anything, and insists you go all out. Get the dress you want, don't you dare look at the price tag. Choose the perfect venue, he doesn't care if it's in Japan or fucking Dubai, he'll handle paying for everyone's travel and hotel needs on top of the whole wedding. Only the absolute best for you, nothing less, everything more.

Satoru, who is a train wreck of nervous excitement, anxious anticipation, and giddy trepidation when the day comes for him to propose. He takes you to the perfect location – up a short and easy hiking trail that leads to a cliffside with the most magnificent view of the ocean and setting sun. You think it's just a sweet date trip, until you see the path of tea candles guiding you to a romantically set up picnic blanket, a basket resting atop it, waiting to be opened.

When you turn around to express your shock and confusion, you find Satoru on one knee, looking up at you as if you are the most gorgeous and divine creature to ever exist. He's confident and boisterous, as always, as he plays out his little speech about how much he adores you and wants to keep you by his side, forever and ever, but he's a shaking trash fire inside. A shivering little dog that's relieved he didn't stutter or screw up the speech he practiced a hundred times over and then some.

Satoru, who's thanking every god to ever possibly reside above (and even below) when you throw your arms around him, sobbing into his shoulder as a flood of yeses pours out of you, slurred as you ramble through your tears and tell him you love him, how happy you are, and a plethora of other things that make him genuinely the most elated person to ever live.

Satoru, who slides the brilliant engagement ring he had custom made for you onto your finger; smooth, with an inset blue diamond that shares the same shade as his eyes, nestled in with a dozen tinier crystals in vine-like spirals flowing outward from the center. Swarovski, of course. He made sure that it was all flush with the platinum to ensure it wouldn't snag on anything.

He was practically breathing down the jeweler's neck during the entire process, needing to guarantee it’s positively perfect for you. And, when he sees the glimmering jewelry cozy on your finger, the evidence of your bond and the next step in your journey to unite as one, he knows he made all the right choices.

Satoru, who only uses the finest material for your matching wedding bands, and has the insides of both engraved with each other's names. Yours in his, his in yours. He has the same jeweler as before (poor guy) design them to have two stripes of platinum within the gold of your rings, delicate and stunning for himself and his wife.

Satoru, who's jubilant and so incredibly ecstatic that you're now his wife that he can't help but tell everyone he knows, everyday, multiple times a day, even those that were at the wedding. He just can't get over it. You're his wife, the girl he's been crushing on since highschool, the girl he swore to make his, and to devote himself to. It feels like an incredible dream, and he worriedly pinches himself from time to time to make sure it's real.

He did it. He married you, and now you carry his name in yours, in your wedding band, everywhere he could put it to subtly (not really) show you off as the unquestionably precious treasure you are, his wife, and how overjoyed he is that he managed to catch you and keep you.

Satoru, who forgets how to function when you hold up a pair of white and pink sticks on his birthday, from different brands, both showing positive symbols. You. You're pregnant. With his baby. He swears his brain short-circuits because one minute, he's staring at you like you'd grown a second head, and the next, he has you wrapped up in his arms as he showers your forehead, cheeks, nose, jaw, lips, neck, ears, anywhere he can reach, with kisses.

He's a babbling, sniffly mess as he practically crushes you to his chest and coos and preens and weeps with elation. He reveres you like a deity and he’s your loyal and pathetic servant who was blessed beyond measure that you decided to give him the gift of life. He's going to be a father, and it's all because of you.

Satoru, who completely spoils the living hell out of you during your pregnancy (as if he hadn't already been), bending backwards for you for everything. Weird cravings? He's on it. Swollen ankles and nausea? He's rushing to the store for medicine, then rubbing your feet to ease the ache. Insatiable horniness? He's your slave for you to use for your pleasure. Hormones swinging wildly back and forth? He's there with a box of tissues and his firm chest for you to beat on when you feel like you're going crazy. It's his fault you're pregnant, after all. You're doing the hard work of not just carrying his child, but of nurturing it, growing it, letting it take from you to develop strong and healthy. Of course he's going to take care of you.

Satoru, who refuses to let you do any work. You're on indefinite parental leave. From the moment you show him those positive tests, he sits your pretty ass down on the couch and tells you firmly that your only job now is to help your baby develop. He'll take care of everything else, don't even think about lifting a finger.

Satoru, who's there at every appointment with you, clutching your hand tightly as you talk to your doctor about everything you need to know. And when you have your first ultrasound, and see your fetus together for the very first time, he's crying right alongside you.

Satoru, who spent meticulous hours packing a duffel bag with everything you'll both need for when it comes time for you to go into labor. Spare changes of clothes, plenty of water, blankets to keep you warm, a couple pillows, anything and everything. He refuses to go in unprepared. As soon as it's all packed and ready to go by the 8 month mark of your pregnancy, it's in the backseat of the car. The baby car seat is in the trunk of the sleek and top-of-the-line SUV he purchased specifically for your soon-to-be family. He doesn't care that it's taking up space, or that it’s too early, he refuses to go in unprepared.

Satoru, who immediately ditches work the very instant your water breaks. Who gives a fuck if he's in the middle of something important, nothing takes precedence over you and the incoming birth of your infant. He's breaking several driving laws to get you to the hospital, but neither of you care. Not when you're panting in the passenger seat, white-knuckling the grab handle with a palm pressed to your stomach, grunting and crying out in pain any time you have a contraction. It's a miracle he doesn't get pulled over, and he's incredibly thankful (and proud of himself) for thinking of calling the hospital ahead of time so that they're ready for you.

Satoru, whose entire world becomes a blur from the second you reach the hospital, to the second you're crushing his hand in your grip, screaming as you fight to bring his baby into the world. He's letting you yell at him and blame him for the pain you're in, easily accepting and agreeing because it is his fault.

But while your shaking sobs and shrieks of agony wound his heart beyond any possible measure, he also can't help his elation at knowing it's time, all the waiting has been worth it, every minute spent catering to your every need, want, and desire. He'll do it indefinitely, wait on you hand and foot for the rest of his life, treat you like a queen, because you deserve it and so much more.

Satoru, who's shocked by how well he's holding up when the nurse puts the wrapped up, pudgy little newborn in his arms, gazing down at the tiny being. His tiny being, your tiny being, the fragile and priceless life you both created. Looking down at his kin, his reason for being, he knows he'd do anything and everything to protect you and your child.

Satoru, who sees you, a disheveled and tired disaster, with your hair all tangled, frizzy, and astray, strands stuck to your sweaty skin, your body slack in relief as the hardest part is finally over, watching your husband hold your baby, and he thinks you're more beautiful now than you've ever been.

You look like you’ve been dragged through hell; your legs are sticky with residue blood, amniotic fluid, placenta, and whatever else that needs to be cleaned off (though your legs are covered with a few layers of blankets to keep you toasty warm while you recover from labor), your face is a little pale and sallow, you're barely clinging to consciousness, and he's marveling at how he's never seen anything or anyone as utterly blest and sacred as you.

A goddess amongst men, the only one the strongest man in the world would ever willingly bow down to without you even needing to ask.

Satoru, who helps place your baby on your chest, the nurse having opened the blanket for skin-to-skin contact as you feed it, and finally lets himself release all his pent up emotions of raw, unfiltered joy. Every cell, every fiber, every atom in him is dancing in overwhelming happiness. He'd do it all over, again and again, as many times as you'd let him, if it means he gets to see you this blissful and tranquil. The glow of maternity suits you like no other, even in all your unkempt and chaotic glory.

Satoru, who can't believe he's a dad. He goes above and beyond, insisting he takes care of the baby at night so you can sleep – he doesn't need as much rest as others do, after all. He murmurs to his newborn about how much he cherishes and adores you, how much you mean to him, how you're the best wife and mommy a man could ever ask for and more. He reads the kiddo bedtime stories to help it sleep, feeds it, changes it, whatever it is that is needed, he's there and doing it.

On top of that, he continues to be your doting, devoted, caring husband. He makes sure you're taking your vitamins, takes you to all your postpartum appointments, aids you through your subsequent depression, all of it. He's sworn himself to you for life, not just in this timeline and universe, but in any and every single one of them.

He made and said his vows with purpose and conviction. He meant every word, and upholds them like his life depends on it. Because, in his mind, it does.

Satoru, who is patient with you, and firmly commands you to not push yourself to do things you can't do while you're still in recovery. He doesn't care if he has to wait months or even years for you to be ready to lay with him again, he'll wait it out. He might not be a patient man, but for you, he'd wait until all the stars die.

Oh, but you, darling little minx that you are, do your best to take care of him, too. Even when he urges you to rest, or not worry about it, or anything other arguments he might have against it, you tend to him in whatever way you can. Touching, sucking, rough and heavy petting, whatever it takes. You refuse to leave him alone to suffer through months and months of dryness with no relief save for his hand and the toy you surprised him with to help take the edge off.

Satoru, who can't be more grateful to you. You're more than his wildest dreams, the perfect wife, the perfect mother, the perfect person as a whole in the entirety of the universe. He really can't help boasting about being the Chosen One, because he really is, if the cosmos decided to gift him with you.

Satoru, who swears to take care of you for the rest of your lives, and does well on his promise.

Satoru, who fights for the sake of you and your kin alone. He refuses to leave you in any way, shape, or form. He refuses to let the world be a danger to any of you. He refuses to have anything happen to his family. Nothing will tear you apart, not now, not ever.

Satoru, who loves you more than the sun, the moon, and all the stars combined.

—-—-•(-•ʚɞ•-)•—-—-

Banner by cafekitsune ♥ thank you for reading

#gojo satoru x you #satoru gojo x you #gojo satoru x reader #satoru gojo x reader #gojo x reader #gojo x you #satoru x reader #satoru x you #jjk x reader #jjk x you #fluff #chimera-writes #dad!gojo #husband!gojo

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pileofmush · 7 months

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luffy is for the sad, pathetic, touch-starved bitches. the ones who shiver at the mere brush of skin. who wince whenever their friends go in for hugs, unsure of where to put their arms. the ones who are so, so aware of their proximity to others. so careful not to brush fingers when walking side to side with a peer, or when handing a pencil to a friend, because they’re sure that one affectionate squeeze of the arm could leave their innards a puddle at their feet, creeping toward the nearest drain.

when you meet luffy, you think he’s one to be admired, not touched. you see the way he infects everyone around him with his reckless abandon. hanging off shoulders and dragging people to and fro. his crewmates are used to it. they scoff and wiggle under his weight for show: for there’s a sense of relief when monkey d. luffy has his eyes on you. you can tell in the automatic decompression of their shoulders, in the languid way they turn to him—saplings curving toward the sun.

you see it, and you envy it. respect it. respect him. but that’s the extent of your thoughts on the matter.

you never considered that he would turn his sights on you.

but he does.

he picks you up like you’re something shiny, holds you up to the light and squints. and whatever he finds must be satisfying, because after that, he doesn’t put you down.

it overwhelms you, at first. he tugs on your cheek at the sight of a frown, like you’re the one made of rubber, and your heart does a funny jig that’s actually not funny at all. he pokes you in the ribcage to grab your attention, and ignores you when you try to tell him that a verbal cue would work just as well. he grabs your hand, instinctively twining your fingers, and pulls you along when you stop in your tracks.

and you feel—you feel like a puddle. be careful your mind warns, or you’ll slip.

but luffy’s there to catch you when you fall.

and that’s what’s so terrible about him, you think. he’s the question and the answer.

and he’s burrowed himself under your skin.

how foolish of him to touch you so casually and expect you not to revel in it. not to crave his pokes and his prods more than you crave air. how foolish of him to drape himself over you like a weighted blankie and not expect you to desire him by your side, always, to keep the cold at bay. he’s a fool and you’re a pauper.

but, sometimes, you think he knows what he does to you. he has to. oh, how he’ll laugh when he catches you staring at his hands. bound over until he’s right in front of you, place a thumb under your chin and tilt until your gaze meets his. his eyes are dark, but so, so bright. you want to look away. you don’t.

everything is so easy for him. it's unnerving. he plops his head in your lap one day with a carefree grin. you still—hold your breath like a child playing hide and seek. he cracks open an eye, like he can read your thoughts. or maybe he can just feel you tremble.

“what’s wrong?”

you rack your brain for an answer he could understand. “what do you want me to do?” you hedge.

luffy furrows his brows. “whatever you want,” he says.

“no, i mean—where do you want me to touch?”

he shrugs. “wherever you want.”

and you feel—you feel like you want to run your hands over every inch of his skin until you have a mental map of his body you could navigate through touch alone. you want to put him in your mouth. you want to inhale him like a drug, want him to burn the back of your throat 'til it stings. you want… him.

you settle for caressing his jawline. tracing the slope of his nose. his eyes flutter shut, and you pause, but he grabs your hand and plants it firmly on his face. and it feels, it feels like you’re the question and he’s the answer. it feels like maybe, just maybe, you’re okay with becoming a puddle of a person, for him.

#mushy writes .𖥔 ݁ ˖#luffy x reader #monkey d. luffy x reader #one piece x reader #one piece #one piece imagines #one piece fanfiction #fluff #one piece fluff #pining #tw: drug mention #m.luffy #m.one piece #battle scarred;

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thef1diary · 3 months

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Pool Pitstop | C² Boys

Request: You know…there’s something about this ad Maybe Carlos n Charles splitting reader open on the pool table?

Summary: Charles and Carlos enter your bar right when you were ready to start closing, but instead of becoming frustrated, it might've just made your night.

Warnings: 18+ smut, threesome, oral, unprotected sex, choking, fingering.

Pairing: carlos x fem!reader x charles

wc: 4.1k

You looked at the clock hung up on the wall, sighing in relief as the last person left. You only had a few minutes til you could start closing, and for the first time since you became the owner of this bar, you would actually leave on time.

You picked up the glasses left on the countertop and turned around to place them in the sink when you heard the front door bell jingle, indicating someone's arrival.

Turning around, you were just about to tell the person that you were closing the bar, however your words got stuck in your throat as you looked at the two men who entered.

There was no doubt that they were attractive, but due to your silence after looking at them, one of them began to sit down on the barstool while the other stood behind him.

The one who was still standing looked around, noticing the lack of people around and decided to ask, "is this place still open?" You noticed his accent, telling you that he wasn't from around here. It sounded similar to French, but you could be wrong considering the only 'accent' you knew were the fake ones people tried once they were drunk out of their minds.

The corner of your lip turned up, at least he had the common decency to ask, and just for that you nodded. "Honestly I was about to start closing, but take a seat."

The man who was standing finally decided to sit beside his friend. "Oh good, every other bar in the area was closed." He explained, a smile gracing his lips revealing dimples, which you just newly discovered you had a weak spot for.

You raised an eyebrow in question, "it is nearing two in the morning, you guys should've been out earlier in the evening."

"We're just passing by, making a short pitstop before we're back on the road." The other man spoke, his accent was different telling you that neither men were from around here.

"Well which one of you is driving?" You asked, not wanting to be responsible for a drunk driver. The one with the dimples pointed to the other man, "Carlos' driving, he doesn't think I'm good enough," he says with an exaggerated eye roll.

Carlos shrugged, "well I hate being the passenger, but Charles' on-road driving skills are questionable," he explained to you, earning another eye roll from Charles.

You chuckled at their antics, settling your palms on the countertop. "What will you have, Charles?"

His smile returned to his face and he thought for a moment, "a Moscow mule, please." You nodded, and started gathering the ingredients to make the drink.

"And you, Carlos, anything non-alcoholic?" You asked, not wanting to leave him out but he shook his head.

Carlos' eyes wandered around the bar, eyes widening in surprise when he spotted the pool table in the back corner.

While Charles was casually speaking to you, or as Carlos would describe it; using his charm, the Spaniard decided to walk towards the pool table.

Picking up the cue, he turned to look at Charles with a playful smile on his face. "Charlito, do you want to play?"

Charles looks at him for a moment before turning back to face you with raised eyebrows, silently questioning if they were allowed to play.

You set his drink down in front of him and nodded, "you can play."

He didn't budge, "are you sure? I don't want to keep you here too long." You bit your lip to hide your smile, "yes, I need to clean up anyways and that'll take a while so you two can stay until then."

Fortunately, none of your staff were present; otherwise, they would have poked fun at you about allowing Charles and Carlos to stay when you used to enforce the rule of no stragglers after two.

Charles picks up his drink, takes a sip and hums in agreement before walking over to Carlos.

The boys set up the game, and laughter is quickly heard thought out the bar making your ears perk up at the sound. You watch them from behind the bar, resting your elbows on the countertop, almost forgetting about needing to clean up.

You had a clear view of the pool table from where you stood, watching the men closely, specifically Carlos as he held the cue, about to make his shot.

Slightly leaning over the pool table, Carlos has positioned the cue stick but before he moved an inch, his eyes met yours. For some reason, he didn't look surprised, as if he knew you would be watching them.

Your eyes slightly widened as he gave you a small smirk, his gaze almost turning seductive before he focused his attention back to the game.

You didn't even pay attention to the actual game, because your gaze kept moving back and forth between the two men. Although Carlos caught you looking, Charles was completely oblivious to the tension growing in the room between you and his teammate.

The only reason you didn't shift your gaze away from Carlos is because his eyes were also on you. He was anything but shy, not looking away causing your cheeks to heat up under his unfaltering attention.

The only thing that broke him out of the little bubble he created with you were Charles' giggles. He was holding the cue stick, failing to hide his mischievous grin.

Carlos looked at him in confusion before looking down at the table, and laughed. "Charles, mate, you cheated."

All of Charles' solid pool balls were pocketed while only the striped ones remained. "That's bullshit, I didn't cheat," Charles was offended but if it wasn't for a small smile he failed to hide, you would've thought he was telling the truth.

You smiled for a moment before turning around, hearing the men bicker in a foreign language you didn't understand. You mentally scolded yourself for easily becoming distracted by the two men in your bar—two very attractive men.

You had just started your mental checklist of things to get done before leaving when you heard Carlos' voice call your name—which he spotted earlier on the name tag on your shirt. "Can you watch Charles to make sure he doesn't cheat?" He looked at the individual in question with a harsh expression before returning his eyes to you.

You let out a laugh once you realized Carlos was serious, "you want me to watch him?" You looked at Charles who shrugged, "I didn't cheat, I don't know what he's talking about."

Carlos gave Charles a look, and it was all he needed to do for Charles to agree with him. "Fine, judge our pool skills."

Carlos moved around to reset the game, but Charles was intently looking at you, waiting for an answer. You nodded once before wiping your hands on the nearest towel, "sure."

You knew you wouldn't be able to focus on your task with them around, so you might as well just join them.

The Spaniard set the last ball in the triangle rack before looking up at you with the same smirk he gave you earlier, as if he knew you wouldn't turn them down.

You stood beside Carlos as you both watched Charles break, and since you were supposed to "keep an eye" on Charles, you decided against looking at Carlos. However you could still feel his gaze on you.

"If you keep looking at me, Charles would be able to cheat again," you told him while looking ahead so you didn't see his expression. But you did hear his chuckle, "I can't seem to take my eyes off you."

You bit the inside of your cheek to prevent yourself from smiling, but it was nice to hear the compliment from him, even if you barely knew him.

Charles passed the cue to Carlos, and taking his place to stand next to you. Although you willed yourself to look away from Carlos when Charles was playing, you couldn't help but admire the latter, especially as he was standing so close to you.

Either he didn't acknowledge your stares or he did but chose not to comment on it, but it was his turn again. However once Carlos passed the cue stick to him, Charles held it out towards you.

"Be my lucky shot," he stated once you raised your brow in question and Carlos shook his head unable to let him by without commenting, "we all know you need some luck."

Instead of taking the stick from his hand, you grabbed some chalk and rubbed it on the tip while maintaining eye contact with Charles. He didn't say anything but his gaze wandered down your face, passing the seemingly innocent smile before watching your hand grab the cue to play.

You snuck a little smirk directed at Carlos before steadying your feet and slightly bending over the table to get in position. You couldn't tell if both their gazes landed on your ass, but you hoped it did.

You carefully focused on your aim, striking the cue ball and sinking in two solids in adjacent pockets. Turning around with a smile on your face, you saw Charles' smile just as big but Carlos didn't look too happy as he wasn't close to winning anymore.

"Keep playing, sweetheart," Charles commented, unaffected by the use of the nickname but you heard it loud and clear. You walked towards the other side of the table to get a better shot but the move also put you right in front of the two men.

While Charles was still rooting for you, he and Carlos focused on you a little more than on your aim. They weren't watching you play, they were watching you.

The thought made you nervous, but you couldn't help but look up before you made the shot. Carlos was intensely staring at you while Charles' tongue was barely peeking out between his lips, making you lose your focus completely.

You hit the cue ball but missed pocketing the solid, and if you were asked about it, you would blame them for it.

"Is your luck running low?" Carlos teased as you passed him the cue stick while rolling your eyes. "If my luck was running low, I wouldn't have two men walk into my bar right before closing."

Carlos nodded with a teasing smile on his face and moved to play his turn. You stood beside Charles, resting your palm on the edge of the table while looking at Carlos the same way he was at you.

"The way you're staring is making it hard to concentrate on the game," Carlos commented before tilting his head up to look at you.

"Do you really want to concentrate on the game?" You asked slightly teasing, making your intentions very obvious by your tone.

"What would you rather want me to concentrate on?" Carlos stood up straight, forgetting about playing the game as he rounded the table to stand in front of you.

"She wants all the attention on herself," Charles spoke, then added, "am I wrong?" He asked for good measure, but the smile on his face told you that he had idea of what you'd say.

"Well I think of it as you guys want my attention on both of you," you remarked, avoiding the ploy they tried to lure you into.

Carlos took a step back, resting against the pool table behind him, but he was still staring at you. He made brief eye contact with Charles before nodding towards you. With two fingers raised, he motioned for you to come closer to him.

You easily slotted yourself between Carlos' slightly spread legs, and one of his hands rested on your hip while the other pushed back a strand of hair.

Not even a moment later, you felt the heat of Charles' body right behind you. The two men had you right where they wanted you, sandwiched between them.

You felt Charles move your hair to the side, lightly pecking his lips against your shoulder. You quickly tangled your fingers in his hair, preventing him from moving away. He smiled against your shoulder, before looking at Carlos whose gaze was stuck on the way your facial expressions changed.

"What do you say, Carlos, let's thank her for letting us stay past closing?" He asked, trailing his fingers down your sides before settling them on your waist.

You could feel the heat of both their hands seeping through your shirt. Looking at Carlos expectantly, waiting for him to do or say something.

"Do you want that?" he asked, making your eyes twinkle with excitement and anticipation. You nodded, "I want you both to fuck me on this table."

Carlos' hand moved to your cheek before he stepped closer and placed his lips on yours. You quite literally melted into the kiss. Leaning your body against his while your free hand ran through his hair before settling on the nape of his neck.

Your other hand was still occupied in Charles' hair but you didn't move it away, knowing that you wanted both men. You felt his grip tighten on your waist, and he stepped even closer so you not only felt the heat of his body radiating towards yours, but he was fully pressed against you.

While Carlos began kissing down the length of your neck, Charles' hands wandered upwards towards your chest, stopping right when he grazed your nipples over your shirt. They quickly turned into stiff peaks with Charles' attention, poking through the fabric of your bralette underneath your form fitting shirt.

"Charles," you gasped once he pinched your nipples, smirking in satisfaction of how your body reacted under his touch. Carlos nipped at your neck that would surely turn into a mark soon.

You didn't know where to focus, and to think this was just the beginning of what they would do to you together, your mind couldn't comprehend it but you were very eager to know.

Carlos' hands moved to your ass, teasing the waistband of your jeans. He rounded back to the front, eager to free you from the restraints of denim. You helped him, quickly stepping out of your pants and then in the next moment, Charles lifted the hem of your shirt, wanting that piece of clothing off as well.

Standing there almost completely naked, Charles' hands wandered just about everywhere but Carlos took the smallest step back to undress himself.

As he did so, Charles' tilted your face towards him, claiming your lips with his. There weren't any slow, sensual moves, the kisses were full of need.

You turned around in his grasp, facing him and he let out a muffled moan, liking all the attention on himself. He was completely lost in your kisses so he jolted once your hands found the front of his jeans and palmed his dick.

A sudden slap to your ass pushed you further into Charles, making you gasp. Carlos teased your pussy over your panties, feeling the wetness seep through but he didn't stick around long enough as you'd like.

Your lips parted away from Charles, leaning your head back against Carlos' bare shoulder. He had stripped down to his boxers. "On the table, cariño," he whispered in your ear, making you whine at the nickname.

You sat on the table with your legs hanging off, and Charles was quick to slot himself between your legs. He trailed his fingers up your leg, gripping the flimsy waistband of your underwear. You lifted your hips up so he could slide it down your legs, then he laid his palm on your calves before pushing it back.

You leaned back, resting your palms on the felt material of the pool table as you watched Charles' pupils dilate once you laid yourself all out for him.

Charles pressed his thumb against your clit, making slow circles that had you arching off the table, lifting your hips to chase the pleasure.

You felt Carlos' hands on your shoulders, leaning you back further until you had laid flat on the width of the pool table. You pushed yourself up so your feet were firmly placed on the felt but your head was hanging over the edge.

The Spaniard ran his fingers up and down the length of your throat. He snuck a little pinch on your nipple after seeing how easily you reacted to their touch, before wrapping his fingers around your neck.

Despite the fact that everything around you was upside down, your hands found the waistband of his underwear, and your attention was drawn to his naked chest, especially given how close you were.

You pulled off the last piece of clothing on him, mouth opening once you saw his cock. The perfect width and there was no doubt he was well endowed.

"Open your mouth," Carlos instructed and you couldn't help but oblige. Licking your lips, your hand grasped the base before you pressed a wet kiss on the tip, tasting him on your tongue and instantly knowing that you needed more.

As your mouth was full of Carlos' dick, Charles spread your pussy with his fingers, watching as you desperately clench around nothing. You bucked your hips up when you felt Charles' lips on your pussy. A kiss to your clit but then as if he was hit with uncontrollable hunger, he added his hot tongue and fingers to the mix. Teasing, circling, Charles was on a mission to bring you so close to your release.

Then, as fast as he was able to bring you to the edge, he moved away with only a string of spit connecting you. A tear slipped out the corner of your eye and you attempted to whine. Charles held your thighs down to prevent you from bucking up into him as a poor attempt at continuing what he started.

"Patience, baby," he cooed, unable to look away from your glistening cunt. Then without warning he thrusted in you in one swift motion, making you moan loudly. Well, as loud as you could with your mouth stuffed.

You didn't see his cock but based on how well he was able to stretch your insides, you knew he was just as pretty underneath his jeans as he was above. He wasn't even fully in from that one thrust and he knew you wouldn't be able to take it in one go. He slowly pulled out and went further in until he was nestled against you completely.

More tears pooled in your eyes, and with the two pairs of hands roaming all over your body, the pleasure became too much to pinpoint where it was coming from.

"Fuck, she's so wet," Charles comments, directed towards his teammate which made you writhe in pleasure at how he chose to ignore you. "All for us," Carlos added, tightening his grip on your neck while his other hand held your face still so he could fuck it as he pleased.

Carlos' restriction made you clench around Charles, all three of you letting out moans and groans as the air in the bar became heavy with the smell of sex.

He hooked his fingers in the corners of your mouth, making you drool as you sucked his cock. Sweat built up on your body, your hair tangling up and you were sure you looked really messy but you couldn't care less about it right now.

Charles was still thrusting in and out of your pussy at a brutal pace, and added stimulation on your clit in small quick circles. You wrapped your legs around his waist, bringing him closer.

Once again you were just on the brink of release and mentally begged Charles to let you come undone. He didn't stop. Your orgasm took you under, and for a brief moment you lost any sense of your surroundings, focusing just on the pleasure.

With your head hanging off the table, you were becoming lightheaded and the tears wouldn't stop flowing. Carlos seemed to have noticed this since he couldn't take his gaze off the way his cock was sliding in and out of your mouth.

He slid out, and lifted your head to rest on the table. Since your mouth wasn't occupied, your moans got louder as the final waves of your orgasm washed over you. Neither men tried to conceal them since they began to like the noises you made.

Charles felt his own restrain breaking as he felt you cum around him, and he quickly painted your insides with his cum. He didn't stop the torture on your clit until you tried to shuffle away from him, feeling too sensitive. When he slid out, you clenched on air, but it didn't go unnoticed by Charles. "Still needy?" He questioned with an accusatory ton but there was no malice behind it, just lust.

Carlos tapped your cheek once, "on your hands and knees." He wasn't done with you yet, he didn't orgasm yet and even though he wanted you to swallow every drop of his cum, he wanted to feel your cunt wrapped around him.

As you moved, you felt Charles' cum spill out of you and down your thighs. Your ass was now in the air, facing Carlos. He palmed your ass, spreading it to see the work Charles left behind.

He saw the cum continue to spill out of you but he gathered it on his finger and pushed it back in your cunt. Your eyes rolled back in pleasure and the strength of your arms holding you up weakened.

"You want me to fuck Charles' cum back into you?" Carlos asked, his voice laced with lust making his accent even deeper.

You nodded, "yes please, want both of your cum to fill me up."

"Hear that? She's so fucking greedy for our cum," Charles commented, tilting your face upwards and noticing the dried tear marks on your face. He pouted in faux sympathy but it was quickly replaced with a small smirk as he looked at the bruises that began to form on your neck.

Without letting any more of Charles' cum spill out of you, Carlos entered your used and slightly overstimulated cunt. His hands gripped your hips tightly, and you were surely going to see his handprints on your body the next day.

You made eye contact with Charles, but as Carlos kept pumping in and out of you, your eyes threatened to roll back in pleasure. The only reason you didn't was because the monégasque's pretty gaze was on you.

He cupped your cheek and leaned down to press a messy kiss on your lips. You were constantly moved back and forth making it harder to kiss him properly. Charles pulled on your bottom lip, making you groan as Carlos' thrusts intensified.

"Fuck, you're so good for us" Carlos leaned over your frame, his hands roaming around the front of your body. Two of his fingers pinched then circled your clit, making you arch into him.

"Carlos, I-I'm gonna cum," your words threatened to get stuck in your throat, and you just needed him to continue exactly how he was for just a little longer.

"Gonna fill you up," Carlos whispered in your ear but it was loud enough for Charles to hear. The latter slipped his hand down to your throat, making your eyes widen when he pulled you closer and tightened his grip.

You opened your mouth in a silent moan, unable to let out any noise with the amount of pleasure overcoming you. You closed your eyes as you felt Carlos' cum fill you up, mixing with Charles’ already inside you.

Charles released his grip on your throat, and your arms were too weak to hold yourself up so your upper half met the felt on the table, your nipples brushing against it.

Carlos pulled out of you slowly, ensuring that your ass stays in the air. Breathing heavily, you closed your eyes and tried to get yourself together when you felt both their arms pick you up and sit you down on the edge of the table.

They didn't let go, letting your cheek rest against Charles' chest while Carlos brushed his fingers through your hair. Your thighs clenched instinctively as you felt the warm liquid dripping out of you and onto the table underneath.

Charles chuckled, "have fun closing with our cum running down your legs."

"Fuck you," you managed to let out but there wasn't any malice behind those words. "Next time, sweetheart."

You looked up at them both and leaned back on your arms, "does that mean you're going to come again?" Charles and Carlos looked at each other, then nodded simultaneously. "Of course we will." Carlos told you and then Charles added cheekily, "excellent service," as he nudged his head towards the bar top.

#f1 fic #f1 fanfic #f1 imagine #thef1diary fic #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc smut #charles leclerc fic #carlos sainz fic #carlos sainz x reader #carlos sainz smut #charles x carlos x reader #f1 x reader #f1 smut #smut

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loveyouprongs · 3 months

Text

are you awake?

prompt: "are you awake yet?" "no." "oh, okay sorry." remus lupin x reader

upcoming content: fluff! pls lmk if u think i missed anything. 1.8k words

authors note: despite any photos used in the header, it’s important that people of all races can identify with my work so please let me know if any of the descriptive language i use is exclusionary, i’m trying my best!

masterlist

you had no idea what time it was, your phone abandoned on the night stand atop remus' book. he had come over in a huff, one hand holding his cellphone, keys, and book all at once, the other holding a warm cup of hot chocolate he had picked up along the way.

"rem, is that you?" you called, fumbling with wrapping a towel around your just washed hair while keeping the other towel tucked under your arms. you weren't expecting to see him today at all, he had, in his own words, a fucking shitload of reading to catch up on and planned on spending the entire weekend holed up in his room.

you understood, having just finished your own finals, so you planned on spending the evening watching movies and finally removing the old nail polish that decorated your toes and repainting them. an easy, uneventful night.

“yeah, it’s me dove,” remus said, bending down to untie his laces, “sorry for just barging in on you like thi- did you just take a shower?”

he snapped his head up and drank you in, your body still damp from the hot water and the ends of the towel wrapped around your chest fell apart against your thigh revealing more of your smooth skin. your face was free of makeup or the tendrils of hair that constantly fell between your eyes that remus always brushed away.

“y’don’t have to do that every time, remus,” you said on your fourth date when his fingertips danced against your forehead once more that evening.

“you have to be able to see, darling, i don’t mind,” he replied as if this was something he was doing as a favor to you and not because he was so desperate to touch you in any way.

you looked beautiful, he thought.

“thank you, baby,” you let out, giggling at the sigh of your boyfriend still bent half over himself, looking up at you as if you would disappear if he wasn’t.

“did i say that out loud?”

“you did.”

“well, it’s true,” he had since walked over to you, setting his phone, keys, book and cup on the table and grasped at your shoulders, stamping a kiss to your forehead. in this moment, he felt all his tension wash away and reveled in the feeling of your warm skin under his and the vanilla scent of your shampoo wafting around him. he didn’t even remember why he was in such an annoyed mood earlier until you asked him how come he came over.

“ugh, i have to move out!” he exclaimed. this is something remus said maybe four times a week, seven if it was really bad. when james left his dishes piled up in the sink for too long, “i have to move out!” remus would say while ranting to you over breakfast the next day. when they went on a trip for a few days and sirius forgot to pack any underwear so he took it upon himself to borrow remus’, you woke up to a text from your boyfriend that simply read “i have to move out.” sent at 2:18 a.m. then “good morning” at 2:19 a.m. and “you better not be awake right now, dovey” at 2:20 a.m.

“what happened this time?”

“was trying to study ‘til those idiots had the bright idea of rolling bottles down the stairs, i mean who even thinks of that?”

you had to bite your lip to keep in your laughter. you had seen that trend all down your social media so you knew exactly where they got the idea from. but your sweet remus who had no profiles whatsoever, -unless you count the facebook page he made when james told him he had to have one at least-

“what do you mean it doesn’t count? you can share photos and talk to people.”

“it’s facebook! only mums use it. i’m making you a BeReal.”

“you’re making me be real?”

“oh, nevermind.”

had no idea and believed this was just another stupid activity his roommates shared brain cell came up with.

“i don’t know, remmy, people are weird,”

“right? anyway, i sat through listening to ‘clunk, clunk, clunk, smash! again, again, again!’ for about fifteen minutes before i had to get out of there so i thought to come here.”

a warmth started growing within your chest and spreading throughout your entire body. he thought to come here, to your place. your lanky, fluffy haired, nerdy boyfriend who you loved so so much thought to come to you. the smile that had spread across your face was so wide you knew remus knew exactly how you were feeling.

“don’t go all moony eyed on me now, sweetness,” he began, “i’m here because i still have a lot of work to do.”

“of course”

“with no distractions, at least for the next few hours,” he was looking down at you with a familiar look in his eye and you couldn’t even bother to feign cluelessness. the image of remus bent over a book, concentrated look on his face and glasses slowly slipping down his nose was irresistible to you and when you two studied together, it caused a lot of assignments to go untouched.

“alright, i’ll leave you be. but i expect some form of compensation for my good behavior.”

“hence the hot chocolate, for you dove,” he handed you the tall paper cup he had brought in with him and you smiled as it was still warm enough to drink.

“oh wow, my boyfriend and a hot chocolate? it’s like my birthday!” you laughed as remus rolled his eyes and started setting himself up at your kitchen table.

“you can’t say that whenever i get you something, you need to have higher expectations for your birthday silly girl, or i really will just get you a drink and that’ll be it.” he said and the last thing he heard was you laughing down the hallway.

hours had passed and your hair was dry, toe nails now a light peachy color, and one and a half movies had been watched. you mainly kept to your room, only coming out to get a drink and set some biscuits out for remus who hadn’t even looked up. you were sure a bomb could off in the building across the street and he wouldn’t notice. he was so concentrated that all you wanted to do was press your fingers to his temples and relieve his pretty face of the wrinkles, surely his eyes were sore as well, but you knew better than to bother him.

it wasn’t until it was dark out that remus had finally slumped against your bedroom door and trudged like a zombie to your bed, face planting right into your lap. his calves were hanging over the edge so you grabbed his face and shuffled yourselves closer to the headboard. remus was laughing, the feel of his lips tickling your stomach, and with that information he only began to blow raspberries on your belly button.

“remus stop i’m serious!” you let out and lifted his head up, your hands pushing his cheeks up causing his lips to reach up into a smile. he looked so soft, and happy, but obviously tired.

“‘m finished with all m’reading, dove,” his speech was slurred, surely from exhaustion.

“i’m very proud of you baby, you’re so hard working.”

he wrapped the comforter around both of you, and flipped onto his side, pressing his back to your front. he must have been really out of it because he never let you be the big spoon.

“but don’t you like being held?”

“i like holding you. besides it just makes more sense that way, i’m much taller.”

“there’s no sense to cuddling!”

“there’s sense to everything!”

“i am hard working! and they don’t care, all they care about is smashing things and making lots of noise. i have to move out.” he grumbled.

you ran your fingers through his hair, letting him mumble on, knowing he’ll soon fall asleep.

“well, you’re always welcome here, my love.”

he sighed and pressed a kiss to your wrist, “i know,” he spoke softly, the two words so full of content he could hardly stand it. he thought every day how lucky he was to have you in his life. a love full of soft kisses and hot chocolates and intertwining under moonlight. “i love you so much.”

“i love you too, now get some sleep.”

the night had come and gone, remus sleeping away in your arms and the sun was shining through your curtains. you slowly lifted your arm off him and felt around for your phone, careful not to disturb him. the screen flashed 10:15 a.m., meaning remus had been sleeping for close to twelve hours now.

it made sense due to how tired he was yesterday, but you had done nothing but relax, so your body was ready to get up and start the day. you answered a few messages telling marlene you’d had to get back to her about if you and remus could make it to brunch in a few hours and sending a rolling eyes emoji to james who sent you a number of videos of bottles rolling down the stairs.

remus shifted, unconsciously flexing his back, and you froze. it wasn’t until he began cracking his knuckles individually that you knew he was awake, you still asked though.

“are you awake yet.”

“no.”

“oh, okay, sorry.”

“mmm.”

two minutes passed, “are you awake now.”

“are my eyes open?”

“no, but you are speaking to me, and this isn’t what you usually say when you sleep talk.”

“i don’t sleep talk!” he let out, craning his neck to look at you perplexedly.

“got you to open your eyes, didn’t i?” you said with a wry smile. his look of confusion morphed into annoyance that you both knew was fake and he fully turned so you were both facing each other now.

“i haven’t slept that good in a long time,” he said lowly, his voice still rough from sleep.

“finals are over now, rem, you can sleep for as long as you want.”

he smiled and tangled your fingers together, opening his mouth to say something back when his stomach rumbled loudly.

“that wasn’t very sexy, was it?”

you giggled and shook your head, finally throwing the covers off yourself.

“nope, but that’s okay, marlene wants us to meet her for brunch in thirty minutes, so we better get a move on, sleepy head.”

remus groaned and reached for his designated dresser from the bed and pulled out whatever shirt and bottoms were on the top of the piles. the two of you got ready in comfortable silence and while you were sitting on the floor, pulling up the zipper on your boots, remus realized that he really could see himself moving in here. always doing his course work at your kitchen table, picking up a hot drink for you at the coffee shop two streets away, not because it was on his way to you, but because it was on his way home.

“ready, baby?” you asked, now standing at full height, holding your hand out to him.

i’m ready to wake up here every morning. “ready,” he said, wrapping his hand around yours.

#remus lupin #remus lupin fluff #remus lupin fic #remus lupin imagine #remus lupin x reader #remus lupin x fem!reader #mauraders #mauraders fandom #remus lupin fanfiction #maurauders era #marauders fanfiction #remus lupin fancast #remus lupin blurb #remus lupin drabble #remus fluff #remus imagine #remus x reader #remus x fem!reader

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buckyalpine · 6 months

Text

Mob Bucky likes his innocent date ft smut

Sigh. I wanted this to be wholesome but it’s horny instead I’m sorry. Might delete tbh. Imagine devilishly gorgeous mob Bucky getting joy out of making his shy date flustered til she’s tripping on her words and unable to speak. He got Steve to find him a date for an event in the evening, uninterested in having to actually find one for himself. He just wants a pretty thing on his arm that he could maybe fuck at the end of the night. Between busy schedules and mob work, Steve doesn’t find anyone so he scrambles to the last person he can think of.

His sisters best friend.

You’re not at all what he was expecting.

He walks down the long staircase in his all black suit, beard trimmed, his cologne intoxicating, coking an eyebrow when he sees the shy thing waiting for him that he’s supposed to go with.

You nearly squeak when he stands before you, too nervous to say anything, your heart running a million miles a minute, knowing exactly who the very James Barnes was. You had no business being here, you were doing this for Steve.

“Hi” you whisper, and Bucky can’t help but smirk at the way you keep tugging at your dress, not meeting his eyes, tipping your chin up to meet his wolfish expression.

“You must be Y/n” he doesn’t let go of your face, noting the goosebumps that now cover your exposed skin from your plunging dress. He doesn’t say much else, letting you squirm, quite enjoying himself.

You want to tell him he looks good, be the confident woman he probably expected to have, exuding grace and poise but you bite your lip instead, nearly whining when he lets go of your chin.

“Y-you um. You look b-beautiful” you finally stutter out, your face burning under his amused gaze.

“Is that so Bambi?” He smirks, cocking his head while you fidget with your fingers. “Hmmm. No one’s called me that before” he chuckles, taking your arm in his and leading you to the limo parked outside.

Your skin is so soft, you smell so sweet and for the first time ever, he doesn’t want to ravage his date to bits. Not when you’re such a soft precious thing.

The night goes well as you grow more and more comfortable with him. He dotes on you the entire time, not letting you lift a finger. He can’t help but take care of you, not letting anyone else near his precious little Bambi.

By the end, he wants to take you home safely like a gentleman but he wants more. And he knows you do too. He can see it in the way you look at him with such longing, nuzzling into his side further and further in the back of the limo.

You’re practically on his lap now, desperately wishing he’d just have his way with you without toy having to say anything but he’d never let that happen.

“What is it Bambi” he whisperers when you squeeze your thighs together, hiding you face in his neck. Your hand trails from his tie to his belt buckle, too embarrassed to go any lower.

“Oh you poor thing” he coos, bringing and pressing your hand on top of his erection, your shaky hands rubbing his bulge like a needy kitten, “do you want my cock baby, s’that it? My Bambi needs her cock?”

“Mhm” you whine, clinging onto him when the limo pulls up to his house, his thick arms wrapping you up and taking you right to his room with no second guesses.

When he gets you into bed, all his animalistic tendencies go out the window, holding back how badly he wants to pounce on you and ravish you like the cute little bunny you are, trapped in the wolfs den. Your gown has been thrown off, lingerie ripped to bits, laying on his bed as he crawls on top of you, his thick, leaky cock bobbing between his legs.

“Are you sure you want this Angel” he checks in with you first, cupping your cheek and swiping his thumb across your pouty lip.

“W-want you” you whisper, shakily reaching down to grasp his cock, swallowing nervously. “I just- I don’t-“

“You don’t have to be scared bunny” he kisses your cheek, placing his hand on top of yours, guiding your strokes. “I’ll teach you how to play with my cock baby”

You tighten your grip, tugging him to where you need him most and he can’t hold back much longer, he’s trying to hard but you makes it impossible.

“Fuck Bambi” he groaned feeling his tip run against your soaked cunt, holding back frok shoving himself in you “keep doing that and I’ll lose control baby”

“Lose control Bucky” you tug at him again and he shakes his head with a strained chuckle.

“I’ll hurt you bunny” he said warns again but you need him to take you apart till you cant walk.

“Please?”

“Bunny…” he warns one last time but you want anymore.

“Daddy” you whine in his ear and something inside him snaps. He doesn’t give you any warning, slamming his cock into you with one stroke, your pleasured cry music to his ears.

“What did you just call me?!” He pulls out to flip you over, spanking your ass while his balls slap your clit, loving the way you go dumb over his cock.

“Such an innocent little baby with a filthy mouth, huh doll, my bunny wants her daddy’s cock”

He grips onto the headboard, delivering powerful snaps with his hips, alternating between pounding you against the pillows and grinding his cock in you without pulling out.

“Such a tight pussy squeezing daddy’s cock, my naughty little bunny, you want daddy’s cream too baby? You want daddy to give you his fresh cum, hm? Breed this needy little pussy?”

“B-breed me daddy!!” You squeal, his words driving you towards your climax, crying into his sheets and arching your back more as his movements grow sloppy.

“Get ready for daddy’s cum baby- gonna breed this pretty pussy till your fuckin’ round n’swollen n’leaking with milk” he gritted out, grabbing your hips with slam back and meet his thrusts. “Together Bambi, cum with daddy, c’mon, be a good girl n’cum with daddy”

The most salacious and primal sounds fill the room as he pumps ropes of his cum into toy, your greedy pussy milking him for all he’s worth. He can’t believe such a quiet little bunny could turn out to be a minx on the inside but he’s never letting you go.

“You’re dangerous Bambi” he whispers, keeping his softening cock in you, having never felt so satisfied afterwards, practically floating in the clouds with you. “M’never pulling my cock out, you feel too good around my dick baby”

You giggle as he kisses your glistening skin, gathering your into his arms, your eyes growing wide when he doesn’t kick you out of his bed.

“You’re mine now Bambi” he says with a soft growl, holding you closer to his chest before pulling the sheets over you both.

Anyway. Wholesome version coming later.

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midnightwriter21 · 1 year

Text

demon slayer hcs: douma & akaza as boyfriends

characters: fem!reader x douma, akaza

warnings: implied death, nsfw themes (no actual smut)

DOUMA

god he’s so fine for what

first off douma has trouble understanding human emotions

and dawg prefers to eat women

so the fact that y’all are dating??

ur special fr fr

you are so spoiled

douma = sugar daddy

u have one of his followers from his cult following u around and taking care of any and everything that u want

u mention seeing something in a store that u liked?

douma will have it before the end of the day

you’re like a little doll to him

he enjoys dressing you up in the cutest outfits, experimenting with different hairstyles, and playing with your makeup

teases the hell outta u

he thinks your reactions are amusing

especially when u do that cute little pout

or the puppy dog eyes

and don’t even get me started on when he makes u upset

he LOVES that shit

he always makes it up to you tho

but let a member of his cult tease you? or make u upset??

there will be hell to pay

he’ll take their head clean off their shoulders right then and there

won’t even bat an eye

so touchy

glued to u

ur sitting in his lap during cult meetings

he’s holding ur hand

he’s got an arm thrown around ur shoulders

he’s running his nails up and down ur arms so he can watch u shiver and get goosebumps

ur mad at him? maybe yelling at him abt something?

not anymore

he’s got his hands on ur face and he’s squishing ur cheeks so u can’t talk

thinks ur expressions are adorable

now douma sounds like a great boyfriend so far

but this man is MEAN

low key only keeps u around because u entertain him

i mean he’s been alive for so long and experienced so much

mans gets bored

BUT!!

if yalls relationship miraculously progresses past this

he’s turning u into a demon

that way u can stay with him forever

and he’ll never get bored of u

how could he when ur the first person to actually make him understand emotions?

especially an emotion as complex as love <3

but his true nature

comes out in the bedroom

dawg is EVIL

100% will make u cry

humiliation!!!

he’s a biter

ofc he is

idk somethin abt seeing his marks on you rly gets him goin

biting down just enough to leave a mark but not to break skin

yeah

id let him step on me

AKAZA

best boyfriend ever

no harm will ever come to u

protective asf

ur nocturnal at this point

bc ain’t no way ur leaving the house without akaza

so u gotta wait til it’s nighttime so he can come with u wherever ur going

such a gentleman ong

he’s holding ur hand to make sure u don’t get separated in crowds

or he has a hand on the small of ur back to guide u while u walk

he’s pulling ur chair out for u to sit down

he’s holding doors open for u

brings u flowers all the time

instead of looking for that blue spider lily for Muzan?

he’s picking u a bouquet of wildflowers

gonna get his ass kicked for that by muzan but oh well

100% the bf that’ll slow dance w u in the rain

with no music

ugh he’s such a romantic

god he loves u so much

and he makes sure u know it

words of affirmation!! all the time!!!

now

he’s a sweetie

but y’all ever heard that one phrase

and it’s like

gentleman in the streets freak in the sheets?

mhm that’s him

dude strong as fuck

and his STAMINA?

babe u are worn out

so many rounds

so many positions

u can’t keep up

ain’t no way i’m sorry

but the aftercare is on point

when he’s done puttin u through the ringer

he’s drawing u a bath

and making sure u drink some water cause u lost a fuck ton of bodily fluids i’m sorry

gross

cuddle bug!!

and the pillow talk!!

he’s the best

i love him sm

#kimetsu no yaiba #demon slayer #anime #douma #douma x reader #akaza x reader #akaza #douma fluff #akaza fluff #kny #x reader #demon slayer x reader #demon slayer headcanons #upper moons

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sturncrazy · 4 months

Text

PITSTOP🔥

matt sturniolo x y/n (fem)

warnings: SMUT SMUT SMUT nsfw 18 +(exhibitionism?, dom matt, language, unprotected sex, kinda rough, lil kinky at the end)

authors note: writin some matt content for variety 🤌 this is slightly inspired by that one time matt forcibly yanked nick out of the car cause that moment lives in my head rent free.

summary: you and your boyfriend matt are driving home from an event )you were his date) when you get bored and start teasing him more than he can handle

word count: 2,254 w

—————————————————————————

you sighed, stretching you arms above your head to the roof of the car.

“you tired, babe?” Matt questioned, not moving his eyes from the road

“mmm a little” you responded. it was a calm warm night driving along one of the quieter roads. you watched out the window looking at the few stars you could spot in the clear night sky. the car hummed peacefully while Matt’s playlist played low in the background.

You let out a small hiss of pain as you rolled out your ankles, suddenly aware the damage wearing heels for the night had done to you.

“what’s wrong?” Matt asked, concerned.

“nothin, feet just hurt from my shoes”

“oh, take ‘em off? you can put your feet up on the dash. might help with blood flow or somethin” he replied. you took his advice and kicked off the evil pointed toe stilettos you had on after unbuckling the ankle straps. you sighed in relief as you lifted your legs up and stretched them out. the silky black dress you had on had a slit up the left side and as you raised your legs half the fabric slipped between your thighs, exposing your left leg up to the side of your thong.

“woooo look at those legs…gonna make me crash the car if you distract me like that, babe” matt said stealing a glance at your body next to him. you felt a small flutter in your stomach at his comment. Matt had that effect on you so easily. even this far along into your relationship. it only ever took him even suggesting sex for you to be all over him.

“distracting you? whaaaat? i’m just gettin comfy” you teased hiking your dress up all the way and moving your bare legs around slightly.

“cmon y/n, at least wait til we’re home” Matt chuckled trying to keep his peeks at you subtle. you dramatically fussed around in your seat and whined.

“this dress is uncomfy. the straps are itchy”

“mmm” matt mumble ignoring you. you huffed, exasperated that he wasn’t giving you any attention. you whined again and reached to your side to start tugging at your zipper which made a loud sound as you pulled it.

“wha-what are you doing?” matt stuttered looking over at you. he knew that sound.

“i’m taking the top of it off. it’s bugging me.” you stated flatly.

“y/n, you can’t take your dress off in the car”

“i said I’m taking the top of it off. don’t worry i’m not gonna sit here totally buttass naked”

“still what if someone sees or something” matt said worriedly as you started to pull your arms out of the straps, still holding the top part of the dress up to cover your boobs.

“well then, lucky them” you replied letting go of your hold of the fabric. it slipped down easily sitting around your stomach, leaving you exposed from your bellybutton up. the cool air from the cars ac hit your skin making your nipples perk up immediately.

“jesus y/n” matt rasped out, swallowing loudly looking at your exposed tits. you played stupid and turned to him.

“what?”

“you know what. you have your tits out in my car and i’m trying to drive. don’t be dumb with me right now” he huffed getting pissed off at you. his grip tightened on the steering wheel and you felt a wetness start to form between your legs as you watched his tattooed arm muscles flex slightly. you leaned across the arm rest and up to his ear and kissed it lightly and then bit on his earlobe slightly.

“seriously y/n? this is unsafe”

“how far from getting home are we, matty?” you panted into his ear.

“like 25 minutes. now sit back down.” you whined loudly, crashing back into your seat.

“that’s too loonnnggg”

“too long for what”

“to wait. i’m horny now, matty” you said in your brattiest tone.

“so? not my problem. control yourself, y/n” he said ignoring you again. this was the last straw. his seeming lack of interest had pushed you too far. you needed to get under his skin. and you needed something to sooth the building pressure between your legs that was crying for attention. you placed your legs back up on the dash and let your knees fall to either side, leaning one against the window and intentionally dropping the other to give matt as clear of a view as possible. the crotch of your mesh thong was now fully on display. you shivered as the cool air blasting from the vents reached new places. you took a hand and ran it across your still exposed tits before dragging it down your stomach and into the space between your legs. you let out a small moan and threw your head back against your headrest as you began to press your fingers up against the soaked mesh fabric. slowly you pushed it aside and began to run two fingers up and down your slick folds which created an audibly wet sound.

“y/n what the fuck are you doing” matt barked looking over at you.

“fixing my problem since clearly you’re no help” you hissed as you began to drag circles over your clit. you let out another exaggerated moan, bordering on pornographic and closed your eyes. you felt matt make a sharp turn with the car. a few moments later, half still in the trace of your self inflected pleasure, you became aware that the car had stopped moving. you fluttered your eyes open just in time to see matt getting out of the car and slam his door. you had just enough time to process your visible surroundings as he made his way around the car to your side. you were somewhere wooded and darker, pulled off on the side of what looked to be a dead road. maybe matt really had had enough of your toying with him and this is where he’d brought you to get rid of you. you felt your leg fall down, loosing its support, as your side door swung open. before you had time to question what was going on matt yanked you out of the car by your wrist. you stumbled slightly trying to get your footing on the grassy patch beneath you. he slammed his body up against your back and roughly wrapped one arm around your waist to pull you impossibly closer

“bend over the hood of the car” he growled into your ear still behind you

“matt-wha—here? but—“

“you wanna act like a little slut on the road and touch yourself for anyone to see? then you’ll get fucked like a little slut for anyone to see. i said. bend over the fucking hood of the car now.” he snarled before unlatching from your waist and giving you a slight push in his desired direction. you obliged as a combination of nerves and desire stuttered through your body. you reached the hood of the car and leaned over it pressing your stomach and chest with your half-on dress up against the cool metal of the vehicle.

“lift up your dress” matt said firmly from behind you. once again you listened as you bunched up the fabric that covered your legs and ass and tucked it under your upper half to hold it up.

“good girl.” he said and you felt a harsh slap hit your backside. you let out a small shriek at the sensation. it hurt, but in a good way. a way that made you want more. he pushed his crotch, still in his jeans, up against your bare skin.

“you look so fuckable like this, y/n” he said thrusting his covered hardon against you more harshly.

“matt—please” you whined out. he wrapped a fistful of your hair around his wrist and yanked your head back.

“what was that, slut?” he snarled into your ear again.

“please matt— i need you” you panted desperately

“you begging for my cock already, you little whore?” he said slipping a hand around between your legs and beginning to rub his long slender fingers up and down the soaking thin mesh layer covering your pussy. you whimpered uncontrollably at the sensation.

“tell me what you need” he said continuing to send electricity through your body as he rubbed at your pulsing bundle of nerves

“please matt- i - i need you— i need you to fuck me— i need to feel you inside of me right now” you croaked out hearing the sound of a zipper being undone. he shoved the pathetic bit of fabric covering your dripping folds to the side

“that’s my good girl” he cooed sinisterly before slamming into you without warning. you let out a loud cry at the sensation of him so suddenly stretching you out. matt and you had had sex more than a few thousand times, but you’d never quite get used to his size. you heard him grunt as your walls clenched around him.

“fuck i love that tight little pussy” he grunted slowly pulling back out of you.

“so big matt—it—it hurts” you slurred out breathlessly

“oh don’t act like you can’t take it now, baby” he said pushing you harshly down against the car hood, your face smushing up against it slightly before he slammed back into you again filling you up.

“OH GOD MATT” you yelped out in half pain and half ecstasy. he began to thrust into you at a relentless pace. you let out a string of curses and moans so loud and pathetic it put most porn to shame.

“you like when i fuck you like the little slut you are out here for anyone to see?” matt groaned as he slapped your ass again, never letting up on his pace

“fuuuu—yes matt oh fuck” you cried out desperately fighting to breath through his ramming into your dripping hole. he pushed one hand down on your lower back forcing your ass even higher up making his hard length push even deeper into you. you thought the sensation would make you pass out.

“yeah? want everyone to watch me fuck you and see how pathetic you are for my dick, huh?”

“yes yes yes” you moaned

“fuuuucckk you feel so fucking good y/n” he exhaled leaning slightly over you now, supporting himself with his arms on either side of you pressing against the car hood, never stopping his thrusts.

the sound of his hips slapping your ass as he tirelessly slammed his throbbing dick inside of you must’ve been audible from miles away.

“matt shit i’m close” you horsely managed to squeak out

“yeah? you gonna cum all over my cock for me princess?” he said before biting down into the soft flesh of your shoulder. you let out another cry and felt the pit in your stomach of tension start to build up to its final moments.

“cmon babygirl. cum for me” those words sent you over the edge as you let out an unimaginably loud moan and felt yourself ooze your release juices and clench uncontrollably around him. he let out a low growl as his thrusts started becoming more messy.

“oh fuck i’m gonna cum y/n”

“mmm yes matty cum all over my pussy” you said still coming down from your high

“FUCK oh fuck i’m cumming i’m gonna cum” he stuttered pulling out of you abruptly just in time to coat your folds with thick spurts of his hot release. he shuddered collapsing on top of you slightly. you let out a small satisfied mmm as he tried to catch his breath.

“do you want me to try to find you a tissue or something” he said pulling back from you, looking at the mess he’d made of you.

“no” you stated calmly turning to face him.

“i like it this way.” you said readjusting your thong back over your sticky area enjoying the look of both awe and slight embarrassment that flushed matt’s sweet face.

“god your hot” he said pulling you in for a genuine kiss then heading back for his side of the car.

“y’know when we first pulled up here i thought you’d actually brought me out here to kill me” you laughed climbing back into the passenger seat and shutting the door behind you.

“what? cmon y/n, you know i’d never hurt you” said matt as he settled into his seat seemingly truly concerned by your accusation

“no no i know trust me”

“i mean i might fuck you so hard you wish you were dead, but that’s a different story” he said bashfully looking at his feet, he’s usual shyness taking back over slightly. both adorable and hot. he really could do no wrong. you giggled lightly and leaned over giving him a kiss on the cheek.

“i love you matty” you said sweetly

“i love you too, y/n” he said smiling at you. you grinned back at him still leaning over your seat loving getting to look at his face this close up. you always adored those big blue eyes. he blinked at you softly and then peered down your gaping dress raising his eyebrows dramatically.

“think you have a round two in you when we get home?” he asked with a grin

“maaattt” you said giving him a small slap on the chest

“what?”

“you’re not tired after that whole display?” you questioned

“oh please y/n, we’re just getting started” he said starting the car engine.

————————————————————————— uhh lowkey i rly like this one??

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rileysluvr · 7 months

Text

super short price nsfw because i am his girlie til the day i die. he’s a bit of a meanie in this one tho so read with caution!!

“Again,” he orders.

You take a deep, shaky breath in an attempt to somewhat ground yourself, but it’s a difficult feat when you're being held down on your surperior’s hard lap by his big arm splayed over your hips. A thick, dusty book on the desk in front of you, flipped to the page that entirely covers the military-workplace regulations he was scolding you for until tears began to bead at your waterline. You don’t think you’ve ever been this humiliated.

Your vision is blurry, and it’s at that point where your memory serves you better than what you’ve been ordered to do, which is to read until you can’t. He’s broken you down to a writhing mess atop his thigh as both of yours can only drape over one of his huge ones. Back flush against his chest with his palm rubbing your pussy in all the right ways; you swallow thickly, wondering if you can even go on any longer in this state.

“Fifty-nine, oh-one: ‘Service personnel are to wear-” you pause to breathe, fighting back a stutter, “…appropriate regulation uniform on duty—”

A bashful whimper cuts you off mid-recitement as he somehow manages to shove his two fingers even deeper into your cunt, nudging against your nerves rather harshly. Your legs squeeze around his thigh and your hands twitch in their place wrapped around to your sides. All the willpower in your body being used to keep yourself from bucking your hips forward and earning another half-hour of degrading names and treatment.

“Did you hear me tellin’ you to stop?” he barks, but it’s in that calmer manner that spins your mind around until you can’t decipher the difference between anger and sympathy. You shake your head, and you don’t need to have a visual on his face to feel the disapproval teetering off his bitten tongue and firm expression. “Then why don’t I hear you reading, eh?”

Your voice trembles, almost enough for him to take pity on you; “Sir, please- I’m trying.”

You weren’t even on duty today, for fuck’s sake. You had stopped by to pick up a personal belonging, only to be reminded how your captain views you as his own the second you step foot through the base’s front gate. And you were never good at avoiding his stalking gaze, especially when he’s got access to eyes stationed at every nook and corner.

“Christ, y’need me to spell it out for you? Is that it?” he scoffs. “How many times’ve we been over this?”

The way he berates and babies you has your cheeks stained and glistening with tears, and your mind all jumbled considering how easily he switches back and forth from mean to soft. Soft like how his fingers pull out and away from your cunt and hold themselves just far enough to make you shift your hips forward in search of them, only to be held back by his arm’s weight. Mean like his spat words and the grip with which he grabs your jaw, squeezing tight and puffing your cheeks out a bit in an attempt to get you to focus; to knock some sense into that strained, precious little brain of yours.

“Pretty fuckin’ simple task for a soldier, if y’ask me.”

Because deep down, he truly cares about your well-being. He only wants the best for his girl, and the dynamic between you.

And you wouldn’t want to disappoint your superior even more than you already have, now, would you?

He lets go of your face to allow you to finish, a nervous and newfound quietness croaking in your throat in addition to your already shy voice after his display of aggression; “—except when otherwise ordered by a Commanding Officer…’”

“Good girl,” he drags upon your completion, along with his hand that sneaks back into your panties. You jump from the coldness of his skin but he barely pays any mind to it. “Keep going for me, now, pretty. Go ‘head and skip some.”

It’s a repeated process; you recite what you know, mess up due to his cruel ways of sadistic teasing, and watch on from the outside as your self-respect crumbles so easily. You acknowledge it, you feel it, and you willingly ignore it because you know that whatever he plans on giving you afterwards will far surpass any other means to pleasure.

His time, his teachings and guidance, his own pleasure. They’re better than gifts, really.

“‘No item of uniform which has not been authorized is to be worn.’” You mumble for the entirety of the final sentence, now expecting him to get on you for not speaking clearly enough.

Instead, his middle finger delves between your folds and dips into your cunt at last, ripping a hiss and another whine from high in your throat from his rough treatment.

“And who authorizes your uniform?” he finally asks.

He adds his ring finger and the fullness in your cunt would be uncomfortable if the heel of his palm wasn’t digging into your clit at the particular angle. It numbs the stretch and your worries, so much so you nearly forget what he had asked you.

You gasp, eyes shooting open to meet cold, empty office in stark contrast to the warm, staggering frame pressed up against your back. Every muscle and every flex beneath the cotton material of his shirt being embedded into your mind.

“You do, Sir—mph!—it’s only you.”

An approving rumble from his chest vibrates against your back, and you lean into him with a soft moan when he curls his fingers upward in that way he knows you respond to the best. Head leant back on his shoulder, you hold onto his arm to stabilize your spinning mind once he begins slipping his rough fingers in and out of your sensitive pussy more firmly.

“So you show up to base in this pretty, little dress on your off-day, and expect to leave here without any punishment?”

His words exceed intimidating to a great extent, but the way he coos them so gently right by your ear leads directly to you scrambling them into nothing more than sweet blurbs and mumbles. He continues his short scolding as if he doesn’t know how dumb he’s got you already, ready to make you bite the consequences for your inability to respond to him later.

“Distractin’ me ‘nd all the other men here while we work, like you don’t know what your body does to them. What you’re worth around here, to the lot of bastards falling asleep with their dicks in their hands to the pretty image of you dressed like this,” he emphasizes with the tug of your dress’s ending hem.

“Sir,” you whine, not paying a single nod to his language because your numbed mind can simply no longer compute it. Muffled and unclear, though the mean and deep drawl that bleeds through pushes you all the much closer to bliss.

“Feels good, I—please… ’m so, so close, Sir—!”

You whine and clasp your hand down on his arm for some sort of spiritual stabilization, and he only picks up the pace. He works you up so quickly after edging you for what felt like hours, as this time he gives absolutely no notion to relenting.

“That right?” Of course, you can’t respond with much more than a whimper as you rock your hips back and forth on his hard thigh, his skilled fingers working you up to ecstasy.

“Yes, yes ‘m gonna—it’s too much, Sir, ‘m gonna come—!”

He chuckles, his arm around your waist pulling you impossibly closer into him. You convulse around his fingers and moan through your high as he militantly, yet somehow so expertly, turns your vision to stars and your limbs into a limp mess atop him. It’s like he knows your body better than you do yourself, making you come harder with his fingers alone than anyone has ever. You thank him profusely, soft words of mantra like music to his ears as he decides what to do with you next.

He gives you no time to recover before he’s wrapping both his hefty arms around you and hauling you up in front of him, big palm instantly meeting with your shoulder blade to shove you down on the wooden desk and ripping a gasp from high in your lungs. He leans over you, caging you in as he soothes his hand across your forehead; his version of intimacy, and whatnot.

You’re panting, utterly exasperated, but simply can’t help the way you wiggle your hips back against his to chase that good friction. He laughs at your display of neediness for his cock, knowing it’ll be a much longer while before he’ll let you have it.

“My stupid fuckin’ toy,” he mutters softly against your skin, and it sounds just as good as any flattering compliment would.

He takes the hem of your dress and hikes it up to reveal your ass, humming at the sight before leaning back in to kiss your temple. Facial hair tickling and invading your senses, nearly feeling like a sweet treat to shush the way you whine out with his hard bulge pressed up against where you’re most sensitive.

Thoughts of what he could do to you right now running rampant through both of your minds, none differing from each other nor unwanted from either party.

“You’re gonna let me use this body however I like, until you learn to behave yourself ‘round your coworkers. Till you learn a fuckin’ lesson for once. Sound quite alright, sweetheart?”

#cod mw2 #john price #captain john price #captain price #john price x reader #john price x female reader #john price smut

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capricornlevi · 12 days

Text

"Convince me to quit my job."

You laugh at the request, having heard it enough times to know he the angle he's going for.

"Kento, no."

A weary sigh from the other end of the phone line. "You didn't even try."

"Because without your job you'd be broke as well as exhausted. And it's just for another year or two, til that partner retires and you can actually start doing what you trained to do --"

You're cut off by a faint groan. "Have you always been this sensible?"

"We'll call it your influence," you reply with a grin, balancing your phone between your ear and shoulder as you make yourself another coffee. "Is it that bad?"

Kento's on day five of a week-long conference out of town; the longest you two have been apart since getting together. You can foresee his answer since he's never tried to hide his misery, but feel it appropriate to ask anyway.

"Awful. Full of boring workshops delivered by boring people in a boring conference centre." A pause. "I'd much rather be home with you."

Stirring the coffee carefully, trying to keep it from spilling onto the kitchen counter, you chuckle softly. "I know."

Another pause.

"What if I told you I'd be home a bit more from now on?"

It's your turn to hesitate, not wanting to jump to conclusions.

"Wait!" you exclaim, and the fact that he actually does wait lets you know everything you were about to ask.

"You got it?" you go to confirm, though it sounds more like a statement than a question, your voice pitching up at the end of the sentence.

"Partner took early retirement," he says, and you can hear his smile from the other end of the line. "Means I can work from home every other week. I just wanted to see your thoughts on my job before I took it, y'know, in case you did have any compelling arguments on quitting."

"I have compelling thoughts on my husband being made partner before he turns thirty, if you want to hear those?"

He laughs, warm and adoring. "Oh, very much so."

#nanami kento x reader #nanami x reader #nanami x you #and then he wins the lottery and quits anyway because that man is meant to be a househusband #born to be an emo househusband forced to be a cog in the corporate machine

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whimsyprinx · 2 years

Text

so it’s currently 4:50am

#whimsy whispers #if I go to bed now I’ll still wake up in like three to four hours which is early which means i can by all means be awake and function #but no one else aside from old people will be awake and functioning and I don’t have the strength to be alone with that #so then I could go with my usual choice and stay in bed til noon because I am sad little loser and ppl will be up by then #oh wait kane is here maybe I can wake up and bother kane #depending on when I awake I’ll just text him and ask if I can float around him for the day #i know I Should get back to getting up early but will I? we’ll see #like getting up early is nice when the old ppl aren’t here and I can be productive and at peace #they should be leaving any day now and there will be about a month of peace #which me and Lexi are happy about because we can go back to cleaning how we wish #i need to finish going through my belongings and getting rid of things soon as well #i have a lot of things that it’s like #i don’t have space for and have no real reason to keep #plus I’m feeling overwhelmed by the clutter of it all again #it’s 4:54am now #my friend sent me a rlly cute little doodle 💖#maybe I should try yoga to tire myself out again?#I’m not taking meds rn due to: I’m broke and out of sleeping meds #and also figure I may as well try and stop taking sleeping meds again #because blah blah don’t become reliant on sleep meds as if I haven’t been since I was a petite little brat #like I get tired it’s just at stupid and inconvenient times and also I don’t sleep long #idk what to do about either issue #the meds can fix the first one #but I still don’t sleep that long even when I take medicine I hate it #my roommate says my circadian rhythm (pls let me have said that right?) is like that of our ancestors or whatever #like cool! neat!! can it not be though????

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charliemwrites · 2 months

Text

Mafia!au part 5!

A bit of fluff, a bit of drama, a bit of Soap!

“Gooood morning, sir!” you sing as you sweep into Mr. Price’s office. “And happy birthday!”

His head shoots up from whatever he was brooding over, brows arched high in genuine shock. Surprise is a good look on him.

“How the bloody hell did you know it’s my birthday?” he demands, sitting back in his chair.

You beam, sauntering right up to his desk. His eyes flick to the round white box balanced on top of your tablet. Nothing big, a little something you baked at home after a couple dissatisfying trials.

“It’s my job to know,” you reply easily.

He blinks– a habit you flatter yourself thinking he might have picked up from you. “What else do you know about me?”

You tilt your head at him, a smug curve to your lips.

“Just the basics. Your full name and birthday,” you demure. Hold up your free hand and start rattling off on your fingers. “Height, allergies, tea preference, pastry preference, blood type, drink of choice…”

You set the box in front of him and resettle your tablet in the crook of your arm. He stares at you for a beat, expression bleached from surprise to outright shock. You spin your stylus around your fingers.

“Which is why I made you a marble cake with whiskey instead of rum.”

His eyes lock onto the unassuming white box. It’s not a big cake by any means, about six inches in diameter and only one layer. Just a small something for Price to have for himself. God knows the rest of the boys (and Farah) get enough treats from you as it is.

“You made this?” he asks, leaning a bit forward.

“Yessir,” you declare, “and I’m pretty good at it too. Perks of stress baking.”

He runs a hand down his face, as if his beard got ruffled. “Christ, you need a raise.”

“Yes. Anyway – I’ll get you a plate after I’m done,” you say, swatting at his curious hand. He huffs but sits back to give you his full attention. You smile in reward and begin reciting his schedule for the day.

He listens, only interrupting when he needs clarification on little details. You try not to be too endeared by the way his eyes occasionally flick to the covered cake. When you finish, you twitch your nose at him knowingly.

“I’ll get you a plate before I get started on that expense summary,” you say, turning on your heel.

You hum in surprise when a large, calloused hand catches your wrist. It’s not the hand of a businessman, you think, but a man used to work. A man who does the hard things for himself. Before meeting John Price, you would have scoffed at the thought of a rich man knowing labor. Price though… well, he’s been proving to be a welcome exception since the very start.

“Thank you for this, love,” he says, voice hitting that tone and pitch that makes your insides squirm. He caresses his thumb over the tender skin before releasing you. “Really.”

You can already feel the blush climbing up the back of your neck, over your ears, creeping onto your cheeks. Can’t ever catch a break with him.

“Well, don’t thank me ‘til you’ve tried it,” you try to deflect.

“Weren’t you the one saying you’re decent at baking.”

“Yeah, well… maybe I poisoned you or something – for that time you closed my skirt in the door.”

He sputters a bit. You bite the inside of your cheek to keep from giggling at the indignance on his face. Such a handsome, almost regal man. You love to rile him up.

“I apologized. Profusely.”

And offered to buy you a new skirt entirely. The way you’d shrieked that that was not an appropriate response made Soap choke with laughter as people stared.

“Yeah, well, I hold a grudge,” you reply, shrugging.

It’s true, but not about things like that. Graves and his assistant? Oh, that’s practically a blood feud at this point. A silly little accident where your boss left a crease in your fourth favorite skirt? That’s not even something to forgive him for, but you sure as hell will never forget. Especially when he still seems mildly sheepish about it.

“You wouldn’t be the first,” he grumbles. You’re not sure if he’s talking about grudges or poisoning, but the dramatics finally make you laugh.

“But I could be the last,” you call over your shoulder as you flounce out.

Not for long though, returning with a disposable fork from the breakroom. There’s something amusing to only you about a man in a thousand-pound suit using cheap plastic.

“Come to see me keel over for yourself, then?” he asks.

“Well, I can’t have you getting cake crumbs on the expense reports,” you reason.

He’s already got the lid open. No icing on the cake – you’re shit at decorating, so you chose a recipe without icing. The flavor of the whiskey and sugar should be plenty. To make up for it, you folded a tiny placard and wrote “Happy Birthday, Boss!” in your best loopy cursive.

He takes the fork, fingers brushing yours in the process. You remind yourself not to snatch your hand away like a scandalized Victorian lady. Christ, you really need to get it together.

“Tell me how you like it,” you say, making to leave again.

“Come try it yourself,” he protests.

You pause, give him an amused look. “I didn’t actually poison it, sir. You’ve not done anything that heinous. Yet.”

He snorts, carefully digging out a respectable bite from the edge. “If you see fit to toss a little rat poison in, then I’ll likely having it coming.”

You hum. “Arsenic is more my style. Classic.”

In the corner of the room, Simon makes a little noise you’ve come to recognize as repressed laughter. You shoot him a quick, amused look, before shifting your attention back as Price gestures with the fork.

“Regardless, you should get a little taste of the fruits of your labor,” he offers.

The fruits of your labor, you think with a bit of regret, will be his enjoyment of your baking. You’re not sure when his admiration became your favorite part of the day, but you’re spoiled for positive feedback from your otherwise stern boss.

“You first,” you insist, “it’s your birthday after all.”

He keeps unnerving eye contact as he brings the bite to his mouth, tongue flicking out to catch any spare crumbs. He hums, eyes closing a for a second in enjoyment, before opening and fixating on you again.

“That’s bloody brilliant, love.”

He scoops up another piece, brings it right to your mouth. You hurry to put a hand beneath in case it falls; don’t even think before parting your lips. Sugar and whiskey, chocolate and vanilla, burst across your tongue.

“Oh!” you hum, hiding your mouth while you chew. “That is pretty good.”

It only occurs to you as he takes another bite for himself, a twinkle in his eye, that you just ate after him. Used the same fork like it was nothing, like that’s an acceptable thing to do as his assistant. You’re not squeamish by any means, no. It’s just… it’s gotta be crossing some sort of professional line. You can’t imagine any of your previous bosses ever sharing with you like this.

“Let me tell you, if you did poison it,” he muses, “I wouldn’t mind it being the last thing I ate.”

You roll your eyes, swat lightly at his arm again. “I told you; it’s not poisoned.”

“I know, you just took a bite,” he answers smugly.

You click your tongue at him, playing at exasperated. “I’m going to work now.”

“Ta, love.”

“Oi, li’l miss?”

You glance up at Soap curiously.

(Recognize, in the back of your mind, that it’s a nickname that’s not only spread – thanks, Simon – but that you’re responding to as quickly as your own name now. You should probably feel some type of way about that. Probably righteously annoyed or something. You don’t.)

Soap is standing at your desk, shifting from foot to foot. Uneasy. But the expression on his usually friendly face isn’t nervous. It’s… something else. Something you don’t know how to decipher but makes you sit up a bit straighter, alert.

“What’s up, buttercup?” you ask, voice light.

“There’s some bloke down in the lobby, says he’s got a date with you?” he explains, frowning deeper than you’ve ever seen.

It gets deeper – and angrier – when he sees the blood drain from your face. You push your chair away from your desk to hide the tremble that’s trying to infest your hands.

Absolutely not. This is your place of work, dammit. Where you’re calm and collected, the person anyone can turn to for solutions. You’ve worked so hard to craft this sleek vessel of professional grace and you’re not about to have it sullied like this.

“He does not have a date with me,” you state, keeping your voice flat and tight. “Would you come down with me, please?”

“’Course,” he replies instantly.

You stop by Price’s office, knock twice, then poke your head in when he calls for entry.

“I’ve just got to pop out for a mo’,” you explain, “I’ll be right back!”

He nods and you duck out again before he can notice anything amiss. For a rich bastard, he’s too observant of others. (Especially you.)

“What’s he here fer, then?” Soap asks in the elevator.

You let out an annoyed puff of air. “A reality check, I assume.”

He side-eyes you but doesn’t ask any further before the doors open.

Sure enough, standing in the lobby, is the last man you want to see. Your ex, Brandon.

“There you are, bunny. You’ve been keeping me waiting for—”

“One, do not call me that. It’s inappropriate,” you interrupt, crisp and sharp. “Two, I haven’t been keeping you waiting, because there’s nothing to wait for. Three, get out.”

He rolls his eyes, that smarmy curve to his lips never leaving. You don’t think he’s even noticed Soap just behind you yet.

“Look, I know you’re still in a mood about everything,” he says, “but that’s why I’m taking you out. To smooth things over. Clear the air, and all that.”

“You’re not taking me out,” you repeat. “Get out.”

He crosses his arms, tilting his head in that condescending way you’ve always despised. It sets your teeth on edge, makes you burn with anger.

“This isn’t your building,” he goads, “you can’t kick me out.”

“Might as well be hers, mate,” Soap interjects, “she could kick out the goddamn queen.”

Brandon’s focus shifts to him. You feel a curl of vindictive satisfaction when his expression curdles a bit. Soap may not be a particularly tall man, but he can be intimidating. Built thick and strong, doesn’t bother to conceal his physique at all with his sleeves rolled up his forearms. And you’re not oblivious to his looks either. Soap is a handsome man. A walking ego bruise for a man like your ex.

“Fine,” he huffs, “then come outside so we can talk like adults.”

You click your tongue, fold your hands behind your back to conceal the way your fingers clench into fists. “We did talk like adults. You just failed to listen like one.”

And ohhhh, the petty satisfaction that bubbles through you at the way his teeth click in shock, a flush of embarrassed anger curtaining his face.

“Now, I’ll ask one more time and then my coworker is going to toss you out himself.” Soap chooses that moment to crack his knuckles. “Leave this building. You’re not welcome.”

You drop your arms and turn on your heel, ready to get back to work and compartmentalize this until you’ve got a fuck-off sized glass of wine in front of you.

“Hey, we’re not—”

Even if you did see what happened, you don’t think you could have followed. It happens so fast. One second, Soap’s eyes are on you. Burning with questions and fury on your behalf, checking that you’re okay. The next, he’s darted past you. There’s a scuffle, fancy shoes squeaking on polished floors, a thick, wet pop. Then Brandon is shouting in pain.

You jump, twist to see what the commotion is. Soap’s got a white-knuckled grip on Brandon’s extended wrist – though now it’s bent at an awful angle, you realize he must have been reaching for you. Your skin crawls.

“Away ‘n bile yer heid,” Soap growls, shoving Brandon back roughly.

He doesn’t fall on his ass but it’s a near thing. With the eyes of reception, a few employees, and you on him, he spits a curse at Soap and retreats. You stare after for a moment, lips parted in shock.

“All set, miss?” Soap asks, adjusting his sleeves.

“Um, yeah,” you say. Blink and pull yourself together. “I mean, yes. Let’s head back up before the boss misses us.”

He places a hand on the small of your back on the short walk back. It feels grounding rather than proprietary; you’re grateful for it. He lasts until the doors close before turning to you.

“The hell was that about, lass?”

You sigh, smooth your skirt down for lack of anything else to do. “That was my ex. He wants to… reconcile, I suppose. And he’s quite keen on getting his way.”

Soap mutters a few choice words under his breath. Scottish slang, you suspect. You’ll have to get him to teach you sometime.

“Anyway, thank you for your help,” you continue, eyes on the elevator doors. “I can’t believe he showed up here. I’m so embarrassed.”

“You’ve nothin’ to be embarrassed about, hen,” he protests. “He’s the creeper here.”

You sigh. “I know, I just… you don’t think less of me, do you? That I didn’t… take care of him myself.”

Soap’s expression softens. He draws you into a quick one-armed hug. “You did take care of ‘im, far as I’m concerned. I was just there to enforce. No need to mess up yer pretty nails, aye?”

You smile, small but genuine. “Thanks, again.”

“Anytime, li’l miss.”

The elevator chimes as it reaches the top floor. You turn to Soap just before the doors open.

“Oh, and please don’t tell the boss.”

#cod #my writing #fanfiction #reader fic #mafia boss price #mafia!au #assistant!reader #oddly wholesome for a mafia au #john price x reader #john price #john soap mactavish

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